There are things that stay with you after you’ve investigated sex crimes. Even decades after leaving policing, I often think of the disturbing evidence that shook my faith in humanity, the chilling interviews with survivors and witnesses, and the deep, shared trauma these cases left behind. What has always haunted me most, though, is the inescapable knowledge that accountability for these violations remains the exception rather than the rule.
Accountability for these violations remains the exception rather than the rule.
The Department of Justice’s recent release of documents tied to the late Jeffrey Epstein, who was a convicted sex offender, has again forced me to confront that painful reality. Cynicism about the justice system’s treatment of sex crimes is not new. But the government’s handling of the Epstein case — including the way it has exposed the identities of some victims and redacted the names of some of Epstein’s alleged co-conspirators — threatens to push this critique into something far more corrosive and to reinforce the already prevalent belief that the system is fundamentally aligned to shield the powerful while further harming victims.
This conspicuous inversion of the justice system’s stated mission helps explain why many victims of sex crimes hesitate to come forward at all. When deciding whether to report, survivors must weigh a process that can expose them to shame, public scrutiny and lasting collateral consequences. And for those who do report, there is little reason to be confident such reporting will lead to accountability. Clearance rates for sex crimes have declined sharply since 1980. In some U.S. cities, less than 4% of reported rapes, sexual assaults and child sex abuse allegations ever result in a related conviction, according to a 2025 NBC News investigation.
As I’ll explain, the mishandling of the files and the survivors creates a trust gap that makes the task of investigating other sex crimes more difficult.
A Reuters poll from this month indicates that almost 70% of Americans strongly agree that the Epstein files “show that powerful people in the U.S. are rarely held accountable for their actions.” If such doubt and distrust continues to fester, then law enforcement everywhere risks losing the legitimacy it depends on to pursue justice in these cases.
My concern isn’t limited to what is in the roughly 3.5 million pages of material in the Epstein files, but it also includes how those documents have been released. Shortly after the latest disclosure, Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche said there was “nothing in there that allowed us to prosecute anybody.”
From a legal standpoint, that assessment may prove correct. Sex crime cases are difficult to prosecute, often constrained by evidentiary gaps, witness participation and the passage of time. Still, one can acknowledge these legal realities while remaining sensitive to the damage done when authorities signal at the outset that any further accountability is effectively off the table.
Confidence in the justice system depends as much on process as it does on outcome.
In my experience, confidence in the justice system depends as much on process as it does on outcome. If we want people to have faith in our work, then at a minimum they must trust that we will examine evidence vigorously and pursue leads wherever they go. That is especially true in a case of this magnitude, involving allegations of profound harm and potential perpetrators at the highest levels of power.
The public outrage and apprehensiveness about this release should not surprise anyone in law enforcement. People have been told there is “nothing to see here,” even as they’ve been presented with volumes of material that suggest otherwise. That disconnect has left many understandably feeling gaslit. It’s not difficult to see why some might conclude that the system is unwilling or unable to confront wrongdoing when powerful interests are involved.
Further compounding that frustration, survivors and advocates have pointed to troubling patterns in the documents themselves. Personal details about victims were released despite legally mandated protections, while key information about individuals who may have facilitated Epstein’s network remained inexplicably hidden behind heavy redactions. Files that some survivors shared with authorities were published with identifying information still visible, forcing lawyers to intervene. At the same time, pages that might have offered clarity about potential co-conspirators, including draft indictments, were mostly or entirely blacked out.
But the mistreatment of the survivors goes beyond the way some were exposed in the documents. At a recent congressional hearing, several of Epstein’s victims were asked whether they had been given an opportunity to meet with the Justice Department and share their experiences. None had. Attorney General Pam Bondi then declined to apologize for the department’s failure to safeguard victim identities in the released files. As a former police lieutenant who spent years investigating sex crimes, it is hard to stomach the resulting contrast of a system that goes to great lengths to shield the powerful from potential harm while showing such little care for the people it is meant to serve. As confidence in the justice system breaks down, it is hardly surprising that many stop waiting for it to act. Some turn instead to alternate routes in hopes of achieving a semblance of justice. The #MeToo movement, “cancel culture” and trials in the court of public opinion did not arise spontaneously. They reflect an environment in which a critical mass of people no longer believe formal processes can be trusted to reliably hold perpetrators to account. The public expects that no stone will be left unturned, and this disclosure process hasn’t given the public any reason to believe that. None of this is meant to second-guess the work of federal authorities. I cannot say that the Epstein files contain clear evidence of criminal conduct that authorities have ignored. What I can say is that with allegations such as these, the public expects that no stone will be left unturned, and this disclosure process hasn’t given the public any reason to believe that. The timing, tone and limits of disclosure have raised more questions than provided answers. Public skepticism is fully warranted. No, you’re not crazy to wonder if there is more to this story than officials have acknowledged. For those working in the justice system, and especially on sex crimes, the Epstein files are a stark reminder that the institutional legitimacy we rely on to do our jobs is fragile and easily eroded. No individual practitioner can repair the reputation of an entire system. But we can acknowledge the trust gap we inherit and adjust our work accordingly. That means approaching victims with trauma-informed, survivor-centered practices that minimize unnecessary exposure and retraumatization, communicating candidly about investigative limits and adhering to evidence-based standards shown to improve cooperation and outcomes. These steps will not solve every case or silence every doubt. But a justice system that depends on public trust must acknowledge how the Epstein case only further depletes that resource. If we don’t work on rebuilding that trust now, we risk losing the ability to do this work at all.
Diane Goldstein
Lt. Diane Goldstein (Ret.) is a 21-year police veteran and executive director of the Law Enforcement Action Partnership (LEAP), a nonprofit group of police, judges, and other law enforcement professionals who support policies that improve public safety and police-community relations. 
