They say the most heinous crime is pedophilia.
And yes—when adults violate the trust and bodies of children, they desecrate something sacred.
But there is another desecration—quieter, older, and far more protected.
It hides behind flags, handshakes, and official seals.
It does not lurk in alleyways, but sits on boards, in cabinets, on thrones.
It is betrayal.
The betrayal of public trust by those sworn to uphold it.
The breach of sacred covenant between governance and the governed.
The use of power—elected or inherited—not to serve the people,
but to serve each other.
The fraternity of silence.
The network of immunity.
The ritualized complicity of those who will not break rank,
no matter what burns beneath them.
In the case of Jeffrey Epstein, we are told to focus on the sex.
On the grotesque allure of forbidden desire.
But the deeper horror is not erotic.
It is ritual.
The coordinated, systematic grooming not of children—but of systems.
Of prosecutors, politicians, journalists, billionaires.
Of entire public institutions, slowly bent toward protection of the few.
This is not a story about lust.
It is a story about control.
About a priesthood of power that launders its sins through distraction,
and tells you the real evil is always elsewhere.
Meanwhile, children die under bombs in Gaza.
Babies starve in rubble.
And those same power-brokers—who we are told would never hurt children—
vote to fund the war.
So no—pedophilia is not the most heinous crime.
The most heinous crime is the betrayal of the people.
The quiet coordination of power to protect itself
while pretending to serve the common good.
Until we name that betrayal—
until we rip the mask from its bloody face—
we will keep mistaking disgust for justice.
And the machine will keep turning.