Bitcoin Torture Robbery: Family Waterboarded and Assaulted as Criminals Seize $1.6 Million in Crypto
A court decision from the Provincial Court of British Columbia has exposed horrifying details of a violent home invasion carried out in 2024, in which a Canadian family was tortured for access to their Bitcoin. The attackers bound, waterboarded, and sexually assaulted the victims before fleeing with approximately $1.6 million in cryptocurrency.
The incident is a textbook example of what the crypto world calls a “wrench attack” — a physical assault used to force someone to hand over access to their digital assets. Unlike sophisticated hacks or malware, this kind of crime bypasses digital security entirely and instead targets the most vulnerable point in the system: the human being who controls the keys.
The attack took place over the night of April 27–28, 2024. According to the sentencing decision, four men orchestrated the home invasion, beginning with a deception. Two of the assailants arrived at the residence disguised as Canada Post workers, carrying a fake package and requesting a signature as a pretext to be let inside. Once the door was opened, they gained entry, shut the door behind them, and were later joined by two additional accomplices.
Inside the home, the family was overpowered, restrained, and terrorized. The court record describes victims being bound and waterboarded, and at least one victim being sexually assaulted. The violence was not random: it was specifically aimed at compelling the family to surrender access to their Bitcoin holdings. Under extreme coercion, the attackers were able to steal digital assets worth about $1.6 million.
The sentencing decision underscores that this was not a spontaneous robbery but a targeted operation. The offenders knew that the family held significant cryptocurrency and tailored their plan around extracting those assets. Disguises, a fake delivery, and coordinated timing all point to prior surveillance and planning rather than opportunistic crime.
What makes this case particularly chilling is that it highlights a problem many crypto holders underestimate. People tend to think of Bitcoin theft in terms of hacking exchanges, phishing emails, or compromised wallets. But in reality, if criminals know that an individual controls a large amount of digital assets personally, they may find it easier to use physical force than technical exploits. A hardware wallet and strong passwords mean little when a victim is tied to a chair.
This kind of crime also exposes a tension at the heart of self-custody. One of the core promises of Bitcoin is that, if you control your private keys, no bank, government, or corporation can seize your funds. But that same control makes individuals with large holdings extremely attractive targets. Without an intermediary, there is no “freeze” button, no chargeback, and, in many cases, no effective way to reverse or trace stolen funds quickly enough to stop the criminals from moving them.
Law enforcement faces unique obstacles with crimes like this. While the violent acts themselves fall squarely within traditional criminal law—kidnapping, sexual assault, torture, and robbery—the stolen property is borderless and easily laundered. Once the attackers obtain the victim’s private keys or force them to sign transactions, the Bitcoin can be shifted across multiple wallets and services in minutes, often routed through jurisdictions with weak oversight or limited cooperation with foreign authorities.
At the same time, this case shows that traditional investigative methods remain crucial. Disguises, vehicles, communications between the perpetrators, and physical evidence from the scene can still tie suspects to the crime. The digital nature of the loot does not erase physical-world traces left by the attackers, including surveillance footage, phone records, and forensic evidence collected at the property.
For individual crypto holders, the British Columbia case is a stark warning about operational security in the real world, not just online. Some key lessons emerge from incidents like this:
– Avoid publicly signaling large crypto holdings, whether in casual conversation, on social media, or through conspicuous lifestyle choices tied to a “crypto fortune.”
– Separate knowledge and control of funds where possible. If no single person in a household can independently move all assets, coercion becomes less effective.
– Use multi-signature setups for substantial holdings, requiring multiple keys—ideally stored in different places or controlled by different trusted parties—to approve a transaction.
– Keep only a limited amount of funds in easily accessible wallets; treat large holdings like a vault, not a checking account.
– Recognize that physical security—locks, alarms, cameras, and situational awareness—is part of crypto security, not a separate concern.
The psychological impact on victims of such attacks is profound. Beyond financial loss, survivors may experience long-term trauma from being tortured, humiliated, and assaulted in what should be the safest place they know: their home. Knowing that the violence was directly linked to something as abstract as a digital wallet can also lead to complicated feelings about technology, wealth, and privacy.
From a legal and policy perspective, this case may intensify conversations about how to protect individuals who hold significant crypto assets. While regulators often frame crypto risk in terms of financial volatility or fraud, the British Columbia attack points to a different dimension: physical safety. High-net-worth individuals in the digital asset space may increasingly be advised to treat themselves like traditional high-risk targets, similar to cash-intensive business owners or people known to store valuables at home.
There is also a broader social question about responsibility. Crypto education tends to focus on technical literacy—how to set up wallets, avoid phishing, secure seed phrases. Yet, as wrench attacks become more widely known, education will likely need to address human-centered risk: who knows about your holdings, how you talk about money, how you design your living arrangements, and how you balance self-custody with personal safety.
Another implication lies in the design of future wallet and custody solutions. Developers are exploring ways to build systems that remain highly secure while reducing the value of coercion. This can include time-locked wallets, social recovery mechanisms, and multi-party custody where a single person cannot immediately move all assets, even under duress. While no system can fully eliminate the risk of physical coercion, making it less straightforward and less profitable could deter some attackers.
The British Columbia case will likely be cited in discussions about the darker side of the crypto era. It shows that as digital assets become mainstream and more valuable, criminals adapt. The line between cybercrime and conventional violent crime is blurring, with digital wealth becoming a target that can be extracted by analog brutality.
Ultimately, the story is not about Bitcoin technology failing, but about human vulnerability. No cryptographic system can protect someone who is being tortured in their own home. That reality forces a reframing of what “security” means in the world of digital assets: it is not only about protecting keys from hackers, but about protecting people from those who would do anything to get them.