Epstein's victims deserve more attention than his ‘client list'
As Epstein Files near release, media focus returns to powerful names - not survivors
The Jeffrey Epstein story has slipped in and out of headlines for years, but in a very particular way. Most news coverage revolves around a single question: which powerful men might be on “the list”?
Headlines tend to focus on unidentified elites and who may be exposed or embarrassed, rather than on the people whose suffering made the case newsworthy in the first place - the girls and young women Epstein abused and trafficked.
The story is now entering a new phase. A federal judge has authorised the US Justice Department to unseal grand jury transcripts and other evidence from the sex-trafficking case against Epstein’s associate, Ghislaine Maxwell. Separately, a court in Florida has cleared the release of grand jury records from a federal investigation into Epstein himself, under the newly enacted Epstein Files Transparency Act.
Passed in November 2025, the law gives the Justice Department 30 days to release nearly all Epstein-related files. The deadline is December 19.
Journalists and the public are watching closely to see what the documents will reveal beyond names already known, and whether a long-rumoured client list will finally emerge.
Alongside this anticipation, a parallel stream of survivor-centred reporting has also emerged. Some outlets, including CNN, have regularly featured Epstein survivors and their attorneys responding to new developments. These segments serve as a reminder that another version of the story exists - one that treats the women at the centre of the case as sources of understanding, not merely as evidence of someone else’s downfall.
These coexisting narratives expose a deeper tension. Since the peak of the #MeToo movement, public conversations around sexual violence and the news have shifted. More survivors now speak publicly under their own names, and some news organisations have adapted accordingly.
Yet long-standing conventions about what qualifies as news - conflict, scandal, elite figures and dramatic turns; continue to shape which aspects of sexual violence receive attention and which remain marginal.
This tension raises an uncomfortable question: in a case where the law largely permits naming victims of sexual violence, and where some survivors are explicitly asking to be seen, why do journalistic practices so often relegate victims to the background?
What the law allows - and why newsrooms rarely do it
The US Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled that the government generally cannot punish news organisations for publishing truthful information drawn from public records, even when that information includes a rape victim’s name.
When states attempted in the 1970s and 1980s to penalise outlets for identifying victims whose names already appeared in court documents or police reports, the court found such penalties unconstitutional under the First Amendment.
Yet newsrooms responded by exercising greater restraint, not less. Influenced by feminist activists, victim advocates and internal newsroom debates, many organisations adopted policies against identifying victims of sexual assault, particularly without consent.
Journalism ethics codes now emphasise minimising harm, caution against naming victims of sex crimes and warn of retraumatisation and stigma. In short, US law permits what newsroom ethics discourage.
How anonymity became the norm - and how #MeToo complicated it
For much of the 20th century, rape victims were routinely named in US news coverage, reflecting unequal gender norms. Victims’ reputations were treated as public property, while accused men were often portrayed sympathetically.
By the 1970s and 1980s, feminist movements highlighted underreporting and stigma, arguing that fear of public exposure discouraged victims from coming forward. This advocacy helped spur rape shield laws and, in some states, restrictions on publishing victims’ names.
By the 1980s, most newsrooms had adopted a default policy of anonymity.
The #MeToo movement later complicated this approach. Survivors in workplaces, politics and entertainment began speaking publicly - often under their own names, about serial abuse and institutional protection. Their stories forced newsrooms to reconsider whose voices should anchor coverage.
Still, #MeToo unfolded within existing news conventions. Investigations often prioritised the downfall of powerful men, leaving less room for survivors’ ongoing experiences of recovery, legal uncertainty and social fallout.
The unintended effects of keeping survivors faceless
Policies against naming victims serve important purposes. Survivors may face harassment, job loss or retaliation. For minors, the risks are even greater. In many communities, anonymity is essential protection.
But media research shows that naming patterns matter. When alleged perpetrators are portrayed as complex individuals - named, contextualised and humanised, while victims are reduced to anonymous “accusers,” audiences are more likely to empathise with the suspect and scrutinise the victim.
In high-profile cases like Epstein’s, the effect is magnified. Powerful men are named, speculated about and analysed. Survivors, unless they fight to be heard, remain a blurred mass.
Anonymity meant to protect can instead flatten lived experience, collapsing diverse stories of grooming, coercion and survival into a single faceless category.
What the Epstein case reveals about news values
That flattening makes this moment in the Epstein story especially revealing. The suspense centres less on whether more survivors will be heard and more on which influential names might be exposed.
Carefully anonymising survivors while breathlessly chasing elite connections sends an implicit message about whose identities matter most.
A more survivor-centred approach would ask different questions: Which survivors want to speak on the record, and why? How can journalism respect requests for anonymity while still conveying individuality and agency?
These are not only ethical questions - they are editorial ones. They force newsrooms to consider whether the most important part of the Epstein story is the next powerful name to surface, or the lives of the people whose abuse made that name newsworthy at all.
