described UST as a stablecoin that would always hold its $1 peg, and those protocols as safe, reliable way to earn 19–40% yield. It didn’t feel like gambling; it felt like the answer we had been praying for. We sold everything at discounted prices: the house, the business, the cars. We scraped together just over $190,000 — every dollar of seventeen years of sacrifice — and in late April 2022 I converted it all to UST and locked it into Anchor and Mirror, trusting the promises that had been repeated for months. Just two weeks later, on May 9, 2022, I watched UST fall off its peg. In panic, I almost sold everything to limit the damage, but then I saw Mr. Kwon’s tweet: “Deploying more capital— steady lads.”. The price started recovering that day. I trusted him again and decided to keep the UST locked. What followed were two weeks of pure terror. The Terra blockchain halted. Mirror Protocol liquidity vanished. I couldn’t withdraw a single cent. When the system finally let me out on May 23, UST was trading below $0.07. Our $190,000 had become less than $13,000. Seventeen years of our lives — gone in two weeks. People say you should never risk money you can’t afford to lose. But this never felt like risk. The founder of the project had called it “too big to fail,” boasted that the Luna Foundation Guard would protect every dollar. To a desperate father trying to feed two families in a

Honorable Judge Engelmayer, My name is Stanislav Trofimchuk (Stan). My life and family were pretty much ruined by Mr. Kwon’s actions back in 2022 and I would like to share my story in writing and speak at a sentencing hearing if videoconferencing means are available as I’m unable to attend personally. Below is my story: We came to the United States in 2006 from Ukraine as a young family with a ten-month-old baby, chasing the American Dream and a brighter future for our children — both the one we had and those we still hoped to have. Like most first-generation immigrants, we had to work very hard to build a life for ourselves. For seven straight years I worked multiple jobs, endless hours, no weekends, no holidays — because my wife didn’t have a work permit during all that time. I barely saw my children grow up. She carried the burden of raising our two boys almost entirely alone, with no family nearby, no help at all. After thirteen years of struggle, we finally became U.S. citizens. For the first time I could breathe. I started a small business, came home at reasonable hours, and began repairing the years I had missed with my family. Life finally felt like it was moving forward. By early 2021 the dream was within reach: a modest house in Texas, a growing business, savings carefully set aside so our sons could go to college. After everything, we were closer than ever to “making