The Dread Pirate Roberts and the Silk Road: Anatomy of a Darknet Killer

I've always loved a good mask, not the scary kind, the theater kind, the kind that lets you try on someone else's face for a while, just to see how it fits. When the internet shows up, it hands everyone a mask. User names instead of real names, avatars instead of faces, encrypted accounts instead of a paper trail. A space for anyone, idealists, criminals, even government agents can slip into a role no one could see. And in that world, one mask stands out. It belongs to a young guy named Ross Ulbrich, or as the internet comes to know him, the dread pirate Roberts. Under that name, he becomes the faceless king of Silk Road, this hidden online marketplace build for people who never want their names on anything. Some people see Ross as a kind of a digital freedom fighter. Others see him as a criminal mastermind. And here's the thing, he's not the only one in costume. I'm Harvey Gianne and this is Killer Stories. It's early 2011. The internet isn't quite what we know it as today. Instagram has only been around for a few months, Snapchat doesn't even exist, and Bitcoin is trading for just a few dollars. The average person has heard of the dark web, the hidden corners of the internet that seem mythical, but for most people, it feels like a curtain they don't want to peek behind. But others find the open web suffocating. They don't want the government corporations or social media tracking them, enter, tour. An encrypted network browser that at the time was mostly used by hackers and dedicated activists. It routes traffic through multiple servers, masking who and where you are. Somewhere inside tour is a new website, an anonymous marketplace for people who want to stay in the shadows. It's called Silk Road. It works kind of like Amazon, if Amazon sold drugs, forged documents, and just about anything else you don't want associated with your real identity. So you do your online shopping and, you know, at cocaine and fake ID to your cart, then message the seller through an encrypted inbox. But unlike Amazon, you don't pay with the credit card, you pay through Bitcoin, which at the time is widely believed to be untraceable. Once you get your secret package in the mail, you can even leave a review for the seller. Five stars, very discreet, would commit a felony again. At the center of it all is Ross Ulbrich, the creator of Silk Road. But just like everyone else on tour, he doesn't use his real name. Instead, he goes by an alias, lifted straight from the Princess Bride, the Dread Pirate Roberts. To the people using Silk Road, Dread Pirate Roberts, and in just a sight admin, he's kind of a prophet. He writes long posts about freedom and why he thinks the government should stay out of people's choices. He says every transaction on Silk Road is a way to push back against the man. And even though what he's doing is illegal, Ross doesn't present himself as a criminal. He thinks he's building a better world. And in a way, he's not totally wrong, the Silk Road is known for having surprisingly low levels of violence and fraud compared to real-world street drug markets. This is because Ross establishes and enforces a clear set of rules. No weapons, no child exploitation, and no stolen goods. So buy into Ross' philosophy and make the Silk Road a huge success. By the spring of 2012, Silk Road has tens of thousands of active buyers and sellers for more than a dozen countries. At its peak, analysts estimate Silk Road moved over a billion dollars in total sales. Every transaction kicks a percentage back to Ross. At a moment when most 27-year-olds are staring down student loans and unpaid internships in the shadow of the 2008 recession, Ross is taking home around 80 million in commission. He's earning more money than most CEOs from a laptop. He's basically the Jeff Bezos of contraband. And yet, none of it looks like money. Ross lives in a small apartment in Austin Texas, he's living out of two garbage bags, one for clean clothes, one for dirty. His wardrobe is minimalist, hand me down shirts, hand me down socks, hand me down, let's just stop there. You never guess he's running the most successful illegal marketplace on the internet. His ultra-ego dread pirate Roberts allows him to compartmentalize his life. In the Princess bride, the title gets passed down from person to person. The mass stays alive even when the man underneath it disappears. Ross likes that idea. If something ever goes wrong, maybe the blame could go elsewhere. Maybe no one could pin it on him. After all, only two people in the world know he's behind Silk Road. For a while, the separation works. Ross is Ross in the real world, quiet and unassuming, and on Silk Road, he's a hero creating a new society. But while Silk Road keeps growing, the cracks are already forming. The first serious problem doesn't come from some angry cartel leader or a rival dark net sight. It comes from a man who doesn't fit into any of those worlds at all. His name is Curtis Green. Curtis lives in Utah. He's a 47-year-old Mormon, husband and father. Not exactly who you picture when you imagine a dark web you ten it. Curtis finds Silk Road the same way a lot of users do, through online drug forums and more to mouth. He's living with chronic pain ever since his back injury ended his career as an EMT. His undiscibility stuck at home more than he wants to be, so he does what a lot of people would do in that situation. He spends a lot of time on the internet. Because of his injury, Curtis reads obsessively about medications, especially opiates. He wants to understand how they work, how tolerance builds and how things go wrong when people don't know what they are doing. It's less party culture and more consumer safety manual. He's also interested in psychedelics and spends time on online forums with wild names like the shroomery. It's in one of these forums that he finds out about Silk Road. He chooses the username, chronic pain, and starts browsing. Curtis isn't really interested in buying or selling. He's there for the community. And because he fancies himself an expert on harm reduction, he starts answering questions and giving advice. He's warning people about fentanyl and teaching safe drug habits at one point. He has to clarify to someone that injecting peanut butter or shooting heroin into your eyeballs is in fact a terrible plan. This was the exact thing Ross liked to see. Silk Road isn't supposed to be chaotic, it's orderly and controlled almost responsible. For long, Ross notices Curtis educating users so he offers him a job as an admin. Curtis becomes kind of a customer support guy for the site. Suddenly he's working 80 hour weeks from his couch, mediating disputes between buyers and sellers and resetting passwords. But there's a catch. Ross asks Curtis for a scan of his driver's license. It's presented as a loyalty test. A way to ensure everyone on the inside is accountable. Curtis hesitates. He understands the risk of being exposed while Ross gets to keep his identity secret. But he also believes they've built a trusting relationship so he sends the scan. And then, a few months later, chronic pain, aka Curtis, goes offline. Every morning on a Manhattan sidewalk, a shooting caught on surveillance video. Now, as Luigi Mangioni prepares to stand trial for the murder of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, which he denies, a new podcast series from ABC Audio in 2020 goes inside this captivating case. I'm ABC News legal analyst Brian Buckmeyer. This into burden of proof Luigi Mangioni, wherever you get your podcasts. 2010, a family of four in California goes missing and the clues left behind, some investigators on a years-long search. Is this a family on the run? Or is the truth far more sinister? From ABC Audio in 2020, this is what happens to the mixed days, coming in August 11. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or your favorite podcast app, or subscribe to 2020 True Crime Plus on Apple Podcasts, listen early and ad-free. This episode is brought to you by Netflix. So you're in your apartment and then the power cuts out. You think, okay, it's just a storm outside. Then you hear glass break. You think it's just a storm and you realize you're not alone. Welcome to Unhinged, the new interactive game experience you can play right now on Netflix to make it out of life. You must answer your phone. Your phone is the controller flashlight and the lifeline to your best friend who was 18 in your escape before your attacker closes in. When your phone rings, the question is, will you answer? Play Unhinge now, only on Netflix. Curtis Green is at home when the package arrives. It's around 11 a.m. in January 2013. Curtis is half awake, but he slumbers to his front door and collects the mail. The box is heavy. There's no return address, but it's postmarked from Maryland. Well, Curtis hasn't ordered anything from Maryland, but he brings it inside. He opens a box with scissors and pfff. White powder explodes into the air. It coats Curtis' face. His shirt, his hands, his tongue goes numb. And before his brain can catch up to what's just happened, someone burst through the front door. Men in tactical gear flood the house. They've got their guns out and they're shouting. Someone yells for Curtis to get on the floor. And then he's handcuffed. He's blinking through white dust trying to process what on earth is happening. Curtis is taken to the police station. It turns out the package contains high-grade cocaine, more than a kilogram of it, enough to justify a serious charge, enough for authorities to get some leverage. The officers start interrogating him. Where did you get the cocaine? Who do you work for? Who is Dread Pirate Roberts? Curtis keeps saying the same thing. He didn't order this massive box of cocaine. He doesn't know where it came from. He doesn't buy or sell drugs. He's just a guy who answers questions online. He insists it's a mistake. They've got the wrong guy. But it's not a mistake at all. It's a setup. Back in April 2012, a new message landed in Ross's inbox. Not his real inbox, the one on Silk Road, where he goes by Dread Pirate Roberts. The message came from someone with the username knob. It read, "Mr. Silk Road, I'm a great admirer of your work, brilliant, utterly brilliant. I will keep this short and to the point. I want to buy the site. I've been in the business for over 20 years. Silk Road is the future of trafficking. Ross is flattered and curious. The next day, he wrote back to knob. I'm open to the idea. What did you have in mind?" But knob isn't really a Dread Pirate Roberts fanboy. He's actually a DEA agent named Carl Force. He's messaging Ross from Baltimore, where he's been investigating the Silk Road for months. Agent Force, which come on, is that not a perfect name for long force? Agent Force, anyways. Agent Force has done undercover work before. He knows how to make himself sound credible. As knob, Force messages Ross back. He tells him he made a fortune through a decades-long drug smuggling career. He's well-funded and well-connected, and he's serious about the offer. The next day, Ross tells the agent that the Silk Road is bigger than money. It's a movement, so it's not really for sale, unless knob happens to have a casual 1 billion. So, Force changes his strategy. He stops asking to buy the site and instead positions himself as a partner. Someone useful who can bring even more growth to the Silk Road. Over the next few weeks, Ross and Agent Force trade messages back and forth, never knowing exactly who is on the other end, but they don't just talk business. They kind of become friends. They start talking about life. Not anything with details like locations or names, nothing that would blow their cover. But Ross tells Agent Force about his paleo diet, and Force tells Ross to skip the latest Batman movie because the dark night rises. He did not like. By the end of 2012, Force is one of Ross's most trusted contacts. So Force says it's time to act. He submits a proposal to his superiors. He thinks he knows exactly how to catch the dread pirate robbers. To move the platform, Agent Force reaches out to Ross with a problem. He tells him he's looking to move a kilo of cocaine quickly and quietly, and he wants to know if the Silk Road can help. Ross doesn't hesitate. Of course it can. This is literally the business. He's running the Amazon of drugs. You need something discrete, well-reviewed, and delivered on time, Ross is your guy. Within a few days, the deal is arranged. Because the quantity is large, and because Force claims he doesn't know the buyer personally, he asks Ross for a favor. He wants a trusted middleman, someone inside the operation. Ross suggests one of his own people, an admin who's proven himself over and over again. Chronic Pain, aka Curtis Green. The plan is simple. Agent Force ships the kilo to Curtis. Curtis holds the package. Once the buyer sends payment, the drugs get forwarded to their final destination. Clean, controlled, and professional. Exactly the kind of system Ross prides himself on. Except none of this is really about selling cocaine. Force is using the deal as bait. The moment the package lands, the DEA plans to raid the house and arrest Curtis. Their hoping they can get him to talk. Curtis is one of Ross's direct reports. He has access. He understands how Silk Road actually runs. Even if he can't name the man behind the mask, he can still bring investigators closer than they've ever been. The plan goes off without a hitch. And that's how Curtis landed in a police interrogation room covered in cocaine. Meanwhile, Ross has realized something is very, very wrong. He's expecting an update on the deal with knob. But he hasn't heard from Curtis in hours. Ross sends message after message. Silence. Two days later, the situation gets worse. A huge chunk of Bitcoin vanishes. And he traces the theft straight to chronic pain's admin credentials. From Ross's point of view, his trusted employee has gone rogue. In reality, Curtis hasn't touched a thing. Someone is using his credentials to access the funds. Well, we'll get to that later. But Ross doesn't know that. All he sees is betrayal layered on top of disappearance. Then comes the final gut punch. Less than a week later, a Google alert lands and Ross's inbox. It's tied to Curtis's real name, which Ross had demanded as a condition of employment. The alert links to a news article announcing Curtis's arrest. And there it is, buried in the copy. Silk Road, mentioned by name. Now, Ross isn't just dealing with the missing employee. He's staring down the possibility that his entire operation could unravel because one person got caught and decided to save himself. At this point, Ross turns to his newest confidant, his late night sounding board. Nob. Ross has no idea that Nob is actually called force. The same DEA agent who orchestrated Curtis's arrest. So the two of them talk it through. Like partners. What matters more right now? Getting the money back or sending a message. Nob tells him he knows people who can handle either problem. Ross types back that he wants Curtis beaten up. Don't kill him. Just scare him. Because here's the thing. The money itself isn't really the issue. $350,000 might sound enormous, but for Ross at this point, it's not catastrophic what really stings is the backstabbing. He'd shown Curtis kindness, trust, and all. opportunity. And in Ross's mind, that generosity had been repaid with betrayal. As Ross waits for Nob to make arrangements, he vents to another long-time confidant, Variety Jones. He admits this is the first time he's had to call in muscle, and he hates it. This isn't who he thought he was. I mean, Silk Road was supposed to be different. Variety Jones doesn't agree. He reframes it for Ross. This isn't philosophy class. This is the criminal underworld. And Ross isn't just a guy with ideas anymore. He's running an empire. Curtis didn't just steal from him. He disrespected him. And at some point, Jones asks, "Don't you have to decide when enough is enough?" Ross reaches back out to Nob. He changes the order. Can you change it to execute rather than torture? On the other end of the keyboard, Agent Force doesn't hesitate. He tells Ross, "It won't be a problem." He knows someone who can handle it for about $80,000. As they discuss logistics, Ross reassures himself, in writing, he says he's never killed a man or had one killed before. But this is different. Curtis was on the inside. He knows way too much. And when Ross logs off, believing he's just crossed a necessary line, Carl Force does something else entirely. He opens a new document and starts drafting a plan to fake an assassination. Curtis Green is dead. Or at least that's what Ross Oldbrick thinks. He's staring at a series of photographs on his screen. They show Curtis lying motionless on a tile floor. His hair soaked, face pale. There's water everywhere. It looks like a body fresh out of a drowning. The man Ross thinks he's hired to solve a problem. A drug smuggler named Nob is actually a DEA agent named Carl Force. The same Carl Force who helps set Curtis up in the first place is now helping stage his assassination. And in case you're wondering who approved this, the answer is nobody. Agent Force didn't ask his supervisors for permission. He's gone totally rogue. Just a few days before Ross received those photos, Curtis was at a hotel room in Provo, Utah. At this point, Ross had only ordered Nob to torture Curtis. He didn't want him dead. Well, not yet. Force convinced Curtis to go along with a fake torture plan. He framed it as part of an undercover operation, something that will push Dread Pirate Roberts into revealing himself and how the Silk Road actually works. Something that in the long run could help Curtis. It's not like Curtis is thrilled about the idea of faking his own torture, but he has no leverage. Say no, doesn't feel like an option. So he agreed. Force and another DEA agent fill the hotel bathtub with water and walk Curtis through the plan. Hold your breath. Go under. Don't fight. We'll pull you up before it gets too bad. The other agent, posing as one of Nob's thugs, pushes Curtis underwater. Curtis realized far too late that fake drowning doesn't feel fake when your lungs start filling with water. He started panicking. The agents lit to him back up, but it's not because Curtis was drowning. It's because Carl wanted another take. And look, I know this sounds like a deleted scene from some VHS mob movie, but unfortunately, it's real. This is what law enforcement came up with, a staged bathtub waterboarding with a hotel tower rack in the background. They done Curtis again. This time the cameras kept rolling. Curtis choked out the lines they gave him. I didn't take the money. Eventually, force was satisfied with the take. And the torture scene is over. Cut. That's lunch, everyone. But shortly after, agent force got the message from Ross. He changed his mind. He didn't just want Curtis tortured. He wanted him dead. By this time, agent force was already back in his office in Baltimore. So instead of flying back to Utah, he sent Curtis detailed instructions. There's no way to even paraphrase the message. So here's what agent force told Curtis. Dunk your head in water as if you were being drowned. Then pop open a can of cambo soup, a tomato flavor, and then pour that soup out of your mouth like you died from being held underwater. And there was a mucus-like eruption from your mouth. So we have something to show. And then have your wife snap a picture of your lifeless body with your cell phone. Curtis and his wife followed the instructions to a tea. The scene was set to Mato soup and all. Curtis played his part as a corpse academy award-winning and his wife snapped the photos. Those images are what's now in Ross's inbox. Ross receives the images from the same account he's been communicating with for weeks, knob. He writes back that the photos disturb him. As if he's not the one who ordered the murder to begin with, Ross sends knob $80,000 via Bitcoin to pay for the hit. And that's the entire exchange. Like he ordered up new pair of shoes rather than a murder. Here's the turning point. It's a moment where Ross could have backed away, shut the laptop, deleted the files, instead, it does something else. It flips a switch. Within hours of receiving the photos, Ross is already justifying the murder to his partner, Variety Jones. He says Curtis brought it on himself. Betrayal has consequences. This is the cost of leadership. Sometimes you have to make hard decisions like drowning a guy who steals your money. You know, CEO stuff. But remember that after Curtis got arrested, a big chunk of Bitcoin was stolen from the Silk Road. While Ross assumed it was Curtis, but it wasn't. It turns out, Carl Forse, isn't the only rogue law enforcement agent involved in the Silk Road case? His name is Sean Bridges. He's a special agent with the United State Secret Service. He's part of the same team as Agent Forse, the one assigned to take down the Silk Road. But instead of taking down the Silk Road, Bridges decides to take from the Silk Road. After Curtis is arrested, Agent Bridges gets his internal admit credentials. And like a kid in a candy store, he decides to help himself. Bridges logs in as Curtis as starts stealing Bitcoin from the site. Hundreds of thousands of dollars worth, $820,000 to be exact, all deposited into his personal accounts. And if you're asking, what isn't that illegal, the answer is yes. Very much so. But we'll return to Sean Bridges and the stolen money later. Let's return to Ross. He's emboldened by the supposed murder of Curtis Green, who he thinks betrayed him. So now he has murder in his back pocket, something he can use when he feels someone has wronged him, like a Silk Road user, with the name Friendly Chemist. He's a hacker, and he's threatening to reveal personal data about users on the Silk Road. Friendly Chemist demands half a million to keep quiet. He says he's got real names and shipping addresses. If this information gets out, it would destroy Silk Road's most important promise. Privacy. Ross panics, and then he reaches out to a user who goes by red and white. This guy claims to be affiliated with the Hells Angels, claims he can make problems disappear. Ross gives him Friendly Chemist's name and location in Canada. For 150,000 in Bitcoin, red and white says the job is done. A few days later, red and white messages Ross again, there's a problem. Apparently, Friendly Chemist wasn't acting alone. He had four other associates, each of whom also had access to the stolen data. Red and white asks what Ross wants to do. He authorized four more hits. He wires over half a mill in Bitcoin, and in his personal log, Ross even notes the expense right next to a to-do list about debugging Silk Road's front page. You know, just business as usual. Friendly Chemist's identity remains a mystery to this day. And rest assured, no one was actually killed, but Ross believes they were. And the fact that he thinks he's ordering murders five of them is more than enough for prosecutors. At this point, Ross is [BLANK_AUDIO] making six figures a week in Bitcoin commissions, but running a billion dollar operation from behind a laptop is exhausting and dangerous. Especially when you're living like a couch surfing minimalist, Ross has no permanent address. He's left Austin, he's crashing in a French spare bedroom in San Francisco, and he's constantly on edge. Worried someone will connect the dots in June 2013, he decides it's time to separate his two lives. He finds a room to rent on Craigslist and pays 1,200 in cash. He introduces himself to the landlord as Joshua Terry, a currency trader from Texas. Ross vows not to let anyone from his old life know where he lives, no real names, no loose ends. He wants a clean break. A private hideaway where dread pirate robberts can run his empire without blowing Ross's cover. Once he settles into the new apartment, he starts preparing for the worse. He orders nine fake IDs from a Silk Road vendor, nine different names, nine different states and countries, all just in case he needs to bolt. But the vendor is popular, a little too popular. On the day Ross's envelopes arrive at the San Francisco airport, several identical packages also come through customs. They're oddly shaped and they all have similar handwriting, but different return addresses. Cold Harris, Arnold Harris, Bert Harris, all from Vancouver. That's enough to raise a red flag. Customs open the envelopes and find stacks of fake IDs. Ross's package stands out because of the sheer number of fakes inside his name is flagged for follow up. On July 26, 2013, Ross is home alone. He's typing away at his laptop, making updates to the site when there's a knock at the door. It's a federal agent posing as a male carrier. He's here to talk about the fake IDs. Ross talks his way out of it, barely. But the incident confirms what he's been feeling for months. He's being watched. From here, the walls start to close in. Investigators track Ross's movements. They build a digital map of his logins, messages and transactions. They piece together how the Silk Road works and who's really behind the mask. In October 2013, Ross walks into a public library in San Francisco. He sits down with his laptop just another day at the office. Moments later, a team of agents surround him. One grabs a laptop before he can shut it. It's still open to the Silk Road admin page. When agents sort through the files, they find everything-- the murder for higher messages, the chat logs with knob, even a list of countries without extradition treaties, bookmarked no less. There are even diary entries that complain about how hard it is to be a digital drug lord. For someone so obsessed with living a quiet secret life, Ross left a shocking amount of receipts. Ross is arrested and charged with conspiracy to commit money laundering, computer hacking, and drug trafficking. He isn't charged for the murder for higher scheme since no one actually died, but federal prosecutors use the information to argue he's dangerous during his trial, which starts in January 2015. Ross pleads not guilty. His defense rests on the same idea he's been seeding for years. He may have built the Silk Road, but he didn't run it. He created the system and then handed over the keys. Someone else became the Dread Pirate Robert. Someone else should go to prison, but he never says who. The jury doesn't buy it. On February 4, 2015, Ross is found guilty of seven federal felonies. At sentencing, Ross is 30 years old. He tells the court he regrets what he did. He asks for leniency. But Judge Catherine Forrest doesn't see a man swept up in something bigger than himself. She sees a man who built something enormous and kept going, even when it turned dark. You are no better a person than any drug dealer. She tells him, you were captain of the ship as the Dread Pirate Roberts, and you made your own loss. Then she sentences him to life in prison without the possibility of parole. As for the other players in the story well, they don't get away clean either. Carl Forrest, the DA agent who posed as knob ends up facing charges of his own. Turns out the temptation was too much. He'd been moonlighting during the investigation, shaking Ross down for Bitcoin under other usernames and pocketing the money. Oh, and don't forget the whole fake assassination plot. He'd essentially water-borted a key witness in the case. When it all comes out, Forrest is sentenced to more than six years in federal prison. Then there's Sean Bridges, the secret service agent who stole over $800,000 in Bitcoin from the Silk Road while pretending to investigate it. He got caught, too. He sentenced to 71 months in prison. And finally, there's Variety Jones, well, real name Roger Thomas Clark. The man who helped Ross through the site's rise, the one who convinced Ross that Curtis Green needed to die. In 2023, he was sentenced to 20 years in prison. And speaking of Curtis Green, well, he lived, despite being in the crosshairs of one of the weirdest murder for higher plots in internet history. Curtis made it out the other side. He was sentenced to time served and put on probation. He later co-wrote a memoir called Silk Road Take Down, where he talks about his arrest, his time working for the site, and the bathtub torture scene that, yes, really happened. It's all there. He also joined Twitter. And if you scrolled far enough, you'll find him cracking jokes about tomato soup and waterboarding and oh, this one time when he had to play dead for a fake murder photo shoot. Because honestly, what else can you do but laugh? And that could have been the end of the story, but the Silk Road trials do something strange. They turn Ross into a symbol. In the months and years that follow, supporters rally around his case. They say he wasn't dread pirate robberts. Or if he was, he shouldn't be in prison for life. They argue the system went too far, that he was made into an example. His family launches a site called freeross.org. They push for clemency. They raise money. The case becomes a cause. Meanwhile, the Silk Road doesn't disappear. New versions pop up. The next generation of dark net markets. And while most of them get shut down eventually, the idea doesn't go away. The toothpaste is out of the tube. Ross was supposed to die in prison, life without parole. But on January 21, 2025, something unexpected happened. Just one day after taking office, President Donald Trump announced that he had granted Ross a full and unconditional pardon. He'd been hinting at this move for months. During a speech at the Libertarian National Convention, he called Ross's life sentence ridiculous and promised to set Ross free. Now he kept that promise. And he wasn't alone. Libertarians and digital privacy advocates had been campaigning for years. They argued that the punishment didn't fit the crime. That the Silk Road was more of a philosophy experiment than a criminal empire. Yes, they argued that Ross had made a mistake, but he didn't deserve to die in prison for them. And now he won't. At the time of his release, Ross had served nearly a decade of his life sentence. He walked out of prison still in his thirties with the rest of his life ahead of him. People still argue about who Ross really is. Some call him a digital pioneer who believe the internet could be a freer, fair place. And others see him as a kingpin and coders clothing. The architect of a billion dollar empire built on drugs, fake IDs, and stolen data. But like most things on the internet, history doesn't fit neatly into either myth. Because Silk Road didn't fall apart because one mask slipped. It fell apart because everyone was wearing one. Ross, the agents, the users, the guy ordering a hit, and the guy faking his own death with tomato soup. Nobody was exactly who they claimed to be. And in a world where you never have to show your face, it turns out the lies don't just fool others. people. They start to fool you too. And that's the trouble with masks that are easy to put on, but harder to take off. And after a while, you start to forget where the performance ends and the person begins. Thanks for tuning in to Killer Stories, the Spotify podcast. New episodes release on Mondays. If you like today's story and want to learn more, we drop some of our favorite sources in the episode description. Until next time, I'm Harvey B.N. Stay safe out there.