A Silicon Valley tech bro's cannabis dreams turned deadly. Explore love, ambition, and murder in California's shifting green rush.
A Killing in Cannabis: A True Story of Love, Murder, and California Weed by Scott Eden (2026, Spiegel & Grau, 370 pp., $30 HB)
Tushar Atre was a stereotypical Northern California character: A New York-born Indian American Silicon Valley tech bro, a gregarious and well-known Santa Cruz surfer dude, and a man hoping to transform himself into a cutting-edge California cannabis entrepreneur as the state sat on the cusp between marijuana prohibition and legalization. His dream ended, however, on October 1, 2019, when Santa Cruz County sheriff's deputies found him bound and blindfolded and dead of gunshot and other wounds on a marijuana-growing property he owned in the hills above the city.
With A Killing in Cannabis, author Scott Eden tells the story of Atre's rise and fatal fall, combining a true crime narrative, a story of true romance, and an extended exposition of the rapidly changing California cannabis industry to create an artfully crafted page-turner. Blending the gritty details of a real-life murder investigation with the complex human stories behind it, the book delves into themes of ambition, betrayal, and the complicated intersection of legality and illicit enterprise. Eden's work stands out because it offers more than just a recounting of crime—it taps into the tensions that arise when a once-taboo industry suddenly becomes mainstream, making it timely and resonant for anyone curious about the human cost behind California’s green rush.
Eden offers up detailed reportage—more than 40 interviews, as well as police and court records—with emotional nuance, providing intimate portraits of the characters, who range from idealistic pot growers to hardened criminals to fringe drifters to Midwestern venture capitalists. Eden's reportorial skill makes these characters come to life as fully realized people with complex motivations caught in a rapidly shifting legal and business landscape.
Atre himself doesn't come off particularly well. Charismatic and athletic, as well as talented in business, he was also erratic, less than 100 percent honest, and prone to abusing both employees and partners alike. For many from the weed industry, Atre was just another "Chad," their derogatory name for the Silicon Valley hustlers trying to make new fortunes in newly legal cannabis. Others simply qualified him as an "asshole." When asked by Eden who might have killed Atre, one respondent said the number of suspects could be in the "hundreds."
Even his romantic and business partner, Rachel Lynch, had reason to be included in that number. Atre met Lynch when she and her cancer-stricken mother booked an Airbnb stay at his beachside home and quickly persuaded her to confess that she made her money growing weed in Northern California. While he had already expressed interest in the cannabis sector, it was her connections and experience that allowed him to try turn his dream into reality.
But even as the couple fell in love (did they really, Rachel sometimes wondered, or was he just using her?) and Atre pushed her to dive deep into the business with him, he repeatedly made vital business decisions without her and blamed her when some of them went sideways. By the time he was killed, both their romantic and their business relationships had soured, and both his family and law enforcement authorities had her down as a possible suspect.
Eden weaves together his investigative reporting with cultural context, providing a deep dive into the evolving legal and social framework of cannabis in California. Some chapters linger on regulatory debates and the nuanced history of marijuana legalization, which may annoy some true crime fans but offers a lens on how profit motives and personal vendettas can collide dangerously.
The book's terrain is marijuana legalization—not hemp—but hemp does make an appearance. At one point, Atre has problems obtaining a marijuana grow license for one of his properties, so he instead applies for and receives a permit to grow hemp for research, which he uses as cover for his marijuana crop. Eden also mentions "hot hemp," where growers grow actual low-THC hemp but then spray it with high-THC distillate, creating psychoactive hemp passed off as weed. That is suitable only for the black market, but there is still a huge black market in the US, and even in California.
From Silicon Valley boardrooms to cutting-edge extraction labs (a huge percentage of the pot crop is being distilled into psychoactive oils used to fill vapes) to remote mountain grow ops, Eden takes the reader on an eye-opening journey into California's cannabis culture—the good, the bad, and the ugly. His prose is clear, compelling, and free from the overwrought clichés that often plague true crime writing. At moments, the narrative evokes the tension and atmosphere of classic noir, filtered through the modern reality of a burgeoning, semi-legal cannabis industry.
A Killing in Cannabis is a thoughtful, well-researched exploration of a violent crime set against the backdrop of a transforming industry and culture. It’s at once a human story and a social commentary, making it a compelling read for true crime enthusiasts and those interested in the cannabis legalization movement alike. If you appreciate true crime that goes beyond the whodunit to examine why a crime unfolds within a particular time and place, this book offers fresh insights and real emotional weight.