A mile from the Manhattan jail where convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein was found dead in 2019, an unassuming Tribeca gallery at 101 Reade Street has been transformed into a physical archive of the disgraced financier’s many cases.
More than 3.5 million pages of law enforcement documents published by the United States Department of Justice have been printed, bound and stacked across 3,437 volumes to line the walls of a room from floor to ceiling.
The exhibition, titled “The Donald J Trump and Jeffrey Epstein Memorial Reading Room”, was organised by the Institute for Primary Facts, a nonprofit that says it focuses on transparency and anti-corruption initiatives.
Epstein was arrested on sex trafficking charges in July 2017 before hanging himself in his New York jail cell a month later, denying victims a chance at justice. The “reading room” is an attempt to shed light on the many cases connected to Epstein that never went to trial.
The shelves hold documents released under the Epstein Files Transparency Act, alongside timelines, handwritten visitor notes, and a memorial space dedicated to survivors and victims.
Since opening two weeks ago, the gallery has drawn a steady stream of visitors, including survivors of a string of offences linked to Epstein.
Lara Blume McGee, who was only 17 when she was abused by Epstein, visited the reading room last week.
“I found something brutally human in the Trump-Epstein reading room,” Blume McGee told Al Jazeera. “Proof that our lives mattered enough to be gathered, cataloged, and finally seen.”
She described entering the room as walking into a “paper city”, with three and a half million pages on display, a sight that hit her “like a physical blow”. What she remembers most vividly is the silence.
“The silence was thick with memory,” she said. “Row after row, each bound volume a life, a name, a day that should never have happened if the US government had acted when he was reported to the FBI in 1996.”
The overwhelming scale of the archive is intentional. Organisers say the physicality of the documents forces visitors to confront not only the extent of Epstein’s crimes, but also the number of lives affected by them.
Thousands of victims have been identified in connection with Epstein’s abuse network. One of the most prominent survivors, Virginia Giuffre, died by suicide in April 2025.
David Garrett, a co-founder of the exhibition, said the project was built around survivors from the outset.
“We are centred around the victims and survivors more than anything,” Garrett said. “The biggest thing is transparency and accountability.”
Garrett described the exhibition as part of a broader effort to create “real-life pop-up museums” aimed at generating public pressure around corruption and institutional failure.
“Our goal is how can we drive public outrage in order to put pressure on Congress and the Department of Justice to get full and real transparency and hopefully eventually accountability,” he said.
The process of assembling the archive was itself chaotic. Garrett said organisers downloaded the files from the Department of Justice in March, believing they had received properly redacted documents. Only after printing the collection did they discover that many survivors’ names remained visible in the files.
“What seems to have happened is the Department of Justice modified its search function instead of actually redacting the names,” Garrett said. “The names of survivors were left unredacted while the names of witnesses and co-conspirators were hidden. They brazenly broke the law.”
Finding a venue also proved difficult. Garrett said several locations backed out after initially agreeing to host the exhibit, fearing controversy or retaliation. The Tribeca gallery ultimately became the fifth venue that organisers approached.
Despite these challenges, survivors and advocates quickly embraced the project.
On Tuesday, the gallery became the site of a 24-hour livestream reading of the files led by survivors, advocates and supporters.
Dani Bensky, an Epstein survivor, opened the broadcast Monday afternoon, standing at a podium inside the dimly lit gallery with one of the thick white volumes in her hands.
Her reading marked the beginning of a continuous public recitation of excerpts from the files – an attempt, organisers said, to ensure the documents are not quietly buried again.
Throughout the gallery, visitors have left flowers, handwritten notes, and messages of grief and anger.
Garrett recalled one woman who spent hours walking silently through the space before telling organisers she was herself a survivor of sexual abuse.
“She said this helped her realise that she felt seen,” Garrett said. “That meant a lot to us.”
For Blume McGee, that feeling of visibility carries both relief and frustration.
“For years we were told to be quiet, to accept settlements, to move on,” she told Al Jazeera. “Seeing our truths preserved in a public archive felt like a long-overdue acknowledgment of our pain, our abuse and our reality.”
But she warned that documentation alone is not justice.
“This exhibition gives real hope because the record is now undeniable,” Blume McGee said. “Finally, there is action: documentation, visibility, proof. But those same files map systemic failure — how many doors stayed shut, how many people escaped scrutiny.”
“Visibility without consequence only prolongs the wound,” she added. “We need both: the files on the table and the government to act — investigate, prosecute, reform — so that being ‘finally seen’ becomes finally safe.”
