I want to talk about Prince Andrew — but not in the way social media usually does it.
Because there’s a principle I won’t move off:
in a civilised country, people should not be destroyed on accusation alone.
We are meant to operate on a simple standard — innocent until proven guilty.
That means criminal charges.
And criminal conviction.
And whatever you think of Prince Andrew — his judgement, his arrogance, his privilege — there is a real difference between being foolish and being criminal.
If we blur that line, we don’t just risk injustice to one man.
We normalise a culture where accusation becomes verdict.
What actually happened
Prince Andrew’s downfall rests on two things.
His association with Jeffrey Epstein — a convicted sex offender.
And allegations made by Virginia Giuffre.
Giuffre accused Andrew of sexual assault when she was 17.
Andrew denied the allegation.
One thing the MSM routinely ignores in those accusations is this: Supposing Andrew did have sexual relations with her. She was 17. it’s not a crime. And on the assumption that it is true that he did, by her own words she was. paid $15,000 to “service Andrew”
The case brought against him was civil, not criminal, and it was filed in the United States.
In early 2022, the case ended in an out-of-court settlement.
There was no admission of guilt.
No trial.
No criminal conviction.
And this part matters:
Prince Andrew has never been criminally charged in the UK in relation to these allegations.
British police assessed the matter more than once and chose not to pursue a criminal case.
Separately, the Royal Family removed him from public duties, stripped his patronages, and later initiated further steps around his formal status.
Those are the facts.
Everything else is interpretation.
Settlements are not verdicts
One of the biggest problems in modern discourse is the belief that a civil settlement equals guilt.
It doesn’t.
Civil cases are about risk, cost, pressure, exposure, and reputation — not criminal proof.
People settle to avoid years of litigation.
To protect others.
To contain damage.
Sometimes because the process itself becomes the punishment.
That doesn’t prove innocence.
But it does not prove guilt.
The Jubilee and why timing matters
There’s a crucial factor that’s often ignored when people talk about why Andrew settled.
Timing.
The settlement happened during the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee year — seventy years on the throne.
And by that point, it was already understood inside royal circles that the Queen’s health was failing.
A public civil trial would have meant weeks — possibly months — of daily headlines.
Testimony.
Speculation.
Global scrutiny.
It would have completely overshadowed the Jubilee, turning the Queen’s final great public milestone into a rolling scandal.
And Elizabeth II wasn’t just a monarch.
She was a mother.
And she was nearing the end of her life.
Seen in that light, the decision to settle doesn’t require an admission of guilt to explain it.
It requires damage limitation.
Loyalty to the institution.
And a desire not to have the Queen’s final chapter consumed by controversy.
Judgement, privilege, and naivety
None of this means Andrew showed good judgement.
He clearly didn’t.
Royals and aristocrats live in a sheltered world.
Protected from consequences in ways most people aren’t.
That insulation breeds naivety.
People who have never had to assess real danger often believe they can manage it.
People who’ve always been protected tend to underestimate risk.
That doesn’t make them criminals.
But it does make them reckless.
The Sarah Ferguson email — and naivety
Recently released Epstein-related documents included an email attributed to Sarah Ferguson referring to a daughter having a “shagging weekend.”
It’s crude.
It’s inappropriate.
And it makes people recoil.
But here’s the context that often gets lost.
That was her daughter.
A child she and Prince Andrew love deeply.
If you genuinely believe they understood Epstein to be the kind of man he later proved to be — the scale of his depravity, the systems he ran, the evil involved — then the idea that a mother would speak so casually about her own child makes no sense.
A far more plausible explanation is naivety.
A sheltered, privileged world where danger was underestimated.
Where Epstein was wrongly seen as a grotesque but contained character — not the predator he truly was.
That doesn’t excuse poor judgement.
But it does matter when assessing intent.
Crude language is not criminal knowledge.
Naivety is not complicity.
No charges doesn’t mean nothing — but it matters
Here’s the tension we have to hold honestly.
Not being charged does not automatically mean someone is innocent.
But being accused does not automatically mean someone is guilty.
That’s why due process exists.
If someone believes Prince Andrew committed a crime, the response is simple:
Bring charges.
Present evidence.
Test it in court.
Not trial by headline.
Not trial by internet.
Not trial by mob.
Accountability still exists
Believing in due process does not mean believing there should be no consequences.
There are different kinds of accountability.
Criminal.
Institutional.
Public.
Prince Andrew no longer represents the monarchy.
His public role is over.
That isn’t a criminal verdict.
It’s an institution protecting itself.
And I understand why it did.
The bigger issue
This isn’t really about Prince Andrew.
It’s about what kind of society we’re becoming.
If accusation equals guilt,
if outrage replaces evidence,
if mobs replace courts —
then none of us are protected.
Presumption of innocence isn’t a favour for the powerful.
It’s a safeguard for everyone.
You can criticise judgement.
You can criticise privilege.
You can criticise the culture that produced this mess.
But if you want to call someone a criminal — you need the criminal process.
Anything else isn’t justice.
It’s performance.
