Andy Altahawi

Andy Altahawi may not be a household name, but in financial circles, his reputation precedes him—for all the wrong reasons. Once a lawyer and financial consultant, Altahawi found himself at the center of a multi-million-dollar securities fraud case involving Longfin Corp., a fintech company that became infamous for its meteoric rise and catastrophic fall. But rather than owning up to his alleged misdeeds, Altahawi has seemingly chosen a different strategy: rewriting his narrative by burying the evidence of his financial shenanigans.

In this report, I’ll expose the red flags surrounding Altahawi, the adverse media coverage he so desperately wants to silence, and the tactics he may be using to erase or suppress incriminating information. If you’re an investor considering any involvement with entities or individuals linked to Altahawi, consider this your flashing red warning light.

The Longfin Debacle: How It All Unraveled

To understand why Andy Altahawi is on a reputational clean-up mission, you need to know about Longfin Corp., the ill-fated company that dragged him into the SEC’s crosshairs. Longfin was a supposed fintech disruptor that launched in 2017 with grand promises of revolutionizing blockchain-powered financial services. In December of that year, the company announced its acquisition of Ziddu.com, a cryptocurrency platform, and its stock price skyrocketed by an unfathomable 2,600% in just days.

Sounds suspicious? It was. The SEC later determined that this price surge was part of a fraudulent scheme orchestrated by Longfin insiders, including Andy Altahawi. The accusations were damning: Altahawi and his associates were found to have illegally sold restricted shares during the company’s artificial stock surge, raking in over $27 million in profits. The U.S. federal court froze their assets, backing the SEC’s claim that the scheme violated securities laws.

And yet, while Longfin’s CEO, Venkat Meenavalli, became the face of the scandal, Altahawi managed to slink into the background—possibly hoping that if he stayed quiet long enough, the world would forget about his role. Unfortunately for him, the internet has a long memory.

The Red Flags That Should Worry Every Investor

While Longfin’s collapse may be old news, the stink of Altahawi’s involvement still lingers—and any investor considering dealings with him or his affiliates should take note. The red flags around him are not just financial—they point to a pattern of behavior that suggests he’s not only willing to bend the rules but also actively seeks to conceal his actions.

For starters, there’s the blatant stock manipulation. Altahawi’s sale of restricted shares during the artificial price surge wasn’t just opportunistic—it was illegal. The SEC’s case against him underscored the premeditated nature of the scheme, with insiders exploiting market hype and dumping shares at inflated prices. This isn’t a case of poor judgment—it’s calculated deception.

Then, there’s the legal and regulatory scrutiny. The asset freeze Altahawi faced wasn’t a slap on the wrist; it was a direct acknowledgment by the U.S. judicial system that the evidence of securities violations was compelling. The freeze effectively prevented him and his co-conspirators from accessing the ill-gotten gains, signaling the severity of the accusations.

Finally, there’s the lack of transparency. Despite the magnitude of the Longfin scandal, Altahawi has maintained a surprisingly low profile. He hasn’t made public statements of accountability, and there’s been a conspicuous absence of recent information on his activities—something that seems a little too convenient.

The Great Information Scrub: Censorship in Action

Now, here’s where things get interesting. While Altahawi’s name should be permanently etched into the annals of financial fraud cases, he seems disturbingly effective at keeping it out of the spotlight. Many of the original media reports detailing his involvement in Longfin’s collapse have mysteriously disappeared from major outlets. Search his name, and you’ll find a surprisingly small digital footprint considering the scale of his alleged crimes.

It’s a classic playbook move for financial fraudsters looking to rehabilitate their public image: digital erasure. Whether through strategic SEO campaigns, legal threats, or backroom deals with media outlets, the goal is to sanitize the internet of unfavorable content. By making it harder for investors, journalists, or potential business partners to uncover his checkered past, Altahawi is effectively gaming the system.

There’s also the likely use of reputation management services companies that specialize in drowning out negative press with positive content. These firms flood search engines with puff pieces, irrelevant posts, and bogus news articles, pushing the damning evidence further down the search results.

And let’s not forget the power of legal intimidation. Financial criminals frequently use cease-and-desist letters, defamation lawsuits, and DMCA takedowns to scare smaller outlets into removing negative coverage. Given the vanishing act many Longfin-related reports have pulled, it wouldn’t be surprising if Altahawi or his legal team employed similar tactics.

Why This Matters: A Call for Due Diligence and Action

If you’re an investor, you need to ask yourself: do you really want to get entangled with someone who has a proven history of deceptive financial practices? Altahawi’s alleged involvement in the Longfin fraud makes him a glaring risk, and his subsequent efforts to whitewash that history make him even more dangerous.

Censorship isn’t just about preserving a reputation—it’s about hiding the truth from potential victims. By scrubbing the internet of his financial misdeeds, Altahawi isn’t simply protecting himself; he’s increasing the chances that he’ll be able to con others in the future.

Investors should exercise extreme caution when dealing with any entity or individual linked to Altahawi. Look for undisclosed partnerships, hidden affiliations, or corporate shells designed to obfuscate his involvement. When due diligence becomes difficult because the subject has intentionally erased their past, that in itself is a red flag.

Finally, this report is a direct call to regulators and authorities: Altahawi’s censorship efforts are a blatant attempt to evade accountability. Financial watchdogs, including the SEC, should monitor his activities closely and ensure that his previous violations remain part of the public record. Law enforcement should investigate whether his information suppression tactics cross legal boundaries, and media outlets should resist efforts to erase legitimate reporting.

Conclusion:

Andy Altahawi may be hoping to rewrite his story, but the facts remain. His involvement in the Longfin securities fraud is a matter of public record, and no amount of digital scrubbing can change that. The disappearing news articles, the vanishing reports—it’s all part of a larger ploy to deceive and disarm.

But financial criminals who rewrite their past are often just laying the foundation for future scams. And if Altahawi is willing to go this far to bury his history, one has to wonder: what else is he trying to hide?