The Epstein Files and the Men Who Stay Hidden

Settlements, secrecy, and the legal machinery protecting powerful abusers

Welcome back to The Red Letter.

As the FBI releases more Epstein files, I’ve been thinking about why we may never see hard evidence—or public depositions from victims—naming the men they were trafficked to.

First, based on my reporting, Jeffrey Epstein was careful. He understood the legal risk. Many of the youngest girls, like Courtney Wild, arrived at his Palm Beach house at just 14 years old, braces still on. When she spoke to me, she recalled feeling jealous of the older girls who were allowed to travel to Epstein’s island—an early sign of grooming. Epstein likely knew that moving minors across state lines would trigger federal charges.

That didn’t stop him entirely. Virginia Giuffre was 17 when Epstein moved her around the country and even to the U.K. But overall, he calibrated risk. That caution shaped what evidence exists, and what doesn’t.

Then there’s the men.

One line in Ghislaine Maxwell’s habeas petition stopped me cold. It helps explain why so many victims remain silent beyond fear for their safety, reputational attacks, and defamation lawsuits from men with limitless resources. According to the filing, there were 25 settlements signed with men whose identities remain unknown. Those agreements often included strict non-disclosure clauses. Speaking publicly could mean violating a legal contract.

Twenty-five men. No accountability. No public reckoning.

We know Apollo’s Leon Black paid $62.5 million to settle Epstein-related claims. But what about The Limited founder Les Wexner, who has been accused of witnessing or participating in abuse? Silence.

In other cases, civil suits were pursued only because criminal statutes of limitation had expired. All along, federal prosecutors appear to have sought the narrowest case possible—one with the least ambiguity: minors, clear conduct, and airtight evidence. That led them to focus almost exclusively on Epstein and Maxwell. It was the easiest case to close.

What we’re seeing now—including the resurfaced Larry Nassar letter—is largely a collection of FBI tips. We don’t know which were investigated, how thoroughly, or at all. We’ve seen only a fraction of the material. There are millions of pages left.

That uncertainty creates confusion. It makes each release feel sensational rather than clarifying. And it raises an uncomfortable question: how should we interpret these files when it’s unclear what’s been vetted?

The Justice Department now says the Nassar letter is a fake. I use the word says deliberately. The DOJ has lost credibility by repeatedly misrepresenting the scope and rigor of its work. That said, there are reasons to doubt the letter’s authenticity, most notably the handwriting, and the fact that it was sent after his death from a different prison. Having followed this story for years and read Epstein’s notes, that was the first thing that jumped out to me.

All of this leads me to one conclusion: the Epstein files are likely to bring more confusion than clarity.

I hope you’re enjoying the holidays. I’m trying, really trying, to step back a bit, but I’ll be dropping in and out as this continues.