Kentucky Attorney General Russell Coleman filed three lawsuits Wednesday in Franklin Circuit Court against Kalshi and its affiliates.
This list includes Coinbase, Polymarket, and its affiliates, and VGW, the Australian operator behind Chumba Casino, Global Poker, and LuckyLand Slots. Each suit alleges violation of Kentucky consumer protection and gambling laws, as well as the state’s Loss Recovery Act.
The prediction market suits are not surprising, as we’ve seen a version of these in states nationwide. A coalition of prediction market companies had already sued Kentucky the previous week to challenge the state’s new 14.25% transaction tax on their fees, and Coleman’s suit landed as a direct counter-punch.
States filing cases against Kalshi and Polymarket in state court on consumer-protection and unlicensed-gambling grounds have become a recurring feature of the regulatory landscape, one we have covered in New Mexico, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin. The legal theory is consistent enough at this point that the suits themselves are not the story.
The VGW inclusion brings a new angle we’ve yet to see, and digging into it offers an interesting perspective on how things will play out in Kentucky.
States Continue to Grow Tired of Gambling Products Labeling Themselves as Something Else
VGW has operated in the United States for more than a decade under the sweepstakes model, a structure that has survived legal scrutiny in most jurisdictions by treating virtual chips as a promotional giveaway rather than a wager. A VGW spokesperson said the company plans to vigorously defend itself and described its products as social plus games delivered to millions of Americans who value the freedom to enjoy free, fun entertainment, with robust consumer protections in place.
The legal theory underlying the sweepstakes model is entirely distinct from the one underlying prediction markets. Kalshi and Polymarket claim federal preemption: their contracts are CFTC-licensed swaps, and state gambling law cannot touch them. VGW claims its products are not gambling at all because virtual chips are promotional currency rather than real-money wagers. These are not the same argument, and they do not share the same vulnerability to the same legal challenge.
Coleman’s decision to file all three suits together in the same courthouse announcement is, therefore, less a legal statement than a political one. His framing treats the underlying conduct as equivalent: companies using novel legal structures to offer gambling products to Kentuckians while skirting the licensing, taxation, and consumer protection requirements that apply to everyone else. Whether courts agree with that characterization is a separate question. But the political logic is clear enough: states are losing patience with a growing category of operators that look, feel, and function like gambling businesses while arguing that some combination of federal law, promotional mechanics, or definitional novelty puts them beyond the reach of state regulation.
The Definition of What Qualifies as Gambling Continues to be Muddied
We have previously written about the inadequacy of existing legal frameworks for defining gambling, drawing on the Texas attorney general’s skill-game opinion and contrasting it with Pennsylvania’s predominant factor test. Kentucky’s three-suit announcement is the enforcement-side illustration of that same problem.
Coleman’s complaint alleges that sports betting accounted for roughly 70% of Kalshi’s trading volume during a 2025 sample period, which is the most direct articulation yet of the state’s functional equivalence argument: whatever the federal classification, most of what Kalshi does in practice is sports wagering. That argument has not fared well in circuits that have weighed in on the preemption question, but it plays better in state courts, which is why Coleman filed there rather than in federal court.
