COLUMN: Trump, Epstein, and the Police Chief—When Silence Becomes Complicity

3.5 Million Pages of Shame

On January 30, 2026, the U.S. Department of Justice released more than 3.5 million pages of documents related to the Epstein case. Emails, photos, videos, passenger lists—it’s all there. Or almost all. Because some names have been redacted, without explanation. Six men, whose identities remain secret, are protected by some unknown arrangement. Yet the revelations are already damning. Politicians, members of royal families, financial tycoons, intellectuals—all have been implicated. Some, like former British Ambassador Peter Mandelson, are already under investigation. Others, like Bill Clinton, have been summoned to testify before Congress. And Trump? He prefers to talk about something else. As if looking the other way could make the evidence disappear. As if changing the subject could erase the crimes.

When we look at the scale of this scandal, one thing becomes clear: Epstein was not a lone wolf. He was the hub of a network. A network of complicity, silence, and protection. A network where everyone knew, where everyone turned a blind eye, where everyone profited from the horror. And today, as documents are released, names are revealed, and careers crumble, we’re told to “move on.” As if justice were optional. As if the truth were negotiable. As if the victims had no right to redress, to recognition, to dignity. But dignity, precisely, is what is most lacking in this story. The dignity of those who knew and remained silent. The dignity of those who profited and refuse to be held accountable. The dignity of those who, even today, prefer to protect the guilty rather than defend the innocent.

When Justice Becomes a Luxury

In the shadow of these revelations lie the victims. Dozens of young women, often minors, exploited, humiliated, broken. Some have filed complaints. Others have remained silent—out of shame, fear, or despair. Today, as their abusers are finally exposed, they must also face another form of violence: that of indifference. Because for Trump, for the elites, for all those who profited from the Epstein system, the victims are nothing more than details. Collateral damage. Names on a list. Yet it is they who pay the highest price. They who bear the scars. They who, even today, must fight to be heard. Meanwhile, the powerful procrastinate. They downplay the situation. They deflect. They call for “turning the page.” As if the page could be turned without justice being served. As if the horror could be erased with a simple wave of the hand.

There are moments when we realize the full extent of the injustice. Moments when we understand that, in this world, some lives matter more than others. That some suffering is invisible. That some crimes go unpunished. Epstein’s victims have been living through these moments for years. They have cried out. They have testified. They have hoped. And today, as the truth finally comes to light, they are being asked to be silent. Not to cause a disturbance. Not to rock the boat. As if their pain were a mere detail. As if their struggle were a nuisance. As if their very existence were an inconvenience. But they are here. They are resisting. They refuse to be silenced. And that is the only glimmer of hope in this sordid story: the courage of those who, despite everything, continue to fight. Even when the world would rather look the other way.

Bill Clinton, Peter Mandelson, and Others in the Crosshairs

The release of the documents has set off a chain reaction. In Congress, a Republican-led parliamentary committee announced that it would hold separate hearings with Bill Clinton and his wife Hillary regarding their ties to Epstein. The former Democratic president, who traveled on Epstein’s private jet on several occasions, has consistently denied any knowledge of his crimes. Yet the evidence is mounting. In Europe, former British Ambassador Peter Mandelson is in hot water. Accused of passing sensitive information to Epstein, he was forced to leave the Labour Party and the House of Lords. Everywhere, the elites are trembling. Everywhere, accomplices are being hunted down. Except in the White House, where Trump himself seems above suspicion. As if being president shielded him from questions. As if power were a form of immunity.

That is the great paradox of this affair: those who shout the loudest against the elites are often the ones who protect them the most. Trump, who presents himself as a crusader against the powerful, is the first to turn a blind eye when it comes to his friends. He denounces conspiracies, but he is part of one. He cries out against corruption, but he benefits from it. And today, as names are revealed, careers crumble, and reputations are tarnished, he remains untouchable. Because he has the power. Because he has the media. Because he has a base that forgives him everything—even the unforgivable. And that is the ultimate proof that in this system, justice is not blind. It is selective. It strikes some. It spares others. It protects those who know how to protect themselves. And it abandons those who have no one to defend them.

The plane, the photos, the damning evidence

For years, Trump denied everything. He swore he had “never flown on Epstein’s plane.” He claimed to be unaware of Epstein’s actions. He feigned outrage, surprise, and wounded innocence. Yet the evidence is there. His name on the passenger lists. The photos in which he poses, smiling, alongside Epstein and Maxwell. The victims’ testimonies, recounting how he ignored them, how he turned a blind eye. And today, faced with an avalanche of documents, he’s calling for people to “move on.” As if the truth were optional. As if the facts could be erased. As if lies had no consequences. Yet there they are, the consequences. They’re in the shattered lives, in the ruined careers, in the lost trust. They’re in the fact that, today, no one can believe a word he says. Because when you lie once, you can lie forever. And Trump, for his part, has lied far too often.

There are lies that leave a mark. Lies that, once revealed, stick to you like glue. That follow you. That define you. Trump’s lies about Epstein are among them. Because they are not trivial. They are not mistakes, oversights, or misunderstandings. They are calculated lies. Lies meant to protect. To hide. To silence. And today, as the evidence mounts, as the documents speak for themselves, as the victims demand justice, he continues. He continues to deny. To downplay. To deflect. As if repeating a lie could turn it into the truth. As if shouting louder could drown out the voices of those who have suffered. But those voices, precisely, cannot be silenced. They resonate. They persist. They refuse to be quiet. And one day, they will be heard. One day, the truth will come out. Even if, for now, Trump is doing everything he can to suppress it.

When Supporters Become Accomplices

Yet, despite the evidence, despite the revelations, Trump can count on one thing: the unconditional loyalty of his base. MAGA supporters, for their part, refuse to hear any of it. To them, Epstein is nothing but a conspiracy. A manipulation. An attack on their leader. They’d rather believe in conspiracy theories than in facts. Lies over truth. Fiction over reality. And Trump, for his part, capitalizes on this gullibility. He fuels the doubts. He cries persecution. He turns victims into enemies. Because in his world, there is no room for nuance. No room for doubt. No room for the truth. There is only loyalty. Blind loyalty. A loyalty that, today, protects him. But which, tomorrow, could very well consume him.

There is something deeply sad about seeing people choose lies over the truth. About seeing thousands of people close their eyes, cover their ears, and refuse to listen. Because it’s easier. Because it suits them. Because it allows them to continue believing in their hero. But at what cost? When will they understand that, by protecting a liar, they become accomplices? When will they realize that, by denying the facts, they are betraying the victims? Perhaps never. Because in Trump’s world, the truth doesn’t matter. All that matters is loyalty. A loyalty that has nothing to do with honor, morality, or justice. A loyalty that is just another word for submission. And that is the worst kind of betrayal: betrayal of oneself.

As the Epstein Scandal Rocks the World

The Epstein case isn’t limited to the United States. In Europe, prominent figures are also in hot water. In Norway, Crown Princess Mette-Marit is under fire. In England, former ambassador Peter Mandelson was forced to resign after compromising emails were revealed. In France, political figures are being questioned. Everywhere, Epstein’s network has left its mark. Everywhere, complicity has been exposed. Everywhere, silences have been broken. Yet, despite the scale of the scandal, despite the names being revealed, despite careers crumbling, some continue to downplay it. To divert attention. To call for “moving on.” As if the truth were an option. As if justice were a luxury. As if the victims had no right to redress. But redress, precisely, is what is most lacking in this story. Redress for those who have suffered. Redress for those who have been betrayed. Redress for those who, even today, are still waiting for justice to be served.

This scandal is much more than a sex scandal. It is a matter of power. Power that corrupts. Power that protects. Power that stifles. Because when we look at the names being revealed, when we see careers crumbling, when we grasp the extent of the complicity, we understand one thing: Epstein was not an isolated case. He was a symptom of a system. A system where the powerful protect one another. Where the crimes of some become the secrets of others. Where the truth is a bargaining chip. And today, as documents are published, names are revealed, and victims demand justice, we’re being told to “turn the page.” As if the page could be turned without settling the score. As if we could erase the horror with a simple wave of the hand. But the horror, precisely, does not fade away. It remains. It persists. It haunts us. And one day, it resurfaces. Always.

What We Owe to the Victims—and to Ourselves

The Epstein case is the story of a man who exploited hundreds of young women. But it is also the story of all those who knew and remained silent. Of all those who saw and looked the other way. Of all those who, even today, prefer to protect the guilty rather than defend the innocent. Trump is one of them. He who knew, who warned others, who even alerted the police. And who, afterward, chose silence. Lies. Omerta. Today, as the documents are public, the names are known, and the victims are demanding justice, he calls for “moving on.” As if the truth were an option. As if justice were a luxury. As if shattered lives didn’t matter. Yet they do. They matter absolutely. Because our humanity depends on them. Our ability to say “never again” depends on them. Never again—and this time, we will act.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I don’t know if the victims will get justice. I don’t know if the accomplices will be punished. I don’t know if Trump will ever have to answer for his silences, his lies, his complicity. But one thing is certain: we cannot remain silent. We cannot look away. We cannot let the powerful decide what is just and what is not. Because justice is not an option. It is a debt. A debt we owe to those who have suffered. To those who, even today, are fighting to be heard. To ourselves, as well. Because if we let this happen, if we close our eyes, if we choose silence, then we become accomplices. Accomplices to a system that crushes the weak. Accomplices to a world where truth has no price. Accomplices to a history that, one day, will judge us. And that, I cannot accept. No one should accept it.

Signed, Jacques Provost