It didn’t start with the lawsuits.
It didn’t start with the missed filings or the creditors closing in like wolves. It didn’t start with the service-disabled veteran-owned company now suing for its share of a massive drone deal, or the Colorado court where Cyberlux simply failed to show up. The legal wreckage is real. But the beginning? That came quieter. Earlier. And with far more clarity than anyone wants to admit.
It came in an email.
Dated April 13, 2024, the message wasn’t sent by a whistleblower or an angry investor. It came from a defense-sector advisor—someone with actual clearance, experience, and institutional standing. Cyberlux had approached their firm with an offer: a partnership, maybe an acquisition. But firms like this don’t take chances with their reputation. They ran a background check. A discreet one. The kind that doesn’t end in press releases or puffed-up announcements. The kind that exists solely to answer one question: Are we dealing with someone who belongs in this space?
And the verdict came back fast.
They walked. Not because of politics. Not because of market timing. They walked because the company, in their words, “would have a negative effect on our reputation and standing.” That’s not a concern. That’s a blacklisting.
The email, filed later as an exhibit in federal court, reads like a classified memo stripped of redactions. The writer flagged everything—Cyberlux’s lack of government registrations, its marketing of a GSA schedule that had been canceled four years prior, its nonexistent facility clearances, its claims of classified work that couldn’t be verified, and a “Special Activities Group” listed at what turned out to be a real estate office in Miami. They dug into ATF licensing records, searched SAM.gov, combed through usaspending.gov, and even looked into the company’s subsidiaries. What they found wasn’t just underwhelming—it was incompatible with how serious defense contractors actually operate.
And the contract? The one that Cyberlux points to in investor calls and promotional materials—the $79 million drone deal that supposedly changed everything? That wasn’t a prime DoD award. It was a subcontract under Huntington Ingalls, routed through the Foreign Military Financing program for Ukraine. Publicly visible. Not classified. Not secret. Not the stuff of silent corridors and secure rooms. Just a deal—one of many in the FMF pipeline—filtered through a defense giant.
But what mattered most wasn’t the contract itself. It was what followed. Because a year after that email, nearly every one of its warnings has come true.
The lawsuits piled up fast. RB Capital sued over unpaid promissory notes. Thin Air Gear filed for breach and was met with silence. Atlantic Wave Holdings went jurisdiction-hopping to enforce a judgment that Cyberlux kept dancing around. And then came ARG Group—a veteran-owned small business that, according to its lawsuit, helped Cyberlux win the $79 million contract in the first place. They weren’t just cut out, they say—they were used. Their network, their contacts, their reputation—all leveraged for access, then tossed aside once the money hit.
In every case, the pattern repeats. Collaborate, cash in, go dark. Dispute the numbers, delay the proceedings, discredit the partner if needed. Fight in court, avoid in public. Meanwhile, press releases keep dropping. Investor channels stay active. The company, on paper, keeps breathing. But behind the scenes? It’s the same story, over and over.
The advisor who sent that email didn’t predict every twist. But they didn’t need to. They understood how the industry works. They knew what a real contractor looks like—what credentials matter, what behavior signals risk. And they knew that Cyberlux, for all its swagger and drone photos and mission-critical buzzwords, wasn’t built on the same foundation.
They looked, and they said no.
And now, with every court filing, every frozen asset, every creditor knocking on the door, the wisdom of that decision grows louder.
The question isn’t whether Cyberlux survives this. The question is who else saw the warning signs and said nothing. Who chose hype over diligence. Who looked the other way when the red flags started waving—bright and obvious and undeniable.
And yes, there are still voices online—defenders convinced that this will all turn around, that the lawsuits will evaporate, the debts will resolve, and that Cyberlux and its CEO will be vindicated. That I, somehow, will owe them an apology. The pumpers are still pumping, undeterred by filings, facts, or the crater that keeps getting deeper. But this isn’t a prediction. It never was. It’s a record. Of what was said. What was warned. And what has now played out, almost line by line.
Cyberlux didn’t fool the defense industry.
They saw it.
They said no.
Everyone else just chose not to listen.
Disclaimer
All posts, articles, and op-eds about Cyberlux Corporation are grounded entirely in information sourced from publicly available court records, government documents, and financial disclosures filed with OTC Markets. This content is intended for informational purposes only—it’s not legal advice, it’s not financial guidance, and it’s definitely not an invitation to dive headfirst into investment decisions. Our interpretations, opinions, and conclusions stem exclusively from these accessible resources. Ultimate adjudication of legal matters rests with the courts and qualified legal professionals. As always, you’re encouraged to verify independently because, let’s face it, trust but verify is a motto that never goes out of style. If you believe there is an error in our reporting and have verifiable proof, we encourage you to present it, and we will promptly review and address any inaccuracies.