Remember Pizzagate?
Remember when half the country lost their minds over a conspiracy theory about a DC pizza parlor running a child trafficking ring out of a basement that didn’t exist? When some lunatic showed up with an AR-15 to “investigate”? When the entire media establishment spent months using it as exhibit A for why conspiracy theorists are dangerous nutjobs who need to be deplatformed, censored, and medicated?
Well. Turns out the real pedophile network wasn’t hiding in some imaginary basement. It was cruising on yachts. Partying at Mar-a-Lago. Flying on private jets. And the man currently occupying the Oval Office has his name appearing nearly one million times in the unredacted Epstein files.
One. Million. Times.
Not a typo. Not hyperbole. When I started writing this piece, the count was over 500,000. Hours later? Damn near doubled.
And I’m supposed to sit here like a good little Christian and pretend this is normal? That this is just partisan noise? That the guy with his name plastered across a convicted pedophile’s communications almost a million times just happens to be an innocent bystander?
Get the hell out of here with that.
The files show those mentions didn’t stop after Trump claimed he and Epstein were “no longer friends.” They kept going. Emails. Communications. Connections. All while Trump was telling America he’d kicked Epstein to the curb years ago. The black ink of redaction covers nearly 950,000 instances of his name. Nine hundred and fifty thousand times the American people were told they don’t get to know what their president was doing with a man who trafficked children.
This isn’t about political tribes. This is about power protecting power while the rest of us are fed circus acts and told to focus on illegal immigrants and gender pronouns.
The Bondi hearing laid it bare. Attorney General Pam Bondi sat before Congress and put on a performance that would make a Real Housewives cast member blush. Smarmy. Combative. Evasive as hell. When Ted Lieu played footage of Trump and Epstein laughing together at Mar-a-Lago and asked whether underage girls were present at that party or any gathering Trump attended with Epstein, she refused to answer.
Just refused.
Deflected. Raised her voice. Threw out buzzwords like “transparency” and “Trump derangement syndrome” as if congressional oversight was a personal attack on her character. She invoked the Dow hitting some imaginary milestone like stock prices could sanitize what’s in those files.
Then came the survivors.
Women who were trafficked as girls. Women who named names. Women whose testimony was carved up with redactions so thick you couldn’t see daylight through them. Thomas Massie pointed out that survivor accounts identifying the men who trafficked them had been gutted beyond recognition. Black bars swallowing names. Black bars swallowing details. Black bars burying truth like bodies under fresh concrete.
Those survivors were asked right there in that hearing room whether they had requested meetings with Bondi’s Department of Justice. Whether they’d been granted the opportunity to speak. To be heard. To get justice.
Hands went up. One after another.
Not one had been given a meeting. Not one.
And Bondi sat there scrolling her phone. Snacking. Eyes fixed anywhere but their faces. On her notes. The ceiling tiles. The exit sign glowing red overhead. She refused to look at them. Refused to acknowledge their existence. These women who survived hell and came forward to name names, and the attorney general of the United States treated them like they were invisible.
You could feel the collective recoil. That stomach drop when you watch someone in power choose cruelty over duty. Choose loyalty to a man over justice for victims.
This is who she works for. Not the Constitution. Not the American people. Not those girls in the files. Donald Trump. Her loyalty shoots straight up the power chain to him. She’s a fixer. An enabler in a tailored suit who treats proximity to power like worship and accountability like blasphemy.
And we’re supposed to believe this is all coincidence? That Trump ran for president out of patriotic duty and not because he was terrified his name would surface in an investigation that could land him in prison? That he invited Elon Musk to gut federal agencies for “efficiency” and not to purge anyone who might prosecute him?
Musk’s name is in those files too, by the way.
We have the most powerful man in North America appearing nearly a million times in documents connected to a convicted pedophile. We have an attorney general refusing to meet with survivors. We have redactions thick enough to choke on. We have a president who has said on two separate occasions there might not be elections this November.
And half the country is still defending him. Still waving flags. Still calling anyone who questions this a deranged leftist suffering from TDS.
They’re so busy screaming about border security and woke ideology they can’t see the forest for the trees. Can’t see that the real enemy isn’t some migrant family crossing the Rio Grande. It’s the billionaire elite pedophiles in those files who appear to be collapsing the government from within so they can seize total control and stay out of prison.
Pizzagate was a psyop. A distraction. A way to train the public to dismiss any claim of elite pedophilia as unhinged conspiracy thinking. And it worked. It worked so well that now when the real evidence surfaces, when the actual files drop, when survivors testify and Congress reads the receipts, people still can’t process it. They’ve been conditioned to reject it on sight.
Meanwhile the man who partied with Epstein, who flew on his planes, whose name appears in his communications almost a million times, sits in the White House wielding executive power like a shield. Redacting. Blocking. Hiding. Using the apparatus of government to bury what should be headlines.
This isn’t governance. This is a criminal enterprise wearing the costume of legitimacy.
And the church? Most pastors won’t touch this. Too divisive. Too political. Might lose donors. Might upset the congregation. Better to preach another sermon about grace and community while Rome burns.
Well I’m pissed. I’m pissed that we were told for years that caring about elite pedophilia made you a dangerous conspiracy theorist. I’m pissed that survivors are being ignored by the very institutions meant to protect them. I’m pissed that nearly a million redactions stand between the American people and the truth about what their president was doing with Jeffrey Epstein.
And I’m pissed that half the country has been so thoroughly manipulated they’ll defend power instead of demanding justice.
The files are real. The survivors are real. The cover-up is happening in real time. And if the church won’t speak truth to this kind of evil, what the hell are we even doing?
All proceeds from this post go to Lily’s ‘I need a new laptop for school’ fund.
EDITOR’S NOTE FROM THE WISE WOLF:
This piece was written by my junior journalist, the lovely and talented Miss Lily Rose Dawson, and does not entirely reflect the opinions of The Wise Wolf. So don’t have a shit fit and unsubscribe because ‘I’ said something bad about Trump.
I voted for the guy twice. Remember that. I’m not some Never Trumper or leftist plant. But I’m also not stupid anymore.
This stinks like poop and apparently no one is going to clean it up.
Who cares if the most powerful men in America are raping kids and potentially sacrificing them to some satanic goat demon as long as the Dow Jones Industrial Average is hitting record highs and we’re getting cheaper medications, right?
This is bullshit, people.
When it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, flies like a duck, and swims like a duck? It’s a freaking duck.
I’m watching. You should be too.
