Survivors Deserve the Right to Face Their Abusers

By Elizabeth Smart

When I was 14, I was abducted from my home, held captive and sexually abused for 9 months before finally making my escape. Most of the people who know my story, know about my primary abuser - the man who sliced my window screen and stole me away from my childhood bed. What is sometimes forgotten is that he did not act alone. A woman, Wanda Barzee, helped him. She enabled him, supported him and made his crimes possible. She was not the one holding the knife to my throat, but she was no less essential in maintaining control over me. She was credited for time served in federal prison and was allowed to have both sentences run concurrently, but in actuality, child predators and abusers should be locked up for as long as possible.

Sound familiar? A female accomplice and enabler being forgiven, excused, or shown leniency while the actual victim is not receiving government aid to improve their condition.

This reality often shocks people—because we are conditioned to imagine abusers only as men. But my story, and the stories of countless others, show that women can also play devastating roles in abuse. They can manipulate, groom, or facilitate with the same cruelty and effect. Yet they also seem to be forgiven, excused, or shown leniency with no recourse for the actual victims. That is why I cannot ignore the parallels when I hear about Jeffrey Epstein’s case. Epstein has been described as a pimp, supplying young people to others. But pimps rarely act alone. They thrive in ecosystems of enablers and facilitators, people who look the other way—or worse, actively arrange abuse. In light of this situation, I’ve allowed myself to imagine: what if my abuser or his accomplice, Ghislaine Maxwell, had “loaned” me out to other men? What if there were dozens more who had used me, and yet the world never even tried to make them answer for it? I cannot imagine surviving that and then watching those men live untouched, powerful, even celebrated. That is the horror many Epstein survivors face today.

I am not suggesting that the other victims who were also coerced into recruiting more girls are complicit in the same way as Ghislaine Maxwell; their recruitment was another layer of their own abuse. However, Maxwell was the accomplice and enabler—the one who helped run the system. She was convicted of recruiting, grooming, and sexually abusing minor girls for Epstein, playing a critical and essential role in the enterprise. 

I am not a lawyer. I cannot cite every statute or procedural barrier to filing lawsuits. But I do know this: when abuse is dismissed as a “hoax” or a political ploy too messy to confront, survivors are re-victimized. Our experiences are treated like games of partisan strategy instead of lives that were shattered. The truth is not partisan. It should not be buried under “the aisle.” Silence protects predators, not survivors.

Yes, there are facts we may never fully know. Yes, due process matters. But that is precisely why both the accused and the accusers should be allowed to face one another openly. If allegations are false or politically motivated, then those who make them should face serious consequences for trying to destroy someone’s life and reputation unjustly. But if allegations are true, justice should not end with the death of one man while a network of abusers and enablers quietly escapes accountability.

Survivors deserve the right to face all of their abusers—not just the ones who happen to be caught first. Anything less tells us our pain can be minimized, our stories can be politicized, and our abusers can be protected if they are powerful enough. That message is not just wrong. It is dangerous.

Ultimately, the path to healing is not linear, and true closure is often a detoured, winding journey. It requires not only confronting the systemic failures that enable abuse but also choosing to look forward, understanding that hope can be found even after the most devastating experiences. It’s a journey I explore more fully in my new book, Detours, where I share the vital lessons learned about finding light and moving toward a future defined by resilience, not by trauma.