IMPERIAL, Calif. -- Christopher Scurries was alarmed to learn last fall that California's largest data center was being planned behind his home in this hot desert town. But when the high-school band director googled the man behind the $10 billion proposal -- a land-use lawyer named Sebastian Rucci -- he was perplexed.
The search results showed an unusual past: Rucci had owned an Ohio strip club called Go Go Girls Cabaret and was charged, though not convicted, of money laundering and promoting prostitution. More recently, Rucci ran California Palms Addiction Recovery Campus, a drug-treatment center that was the subject of a federal probe; no charges were filed.
The AI data-center gold rush is drawing all types of entrepreneurs.
Businessman and TV personality Kevin "Mr. Wonderful" O'Leary is trying to build one of America's largest data centers in Utah. Lumber giant Weyerhaeuser has pushed for them on its vast tracts of timberland. All are chasing a piece of the $7 trillion McKinsey estimates the world will spend on data centers by 2030.
In the boiling battle over the proposed 950,000-square-foot data center in the Imperial Valley, Rucci's past has become a central theme, with residents pressing officials about their vetting process for developers, at increasingly contentious public meetings.
"You have this guy with this sketchy legal past and the cherry on top is...he's never been a developer of a data center," said Scurries, 34, a vocal opponent.
In an interview with The Wall Street Journal, Rucci said his history makes him perfect for the job because he is unafraid to fight back against the growing opposition to data centers here and nationwide.
"I realized early on that the government doesn't always do things correctly and the government could favor sides," said Rucci, 65. "You could be on the nonfavored side and then you better get used to using the courts."
In his clash with the feds over his rehab center, Rucci forced the government to return $600,000 it had seized in the probe, which prosecutors said focused on Medicaid billing issues. In the strip-club case, Rucci beat back all the charges except selling beer without a license, for which he spent 30 days in jail. He called that case "politically motivated," a characterization the now-retired prosecutor disputes.
Joking that he learned how to fight because he's "short and Italian," Rucci gained preliminary approvals for his 330-megawatt data center venture, and he has been suing anyone he believes has wronged him: government officials, the local utility, a local activist opposed to the project, and a public-television news station covering it. A judge dismissed legal claims against the station days ago, writing that "the defamation claim is not legally or factually supported." The defamation suit against the activist was also recently dismissed.
Power and water have emerged as major issues in the data-center dispute in this arid region, where sprawling lettuce and alfalfa farms rely on the Colorado River for irrigation. State Sen. Steve Padilla, whose district stretches from the coast to the desert, has waded into the fray with a series of bills to more closely regulate data-center building and pass the cost of energy upgrades on to developers.
"I've never seen anything like this," said Padilla. "I've never seen someone, a developer who has that sort of experience and perspective and approach."
Rucci called Padilla "a buffoon."
Now, as public pressure mounts, Rucci's allies are turning against him. The Imperial County Board of Supervisors, which enthusiastically welcomed him last year, in June voted for a 45-day freeze on data projects and this week extended it to a year.
Rucci has sued over the moratorium.
"Do I look like a guy that's going away?" he said.
County officials didn't respond to requests for comment.
'Data-center money'
Born in Italy into a family of bricklayers, Rucci spent his youth in Youngstown, Ohio, and carved a path as a land-use attorney and developer with a few detours along the way. He said he stumbled upon the idea of a data center while exploring business projects in Imperial County.
Rucci was amazed when an executive from a local energy-consulting firm that was pitching a data-center proposal told him how much money it could bring in: "In about a month they pay, like, $150 million," Rucci recalled the man saying. "I said, a month? Whoa." Rucci said he's made money in his career as a developer but "it's not data-center money."
Rucci ditched the local firm, set out on his own, and began educating himself about data centers.
"I started learning a lot from YouTube, called people, flew up to San Francisco, and went to Silicon Valley, toured a few of them," he said. "I knew there was demand, and I knew my skill set made me the absolutely right person to get this completed."
Rucci searched for land along Imperial Valley's towering power lines and cobbled together dusty lots in an abandoned industrial area next to a giant Homeland Security complex and a housing development. The owner of a small plot crowded with RVs and a rundown shack proved the most difficult, demanding $50,000 in hard cash for the option to buy, Rucci said. He went to the bank and got the bills.
County leaders initially embraced Rucci's plan, pointing to the promise of an estimated $28 million in annual tax revenue and 1,600 construction jobs in one of California's poorer corners. They were impressed with Rucci's presentations, which included mention that he had secured interest in the project from tech giant Google.
"We are not involved in a data-center project in Imperial County," a spokesperson for Google said.
Rucci said he would say the same thing if he were Google.
"I mean, who wants to be in the middle of all this bulls -- ?"
A desert anthem
Scurries, the high-school band director, was stewing over the data center in January. His worries about how it might affect his young family and his home value had grown into concerns about environmental impacts and the opaque approval process.
He took out his guitar, started strumming, and soon created the folk song that would become an anthem for his small opposition group, Not In My Backyard Imperial. The ditty chastises players in the saga with lyrics such as, "Someone tell Sebastian Rucci that he is super douchy" and "Someday you'll see, in heaven you can't build data centers."
Scurries unveiled the melody ahead of a critical board of supervisors vote that could pave the way for Rucci's data center. The board voted yes at a tense April meeting during which deputies arrested one NIMBY Imperial member, though charges later were dropped.
The opposition escalated. The Sierra Club filed suit to force the county to do a full environmental review of the project. Rucci responded that such reviews aren't required for data centers in the industrial area.
Online criticism and vitriol rose. On April 16, a 22-year-old from nearby El Centro was arrested after posting an anonymous threat: "Kill Rucci."
In May, the powerful Imperial Irrigation District nixed Rucci's plan to buy farmland, leave it fallow and use the allotted water from the Colorado River to cool the data center. Rucci mounted a political challenge, backing a candidate for the utility's board; his pick lost to a longtime incumbent in June. Rucci sued the district, blasting the utility's board members for calling him a "predatory developer." A district spokesman declined to comment.
Rucci said he's already sunk $5 million of his own money into the project and isn't backing down. "Just give me my damn data center," he said.
Write to Zusha Elinson at zusha.elinson@wsj.com
(END) Dow Jones Newswires
July 18, 2026 20:00 ET (00:00 GMT)
Copyright (c) 2026 Dow Jones & Company, Inc.
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