The Shadow in the Files, Which Are Fully in Our Possession – How Maria Farmer’s Testimony Brings Donald Trump Closer to Jeffrey Epstein

It was the summer of 1996 when Maria Farmer, a young artist from New York, went to the police for the first time. She reported sexual assaults by Jeffrey Epstein and his longtime partner Ghislaine Maxwell. She spoke of threats, of fear - and of a name that at the time made headlines only as a real estate mogul: Donald J. Trump. Almost three decades later, that very name might appear in the still-sealed investigative files related to the Epstein complex - not as a perpetrator, not as a defendant, but as a witness to a time when power and abuse went hand in hand. Farmer had begun working for Epstein in 1995, first as an art advisor, later as a kind of gatekeeper for the illustrious comings and goings in his townhouse on the Upper East Side. In the following years, she reported assaults to the New York police and the FBI, as well as missing photographs and a disturbing incident involving her then-underage sister at Epstein’s ranch in New Mexico. And she mentioned Trump - on two occasions, in 1996 and 2006. Not with specific allegations, but with the urgent suggestion that Epstein’s circle deserved closer scrutiny. Trump, Farmer said, was part of that circle at the time. And she had met him herself. That moment, according to her account, took place in 1995 in Epstein’s Manhattan office. Farmer had shown up in running shorts after Epstein had summoned her late at night. Then Trump arrived - in a suit, dominant, staring. “He just stood over me and looked at my legs,” Farmer said. Then Epstein entered the room and whispered to Trump, “No, no. She’s not here for you.” The men disappeared into another room. Farmer recalls Trump commenting that he thought she was sixteen. Nothing more happened, she emphasized. No physical assault. No further contact. And yet: the scene is emblematic of an atmosphere in which boundaries were shifted by status, in which men with influence encountered girls in dependence - and in which law enforcement repeatedly failed.

The U.S. government has never accused Donald Trump of any crime in connection with Epstein. Nor does Farmer accuse him in that sense. But she asks - and rightly so: What happened to her statements? Did the FBI take her seriously? Did it ever question Trump about his relationship with Epstein - a man Trump once called “a terrific guy,” with whom he partied, played golf, flew jets? And why is his name virtually absent from the records that have been released so far? The answer may lie in the still-secret investigative documents - those very files Trump once demanded be released and now, after a media flare-up, harshly criticizes. At first, he called for transparency; now he threatens the press with lawsuits. The latest trigger: a report by The Wall Street Journal alleging that in 2003, Epstein received a sexually suggestive birthday video from Trump. Trump called the report a lie - and sued the outlet. But the momentum cannot be stopped. Because with each new revelation, a question moves closer that long ago transcended Farmer and her personal story: What did the man who is now once again President of the United States know about Jeffrey Epstein? And why has his own Justice Department, represented by Attorney General Pam Bondi, suddenly reversed course on earlier promises of full disclosure?

Farmer, whose testimony was once ignored and whose credibility was questioned, never stopped searching for answers. She was never allowed to testify in the trial against Ghislaine Maxwell - unlike her sister Annie, who did testify in court about how Maxwell had undressed her and massaged her as a minor. Maria, on the other hand, remained on the outside - like so much in this case that took place outside the formal proceedings. And yet, in a country that likes to pride itself on its moral principles, her story today stands as a quiet testament to the fact that power can still darken archives. That one need not have convictions to raise political responsibility. That it is enough to listen. And to ask who was actually protected - and who was not. Because perhaps that is precisely what makes Maria Farmer’s report so explosive: it is not a criminal complaint, not a scandal at the push of a button - but a piece in a mosaic of a picture that remained invisible for too long. And that is now, line by line, coming to light.

Investigative journalism requires courage, conviction, and means.