Why Cornell Has Stayed With Me
The news out of Cornell has stayed with me.
A former student says she was sexually assaulted. Her allegations moved through an institutional process, and the criminal investigation initially ended without charges. She then filed a lawsuit, and more information entered public view. Now the district attorney has reopened the matter and plans to present evidence to a grand jury.
People are angry. I understand why. As a survivor of sexual assault, I know fear and powerlessness. I know the terrible calculations that happen before someone decides to tell the truth. I also know what it feels like when an institution takes something deeply human and turns it into a process, a file, or a finding.
Watching the questions surrounding Cornell—what happened, who knew, who listened, what was investigated, and what was missed—I do not see an abstract controversy. Survivors have asked these questions for a very long time. Institutions often take something deeply human and place it inside systems with their own rules, procedures, standards, and interests.
Those questions lead me somewhere else.
The Cornell allegations and Jeffrey Epstein’s crimes are not the same. Nor is everyone named in Epstein-related records responsible for wrongdoing. A name is not a conviction, and a redaction does not prove a cover-up.
Still, I keep thinking about Epstein because I notice how differently we respond to stories we can actually see.
Some Stories Are Easier to See
The Cornell story is painful, but people can follow it. An alleged victim came forward. A lawsuit followed. An institution faced questions, and a criminal investigation reopened. The public can watch those events unfold and understand the basic questions.
Epstein’s story is different. It stretches across years and involves wealth, influence, law enforcement, courts, victims, institutions, investigations, and millions of pages of records. The Justice Department says millions of pages have been released under the Epstein Files Transparency Act. Some material remains withheld or redacted for legal and victim-protection reasons.
Protecting victims matters to me. Survivors should not become collateral damage in the public’s search for answers. At the same time, more information does not always produce more understanding.
What was investigated? What was missed? Who knew what, and when? Which institutions had information, and what did they do with it? What remains unknown?
Those questions do not disappear because the files are enormous. Their sheer scale makes them harder for ordinary people to follow. Accountability becomes harder to assess when the public cannot see how institutions reached their decisions.
When Information Becomes a Shield
We live in a time when information surrounds us. Sometimes information itself becomes a shield. Enough documents, statements, explanations, and competing accounts can overwhelm even people who genuinely want answers.
Maybe power does not always need to hide the truth completely. Sometimes it only needs to make the truth difficult enough to follow. Eventually, people get tired of trying to sort through it.
That thought bothers me because I feel like I am speaking out, and I am not sure anyone is listening anymore. Everyone seems tired. Another crisis arrives before the last one settles. Then another scandal demands attention. Another investigation begins. More documents lands in front of us.
Anger comes quickly. So does the next story.
I do not think people have stopped caring. Sometimes there is simply too much to care about at once. A constant stream of information, outrage, and demands for attention can wear people down. Even something important can begin to feel like another story passing through.
When Access Is Unequal
This is where power enters the picture for me. Wealth and influence do not prove wrongdoing. They can, however, shape who gets access to lawyers, advisers, records, and institutional decision-makers.
Time and resources matter too. Complicated systems are easier to navigate when you know their language, their procedures, and the people who can help you move through them. Most people do not.
That does not mean everyone with money and influence works together. Nor does it mean powerful people automatically receive special treatment. It does mean access is not equal. That difference matters when we ask institutions to explain themselves.
I have spent years writing about institutions, and I believe they matter. Courts, universities, law enforcement, and governments can accomplish things individuals cannot do alone. But institutions are made of people, and people bring careers, relationships, loyalties, pressures, and power into the decisions they make.
Accountability matters because institutions can exercise enormous power over people’s lives.
I Do Not Want to Look Away
Maybe this is why Cornell has affected me so strongly. The questions are still close enough to see. A person says she was harmed. An institution is being asked what it knew and what it did. The public can watch those questions unfold in real time.
Holding the Epstein record is harder. It stretches across years, agencies, institutions, lawsuits, records, redactions, and competing explanations. None of that means an unanswered question proves wrongdoing. The sheer volume does, however, make it harder for ordinary people to understand what they are being asked to accept.
That is what frightens me.
Power may sometimes hide wrongdoing. I worry just as much about what happens when everyone else becomes too exhausted to keep looking. Information can overwhelm us. Constant outrage can numb us. Complexity can make us feel that understanding the truth belongs to someone else.
I do not want complexity to end the conversation. Neither do I want unanswered questions to become something we simply accept. A complicated story still deserves clear questions and meaningful accountability.
So I want to keep asking the questions that matter: What happened? Who knew? Who listened? What was investigated? What was missed?
And when the truth becomes so difficult for ordinary people to follow, who benefits from our exhaustion?
