This evening, I come to you with a personal and surreal moment. Today, I stood at the United States Capitol to cover the Epstein survivor press conference, and for the first time I found myself shoulder to shoulder with credentialed members of the “legacy media.” I didn’t have a pass around my neck, but I was treated as though I did.

I was in the thick of the press gaggle, holding my ground among the crowd of reporters, asking the tough questions, and witnessing history unfold not as an outsider, but as someone recognized—if only for a moment—as part of the press corps. It was a strange, humbling, and unforgettable experience.

Before I go further, I want to pause. If you value this work—independent journalism that refuses to bow to political pressure or corporate gatekeeping—I ask you to consider subscribing. This platform has grown because of people like you. Every subscription is fuel that ensures we can keep showing up, keep covering the stories others want buried, and keep proving that truth belongs to everyone, not just to institutions with billion-dollar budgets.

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The atmosphere today was far from orderly. You might think of a press conference as a professional gathering, each reporter committed to fairness and focus. What I witnessed instead was a frenzy. Reporters shoved one another to get closer to microphones, some cursed out their peers, and others treated the space like a battlefield rather than a workplace.

It was startling, but also telling. The pursuit of truth was supposed to unite everyone in that room, yet the behavior revealed how fractured the culture of journalism has become.

I kept coming back to one thought: you can fight for the truth without being cruel.

Being kind doesn’t mean being weak. It means remembering why you’re there—to hold power to account, not to trample others chasing the same story.

And still, beneath the noise and the chaos, a heavier reality made itself clear. The resistance to this work is growing. Those aligned with far-right Republicans, and others close to the White House, do not want stories like this told. They don’t want the public hearing about the Epstein files.

They don’t want conversations about Trump’s health. They don’t want coverage that challenges the narrative they’re desperately trying to control. They want silence. But silence is not an option.

I will not apologize for standing in that gaggle. I will not apologize for the questions I asked, or for insisting that survivors deserve to be heard. And I will not stop. The hostility only reinforces the stakes. The louder the resistance, the more you know you’re getting close to the truth.

This platform has grown beyond what anyone could have imagined when it began. Against all odds, it has surpassed the viewership of some of the largest mainstream outlets. Millions of Americans are tuning in not because it’s polished or backed by corporations, but because it’s real.

People are desperate for honesty, for coverage that doesn’t flinch when the story gets uncomfortable, and for journalism that doesn’t ask permission from the very people it seeks to hold accountable.

We’re not going to stop. Together, we will keep bringing light to the stories that matter, no matter how many people in power want them hidden. This is only the beginning, and it will not end here.