This show dives into wild world of Theranos. A startup that claimed it would change healthcare forever with its fancy blood tests. Follow Elizabeth Holmes, a real piece of work and her crew. See how they climbed high and then crashed down. Others tried to shine light on their shady moves. It’s all a thrilling ride of ambition and deception.

Meet the characters from The Dropout

Elizabeth Holmes

Okay, Elizabeth is the poster-child of the Silicon Valley dream — charismatic, total image queen, and somehow always in control of the lighting (literally and metaphorically). She’s got this weird mix of messianic confidence and a secretive, locked-box vibe, like she’s auditioning to be both a CEO and a cult leader — in a very polished black turtleneck. Ambition is her engine; style is her armor; clarity about what actually happens under the hood? Not so much (or maybe it’s just very strategic vagueness, hard to tell). Honestly, you can imagine her giving stirring speeches one minute and rewriting a pitch deck at 3 a.m. the next — fierce, cultivated, and totally magnetic.

Sunny Balwani

Sunny is the no-nonsense operations brain — part drill sergeant, part financial wizard, and somehow allergic to small talk unless it’s about spreadsheets. He projects this alpha energy that can feel comforting or terrifying depending on which side of the conference table you’re on, and he’s very good at making things run — sometimes too well. There’s a loyalty-to-the-company thing and also a very intense controlling streak; he likes order, neat rows, and probably has a color-coded notebook that he would die for. Also, randomly, I can’t stop picturing him with like a ridiculous collection of ties or cufflinks — classy but loud — which somehow fits the whole vibe.

Richard Fuisz

Richard is the cranky inventor/detective type — the one who reads patent filings like bedtime stories and will not shut up about precedent, ever. He comes off as salty and a bit paranoid (in the best classic inventor way), like he’s fought the system so many times he’s made it his hobby, and mostly he just wants credit for ideas and to be left alone with his schematics. There’s a real old-school tinkerer energy — watchful, suspicious, and strangely endearing if you like that “grumpy genius” archetype. Oh and he probably hoards odd pens and insists on correcting single commas in contracts, which yes, is both annoying and kind of charming.

Phyllis Gardner

Phyllis is the blunt, brilliant scientist who does not have time for hype — she lives in the lab and speaks in facts, which is refreshing and also terrifying for anyone peddling dreams. She’s sharp, skeptical, and mercilessly clear about what counts as real evidence, with a dry wit that sneaks up on you. There’s a maternal professor vibe but without saccharine softness; she’s protective of science and will call out nonsense like it’s a personal duty. Honestly, I love that she’s principled and kind of delightfully unforgiving — the kind of person who brings you back to earth whether you want it or not.

Noell Holmes

Noell is Elizabeth’s sister and—okay—she’s way more grounded than you’d expect from being related to that media storm; private, weirdly domestic, and actually pretty warm. She strikes me as the behind-the-scenes fixer or the person who will bake cookies and also demand a spreadsheet for the recipe ratios (yes, both). Loyal but not blind, she seems to balance family loyalty with a quieter moral radar, sometimes confused, sometimes sharper than her sister — small contradictions abound. And apparently she has an obsessive love of vintage typewriters or tiny plants, which is the sort of adorable, slightly random detail that makes her feel like a real person.

Ian Gibbons

Ian is the soft, tragic genius — the lab guy who actually understood the science and cared deeply about the truth, like the moral heart of the whole mess. He’s quiet, melancholic, and painfully sincere; you get the sense he wanted nothing more than to do good work and be left alone to tinker, which is both noble and heartbreaking. There’s a gentle stubbornness to him — not loud, but immovable when it mattered — and a tiny obsession with tea or music or something calming. It’s impossible not to feel protective of him; he’s the person you wish had a different outcome, always.

George Schultz

George is the grandpa-statesman on the board — dignified, calm, and giving this huge credibility blanket just by existing in the room. He’s got that Old World gravitas and a firm handshake, like someone who’s navigated politics and knows how to keep a poker face, but you also get the sense he genuinely wants to believe in people. Surprisingly warm and sometimes a bit out of his depth with all the tech buzzwords, yet he carries authority that makes others listen — which is both impressive and oddly humanizing. Little quirk: he probably collects obscure coins or gives very earnest, slightly awkward compliments to interns, which is adorable.

Tyler Schultz

Tyler is the anxious, scrappy whistleblower kid who’s constantly caught between loyalty and conscience — nervous energy turned brave, basically. He’s the type to obsessively save emails, pace at 2 a.m., and then suddenly do something gutsy because he can’t stomach what he knows; awkward but real. There’s this teenager-turned-corporate insider vibe where he’s both painfully young and unexpectedly determined, with a messy personal life and a strange moral clarity. Also, I keep thinking he’s the guy who hoards receipts and stress-eats nachos — vulnerable, persistent, and impossible to ignore.