Power Protects Itself — Unless We Don’t Let It

When the Epstein scandal finally broke open, the world focused on wealth, jets, mansions, and famous names.
But the real inflection point wasn’t luxury.
It was courage.
Virginia Giuffre — known earlier as Virginia Roberts — did something that history often demands but rarely rewards: she stood up publicly against people with more power, more money, and more insulation than she had.
She knew what would follow.
Scrutiny. Doubt. Smears. Legal intimidation. Character attacks.
And she did it anyway.
That is what punctures insulation.
Because the deeper lesson of Jeffrey Epstein was not simply that evil can hide in plain sight.
It was that power survives when silence survives.
And silence survives when communities make it uncomfortable to speak.
Now bring that lens home to the Hudson Valley.
What’s unfolding around Frankie Flowers is not the same in scale. But the moral test is similar.
There are women here — local women — who have stepped forward. Who have chosen discomfort over quiet. Who have risked backlash in a region where networks are tight and relationships overlap.
That matters.
In a community like ours, standing up is not abstract. It means possibly seeing people at school events, town meetings, fundraisers. It means knowing the social ripple will be immediate and personal.
It takes something to speak anyway.
And regardless of where investigations ultimately land — whether allegations are substantiated or disproven — the act of coming forward should not automatically trigger ridicule, dismissal, or reflexive character assassination.
We learned from the Epstein era what happens when the first instinct is to defend influence rather than examine facts.
We learned what happens when the vulnerable feel alone.
So yes — due process must govern outcomes.
But courage deserves acknowledgment.
When women in the Hudson Valley stand up and say, “This is what happened to me,” or “This is what I experienced,” the appropriate first response is not tribal alignment.
It is seriousness.
It is listening.
It is allowing institutions to work without social pressure tilting the scale.
Power protects itself — unless communities decide that transparency protects them more.
The strength of a region is not measured by how fiercely it shields its familiar faces.
It is measured by whether those without insulation feel safe enough to speak.
Virginia Giuffre forced the world to confront an uncomfortable truth: influence does not equal innocence.
Here at home, women are showing similar resolve on a smaller stage.
And whatever the legal outcomes, the courage to step forward in a close-knit community is something we should not dismiss.
It is something we should recognize.
And yes — it is something we should applaud.