When Attorney General Pam Bondi was asked a simple yes-or-no question about one of the most sensitive topics in American politics — the release of the remaining
The question:
Does the new investigation launched by the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York prevent the Department of Justice from releasing
“We have released over 33,000 Epstein documents to the Hill and we’ll continue to follow the law and to have maximum transparency… We will follow the law… again while protecting victims, but also providing maximum transparency.”
On paper, that sounds reasonable: follow the law, protect victims, be transparent. In practice, it sounded like something else entirely — the beginnings of a legal escape hatch.
Congress just passed the Epstein Files Transparency Act by overwhelming, bipartisan margins:
House: 427–1
Senate: Unanimous
Donald Trump, now back in the White House, has already said he’ll sign the bill compelling the release of the files. Of course he did — publicly opposing their release would be political suicide.
“We’ll give them everything. Sure, I would. Let the Senate look at it. Let anybody look at it,” Trump said when asked if he’d support full disclosure.
But because Trump’s public posture has to be “maximum transparency,” the real battle moves to the fine print — and to the one person with power to slow-walk or block those documents:
That’s why her answer matters. When given the chance to clearly say, “Yes, we’ll release all of the files within 30 days as the law requires,” she
Translation: there’s still plenty of room to maneuver.
The key concern isn’t what Bondi did say. It’s what she didn’t.
She never ruled out using one classic DOJ line:
We can’t release that because it’s part of an ongoing investigation.
And suddenly, there is a new “ongoing investigation.”
Bondi confirmed that DOJ has launched a fresh probe out of the Southern District of New York into “third parties” connected to Epstein — notably, not at the demand of prosecutors or career agents, but directly after Trump publicly called for an investigation into a list of his political enemies.
When reporters pressed her on what changed — especially given that an earlier DOJ statement said the evidence did not justify further investigations — she said only:
“Information that has come… there’s new information, additional information… and again we will continue to follow the law to investigate any leads… and we will continue to provide maximum transparency under the law.”
The timing tells its own story. Trump posts a rant naming Bill Clinton, Larry Summers, Reid Hoffman, JPMorgan Chase, and others, demanding an Epstein-related investigation into them. Hours later, Bondi announces exactly such an investigation and thanks Trump publicly.
Is that “new information”? Or just a presidential social-media post dressed up as a “lead”?
Either way, this opens a door: as long as DOJ says there is an active investigation involving these files, it can claim that it is
This is the potential playbook:
Congress passes a near-unanimous law demanding the release of Epstein files.
Trump publicly pledges cooperation — boosting his image as transparent.
Bondi launches a new probe into prominent Democrats and institutions Trump doesn’t like.
DOJ then says,
“We’d love to fully comply — but we can’t release anything that relates to an
That “ongoing investigation” can quietly last for months… or years… or forever.
On the surface, it looks like due process. Underneath, it’s a powerful mechanism to keep key documents locked up indefinitely
.
If you thought this was just a DOJ issue, think again.
Republican Senate Majority Leader John Thune was asked directly whether it would be a mistake for the administration to use the ongoing-investigation excuse to withhold files, given how overwhelmingly Congress demanded their release.
His response:
“Well, I trust the judgment of the Justice Department to ensure that whatever files they release protect the victims clearly… and there are other materials acquired through grand jury trials that perhaps they will have to make some decisions about, but I think they’ll make the right decisions.”
In other words:
Congress: “Release the files.”
DOJ: “We’ll follow the law (but we’re starting a new investigation).”
Thune: “I trust DOJ to do the right thing.”
This from the same party whose leadership has:
Slow-walked the file release for nearly a year,
Watched Bondi reverse herself after initially signaling cooperation,
Allowed House Speaker Mike Johnson to adjourn without holding a vote,
And stood by as Trump personally pressured members like Lauren Boebert over Epstein-related legislation.
All of that makes the sudden insistence on “maximum transparency” sound less like principle and more like branding.
Critics argue that the DOJ under Bondi has already shown its hand:
When pressed to turn over files requested by Congress, the department delayed.
When it did provide documents, they were largely already public records.
A previous DOJ statement insisted that no further investigation of third parties was warranted — until Trump demanded one.
And now, the same DOJ is positioning itself as both the guardian of “victims” and the arbiter of what the public is allowed to see.
It’s a familiar pattern:
Talk up transparency.
Offer a few symbolic disclosures that don’t reveal much.
Hide behind legal technicalities — ongoing investigation, grand jury secrecy, victim privacy — whenever the documents might cause real political damage.
The concern isn’t that victims’ identities need protection. Everyone agrees they do. The concern is that “protecting victims” becomes a catch-all justification for shielding powerful people from scrutiny.
In the past, Trump’s delay tactics worked because his party closed ranks behind him. If he wanted to drag something out, Republicans in Congress and conservative media were happy to help muddy the waters.
This time is different.
The vote margin on the Epstein files bill is so overwhelming that any transparent attempt to block the release won’t just look bad — it will look bad to everyone, not just Democrats.
If Trump tries to hide behind the “ongoing investigation” excuse:
He’ll face daily questions at the White House.
Allies and critics alike will pressure him from the left and the right.
The issue could consume his presidency, as every press conference turns into another round of “Where are the files?”
That raises an obvious question:
What is in those files that might be worth that level of political pain?
If the answer is “nothing much,” then dragging this out makes no sense. If the answer is “something devastating,” then Trump may decide that nonstop scrutiny is still better than full disclosure.
Either way, the public is stuck in the middle of a high-stakes staring contest between Congress, the DOJ, and a president with a long history of trying to control information flow.
For now, Bondi’s line is simple: follow the law, protect victims, be transparent.
In reality, those phrases can mean very different things depending on how DOJ chooses to interpret them:
“Follow the law” can mean:
“We found a clause that lets us hold this back indefinitely.”
“Protect victims” can mean:
“We’re redacting so heavily that nothing meaningful remains.”
“Maximum transparency” can mean:
“We released thousands of pages that say almost nothing.”
The real test won’t be in what they say they’re doing — it will be in what they actually release, how quickly, and how complete it is.
Until then, the pattern is hard to ignore:
A president eager to weaponize the Epstein story against political enemies.
An attorney general who appears ready to reshape DOJ’s decisions around his demands.
And a Congress so overwhelmingly in favor of sunlight that any delay now looks less like caution and more like self-protection.
Whether Trump and Bondi can still get away with using “ongoing investigation” as a shield — in a moment when both parties say they want the truth — may be one of the biggest tests of this political era.
Janine’s birthday was supposed to be a simple celebration—family, laughter, and food in the backyard. But everything changed the moment her ten-year-old daughter, Ava, whispered a confession that stopped her cold.
For nearly a year, Ava had been saving every penny she could find. Birthday money from grandma, loose change from chores, even a crumpled five-dollar bill she discovered in a grocery store parking lot—all tucked away in a little floral purse she hid beneath her pillow. Every coin was meant for one special thing: a delicate silver charm bracelet in a boutique window downtown. Ava dreamed of starting with the fox charm, then slowly adding an owl, a dolphin, a poodle—each one a piece of her story.
At the party, Ava carried her purse proudly until the games and chalk drawings distracted her. She set it down in her room, trusting it would be safe. But later she returned, her face pale, her hands clutching the purse like a shield. “Mom,” she whispered, “something’s wrong. Aunt Chloe took my money.”
Janine’s heart dropped. Ava explained she had walked in on Chloe upstairs, holding the purse. Startled, Chloe had claimed she was looking for hand lotion, but the cash was gone. Ava was certain she’d been caught red-handed.
Janine hesitated. Chloe was flighty, careless, even selfish at times, but stealing from a child? That felt unthinkable. Yet Ava’s eyes were steady, hurt, and determined. Janine knew she had to act.
She crossed the kitchen, where Chloe laughed with a glass of wine in hand, and asked bluntly, “Why did you take Ava’s money?” The room hushed instantly. Chloe’s expression flickered from panic to indignation. “That’s ridiculous,” she snapped. “I don’t need a child’s money.”
But Ava stepped forward. Her voice was quiet, but it carried. “One of my five-dollar bills has a little cat face I drew on it. If you have it, then you took it.” The silence that followed was suffocating. Chloe’s face drained of color. When pressed by the family, she finally pulled cash from her clutch—and there it was, the marked bill. Gasps filled the room.
Excuses tumbled from Chloe’s lips. Her business was failing, she hadn’t thought a child would notice. But the damage was done. In front of everyone, Janine told her to return every cent, and Ava, standing tall, confirmed the exact amount: $128. Chloe handed it back with trembling hands, then fled the house in shame.
The evening ended not with cake and candles, but with a quiet kitchen and a mountain of dirty plates. Janine sat with Ava, who still clutched her purse. To lighten the heaviness, they built towering ice cream sundaes with brownies, caramel, sprinkles, and chocolate pieces—an over-the-top treat that made Ava smile again.
Later, Janine told her daughter how proud she was. “What you did took courage. You spoke up, even when it was hard. That’s strength most adults don’t have.” Ava admitted she was nervous, but she couldn’t let anyone take what she had worked so hard to save.
The next day, the family group chat buzzed with support for Ava. Relatives pooled money to help her finally get the bracelet she’d been dreaming of. When they went to the boutique, Ava chose the cat charm first, the same one she’d thought of the day she drew on that five-dollar bill.
As Janine fastened the bracelet around her wrist, Ava’s smile was brighter than the silver. That birthday had started as Janine’s celebration, but it ended as Ava’s moment of triumph. Her daughter had proven that truth, no matter how small the voice behind it, can topple even the biggest lies.