My 19-year-old son looked up from his phone this week, his face a mixture of confusion and disgust. “How can someone caught up in all this allegedly be a president? Basically, the more money you have, you can get away with anything and no one holds you to account.”
He had been reading the latest document release related to Jeffrey Epstein. Another tranche of allegations, names, and incriminating details. Each release seemingly worse than the last, implicating some of the world’s most powerful people, including tech billionaires, European royalty, former and current political leaders.
I had no good answer for him. Because he’s right.
For decades, Epstein operated what prosecutors described as a sophisticated trafficking network. Vulnerable girls and young women were groomed, abused, and passed around among wealthy men who believed their money and status rendered them untouchable. The evidence continues to mount—flight logs, witness testimony, photographs, court depositions.
Epstein’s survivors, many of whom were underage when they were trafficked, have described systematic abuse that exploited their economic vulnerability. These weren’t random crimes of opportunity. This was an organised operation that relied on something deeply embedded in our social structures, the assumption that powerful men exist beyond consequence.
“It’s wild that this was going on for decades and yet no one seemed to know anything, say anything, or save these girls and women,” my son said. The horror in his voice was genuine. He couldn’t reconcile the scale of what happened with the minimal accountability that’s followed.
Who has actually paid for these crimes? Epstein himself escaped earthly justice through suicide in 2019. Ghislaine Maxwell serves 20 years for her role. But the men who allegedly participated? The ones whose names appear again and again in depositions and flight manifests? Most continue their lives largely undisturbed.
Consider Prince Andrew, who settled a civil lawsuit with Virginia Giuffre. His consequence? Stripped of military titles and royal patronages, he retreated from public life to a royal residence, with his reputation tarnished but his fundamental security intact. For a woman viewing this, the message is clear that even when you’re believed, even when you’re compensated, justice remains performative.
Members of Congress deny wrongdoing. Allegations are dismissed as “witch hunts” and “fake news” by those with the most to lose. The defensive crouch of powerful men facing accountability has become so familiar it’s almost background noise which is perhaps the most insidious part. We’ve normalised the deflection.
My son’s cynicism cuts deep because it’s earned. He is watching the same evidence we are all watching and drawing the logical conclusion that the system is designed to protect those at the top. The patriarchal structures that built our institutions aren’t bugs, they’re features. They’ve always functioned to insulate wealthy men from the consequences of their actions, especially their actions against women and girls.
As a woman, as a mother, I feel the bitter weight of disappointment. Every survivor who came forward did so knowing the odds were stacked against her. They knew they’d be questioned, doubted, subjected to character assassinations. They came forward anyway, believing, perhaps naively, that evidence might matter. That enough evidence might finally be enough.
But how much evidence is enough when the accused can afford the best lawyers, the best publicists, the best politicians. When their wealth can delay proceedings indefinitely, settle lawsuits quietly, make problems disappear.
The women Epstein and his network exploited will live with that trauma forever. Their lives were fundamentally altered during their most vulnerable years. Many have struggled with addiction, mental health crises, difficulties with trust and intimacy. The ripple effects of that abuse do not end when a settlement is reached or a criminal convicted. The damage is permanent.
Meanwhile, powerful men continue to run companies, hold public office, enjoy social prestige. The asymmetry is obscene.
What troubles me most is what this teaches the next generation. My son sees hypocrisy and learns that ideals about justice and equality are merely decorative. Young women see powerful men evade consequences and learn that reporting assault is a form of self-harm because you will be retraumatised by the process and likely see no justice anyway. The question is what are we going to do about it?
Because if a 19-year-old can see this clearly, where are the adults in the room? Where are the prosecutors willing to follow evidence regardless of who it implicates? Where are the politicians willing to prioritise justice over access to wealth and power? Where is the collective outrage that should accompany revelations of this magnitude?
The Epstein case should be a reckoning, not just with one man’s depravity, but with the systems that enabled it. Every institution that looked the other way. Every person who knew and said nothing. Every structure that values the reputation of powerful men over the safety of vulnerable girls. Our sons are watching. Our daughters are watching. And they’re learning exactly what we value.