A provocative pop-up library in Lower Manhattan now displays every page the United States Department of Justice has released on Jeffrey Epstein, binding the 3.5 million documents into more than 3,400 volumes. Organised by the Institute of Primary Facts, a Washington-based transparency group, the exhibition is deliberately named after Donald J. Trump and the dead financier, a pairing intended to keep the president’s long association with Epstein in public view. The files, released under the Epstein Files Transparency Act, are accessible by appointment only to journalists, lawmakers, law enforcement and survivors of Epstein’s abuse, but any visitor can see the sheer scale of the paper trail.

The physical archive opened as five survivors of Epstein’s trafficking network delivered testimony only a few miles from Mr Trump’s Mar-a-Lago estate in Palm Beach, the very county where Florida prosecutors granted the financier a controversial non-prosecution agreement nearly two decades ago. Speaking before Democrats on the House Oversight Committee, the women recounted a pattern of official indifference that allowed Epstein to operate with impunity for years. Their demand, directed at the current administration, was direct: prosecute every enabler still at large. The location was chosen with deliberate symbolism, as many survivors first met Epstein at social events hosted at Mar-a-Lago.

Viewed from Washington, the twin events reflect a growing impatience with the pace of accountability. The reading room’s organisers insist they are forcing a confrontation with evidence that might otherwise remain buried in digital archives. Lawyers for survivors note that the raw quantity of documents does not guarantee prosecution, but it creates a permanent public record. Analysts in London point to the international dimension: Epstein’s network reached across continents, and the files include names of prominent figures far beyond the United States. In Buenos Aires, attention fell on the Argentine-Spanish entrepreneur Martín Varsavsky, who appeared on page 55 of Epstein’s so-called little black book. Varsavsky has denied any personal relationship, arguing that his inclusion was the result of indiscriminate collection of business contacts.

As the political temperature rises ahead of the next election cycle, the Epstein case refuses to recede. The reading room is a temporary installation, but its organisers have made clear they intend to take the exhibition on the road. Whether the Department of Justice under its current leadership will act on the survivors’ testimony remains uncertain. What is plain, however, is that the physical heft of those 3,500 volumes has become a monument not just to a dead criminal, but to the extended failure of institutions on both sides of the Atlantic to bring his enablers to justice.