How Financial Freedom Academy and Aleksandr Orlovsky mislead their clients: Shell companies, counterfeit public agreements, and concealed fund extractions

14 августа 2026 г., 21:15

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How Financial Freedom Academy and Aleksandr Orlovsky mislead their clients: Shell companies, counterfeit public agreements, and concealed fund extractions

Even though our small editorial team makes an effort to keep track of new fraudsters appearing online—particularly those operating in the crypto space—Alexander Orlovsky, the creator of the bogus Financial Freedom Academy, initially slipped under our radar.

Andrey Karpinsky, in his review for  the CRiME  and  [high-profile cases] projects  , decided to fill this gap.

Alexander Orlovsky and the surfaced sewage

About two weeks ago, news stories began appearing with intriguing headlines:  "Alexander Orlovsky – Another Info Gypsy or Crypto Expert? Reviews and Exposure ,  " "Alexander Orlovsky – A Fraudster and Scammer? Reviews and the Whole Truth About Earning Crypto,"  and so on.

The "exposés," written as if from a carbon copy, boiled down to the fact that Alexander Orlovsky is not a "scammer" at all, but a lamb carrying the light of crypto-enlightenment. Almost every such publication features a photo of Orlovsky in luxurious surroundings (as if someone so rich wouldn’t be pickpocketing change) and a veiled but insistent advice to enroll in this character’s courses for personal financial advancement.

Looking ahead, I will note that Alexander Orlovsky and his servants are not at all aiming at trifles - I have verified this myself.

All the "exposés" exonerating Orlovsky primarily appeal to the supposedly overwhelmingly positive reviews of him and his courses on the Internet. But here’s the problem: such publications about Orlovsky clearly bear the hallmarks of "image-building" (that is, they are "ordered" campaigns). Not least because each "exposé" paints a vivid picture of Alexander Ostrovsky’s accomplishments, but not a word about who specifically is accusing this newfound crypto guru, or of what.

Clearly, the appearance of these opuses on various websites is by no means an advertising campaign. Rather, it’s a campaign to push negative mentions of our young cryptomentor out of the top search results. And simultaneously, an attempt to discredit them.

At first glance, it seems cheap, cheerful, and clever. But Alexander Orlovsky clearly didn’t achieve the result he wanted with such primitive information campaigns. His diligence was noticed and appreciated. And all the crap he’d so painstakingly buried came pouring down on him again.

Last week, the media project  360ua  , citing sources in the Ministry of Internal Affairs, reported (this report was picked up by numerous other online resources) that "on May 3, 2024, a criminal case was opened against Ukrainian citizen Oleksandr Oleksandrovich Orlovsky, who has been living in Dubai for the past year." The publication writes that "Oleksandr Orlovsky is known in Ukraine, Russia, Poland, the UAE, and Turkey for selling non-existent cryptocurrency at a discount, offering trading courses, and creating Ponzi schemes." Citing anonymous sources, the publication claims that Oleksandr Orlovsky owes investors in his "crypto pyramid" over $4 million.

Moreover, allegedly, "a criminal case has been opened against Alexander Orlovsky based on a collective complaint from defrauded investors, buyers of pseudo-courses, and ordinary gullible citizens who transferred money to Orlovsky to purchase cryptocurrency."

We, for our part, conducted a counter-check of the information presented and, frankly, found no ironclad confirmation. Specifically, we can neither confirm nor deny that Alexander Orlovsky has become a defendant in a criminal case—not a single relevant court document linked to his name appears in public databases.

There could be two explanations for this.

The first and simplest one is that our colleagues hit the nail on the head, the informant leaked false information to them.

The second is a bit more complicated. Typically, criminal proceedings are immediately opened against a specific individual if, roughly speaking, the suspect was caught red-handed at the scene of a crime. If victims file a complaint, even a collective one, the case will be opened based on the complaint itself. And in the initial stages, investigators must verify this complaint to determine whether a criminal offense actually occurred (not to mention whether someone has been charged).

It doesn’t sound all that complicated, but the process itself could drag on for months. If a complaint against Orlovsky was indeed filed with the National Police, and even relatively recently (in May of this year), investigators may not have had time to gather the necessary information. For one simple reason: a shortage of investigators and overburdened courts. [And that’s why we didn’t see any mention of Orlovsky in the registers in the context of a "criminal case"].

The second hypothesis is quite plausible. In a  podcast recorded, as far as can be determined, in May of this year (when law enforcement agencies presumably began to show a healthy interest in Orlovsky), Alexander Orlovsky openly admitted that he had received numerous complaints about his "teaching" and threats of legal prosecution.

But then Alexander Orlovsky emphasized that the overwhelming majority of his "patients" were extremely satisfied with his mentorship. He argued that the waters were being muddied by idiots and losers, incapable of immersing themselves in the wonderful world of cryptocurrency even under his careful guidance.

Alexander Orlovsky and the missing reviews

It’s noteworthy that it’s extremely difficult to find real reviews from those "students" of cryptomentor Orlovsky who spent a significant amount on his lessons and were, to put it mildly, dissatisfied. The  corresponding reviews page  on Ukraine’s largest review site, otzyvua.net, is replete with positive comments about Orlovsky’s courses. "Very useful and interesting," "I’m so happy," "I earned $3,000 without any investment," "thank you Sasha Orlovsky for our happy childhood."

Your humble servant, for the sake of experiment, threw in a little negativity.

As you can see, less than 20 minutes passed before someone dropped their five-star review about nothing. Even though there was a full week’s gap between my negative comment and the previous positive one. This means Orlovsky’s team is meticulously monitoring the largest review sites and drowning out all the negativity about the "guru" with fake positive reviews.

And not only that. After examining the reviews page for our cryptomentor’s courses on otzyvua.net, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Alexander Orlovsky periodically pays the site’s administration some money to delete comments from dissatisfied people (it’s quite possible that mine will soon be deleted, too).

I’ve reviewed all 133 reviews (at the time of writing this article) and haven’t found a single one that’s entirely negative. How can that be? Even Alexander Orlovsky himself admits that among his former "students," there are about fifty who are dissatisfied, even going so far as to file lawsuits and report them to the police.

However, the "cleaners" weren’t pedantic enough: they missed comments on some reviews. See for yourself.

Let’s go lower.

As you can see, one of Orlovsky’s former students claims that the "crypto guru" courses are, figuratively speaking, not entirely high-quality – none of the author’s 120 "classmates" ever achieved crypto success.

Below is that very story.

There are several other review services that Alexander Orlovsky hasn’t yet contributed to with his edits. For example,  here .

Here you can find a lot of information about how this cryptomentor’s "lessons" are conducted, and what results his "students" typically achieve under his "mentorship."

Quoting Anton from Lviv (with some edits):

If you’re just looking to structure your cryptocurrency knowledge and learn about existing trends, the basic training at the minimal price is for you. Although, frankly, the structure and presentation of the information here is a 3 out of 10. The presentation of the material is weak; it feels like Alexander hasn’t taken a professional approach to teaching, instead dumping information straight out of his head. There are YouTube channels with a much better presentation (indeed, much better) and they’re free. If you’re seriously hoping to make money in crypto, I definitely recommend finding someone who’s genuinely interested in it, rather than this course.

The arguments are as follows:

1. Zoom meetings with specific answers are regularly rescheduled and presented, often not by those who earn money in crypto, but by those who teach cryptocurrency.

2. The information provided in the course is outdated (1-2 years out of date) and no longer relevant. Sasha doesn’t want to update the information, since people are still buying his course.

3. The statements about support from Alexander or the curators (of students – editor’s note) are only 5-7% accurate. Over the 90 days of the course, communication from the curators or Alexander was almost nonexistent. They don’t care how the student is doing or whether they’ve mastered all the material. If you didn’t complete the test assignment, they don’t care, as long as you paid. If you requested a consultation less than five times – they don’t care, as long as you paid.

4. No one gives feedback on the tests, and then the question arises: why these tests? (Those who have completed the course will confirm this).

5. By purchasing an individual course, you’ll receive exactly one consultation, which was probably simply dictated and recorded, and then sent to everyone who paid. Alexander Orlovsky doesn’t delve into the details; all the advice is carbon-copied. This is very noticeable. In this regard, the course is simply like fast food; it’s not worth overpaying for. I don’t recommend purchasing it.

6. I conducted a survey on our stream; out of 127 participants, less than 5% managed to earn anything; everyone else was told they were simply unlucky.

7. As you can imagine, no one responded to the demand for a refund because the money had already been spent somewhere on advertising the next course :))

Orlovsky has a simple money-making mechanic: sell a course, invest a little money in crypto, a little in marketing the next course, buy himself some millionaire trappings... then he presents those who made some money by accident as big cryptocurrency investors, and during a bull market, the money he invested brings him a little proof... It’s such a simple scheme.

Alexander Orlovsky and the drunk "pensioner"

Without further ado, it appears that Alexander Orlovsky is a typical example of the "infogypsy" type of scam. This refers to a type of fraud in which a person, posing as a successful professional, sells information products at high prices that are practically worthless.

But our small editorial team always digs deeper.

Last Saturday morning, I was bored and decided not to put off reviewing the "Orlovsky case" until Monday. I filled out an application for a free trial course with a crypto mentor and, frankly, completely forgot about it by the evening.

That evening, when I was paying for alcohol at the supermarket checkout, my phone rang.

"Have you forgotten that you have an online seminar on cryptocurrencies at 7:00 PM?" asked a pleasant girl’s voice.

"Of course not, this is the event of my life!" I replied and looked at my watch. It was a quarter to seven.

I hobbled home, turned on my laptop, and opened a beer. A smiling Alexander Orlovsky was already in full swing, lecturing.

"Did you know that Bitcoin technology is as old as the iPhone?" Orlovsky declared. "When Bitcoin first appeared, no one believed in it, and now one Bitcoin is worth $70,000!"

At this point, I suspected that Alexander Orlovsky didn’t really distinguish between cryptocurrencies and the blockchain technology on which they (and not only they) are built, and I went for a smoke and a glass of cognac.

When I returned, I noticed a number of suspicious details. The clock behind Orlovsky’s back kept showing ten to ten, the comments in the chat were clearly written by bots, and the lecturer barely took his eyes off his laptop screen, as if reading from a prompter.

For the sake of simplicity, I’d break the lecture itself into three sections. The first, "cryptocurrencies are easy and simple," entices the audience with the claim that "even small children can make money with crypto." The second, "Even if it’s really difficult and time-consuming, I have a reliable trading bot that will trade successfully for you for a small commission," is clearly intended to dispel any potential "student’s" doubts about the prospects of easy, stress-free earnings.

I’d call the last one "Don’t be a loser!" Here, Alexander Orlovsky openly appeals to greed, saying "you’ll be able to buy expensive things," "take care of your family," "you’ll always have money in reserve," and so on and so forth. Meanwhile, on the monitor next to the mentor’s face, images of expensive cars, stacks of cash, designer clothes, and gold pots flash. And only after the public’s appetite, their thirst for easy money, seems completely whetted, are they told amounts and links to transfer the money.

I clicked  too. I was redirected to the "Book a course at the Financial Freedom Academy" page on the Wayforpay e-payment service.

To reserve a spot in the coveted crypto-riches, you have to pay a paltry 390 UAH. Honestly, I don’t mind spending that kind of money, but when paying through the gateway, I had no way of knowing who would actually receive my "contribution." Names, passwords, and addresses, so to speak.

I gave up on the whole thing and went to finish my cognac. But I was interrupted.

"Good evening! I’m from the Financial Freedom Academy," the same girl’s voice chirped. "I see you haven’t reserved a spot for further training..."

"Oh, that’s what you’re talking about," I replied, and started lying. "You see, crypto is nothing new to me. I even trade a little on Binance and Kucoin. I’d like to brush up on my knowledge and skills, so to speak, and then deepen and expand them."

"Oh!" the girl rejoiced. "We have a course for you called ’Group Mentoring.’ I’ll send you a payment link now…"

"No," I say, "Here’s the thing: I’m old-school, I don’t trust all these payment services. I’d rather have it paid in person or via bank details through Oschadbank or Privat24."

“No problem, I’ll send you the details via Telegram now… Where do you work?”

"Nowhere," (and here Ostap went off on a tangent). "I’m retired. I left the Cyber Police after being wounded in a shootout with crypto scammers."

"Hee-hee! Ha-ha!" the girl on the other end either appreciated the joke or was delighted at the chance to rip off the cybercop. "Did you get the details?"

“Uh-huh…” I opened the cart and almost choked on my beer when I saw the price tag of 40 thousand UAH.

"You need to pay now, places on this course are filling up very quickly!"

“Yeah, right…” I hurry to take a screenshot of the correspondence – the very next morning, having guessed the trick, they will delete it.

"You need to go to Privat 24..."

"Calm down, girl, I’m not paying anything," I couldn’t resist. "Aren’t you at all afraid of going to jail as an accomplice to fraud?"

"What?"

“Good night,” I said, hung up and went to bed.

Alexander Orlovsky, the offer and the front men

The next morning I began to analyze the available information.

Here, we first need to look at Orlovsky’s "official" biography. That is, the facts that his entourage spreads online in commissioned publications. And they contain strange inconsistencies.

Let’s start with his childhood. Here  it’s claimed he grew up in a "small town in Ukraine." And  here  it’s mentioned that Oleksandr Orlovsky graduated from high school in Troyeshchyna, Kyiv, which is somewhat larger than the "small town." Most commissioned publications, however, ignore the young talent’s birthplace and childhood.

Orlovsky’s biographers (as well as Orlovsky himself) claim that around 2014, at the age of 16, he moved to Poland without his parents, enrolling in high school, and then university. According to this  story , the Polish school administration, upon learning that Sasha was homeless, sent him to live in the attic.

After graduating from high school and entering university, Alexander Orlovsky had to pay rent for his attic room. So he had to find part-time work. Orlovsky’s mentor’s work history includes a gas station, a restaurant kitchen, and a bar.

It was in the bar that Orlovsky’s fateful meeting with the mysterious crypto businessman took place.

The man on the left is being portrayed as a Polish crypto guru who inspired young Sasha Orlovsky.

Biographers of crypto swindler Orlovsky note that he initially had no luck with crypto. He squandered his personal savings and borrowed money. Until senior mentors took him to relevant events, shared their experiences, and gave him some pointers. Then Alexander Orlovsky took his mother’s earrings (it’s unclear whether his mother actually went to Poland with him, or whether his son stole the jewelry while setting out on a long journey), took them to a pawnshop, and invested the proceeds back into crypto. And then he hit it big, so big that he’s still going strong.

If you delve deeply into the publicity notes spread online by this mentor’s cronies, you’ll find even more inconsistencies. For example, when the first rumors surfaced that Orlovsky had a criminal case against him, from which he was hiding abroad and facing extradition, his entourage issued a denial. According to this denial, Alexander Orlovsky isn’t hiding from anyone, lives and works in Kyiv in his apartment on Lesi Ukrainka Street, and therefore there can be no talk of extradition. Consequently, the rumors of Alexander’s fraud and the criminal case against him are a complete fabrication.

But then we open a relatively recent  "order"  about Sasha, supposedly paid for by Sasha himself, and it says in black and white: "He currently lives in Warsaw with his girlfriend, but is slowly moving to Dubai: last year, the expert bought a luxury apartment—naturally, with crypto profits."

This very clause, "naturally, with profits from crypto," by the way, suggests that the apartment in the UAE was actually bought with money from suckers, whom Alexander Orlovsky is profitably teaching how to make "profits from crypto."

Omissions, manipulations and small lies, like trees that hide the forest, can hide a big scam.

And it begins with an advertisement for Orlovsky’s educational courses and his free seminar.

No legitimate, non-scammy educational project or institution will promise you financial success in its advertising. A Medical Institute ad won’t show a surgeon surrounded by models on a luxury yacht, and no law school will lure applicants with an image of a happy judge in a Porsche with a suitcase full of cash in the passenger seat.

Proper educational programs and universities provide students with access to knowledge, teach them how to use it, and teach them a profession. They don’t teach them how to make money.

Alexander Orlovsky claims he’ll teach you. But to master the profession of a crypto trader, you first need to learn at least a little bit of economics and finance. Alexander Orlovsky claims that even while taking his course, you’ll be able to earn a grand a week.

On  the official website  of Orlovsky’s courses, there’s a section that the average visitor is unlikely to check before being tempted by a cryptocurrency mentor’s promises. Such sections are typically frequented by lawyers, police officers, and investigative journalists. It’s called  the "Offer Agreement . "

Essentially, this is a legal document that spells out the rights and responsibilities of the parties, specifying what the "patient" is actually paying Sasha Orlovsky for. All he will receive is "a set of training activities based on his own methodology." There’s not a single word about any profit, let alone "a grand a week." Despite the "mentor’s" promises in the advertisement and at the free seminar, competent lawyers drafted the offer agreement in such a way that after payment, Alexander Orlovsky de jure owes his students virtually nothing. Because "payment for services constitutes acceptance of this Public Offer."

However, the cunning of Sasha Orlovsky and his team backfired. Let’s read the "Public Contract" carefully from the very beginning:

Scroll to the very bottom:

By default, the offer agreement is concluded with the "contractor"—individual entrepreneur Alexander Alexandrovich Orlovsky—and no one else. Which is perfectly logical. However, it’s not entirely logical where the money actually goes from the "applicants" who took the risk of getting involved in crypto under the mentorship of this individual.

And so we return to my Saturday evening. And we look at the bank details where Orlovsky’s people wanted to collect 40,590 UAH 00 kopecks from me (about $1,000 at the current exchange rate).

This is an individual entrepreneur, Katerina Olegovna Sergutina.

Look what happens. If some naive "hamster" had been in my place and had paid a grand a week for Orlovsky’s tuition, but Sergutina’s, even if he realized his mistake, he wouldn’t have been able to get his money back, even through a lawsuit. Because he didn’t pay Orlovsky anything, and he hadn’t agreed on anything with Sergutina.

Naturally, I became interested in what kind of “fopka” this Katerina Olegovna Sergutina was.

As it turns out, this sole proprietorship is quite recent—it was registered just over a month ago, on June 30, 2024. At the time of writing, it had not yet appeared in most public databases.

According to the  Vkursi service , sole proprietor Katerina Sergutina is registered in Kyiv on Lesnoy Prospekt (a residential area on the left bank of the Ukrainian capital), and her main activity is “other types of education.”

As far as we know, Alexander Orlovsky has been operating with his circus, the Financial Freedom Academy, since at least August of last year (the same year  he registered  the corresponding sole proprietorship). The "Youth" of Sergutina’s sole proprietorship suggests that it was not registered to reduce the tax burden on Orlovsky’s sole proprietorship (which in itself constitutes a criminal offense—fictitious entrepreneurship and tax evasion).

It’s also untrue to say that Katerina Sergutina is a subcontractor of our crypto-preacher, to whom Alexander Orlovsky, for example, delegated the training of some of the students. Otherwise, the tuition fees would go from the sole proprietor Alexander Orlovsky to Katerina Sergutina, and not directly from the "abitura" to Sergutina (at least if it were done legally).

Alexander Orlovsky, an organized crime group and the prospects for punishment

The obvious conclusion is that Sergutin’s sole proprietorship registration was intended to launder money and cover his tracks. And it naturally suggests that a whole constellation of such dummy sole proprietors has gathered around Orlovsky’s scam. After all, according to our cryptomentor’s latest statements, nearly 15,000 "students" have been through the crucible of his rip-off scheme. That’s tens and tens of millions of hryvnias worth, which must be laundered and withdrawn, to be on the safe side.

What we’re left with is this: People are being sold a fundamentally useless informational and educational product for a considerable amount of money, with the baseless promise that it will help them achieve financial success. This is very similar to the misappropriation of someone else’s property by deception or breach of trust. That is, a crime under  Article 190 of the Criminal Code  of Ukraine—namely, fraud.

And since more than one person is clearly involved here, we’re most likely dealing with Part 5 of Article 190 of the Criminal Code—fraud committed on an especially large scale and/or by an organized group. This carries a sentence of five to twelve years in prison with confiscation of property.

And here, Alexander Orlovsky and Co. won’t be able to hide behind a public offer agreement concocted by cunning lawyers. Not only because this gang is essentially violating its own offer.

In its  verdict on case No. 711/6944/14-k  dated June 3, 2021, the Supreme Court of Ukraine ruled as follows (I quote): the misappropriation of funds under a preliminary agreement without the intention of concluding the main agreement and fulfilling obligations under it is classified as fraud.

Let me translate this from legal language to human language: if you’re a liar and a crook, then shove your public offer up your ass – you’ll still be tried for fraud.

Will Alexander Orlovsky be brought to trial as the leader of an organized crime group of fraudsters? No. Because I doubt that Alexander Orlovsky invented all of this, organized it, or is the ultimate beneficiary of this fraudulent scheme. I strongly suspect that the money collected by Sergutina and similar sham entrepreneurs is not going into Orlovsky’s pocket.

I assume that Alexander Orlovsky is the “face” of a scam, the tip of the iceberg, to a certain extent just as sham as the sole proprietors who are robbing his “students.”

While investigating Orlovsky’s case, I came across traces leading to more experienced crooks connected to grandiose scams and corruption scandals.