Astha Upadhyay, who previously went by Astha Rajyaguru in court records and posts as @anci.social on social media, is widely known for sharing softly spoken “cozy” reels about makeup, hair, journaling and self-care. Since launching her TikTok account in 2023, she has amassed over half a million followers, along with paid partnerships with national beauty and skincare brands. Her Instagram account seemingly began in April 2024, and now currently boasts more than 700,000 followers.
But just three years ago, the then-23-year-old was in a downtown San Diego courtroom, admitting guilt in a fatal DUI crash that killed 59-year-old Clairemont resident Steven Lee McHenry in Poway. Reports state that on the night of March 25, 2022, McHenry was sitting on his parked motorcycle in a bike lane along Midland Road near Somerset Road in Poway. Friends say he had just finished performing with his band at the local VFW post and was on his way to meet another musician when he apparently pulled over to check directions.
Around 10:30pm, a sedan driven by Rajyaguru slammed into the back of his motorcycle. The impact threw McHenry into a light pole and was allegedly so forceful that it ripped nearby fixtures from the ground. He died at the scene.
Sheriff’s deputies arrested Rajyaguru and booked her into Las Colinas Detention Facility on suspicion of driving under the influence and vehicular manslaughter. Prosecutors later told the court that she had been speeding, had a blood-alcohol concentration of 0.17% - more than twice California’s legal limit - and was also under the influence of cocaine at the time of the crash.
In February 2023, Rajyaguru pleaded guilty to gross vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated and related charges. McHenry’s widow and adult children spoke at sentencing, describing a devoted husband, father, volunteer and performer who had spent decades rooted in the Clairemont and Poway communities. They asked the court to impose a prison term, emphasizing the “significant loss” the family would endure for the rest of their lives.
San Diego Superior Court Judge Rachel Cano sentenced Rajyaguru to four years in state prison, opting against a probationary term that her attorney had requested. The judge cited, among other factors, the combined use of alcohol and drugs.
Reports indicate she was released after serving less than a year of her four-year sentence. Some online discussions suggest she served house arrest as part of or the entirety of her sentence, but official news reports confirm a state prison sentence was imposed. A review of her social media show her first TikTok video was posted on December 25, 2023, only 10 months from her sentencing.
Rajyaguru's sentence stands out sharply when compared to similar fatal DUI collisions in the region. In recent years, San Diego County courts have handed down nine-year, ten-year, and even life-sentence terms in other deadly DUI cases - many imposed on defendants with comparable or even lower intoxication levels. The wide range of outcomes underscores how sentencing can vary dramatically based on plea agreements, individual circumstances, prosecutorial discretion, and California’s evolving approach to custody alternatives.
For more than two years after the crash, Upadhyay said little publicly outside the courtroom. That changed this past summer, when she posted a multi-slide statement to Instagram addressing the case for the first time in detail. The images, which circulated widely online, are written in her voice and signed “ - Astha.”
“There are some things in life you never stop grieving,” the statement begins, before she writes that in 2022 she “made a decision that ended someone’s life” and thinks about the man she killed “every single day.”
Upadhyay says she had spent more than a decade preparing for medical school, working in hospitals and clinical programs. After taking the MCAT, she wrote, she went out to celebrate with friends, told herself it would be “just one night,” and chose to drive after drinking and “experimenting.”
In her account, she made an early turn into a community, believed she had hit a parked bike, stayed at the scene and spoke with police, and initially thought the incident was simply a DUI crash. She says she did not learn that someone had died until several hours later while she was in custody, describing that moment as the most devastating of her life.
Upadhyay’s post states that she pleaded guilty, spent time on house arrest before sentencing, then served time in prison and finished her sentence working as a firefighter with CAL FIRE. “No amount of discipline or time served will ever undo what happened,” she wrote.
She also explains why she has not discussed specific evidence from the case, saying the matter never went to trial and court records were sealed. Out of respect for both families, she says, she will not publicly share details that influenced her sentence, but stresses that “nothing about those details takes away from what I did.”
The statement goes on to describe her return home, difficulty finding work, depression, and how she began “creating” - making content - in March 2023 while still on parole. She says producing videos helped her get out of bed and feel useful again, and that social media became the only place she felt able to “show up for something.”
In the final slides, Upadhyay writes that faith has helped her cope, that she does most of her healing work in private, and that she plans to step back from the internet to grieve “with clarity.” “I am not the person I was that night,” she concludes, adding that she lives with the consequences of her choices every day.
By the time that statement was posted, @anci.social had already become a sizable brand. Her content - close-up makeup application, lip products, hair tutorials and gentle voice-over affirmations - has racked up millions of views. She regularly references losing 50 pounds and promotes a paid “Apple Watch mini guide” and calorie guide, positioning herself as a cozy, relatable big-sister figure to a largely young, female audience. Her feed also includes sponsored posts and gifted promotions for beauty and skincare companies, tagged as ads or paid partnerships.
It is that contrast - between a warm, carefully curated online persona and the brutality of a fatal DUI crash - that has sparked intense criticism as more viewers learn about her criminal case. Discussion threads on Reddit (1, 2, 3, 4), including in the beauty-focused community r/BeautyGuruChatter, have cataloged her court history, dissected her apology post and questioned whether major brands should partner with her. The latest wave of attention was sparked this week by a widely circulated Reddit thread in r/sandiego accusing her of minimizing her role in the crash, monetizing her platform without acknowledging the victim, and rebranding herself while rising to influencer status.
Some commenters say they unfollowed her after realizing she was the driver in the Poway case, arguing that a person convicted of killing someone while intoxicated should not be building a lucrative public platform in a highly image-driven industry. Others argue that people who have served their sentences deserve a chance to rebuild their lives, but question whether a monetized influencer career - especially one tied to aesthetics and “wellness” - is an appropriate path.
The tension surrounding Upadhyay’s case mirrors long-standing public debate over how society treats fatal crashes involving well-known figures. Over the decades, numerous celebrities have been involved in collisions that killed someone. In 1987, actor Matthew Broderick crossed lanes on a Northern Ireland road, killing a mother and daughter, yet was convicted only of careless driving and fined. In Malibu in 2015, Caitlyn Jenner caused a chain-reaction crash that left one woman dead, but prosecutors declined to file manslaughter charges before civil suits quietly resolved the matter. Motley Crüe’s Vince Neil served just 15 days in jail after a DUI crash that killed his friend. Together, these cases shape a long, uneasy history of how fame, perception, remorse, legal strategy, and circumstance collide - and how the public grapples with whether any amount of punishment can ever balance a life lost.
Beyond the legal outcome, much of the frustration voiced online centers on her public rebranding. Many commenters say they are disturbed to see Upadhyay profit from lifestyle content and weight-loss courses while distancing herself from her criminal conviction. Some commenters criticizes her for monetizing what they characterize as weight loss connected to stress, trauma, and the aftermath of her case, and for framing her content around personal adversity while rarely addressing the life she took.
In the days since Astha Upadhyay’s Instagram statement, discussion has intensified across social platforms - particularly among San Diegans who say they knew her growing up. One long-form comment, which has since gained traction, describes the disbelief and frustration felt in her hometown community following the 2022 Poway crash.
The commenter, who states they grew up in the same neighborhood as Upadhyay, paints a picture of someone who was widely praised in childhood and adolescence - a “perfect” student, a former pageant winner, and an aspiring doctor who was celebrated by parents and teachers. According to this neighbor’s account, that image shattered overnight when the fatal DUI crash became public.
Upadhyay’s recent statement drew mixed reactions as well. Supporters praised her for finally addressing the crash in her own words and for taking legal responsibility. Critics countered that the post focused more on her own grief, career and spiritual journey than on McHenry’s life and the ongoing pain of his family, and noted that she did not mention him by name. While Upadhyay’s online star continues to rise, McHenry’s loved ones are still living with the void he left behind.
Friends described him to local reporters as a beloved performer, storyteller and volunteer - a husband and father of three who loved to cook, loved his community and took the time to truly know people. His band, Country Crossovers, has posted tributes and videos in his memory, and a GoFundMe campaign was created to help his family with expenses in the aftermath of his death.
The most painful reality is that two parallel lives now exist: that of a rapidly rising influencer whose audience multiplies daily, and that of a family still mourning a man described as generous, talented, humorous, and deeply loved. McHenry’s family told the court that they had just entered a new chapter of life together, looking forward to simple pleasures like walks on the beach after years of caregiving responsibilities. His son told Upadhyay that he hoped she would find a way to live that ensured his father’s death “is not for nothing.”
The collision between an influencer’s perfectly curated modern fame and the permanence of a fatal mistake has forced a broader communal question: how much can - or should - the public expect to know about the people they elevate online? What does accountability look like for someone who caused a death but now lives in the spotlight? At what point does forgiveness become possible, and at what point does reinvention become erasure?
Online, the debate continues to expand. Offline, a family continues to grieve a man whose story risks being forgotten as an algorithm propels another upward. At the center of it all is a truth that the internet often obscures: in March 2022, a man was killed on a quiet Poway road, and the ripple effects of that night continue to move outward - into courtrooms, comment sections, and the uneasy space between justice, redemption, and public memory.
Originally published on December 4, 2025.
