What remains is a gnawing sense that the case was less a reckoning than a controlled burn. She became the sacrificial center of a story carefully trimmed at the edges, a narrative that ended exactly where it stopped being convenient. The silence around the most powerful figures is not accidental; it is architecture, built from influence, fear, and the quiet understanding of what must never be said aloud.

Yet the loose ends refuse to lie flat. Flight logs circulate, names resurface, and survivors keep talking into microphones that weren’t supposed to be turned on. Each fragment suggests that the true scandal was never just the crimes, but the ecosystem that enabled them and walked away untouched. The legal file is closed, but the public record isn’t. Somewhere beyond that locked door, the rest of the story waits, unfinished, insisting that someone keep knocking.