There are stories we bury through trials, maximum-security prisons, and forgotten headlines. Then there's Bitcoin, that red thread that's never truly cut. In June 2025, a transaction of 300 BTC, equivalent to $31 million, lands in the vault of Ross Ulbricht, creator of Silk Road, the legendary darknet black market. The problem? That fortune comes from a wallet linked to AlphaBay, its infamous successor. The past hasn't had its last word. It's coming back... encrypted.
AlphaBay isn't just a name in the FBI files. It's a myth recycled in the arcana of blockchain. Between 2014 and 2017, it was the epicenter of illicit online commerce—larger, quieter, more profitable than Silk Road. And yet, in 2025, it is he who is suspected of having written a $31 million check in BTC to support Ulbricht, a fallen figure who has become an icon for some.
According to blockchain analysis firm Chainalysis, in a report reported by WIRED, the donation would have come directly from a bitcoin wallet associated with AlphaBay. There are no approximations here: the flows, the timestamps, the addresses… everything matches. Phil Larratt, director at Chainalysis, speaks of a major seller of the time. In other words, a well-established, well-supplied player, still very much alive today, at least digitally.
This spectacular, albeit symbolic, gesture raises questions. Why revive such a controversial connection? Out of nostalgia? Out of strategy? Or is it a sign of a broader return of darknet forces, reorganized in the shadows?
If Bitcoin allowed this transaction to be traced, it is also its paradox: it is both transparent and impenetrable. Analysis by ZachXBT, an independent blockchain detective, confirms that the 300 BTC did not transit through transparent channels.
Here we talk about a visit to Jambler, a centralized mixer with a dubious reputation, far removed from classic decentralized mixers like Wasabi or the now-defunct Samourai.
The goal? To erase the traces. Amounts are segmented. Transactions are obfuscated. They jump from wallet to wallet. And sometimes they're paid in stablecoins, in small doses. Everything is designed to evade the algorithmic oversight of exchanges or authorities. It's the 2025 version of the silent robbery in a deserted alley, except the alley stretches across thousands of blocks.
ZachXBT sums it up bluntly: "It's a legitimate donation, but not legitimate funds." In other words, a poisoned gift wrapped in a package of crypto idealism. The case of the 300 BTC sent to Ross Ulbricht raises many questions about the true origin of the funds, somewhere between a militant gesture and a shady strategy.
Ross Ulbricht is no longer just a name on an arrest warrant. Since his pardon by Donald Trump in January, he has once again become a living symbol. A martyr to some, a hapless pioneer to others. And this massive donation could crystallize a purpose: to remind us that Ulbricht is not forgotten.
This support could also serve as a warning. A message whispered through lines of code: the network still exists. Watch, act, and reward its fallen heroes. In the political and ideological arena where Bitcoin's future is contested—between regulation and resistance—this kind of gesture carries a lot of weight.
Bitcoin forgets nothing. It remembers every transaction, every wallet, every move. But beyond memory, it also allows for resurrection. Thanks to it, the ghosts of the darknet can return from between the blocks, and Ross Ulbricht still receives offerings from a world he helped create. This $31 million donation isn't a simple crypto anecdote. It's a brutal reminder that the war between centralization and digital freedom continues, and that some have never laid down their weapons—they've only encrypted them.
