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I'm bringing my crew of lesser talented friends along for the ride. With a list guests like Gronk, Mark Hamill and the Jonas Brothers, whoever they are. There's a little bit of something for everyone. Listen to tis, the Grinch Holiday podcast, wherever you get your podcasts. The sprawling spending and tax legislation known as the Big Beautiful Bill took a dagger to the heart of Joe Biden's clean energy program. The bill killed off subsidies for wind and solar and electric vehicle production. But it did preserve and actually expand one so called green energy subsidy. A lesser known tax credit for something called biofuel. Biofuel is made by extracting oil from things like seeds, soybeans, corn, or even used cooking grease and through a chemical process turning it into fuel that can power trucks, planes and heavy machinery. Today we're bringing you a story about the wild world of clean energy tax credits. But trust me, it's a lot crazier than it sounds. It's about an unlikely pair. A polygamous cult leader and an Armenian mobster who took one look at our convoluted system of climate regulations, tax codes and energy incentives and saw dollar signs. Like a whole lot of dollar signs. And it all begins on a rugged patch of land north of Salt Lake City, Utah. The headquarters of the Mormon Church. It's 2006. Jacob Kingston is standing in the shadow of the snow capped Utah mountains on his family's Washakie Ranch. Jacob is a clean cut 28 year old with a messy side part. He's a science nerd and recently graduated from the University of Utah with a PhD in mechanical engineering. His area of expertise producing something called biofuel. This ranch is where Jacob has decided to build his own biofuel plant. He can picture it now. A 123 foot tall seed silo. A state of the art reactor to turn raw material into fuel. A labyrinth of pipes and steel tanks that filter out impurities and turn cooking Oil headed for the garbage. Into hard cash. He'll call his company Washakie Renewable Energy. And in just a few years, Jacob plans to make Washakie the largest producer of clean burning and sustainable biodiesel in Utah, with an annual output of up to 10 million gallons. It is going to be big. It has to be. Jacob desperately needs a way to support his growing family. And it is growing. He already has a few wives and half a dozen children, and he's not done yet. That's because Jacob is a polygamist. After the Mormon Church outlawed polygamy, Jacob's great uncle believed they'd given up their divine authority. So he convinced hundreds of followers to defect. He created a breakaway sect called the Davis County Cooperative Society. To insiders, it was known simply as the Order. On the same land that Jacob plans to build his biofuel plant, his great uncle amassed followers, preaching beliefs that dipped into the occult. He had visions. He healed his disciples by touch. And once, when his favorite wife died, he exhumed her body, cut off her index finger, and carried the bleached bones for the rest of his life, believing they kept her spirit with him. Today, the Order continues to practice Jacob's great uncle's unique brand of fundamentalism. But one important thing has changed. The estimated 5,000 members no longer live on the outskirts of society. They're not sequestered in some gated compound. They're right in the heart of Salt Lake City. They dress like you and me. They run an estimated 300 businesses, and the Order even has a bank. But while everything appears normal, it is far from it. Members shop at Kingston stores. They live in Kingston owned houses and work at Kingston businesses. Instead of paychecks, they get statements where they're credited with minimum wage salaries, and a 10% tithing is deducted. They're convinced that when Jesus returns, God's army will need plenty of money. So all members are required to consecrate their earnings to the church. They can withdraw just what they need to survive. And most of the cult lives on the verge of poverty. But not everyone. In the Order's interpretation of the Book of Revelation, a handful of men in leadership positions are to be stewards of the group's many businesses. These include coal mines and ranches and slot machines and even a rifle company called Desert Tech. And Jacob Kingston is one of those men. Which is why, when he sets out to start his renewable energy business, the pressure to earn comes not only from his large immediate family, but from the Order as well. The biofuel plant would solve all of Jacob's financial problems at home and allow him to contribute to the kingdom of God. And just as he was getting started, a critical piece of legislation was making its way through the United States Congress. And it benefited people with his exact skill set. To Jacob Kingston, it must have seemed like a gift from the Creator himself. After years of debate and division, Congress passed a good bill. It's my honor to have come to the great state of New Mexico to sign it. It's August 8, 2005, and President George W. Bush is at a government owned solar technology facility to sign something called the Energy Policy Act. This bill will strengthen our economy and it will improve our environment. And it's going to make this. It's a rare moment that seems unthinkable today. A Republican politician touting climate friendly legislation that's widely praised by both parties. But before you get all teary eyed and nostalgic for this bygone era of political unity, let me tell you about the bill's crowning achievement. A program called the Renewable Fuel Standard, or rfs. The bill includes a flexible cost effective renewable fuel standard that will double the amount of ethanol and biodiesel in our fuel supply over the next seven years. Using ethanol and biodiesel will leave our air cleaner. And every time we use a homegrown fuel, particularly these will be helping our farmers. Putting the renewable fuel standard into practice is going to take some work. First, if corn and soybean oil are going to replace fossil fuels, the amount of land and water you're going to blow through kind of boggles the mind. But let's put that aside for now, because for the purposes of this story, we're going to focus on the second major implementation. For the program to meet its ambitious goals, it'll need help. A lot of it. So the bill offers lucrative subsidies and tax credits for people converting crops into fuels. The economic system is complicated, but at its most basic level, the government will offer money for each gallon of of pure biodiesel you produce or mix. And to understand how the subsidies work, let's imagine a lemonade stand. The lemons are the raw material, and the lemonade is the processed biodiesel. Now, as you know, lemonade isn't a cash cow. Even the most impressive child hustler can't turn a profit slinging it for 25 cents a pop. Trust me, I've tried. But what if some fat cat helicopter parent swoops in and says, look, for every cup you sell, I'll give you a dollar all of a Sudden, this rinky dink operation is looking pretty legit. Well, that's pretty much how the US government props up the biofuel industry. The thinking is if we can align the market just right, everything else will work itself out. Except it doesn't. Doug Parker is rushing down a marble spiral staircase in the headquarters of the U.S. environmental Protection Agency. He bears a striking resemblance to Hank, the bald DEA agent from Breaking Bad. But as the director of the EPA's Criminal Investigation Division, he's not busting meth rings. Doug and his team are locking up polluters and climate criminals.