A legislative initiative originally presented as a pathway to resilient, clean energy for underserved communities in New Mexico has instead become a lightning rod for criticism, accused of paving the way for massive industrial projects, including one of the West’s most controversial artificial intelligence data centers. State Senator Michael Padilla (D), in the 2025 legislative session, championed a bill to incentivize the construction and installation of microgrids, initially framing them as vital for enhancing energy reliability in remote and low-income areas while aligning with environmental goals through clean energy technologies and reduced greenhouse gas emissions. This vision resonated at a time when surging electricity demand across the United States, coupled with increasingly frequent rolling blackouts plaguing regional grids, has driven diverse entities—from hospitals and universities to small towns, tribes, and vulnerable communities—to explore microgrids as a means of securing self-sourced power, often leveraging renewable resources like solar and wind. Padilla’s initial proposal, Senate Bill 418, appeared to offer a direct path to this localized energy independence.

However, the journey of this seemingly benign energy legislation took a contentious turn. Despite early support, Padilla’s original microgrid bill ultimately failed to pass, reportedly due to lingering environmental concerns raised during deliberations. Yet, in the frantic, closing hours of the legislative session, a significantly altered version of the microgrid language resurfaced. It was appended as a last-minute amendment to House Bill 93, a broader measure focused on modernizing New Mexico’s statewide electrical grid. The rapid passage of this amendment, shrouded in eleventh-hour negotiations, left many legislators and environmental advocates feeling misled, with its true implications only becoming clear months later as a colossal project known as Project Jupiter, a sprawling 1,400-acre AI data center campus slated for southern New Mexico, ignited widespread opposition.

House Representative Kristina Ortez (D), a co-author of the original House Bill 93, candidly expressed her sense of betrayal, stating, “I feel really hoodwinked in some ways.” She had believed the amendment would primarily benefit local public services and vulnerable communities, such as hospitals, schools, and fire departments. The shocking realization that it had instead facilitated a massive industrial development dawned on her only as Project Jupiter drew public scrutiny, prompting her to exclaim, “Oh, my God, this is what that amendment allowed to happen.” This sentiment underscores a growing concern among policymakers and the public about the transparency and potential for special interest influence in legislative processes.

The initial legislative push for microgrids saw direct involvement from industry lobbyists. During a crucial committee meeting, Senator Padilla introduced Jennifer Bradfute, a lobbyist for Borderplex Digital Assets, one of Project Jupiter’s key developers, as an “energy expert.” Bradfute openly discussed her work on large digital infrastructure projects within the economically vital Borderplex region—encompassing Las Cruces and Santa Teresa, New Mexico, El Paso, Texas, and Ciudad Juárez in Mexico—as well as central New Mexico, near Isleta Pueblo. She emphasized the development’s focus on solar power generation and highlighted the necessity of microgrids to provide “power solutions for some of our Native American areas throughout the state that have not been able to be served by our public utilities so far.” Later, in a follow-up hearing, she underscored the significant economic promise, stating the bill was needed “so we can have sufficient legal certainty to invest $5 billion and create 1,000 jobs,” laying bare the substantial industrial interests at play.

When the original microgrid bill stalled, House Representative Nathan Small (D), a powerful figure in the New Mexico Legislature, took the lead in salvaging its core elements. He convened an urgent, closed-door meeting in his chambers, bringing together environmental advocates, the aforementioned Borderplex Digital Assets lobbyist Jennifer Bradfute, and Cholla Khoury, the chief of staff for the Public Regulation Commission. In this tense negotiation, Small pressed for an agreement to incorporate specific language from the defunct microgrid bill into an amendment for House Bill 93. The resulting amendment allowed “qualified” microgrids to generate and distribute self-sourced power, setting a minimum threshold of 20 megawatts (MW) — an output capable of powering a small city. Crucially, the amendment also stipulated that, unless a microgrid intended to sell energy to a public utility company, it would largely bypass regulation by state authorities. Environmental advocates, under pressure, conceded to the amendment but insisted on a critical provision: all microgrids generating and selling energy must conform to the state’s Energy Transition Act (ETA), mandating a transition to net-zero carbon resources by 2045. This compromise was rapidly inserted into the bill.

The legislative maneuver was swift and decisive. Later that same day, Senator Padilla presented the amendment to the state Senate with a minimal introduction. Paper copies of the complex language were hastily distributed, and senators were reportedly still reviewing the text when a voice vote was called to add the amendment to House Bill 93. Within minutes, the entire amended measure passed the Senate. The following day, the House concurred, and the bill was approved, effectively opening the door for large-scale industrial developments like Project Jupiter and others that diverge significantly from the community-focused microgrid vision initially articulated. Indeed, Padilla later affirmed the economic impact, noting that the legislation “ignited economically” with projects such as Castileon Corp.’s Project Ranger, a 1,000-acre hypersonic missile manufacturing facility near a Rio Rancho subdivision, and Pacific Fusion’s $1 billion research and manufacturing campus near Albuquerque, dedicated to developing modular nuclear fusion power plants for nuclear weapons research. Both projects promise hundreds of high-paying local jobs, yet introduce significant environmental and safety concerns, such as the potential for dangerous chemical fires at the Castileon site, as reported by Wired magazine.

Project Jupiter stands as a prime example of the industrial scale enabled by the new microgrid framework. Its proposed microgrid aims to generate an astonishing amount of energy—comparable to New Mexico’s largest public utility, PNM, and sufficient to power half a million homes. This output is more than 100 times the 20-megawatt minimum specified in the amendment. Rather than relying solely on solar or wind, this massive microgrid is planned to be powered by fuel cells that convert natural gas into electricity, a technology that, while more efficient than traditional combustion, still relies on fossil fuels and generates substantial greenhouse gas emissions.

The environmental implications of Project Jupiter have drawn sharp criticism. The project’s next significant hurdle involves securing an air quality permit from the New Mexico Environment Department (NMED). Following NMED’s rigorous questions regarding the “accuracy of emissions testing” in the initial permit application, Project Jupiter’s developers, Oracle Cloud Infrastructure and Yucca Growth Infrastructure, announced a 35% reduction in projected emissions, lowering the annual output from 8.8 million tons to 5.7 million tons. Mahesh Thiagarajan, executive vice president and head of Oracle Cloud Infrastructure, stated that NMED’s staff “asked hard technical questions, and they pushed us to address the concerns raised by the public.” However, even this reduced figure remains staggering. Mariel Nanasi, a senior attorney and executive director of New Energy Economy, a Santa Fe-based nonprofit advocating for clean energy, highlighted that 5.7 million tons of annual emissions would be equivalent to the total pollution generated by the cities of Albuquerque, Santa Fe, and Las Cruces combined. This immense pollution would disproportionately impact the Paso del Norte region, including Santa Teresa, which Nanasi describes as an “already vulnerable environmental justice community,” raising critical concerns about equity and public health.

Nanasi asserts that the microgrid amendment to House Bill 93 served as “the precursor to Project Jupiter,” acting as an “end run around public regulation.” She points to a 2019 state law mandating that public utilities transition to renewable energy. This law also granted the Environment Department and the Public Regulation Commission (PRC) oversight over entities not typically under their jurisdiction if those entities caused a “material increase” in greenhouse gas emissions. While small-scale solar installations or backup hospital generators would not trigger such oversight, Project Jupiter’s colossal size and projected emissions would unquestionably have fallen under this regulatory umbrella. Nanasi contends that, given its environmental footprint, Project Jupiter “would not have passed muster under the renewable portfolio standard,” implying that the amendment was designed to circumvent existing environmental protections and regulatory scrutiny. In response to these developments, Senator Jeff Steinborn (D) introduced a microgrid oversight bill in the 2026 legislative session, seeking to restore state authority to regulate microgrids, ensure adherence to renewable energy standards, and prevent increased utility rates. While it passed the Senate, the bill ultimately failed to receive a hearing in the House, leaving the regulatory landscape largely unchanged.

Much of what enabled Project Jupiter’s progression occurred largely out of public view. Records indicate that in late 2024, state officials from the Environment Department and other agencies secretly convened to draft the terms of a memorandum of understanding (MOU) with Jennifer Bradfute, the Borderplex Digital Assets lobbyist. This clandestine planning culminated in February of the following year when Governor Michelle Lujan Grisham officially announced a “groundbreaking partnership” at a public signing ceremony. The press release touted a projected $5 billion investment in Santa Teresa and the creation of 1,000 jobs, with Senator Padilla and Representative Small notably present at the announcement. At the time of the 2025 legislative session, Project Jupiter itself and Borderplex Digital Assets, the Austin-based tech company involved, were virtually unknown to the wider public, further highlighting the lack of transparency surrounding the project’s genesis.

The closed-door meeting convened by Representative Small, where environmental advocates were pressured to agree to the amendment, further illustrates the opaque process. Small reportedly emphasized that reaching an agreement was the only option, framing the unnamed project (later revealed as Project Jupiter) as an economic boon for southern New Mexico and a crucial step towards diversifying the state’s economy away from its traditional reliance on oil and gas. Environmental advocate Tammy Fiebelkorn, government affairs manager for Western Resource Advocates and an Albuquerque City Councilor, later spoke about this meeting at an interim committee hearing, revealing the intense negotiations that led to the ETA compliance concession. Shortly after this meeting, lobbyist Jennifer Bradfute sent final revisions via email to the “drafter,” and less than an hour later, the amendment was presented for a Senate vote, underscoring the extraordinary speed and coordination involved.

The aftermath has seen a sharp divide and allegations of political impropriety. Representative Ortez, unaware of Small’s meeting while debating another bill, learned of it secondhand from environmental advocates. House Representative Micaela Lara Cadena, whose district encompasses the proposed Project Jupiter site, condemned the process at the interim committee hearing, declaring it “one of the dirtiest pieces of politics I’ve now seen and felt in our political body.” Senator Padilla, present at the hearing, vehemently denied any “underhanded” dealings, asserting he had “very detailed conversations” with Ortez to ensure she was fully informed. Ortez, however, directly refutes this, stating, “I don’t remember having an in-depth conversation with him. I surely did not have the conversation that this was for a data center. Absolutely that did not happen.” Further muddying the waters are campaign finance revelations: Borderplex Digital Assets lobbyist Vanessa Alarid reportedly sent Ortez a $10,000 campaign donation, which Ortez claims to have promptly returned, though it does not appear in public records. Representative Small received a $10,000 donation from Borderplex Digital Assets in August 2025, which he returned in June 2026, citing “environmental and community concerns” from constituents and now supports a temporary moratorium on data centers. Padilla, meanwhile, received multiple campaign donations totaling $42,400 on a single day from individuals reportedly connected to Alarid, stating he raises money from various sources and is unaware of her connections.

This legislative saga in New Mexico serves as a stark cautionary tale for other states grappling with the complexities of energy transition, rapid technological development, and economic diversification. What began as an admirable legislative effort to empower communities with sustainable microgrid technology appears to have been co-opted, becoming a “Trojan horse” for massive industrial projects with significant environmental footprints. The episode highlights the critical need for legislative transparency, robust public oversight, and diligent scrutiny of amendments, particularly when powerful industrial interests are involved. As states worldwide seek to modernize their grids and attract high-tech industries, the New Mexico experience underscores the ongoing tension between economic growth, energy policy, and the imperative to protect environmental health and ensure environmental justice for all communities in the burgeoning digital age.