Say Her Name: Virginia Giuffre Deserved Better

She fought to expose monsters, demanded the truth be unsealed, and paid with her life. If we let this story fade, we betray her again.

Guest article by Michael Cohen

There are stories that fade with time. Headlines that scream for a day, maybe two, before being swallowed whole by the next scandal, the next distraction, the next excuse to move on. But the Epstein scandal—no, the Epstein crimes—refuse to be buried. And they shouldn’t be. Because the truth has a heartbeat.

Her name was Virginia Giuffre.

She was more than a headline. More than a witness. More than a plaintiff. She was a daughter. A sister. A mother. A survivor. And now, she’s gone. Dead by suicide. And her family—the people who knew her best, who saw what this did to her, who fought beside her—are left behind, saying the quiet part out loud: “It’s time for these monsters to be exposed.” Damn right it is.

Because this isn’t just about Jeffrey Epstein—the predator who died before he could be held accountable. This is about the machine that protected him. Enabled him. Benefited from his power and stayed silent while underage girls were trafficked, branded as liars, and told their pain was inconvenient. And it’s about the Department of Justice—the very institution tasked with defending the vulnerable—that somehow found the will to give Ghislaine Maxwell, a convicted trafficker, a microphone. A platform. A voice.

“Very shocked that DOJ gave Maxwell a voice,” Virginia’s family said. Shocked is an understatement.

Maxwell was sentenced for trafficking children. Full stop. And yet, she’s been allowed to craft a public narrative from behind bars—casting herself as misunderstood, as the real victim, as someone with something left to say. While Virginia—the woman who stood up, who spoke truth when others wouldn’t—was met with disbelief, smear campaigns, and relentless scrutiny until the weight of it became unbearable. That’s not justice. That’s betrayal.

And let’s stop pretending this is about politics. It’s not. This is about people. About the victims. About Virginia.

“When are we going to start believing survivors?” her family asked.

That’s not a question. It’s a dare. It’s a challenge to a system that has made doubt the default and silence the price of peace. Because the truth is this: Virginia spent her life screaming into a void padded by NDAs, billion-dollar reputations, and institutions terrified of exposure. She told her story. She named names. She stood alone in rooms full of lawyers and cameras and the judgment of the world, and still—still—they made her prove it. Over and over and over again.

She wasn’t stolen. She was preyed upon. And her family said it so plainly: “Virginia Giuffre wasn’t stolen. She was preyed upon… at President Trump’s property.” That matters. Not because of politics, but because it shows just how close this rot gets to power. Because predators don’t hide in shadows—they hide in plain sight, protected by wealth, status, and the complicity of everyone who chose comfort over truth.

But this—this was never about revenge for Virginia. It was about accountability. She wanted her Epstein files released. That was her dying wish. She wanted light where there had only been darkness and silence. She wanted the names unsealed, the records opened, the web of secrecy torn apart. She wasn’t afraid. She knew what it meant to ask for that.

And what did the DOJ do? They handed the fuckin’ microphone to her trafficker.

You want to talk about institutional failure? That’s what it looks like. When the woman who helped expose a global trafficking network ends up dead, and the woman who helped run that network gets airtime.

Virginia should be here. Watching the world finally take her seriously. Watching the files come out. Watching the monsters fall. Instead, she’s gone. And we’re left here, asking what we could’ve done. What we should’ve done. And whether we still have the courage to do it now.

Because this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. The names are still sealed. The files, still buried. Survivors still afraid to speak out, because they saw what happened to the one who did.

So no—the Epstein crimes won’t go away. And they shouldn’t. Not until we’ve released every document. Not until we’ve stopped giving microphones to the guilty and silence to the brave. Not until the system that failed Virginia is held accountable for the cost of her truth.

This country loves to talk about justice. But justice without action is just performance. Justice without accountability is just PR. And justice without survivors is a graveyard.

Virginia deserved better. Her family deserves better. And the next girl, sitting somewhere in silence, wondering if it’s worth it to speak—she deserves to live in a world where Virginia Giuffre was believed.

We owe her that. Every damn one of us.

And the only way we begin to pay it back is this: No more forgetting. No more silence. No more complicity.

The truth has a heartbeat. And we will not let it die.

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