Shareholder Spotlight : Woodline Partners LP – The Shadow Side of Silicon Hedge Funds

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Woodline’s ugly side revealed itself in a San Francisco complaint filed in August 2023, which accused the firm’s senior managers of creating a hostile workplace and retaliating against an employee who raised concerns. The case advanced to trial, but the night before jurors were due to be empanelled the parties reached a confidential settlement. That procedural arc – public allegations, a high stakes court date, and a last-minute buyout – is the backdrop to a firm that projects prestige while quietly managing a reputational crisis. This isn’t some abstract boardroom fuckery; it’s the story of a firm where young women were allegedly treated like punchlines in a frat house fantasy, all while the bosses raked in millions. And with the galling irony of touting female excellence awards while dodging a misogyny lawsuit, the hypocrisy hits like a gut punch.

A Lawsuit That Cut Deeper Than Any Earnings Call

It started with Danielle di Bari, a 27-year-old executive assistant who joined Woodline in April 2019, back when the firm was still a scrappy startup with barely 20 souls on the payroll. She wasn’t some wide-eyed intern; she supported the portfolio managers, kept the machine humming in that high-stakes pressure cooker of trades and targets. But according to the blistering complaint she filed on 3 August 2023 in San Francisco Superior Court, what should have been a career launchpad turned into a gauntlet of humiliation.

The complaint describes alleged behaviour and policies that, if true, point to systematic failures in culture and governance. According to the complaint, co-founder and Co-Chief Investment Officer Karl Kroeker, the man allegedly at the helm of this shitshow, is accused of turning casual interactions into minefields of sexual hypotheticals and leering comparisons. Picture this: a 2022 company happy hour, booze flowing, and Kroeker allegedly corners di Bari and five other female EAs with a gem – would you rather your partner cheated with a one-night stand or an emotional affair? Each woman, one by one, forced to play along, like it’s some twisted icebreaker from hell.

It didn’t stop there. In October 2022, an email from Kroeker allegedly boasting that he’d shown di Bari’s photo to his au pair, who called her “pretty”. Uncomfortable? That’s putting it mildly – it’s the kind of boundary-smash that leaves you questioning if professionalism ever crossed their minds. Then came the fall 2022 dinner and bar crawl, where Kroeker reportedly sized up other women against di Bari and her colleagues, doling out unsolicited verdicts on their looks. By May 2023, the hypotheticals escalated: at another dinner, he allegedly quizzed the group on preferring a labouring partner who hits the bar or one donning fake breasts for a year to aid breastfeeding. Again, individual answers demanded, followed by a jaunty email thanking them for picking the “bar-man” over the “milk-man”.

And the kicker? When di Bari, fresh from maternity leave in March 2023 and battling postpartum depression and anxiety, pushed back. She requested remote work accommodations – a basic fucking decency in a post-pandemic world. Denied. Instead, on 25 May 2023, she got a curt Zoom termination, her supervisor allegedly admitting it was retaliation for her complaints about the harassment and the rigid in-office policy. Kroeker, the suit claims, had dismissed postpartum depression outright as “not real”. Co-founder Mike Rockefeller reportedly doubled down in a meeting, insisting female EAs were mandatory in-office to inject “happiness and liveliness” into the testosterone-fogged space.

Di Bari’s claims? Gender discrimination, sexual harassment, retaliation, failure to prevent it all, wrongful termination, and intentional infliction of emotional distress under California’s Fair Employment and Housing Act. She sought everything – lost wages, emotional damages, punitive hits, and court orders for anti-harassment training. It’s the kind of suit that doesn’t just seek justice; it demands the firm confront its own festering soul.

The Eve-of-Trial Bailout: Settlement Without the Reckoning

Fast-forward to July 2025. The trial was slated for 9 July, jurors milling in the courtroom, ready for the circus. But the night before, Woodline blinked. A confidential settlement, hammered out in the shadows, scuttling the whole affair before a single witness took the stand. Judge Garrett Wong broke the news to the assembled panel: case closed, no spectacle today. No settlement terms were disclosed, and there was no admission of wrongdoing.

Woodline denied the allegations throughout, painting it as a garden-variety employment spat. But settling on the brink? That’s not denial; that’s damage control with a side of dread. No public mea culpa, just a cheque and a non-disclosure gag. Di Bari walks away with who-knows-what – compensation for a derailed career, perhaps, but the firm? They slink back to their trading floors, the stain invisible to the rank-and-file punters pouring in cash.

This isn’t isolated idiocy; the complaint alleges a systemic rot, where young female admins were hired as much for their ability to stomach the banter as for their skills. Kroeker supposedly saw them as the antidote to the firm’s “nerdy” male vibe – eye candy with a side of endurance training. It’s the finance world’s oldest con: power imbalances dressed as culture, where the bosses’ whims trump human decency every time.

The PR Facade: Awards for Women Amid the Misogyny Storm

As if the settlement wasn’t bad enough, let’s talk about the cherry on this shit sundae. In November 2024 – smack in the middle of the lawsuit’s grinding gears, after the allegations had been public for over a year and while the litigation was still pending – Woodline’s Portfolio Manager Neetu Dhaliwal gets crowned one of the “50 Leading Women in Hedge Funds” by The Hedge Fund Journal. There it is, splashed on the firm’s own website: Dhaliwal, focusing on consumer health and wellness, hailed as a trailblazer. Congratulations all round, LinkedIn posts popping like champagne corks.

Predictable as fuck, isn’t it? Get slapped with a misogyny case alleging a workplace that treats women like props, and what do you do? Parade a high-profile female exec’s accolade like it’s proof of progress. Never mind the timing – the award drops while the firm is still denying claims of harassment and discrimination. It’s the ultimate deflection play: shine a spotlight on one woman’s success to eclipse the shadows where others allegedly suffered. Dhaliwal’s achievement? Legit, no doubt – she’s grinding in a cutthroat sector. But weaponising it as corporate virtue-signalling? That’s the kind of brazen hypocrisy that boils the blood. Is this genuine empowerment, or just a glossy bandage over a gaping wound? In Woodline’s playbook, it smells like the latter, a calculated move to launder their image without addressing the rot.

Beyond the Boardroom: A Culture That Breeds Contempt

Zoom out, and Woodline’s story slots into a grim mosaic of hedge fund horrors. These aren’t rogue outliers; they’re symptoms of an industry built on conquest, where empathy is a luxury for the weak. Di Bari’s positive reviews – glowing feedback from her supervisor as late as April 2023 – underscore the betrayal: she was good at her job, until she dared call out the poison.

The outrage here isn’t just personal; it’s primal. How many other women bit their tongues, clocked in for the paycheque, and clocked out exhausted from the emotional labour? The suit demands injunctive relief – training, policies – but a payout papers over the cracks without fixing the foundation. And in a firm co-founded by Citadel alumni, where the cult of the grind reigns supreme, is real change even possible? Or is this just another Tuesday in the trenches of high finance, where the vulnerable pay the price for the kings’ egos?

Betting on the Dirty: Woodline’s Stake in Cummins’ Mess

Now, let’s talk portfolio. Woodline’s not just playing the victim card internally; their external bets raise eyebrows too. Fresh 13F filings for the quarter ended 30 June 2025 reveal they’re holders in Cummins Inc., the diesel engine giant. Not a token punt – a $15.53 million position, built by snapping up 41,302 shares in the quarter. That’s real skin in the game, a bet on heavy machinery chugging through a world screaming for green.

But Cummins? Christ, talk about red flags waving in a hurricane. In December 2023, they copped to installing defeat devices on nearly a million Ram heavy-duty trucks from 2013 to 2019 – software tweaks that let engines spew excess nitrogen oxides, choking the air while dodging EPA regs. The fallout? A record-shattering $1.675 billion civil penalty in January 2024, the fattest Clean Air Act fine ever, split between federal coffers and California’s war chest. Cummins swore they’d cough up another $325 million for recall fixes, but the damage was done: trust torched, environment fucked, and shareholders left holding the bag.

Woodline’s stake isn’t massive in their $18.9 billion book – peanuts next to Microsoft or Nvidia toppers – but it’s telling. Here they are, allegedly fostering a workplace where women’s boundaries are playthings, while bankrolling a company that treated planetary health like a suggestion. Is this coincidence, or a thread in the same grubby tapestry? Cummins’ execs gamed the system for profit, much like the alleged hypotheticals at Woodline gamified discomfort for kicks. Both scream a disdain for consequences, a belief that rules bend for the bold.

One can’t help but question: in Woodline’s ecosystem of picks – the longs they champion as future-proof – does ethical elasticity run deeper than we think? Cummins isn’t some fringe bet; it’s a core industrial play, engines powering trucks that haul America’s freight. If Woodline’s blind to the parallels – skirting accountability at home while funding it abroad – then maybe the real scandal isn’t the settlement. It’s the worldview that lets it all slide.

The Reckoning That Never Comes

Woodline Partners LP will keep humming, alphas accruing, founders toasting in waterfront lofts. The lawsuit’s dust settles, the shares in Cummins tick up and up, and the cycle spins on. But stories like di Bari’s don’t vanish; they fester, a reminder that behind every slick fund fact sheet lurks the human cost. Rage at the hypocrisy? Absolutely – it’s the fuel that keeps watchdogs barking. Yet in this game, outrage alone won’t topple the towers. It just illuminates the cracks, daring the next whistleblower to swing the hammer.

Until then, punters beware: your returns might be stellar, but the foundations? Not so much.

Lee Thompson – Founder, The Cummins Accountability Project

Sources

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