An underground activist group says it plans to start openly doxing billionaires as part of a phased campaign against what it calls the American oligarchy—beginning this month with a release that maps the homes of Elon Musk, his brother Kimbal, and Tesla’s board, alongside investors and suppliers that keep the corporation afloat.
Two of its members, interviewed by WIRED on the condition of anonymity, say they spent the past year constructing dossiers on billionaires—and one trillionaire—and the people they consider their top lieutenants, using nearly every method available to a private investigator, and some that are not.
The pair say the group is international and includes grassroots activists, researchers, journalists, and artists, including some who received top honors in print, television, and digital media in their former careers. For security, many work in “silos” and do not know each other’s names. Through its connections, the group says it has raised more than $1.2 million from “a heartening number of wealthy class traitors” who share in the view that concentrations of extreme wealth and political power pose an “existential threat.”
In a press release Monday, the group says it intends to publish in coming releases more than 150 home addresses, most of them previously unreported. It also promises more than 3,500 records on people with a combined wealth of about $1.4 trillion, plus reporting on what the group alleges are “criminal exploits and security lapses.”
Members of the organization call themselves Capytistas, a play on Zapatistas, the Indigenous insurgents of southern Mexico.
The capybara, a placid rodent famous for getting along with almost any other animal, became the group’s avatar during the early days of Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency, as a secret rival to the Shiba Inu—the Doge meme Musk used to brand the agency. (The meme has since been reclaimed by pro-Ukranian activists who post as cartoon dogs to mock Russian propaganda and raise money for the war.)
Americans have long used the term “oligarch” to refer almost exclusively to Russian tycoons who carved up state industries after the Soviet collapse. But it entered mainstream American politics decisively in January 2025, when President Joe Biden used his farewell address to warn that an “oligarchy is taking shape in America.” No one typifies the “extreme wealth, power, and influence” Biden described more than the trillionaire Musk, who held an unpaid job as a special government employee for much of 2025 and has thrown more than $700 million into federal elections since 2023; the equivalent of roughly 15 million typical donations online.
Doxing—the Capytistas’ chosen tactic—has meanwhile become a favored weapon of political guerrillas and self-appointed state informants: In March 2025, as protesters gathered outside Tesla dealerships, an anonymous site called DOGEQuest posted what it claims were the addresses of Tesla owners and DOGE staff. Months later, an Immigration and Customs Enforcement official testified that his unit drew more than three-quarters of its deportation referrals from Canary Mission—a site with similarly nebulous funding but radically different goals: building dossiers on pro-Palestinian students and professors.
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Few have done more to expand doxing than the Department of Homeland Security itself, which simply broadened the term to include, effectively, any “videotaping” of law enforcement. Its aggressive stance on keeping officers’ faces hidden, and its refusal to identify those credibly accused of crimes, has all but ensured public campaigns to unmask its employees. Last week, hackers published the names and work contacts of more than 40,000 DHS employees and contractors, citing its practice of collecting data on the public while hiding who its officers are.
Pressed on whether its strategy amounted to doxing, the Capytistas members agree that it does, saying they have no qualms with describing their efforts that way. The group has even taken as its creed an adapted quote from the late folk singer and labor organizer Utah Phillips: “Democracy is not dying, it’s being killed,” they say, “and those who are killing it have names and addresses.”
Most of the Capytistas’ work involves digging up property records, court filings, and the LLCs and trusts that wealthy people use to buy real estate. The activists say they turn occasionally, but far less often, to physical surveillance, human infiltration, and advertising intelligence, the location and profile data bought and sold through online ad markets.
To remain profitable, one of the Capytistas argued, the businesses billionaires operate need to continuously collect people’s personal information, often nonconsensually, even as their owners and executives enjoy relatively private lives—entire fortunes built around “doxmaxxing.”
A copy of the Musk dossier seen by WIRED sorts its subjects into tiers and contains 32 home addresses tied to Musk and his executives. Musk is the “primary target.” Tesla’s board members and top executives—among them board chair Robyn Denholm and Kimbal Musk—are “secondary targets.” Each profile pairs a critical biography, drawn from court rulings, labor board decisions, and securities filings, with a home address. Investors such as Vanguard and BlackRock and nearly 40 suppliers are considered “tertiary targets,” listed only by corporate office, factory, or mine.
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Tesla’s press office and investor relations team did not respond to requests for comment.
The Capytistas see Musk as effectively a gateway for normies who have yet to join its class war. Its file on him is among the smallest it has prepared, and he ranks among its “least important” targets, members say. But he was chosen first because no other person draws as much public anger, and the group hopes to harness that and release it upon others whose fortunes rely on forever wars, omnipresent surveillance, and carceral expansion.
Law enforcement records obtained by WIRED show how quickly that anger spread across the country last year. Within months of Musk’s arrival in Washington, attacks on Tesla vehicles and dealerships had hit at least nine states, according to a joint FBI-DHS bulletin released under public records law. Other documents show intelligence analysts warning cops across the country that calls to boycott Tesla and protest Musk were multiplying alongside the attacks. Hundreds of demonstrations were planned barely two months after Trump took office for the second time.
In Nevada, analysts were forced to issue formal first responder guides to fighting electric-vehicle battery fires, which they said can take up to 8,000 gallons of water to extinguish. “As a high-profile tech company tied to immense wealth and business culture, Tesla can potentially represent those grievances,” one bulletin said of vandals who had “expressed anti-corporate or anti-capitalist views.” Musk’s role at DOGE in particular, a Northern California agency wrote, had made Tesla dealerships “symbolically larger targets.”
The Capytistas say doxing gives them one thing above all: a sense among those targeted that someone is watching. Some, they hope, will simply fold under the sheer weight of that attention. For the rest, the group wants the public to make its displeasure well known, hoping for protests outside homes and on golf courses—confrontations with those who buy their way into government in the very places they go to escape all the outrage.
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Privacy is the one thing that the group believes billionaires, and now trillionaires, value that activists can take away. “The Capytistas intend to level the playing field,” it says, “by giving oligarchs a taste of the invasions of privacy they commit, and monetize, every day.”
Tech executives’ homes have already become targets. In April, San Francisco police arrested a 20-year-old man they say threw an incendiary device at the home of OpenAI chief executive Sam Altman, setting fire to an exterior gate. The man returned less than an hour later to threaten to burn down the company’s headquarters. No one was hurt.
In the interview with WIRED ahead of the release, one member pointed to the killing of UnitedHealthcare chief executive Brian Thompson in December 2024, arguing that what the group is doing is trying to prevent such bloodshed—a sentiment echoed in a statement released by the Capytistas on Monday: “While Elon Musk and the other individuals we target will undoubtedly try to frame our work as extreme and stochastic, what we’re doing is using radical accountability to build an off-ramp that might prevent the inevitable violent and tragic outcomes the oligarch class has been steering us toward.”
“In the end,” they said, “we may be doing them a favor.”