“Sometimes what makes or breaks a research project is the student who leads it, and this was one of those classic cases,” Regev-Rudzki says. “Paula took on the challenge, keeping at it for a year and a half until she ultimately succeeded.”
Abou Karam developed a fluorescent probe that caused minuscule red dots to light up inside the monocyte nucleus. Each dot represented a single malarial mRNA molecule that had breached the nuclear barrier.
The next question was: What were these RNAs doing there? The researchers discovered that once inside the nucleus, the parasite mRNA binds to two human proteins, ACIN1 and PNN – key components of the cellular splicing machinery. Like splicing film, cells use the splicing to edit RNA transcripts, cutting and rearranging segments before allowing them to be translated into proteins. It serves as a crucial quality-control step: Without proper splicing, RNAs do not “make sense,” and they are generally discarded before they can be translated into proteins.
At this stage, the researchers joined forces with the team of Dr. Zeev Melamed of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, an expert in splicing and RNA. Together, they revealed splicing manipulation in recipient monocytes, thereby deciphering the parasite’s RNA strategy.
Sabotage in the nucleus
In effect, the parasite jams the internal communications of the host’s immune system. By getting its mRNA into monocyte nuclei, it disrupts the host cell’s own RNA processing. The result is chaos. Critical immune transcripts – meant to produce proteins that fight infection – are improperly spliced and then sent off to be degraded. As a result, the production of entire families of immune proteins is shut down.
As they continued to observe the immune cell takeover, the scientists found that the manipulated monocytes send out distress signals, triggering a wave of immune activation that mobilizes additional immune cells. But while these cells rush to deal with the apparent crisis inside the monocytes, the real threat – parasites quietly multiplying inside red blood cells – escapes attention.
“It’s a decoy mechanism,” Regev-Rudzki says. “Like throwing a grenade in one direction so the guards run toward it, while you move somewhere else.” By confusing immune cells and suppressing key defense proteins, the parasite buys itself precious time to grow and spread.
These findings point to a potential new target for antimalarial drugs – therapies designed to prevent malarial RNAs from tampering with the host’s splicing machinery.
The work may also open new avenues for diagnosis, not only of malaria but of other infectious diseases. Bilharzia parasites, for example, can reside in the gut for years, causing damage while remaining undetectable in standard blood tests. Regev-Rudzki believes that they, and other parasites, may be releasing vesicles whose RNA signatures in the bloodstream might reveal their presence.
The study’s implications extend far beyond infectious disease. Vesicles abound in the body, and searching for their cargo not only in the cytoplasm but in unexpected places such as the carefully guarded nuclei, can increase the chances of intercepting these packages and reading their messenger RNA. And that, in turn, might help us decipher disease-promoting mechanisms. The feints and strategies employed by cancer, for example, include the release of vesicles that influence surrounding healthy tissue. Vesicles are also an active area of research in Parkinson’s, ALS and other neurodegenerative diseases. Vesicle-bound RNAs circulating in blood may one day serve as early biomarkers for these disorders.