in the late afternoon of a quiet Friday, a court in Texas posted a 20-page signed order. The order had been signed on May 22nd. No press conference. No advance notice. Just a court-verified death sentence for Cyberlux Corporation and everything it was pretending to be.
The order appointed a receiver. It transferred control of all Cyberlux assets—and Mark Schmidt’s, too—to a court-appointed agent named Robert W. Berleth. By the time this goes live, every bank account, brokerage, crypto wallet, contract, and car tied to the company is at risk of being seized, liquidated, or clawed back. It’s not just overdue. It’s surgical.
This wasn’t sudden. It came only after the judge had exhausted every other remedy. But the timing—late on the Friday before a long holiday weekend—created a rare and consequential silence. It gave the receiver space to move efficiently and without resistance. By the time Cyberlux notices, the levies will already be in play.
Let’s be honest. This was never a misunderstood startup. It was a funnel—from government dollars to insider perks. Investors got conned. Taxpayers got conned. The government got conned. And while Cyberlux flailed, HII Mission Systems and its federal overseers signed checks anyway. If accountability ends at Cyberlux, we’ve missed the bigger story. It was a mess with marketing. A Pink Sheet illusion hiding behind press releases and defense-adjacent name-dropping. TrellisWare. OKSI. AeroVironment. Names that deserved better than to be pulled into this pantomime of legitimacy.
And Datron? Once a real company. Now a subsidiary frozen under a legal microscope, held hostage to a parent entity that treated credibility like an optional expense. Cyberlux still owes its former owners over $4 million. And if the receiver determines that the $3 million down payment made during the acquisition was fraudulent, that money could be clawed back—and the $4 million in outstanding obligations could be wiped. Its former owners cashed out. Its current team? Now answering to a court-appointed receiver who may soon decide that their entire acquisition was built on a financial mirage.
That brings us to the individuals behind the illusion—the ones whose names are written across the filings, the contracts, and now the fallout.
Mark Schmidt, the CEO whose name is on every judgment and dilution event, is no longer in control of the company—or his own assets. Months ago, he quietly purged his Twitter account of anything that might now look incriminating. He’ll likely lose his Mercedes before he can finish his coffee Tuesday morning.
Denis Kalenja, the financier-turned-shadow operator, fell off the public radar long ago. He’s likely watching this unravel from a safe timezone—far from the subpoenas.
And Bill Maadarani? His name is now a liability. Not an asset. In business development, reputation is value—and he burned his. As Cyberlux’s Chief Revenue Officer, he was the face of deal-making. The man out front. If Schmidt built the house of cards, Bill sold it to everyone he could find. He took meetings. Hosted events. Polished talking points. And now, his LinkedIn will read like the setup to a compliance horror story. While is it unclear that Mr. Maadarani had any knowledge of the back office financial manoeuvring, his association as a C-Level will nonetheless come at a cost.
This isn’t restructuring. This isn’t a comeback story. This is a legal bodybag.
And I say that with some satisfaction.
Because for eight months I’ve been writing about this company. I said the filings were telling us everything. I said the strip club settlement was real. I said the contracts were smoke. I said the leadership was extracting, not building. And what did I get?
Threats. Reports. Messages from sock puppets. Intimidation by insiders who thought a LinkedIn view would scare me off.
And yet here we are. A court just took the company away from them.
They mocked the filings. I read them.
They said it was FUD. A judge called it fraud.
They said I was the problem. Turns out I was the preview.
Receivership is what happens when the excuses run out, the money runs dry, and the PR machine can’t outrun the subpoenas. It means someone with legal power and zero patience is going to go through every account, every settlement, every “consulting” fee, and put it all on the table.
The pumper class can try to pivot. The insiders can try to spin. But they don’t control the narrative anymore. They don’t control anything. And if they moved money they shouldn’t have? That’s not a misunderstanding. That’s about to become a line item in a clawback.
This isn’t my opinion. This is court record. This is public. This is enforceable.
It’s not just a bad day for Cyberlux. It’s the end of the road.
And to everyone who told me I was wrong: You weren’t just betting on the wrong company. You were betting against the truth.
Receivership doesn’t lie.
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.balll