The attorney general’s testimony before Congress revealed what a farce this is.

The release of the Epstein files—the slow-drip revelations of a web of privileged (mostly) men trading gifts, access, favors, and sickening child predation as casually as Pokémon cards—has been deliberately parsed out through 2026 as to both be buried itself and bury other horrific news coming out of the Trump administration. But this misses a critical point: The Epstein file dump is not simply playing out as a backdrop against which other acts of American lawlessness are occurring. The Epstein story is also the template and the proof text for all that is happening in Minnesota; at dangerous detention centers; in efforts to punish members of Congress for lawful speech; for crypto scams; and for measles outbreaks. It is an ongoing road map for an administration that lives out the reality that they are rich and powerful and famous enough to be above the law each day, and wishes for the rest of us to ultimately learn and accept that fact.

So it follows that Attorney General Pam Bondi testifying blithely before a congressional hearing on Wednesday, as Jeffrey Epstein’s survivors sat behind her, unacknowledged and irrelevant to her purposes, is the template for that messaging: Blond woman who knows she must seek and maintain protection from this administration’s simulacrum of justice crows about the Dow Jones for the cameras, because she understands that if she doesn’t, she will be left behind, asking to be respected, like the masses of women behind her.

And it is equally true that Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick could bring his children and their nannies to a bespoke lunch on Epstein’s island in 2012, long after he allegedly broke off contact with the sex predator, precisely because Lutnick’s children and their nannies were not the types of children or women who would be abandoned there to be raped and threatened. He is also a walking infomercial about whom the law protects and whom it leaves broken and invisible, behind. Lutnick’s testimony this past week, like Bondi’s, is thus operating as a still life in what happens when the law becomes inert. On the one hand, it is not relevant as a restraint to those who need not rely on it; on the other, it is not protective for those who do.

Liz Plank, on her Substack, describes the nausea and disorientation felt by women realizing this past week that we had all been gaslit yet again. Those of us who cannot even begin to imagine a permission structure that allowed and encouraged passing young girls around, trading insults and articles about them (“your littlest girl was a little naughty”), and bonding over the hysteria of #MeToo can barely comprehend why it was that this class of men always took the gift and the freebie and the shitty watch and the plane trip, because access to yet more of the same somehow became the coin of the realm. What Plank describes as “trust bias”—the psychological tendency to assume that others are operating within the same moral and ethical universe as yourself—means that we are all, once again, annihilated by the fact that America’s shared moral universe is a collective fiction, one that constrains one class of people and merely titillates another.

We err when we call what is being done by ICE officials to citizens and noncitizens on the streets of American cities “law,” just as we err when we call what has thus far been afforded the Epstein survivors “justice.” Indeed, the word law is too generous to contain the plea deals and the willing ignorance and the prison transfers that were granted to Jeffrey Epstein and his co-conspirators at every turn. And the word injustice is far too small to describe the spectacle of hundreds of survivors who have still not been given a reckoning or a measure of genuine accountability, whose unredacted names appeared in public documents and who had never been contacted by the Department of Justice.

Pam Bondi may be in charge of many officials and many investigations and many legal things at the DOJ, but what she is protecting is neither justice nor law. And that means that what Plank describes as a trust bias is also an exquisitely American “law bias,” and we should dispense with the notion that we are all in some group compact to protect and preserve the same things. The law is neither protecting the vulnerable nor constraining the Epstein class. And perhaps we should stop referencing that word to mean either project, much less deploying it to describe both.

What Bondi, and Donald Trump, and Lutnick, and Todd Blanche are doing under the banner of law and law enforcement and pardons and immunity and impunity is an operatic performance of a single truth: The “law” will now protect those who are within the network of favors and privilege and secrets and side-eyes and snickers and abuse of young girls, and the “law” will also abandon those who are not. What Bondi did this week under the bright lights of the U.S. Congress was to personify that the law is a word for the thing that is “weaponized” when it’s used against the president, and is the thing that is bestowed benignly on those who seek his grace. This is a protection racket, and we are being conditioned in plain sight to recognize that it protects itself and it preys on everyone who refuses to buckle.

This isn’t to say that the law is meaningless. Judges across the country prove every day that the law is still the last, best guardrail against that sort of nihilist thinking. But the attorney general’s performance was an hourslong spectacle enacted solely to highlight who lives above the law and who must beg it for scraps. We should probably stop calling this law and call it simply “power.” Just as we could stop calling Bondi the AG and call her Trump’s constitutional Roomba. We should almost certainly stop calling the Epstein survivors anything other than the legal heroes and dreamers they are.