Epstein Epstein Epstein
Todd Blanche’s Meet-and-Greet
Epstein. Epstein. Epstein.
With Senator Thom Tillis’s latest demand that Todd Blanche personally meet with Jeffrey Epstein’s victims before he earns Tillis’s vote, I found myself circling back to the same three words that have haunted this country for years: Epstein. Epstein. Epstein.
Not because I enjoy revisiting one of the darkest chapters in modern American history. Quite the opposite. I keep coming back because beneath every headline, every hearing, every political calculation and every legal maneuver are victims who still deserve something they have never fully received: the truth.
I’m supposed to believe that a meeting is somehow the breakthrough? That if Todd Blanche sits down with survivors, justice has suddenly been served? I don’t buy it for a second. If Blanche truly wanted to hear from the victims, why did it require a United States senator threatening his confirmation before the idea suddenly became important? Justice that only appears under political pressure isn’t justice. It’s public relations.
Then my thoughts drifted to Blanche’s previous role as Donald Trump’s personal attorney. Whether that attorney-client relationship formally continues or not, the unavoidable reality is that Blanche spent years protecting Trump’s legal interests. That history alone raises understandable questions about whether he can convince the public that his first loyalty, as attorney general, would be to the Department of Justice rather than to the man who nominated him.
That is precisely why this confirmation matters.
The victims don’t need another carefully choreographed meeting. They need transparency. They need every legitimate avenue of investigation to remain open. They need confidence that no one, regardless of wealth, fame, or political influence, is beyond scrutiny.
As I thought about Tillis’s demand, I couldn’t help wondering what it would actually accomplish. If Blanche walks into a room, shakes a few hands, offers sympathetic words and then walks out, what changes? The files don’t magically become public. The unanswered questions don’t disappear. The survivors aren’t suddenly given the closure they’ve been seeking for years. Symbolism has its place, but symbolism without meaningful action is little more than another photo opportunity.
The more I think about it, the more I return to a simple conclusion: what the victims deserve isn’t a meeting. They deserve disclosure.
For years Americans have heard promises that everything would eventually come to light. We’ve been told to wait. To trust the process. To believe that accountability was just around the corner. Yet every few months another explanation appears, another delay arrives, another carefully crafted statement urges everyone to move on.
Move on?
From children who were trafficked and abused?
From victims whose lives were permanently altered? From unanswered questions involving one of the most well-connected sexual predators in modern history?
No.
I won’t move on simply because powerful people have grown tired of the subject.
At the same time, I remind myself that justice cannot be selective. If documents exist that can lawfully be released without violating the rights or privacy of victims or compromising legitimate legal obligations, then they should be released regardless of whose names may appear in them. Accountability cannot depend on party affiliation. It cannot depend on whether the consequences are politically convenient.
That is why this story continues to matter.
This morning, I found myself thinking that the Department of Justice should never become anyone’s personal revenge department or personal defense team. Its obligation is to the Constitution, to the law, and to the American people. If the public begins believing that investigations begin and end according to political loyalty rather than evidence, confidence in our justice system erodes even further.
That is the burden Blanche carries into this confirmation process. Meeting with survivors may demonstrate cosplay compassion, and compassion matters. But compassion without transparency leaves too many questions unanswered.
History has taught us that institutions often protect themselves before they protect victims. Powerful people frequently circle the wagons. Lawyers negotiate. Politicians calculate. Public relations specialists polish statements. Meanwhile, the people who suffered are once again asked to be patient.
They’ve been patient long enough.
The American people don’t need another carefully managed performance. They need confidence that every credible lead has been pursued, every appropriate document has been examined, and every person, no matter how influential, is subject to the same standard of justice.
So I return to where I began.
Epstein. Epstein. Epstein.
Not because dwelling on his name serves any purpose, but because remembering the victims does. They should remain at the center of this story, not confirmation politics, not partisan maneuvering, and not another cycle of distractions.
A meeting may satisfy a senator.
Only transparency has any chance of satisfying history.
— Michael Jochum
Not Just a Drummer: Reflections on Art, Music, Politics, Dogs, and the Human Condition
thank you.