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"I’m convinced there’s a mess of financial crimes running throughout the Epstein story, and a lot of other people who were directly involved are still walking free," said the senator.
US Sen. Ron Wyden has given the Drug Enforcement Administration two weeks to provide key information on a secretive, long-running investigation into potential drug trafficking and money laundering by the late convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein and 14 co-conspirators.
The Oregon Democrat wrote to DEA Administrator Terrance Cole asking for a fully unredacted version of a 69-page memo from 2015 that was prepared by the director of the Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Forces (OCDETF) Fusion Center, a specialized Department of Justice (DOJ) unit that President Donald Trump shut down last year.
A heavily redacted version of the memo was included in the Epstein files that were released last month and referred to an OCDETF probe nicknamed "Chain Reaction."
The investigation had been opened in 2010, according to the document, and was still active at the time the memo was drafted. Epstein's 14 co-conspirators, all of whom had their names blacked out in the file release, were being investigated for "illegitimate wire transfers which are tied to illicit drug and/or prostitution activities occurring in the US Virgin Islands and New York City."
The Epstein Files Transparency Act, which required the release of files related to Epstein's sex trafficking operation, requires that redactions are used to protect the identities of victims, "not members of a criminal sex trafficking organization," Wyden wrote in his letter.
“The fact that Epstein was under investigation by [OCDETF] suggests that there was ample evidence indicating that Epstein was engaged in heavy drug trafficking and prostitution as part of cross-border criminal conspiracy. This is incredibly disturbing and raises serious questions as to how this investigation by the DEA was handled,” Wyden wrote.
“Since Epstein and his 14 co-conspirators were never charged by the DOJ for drug trafficking or financial crimes, I am concerned that the DEA and DOJ during the first Trump administration moved to terminate this investigation in order to protect pedophiles," he continued. "I am also concerned that the excessive redactions of this memorandum for operation ‘Chain Reaction’ go well beyond the intent of the Epstein Files Transparency Act."
In a statement on social media Friday, the senator said the Senate Finance Committee, of which he is the ranking member, needs "to know the results" of the OCDETF's investigation.
"Did it result in any charges being brought against the targets? Why did it end, and when? Did the first Trump administration squash it?" he asked.
This document is proof that it’s essential to keep following the money. I’m convinced there’s a mess of financial crimes running throughout the Epstein story, and a lot of other people who were directly involved are still walking free. That’s unacceptable.
— Senator Ron Wyden (@wyden.senate.gov) February 27, 2026 at 10:15 AM
"This is a big one," Wyden said of the redacted memo.
Wyden has led efforts to get to the bottom of financial secrets regarding Epstein's sex trafficking and other criminal operations. Last summer he drew attention to Suspicious Activity Reports that were filed with the US Department of the Treasury, including information on more than 4,725 wire transfers involving Epstein's bank accounts, totaling $1.5 billion in value.
The redacted memo in the Epstein files, he said, "is proof that it’s essential to keep following the money."
There is no strategic, legal, or moral justification for surrounding Venezuela with the most lethal naval assets on Earth.
As the USS Gerald R. Ford—the largest aircraft carrier afloat—casts its shadow along the Venezuelan coast, the United States must confront an uncomfortable question: What national interest is being protected by threatening a country that poses no military, territorial, or existential danger to the American republic?
The answer, made clear by an array of respected American scholars, former officials, and ex-military insiders, has nothing to do with security. Instead, it arises from a familiar mixture of ideology, geopolitical control, and the old reflex of imperial overreach. This is not defense. This is theater—one part provocation, one part political opportunism, and no part necessity.
Among the clearest voices cutting through the rhetoric is professor John Mearsheimer, perhaps the most prominent American realist in international relations. He does not mince words: Venezuela is not a threat to the United States. Its military lacks both the capacity and the intention to project power beyond its borders. Suggesting otherwise is “laughable,” he notes, because the true irritant is ideological. Venezuela’s Bolivarian model—imperfect and embattled as it is—represents a deviation from Washington’s preferred political order, a deviation the US has repeatedly sought to crush in Latin America for decades. For Mearsheimer, even if one entertained the fantasy of using force to change the regime, the idea collapses immediately under logistical absurdity and moral bankruptcy. Invading a nation of 28 million people, and then attempting to occupy and “stabilize” it, would be catastrophic in cost, chaotic in outcome, and impossible to justify.
The national security pretext collapses further under the testimony of Sheriff David Hathaway, a former Drug Enforcement Administration supervisory agent with firsthand experience in Latin America. He dismisses the drug-trafficking narrative not just as false, but as deliberately false. Cocaine originates in Colombia and Peru, not Venezuela, and the US fentanyl crisis has nothing to do with Caracas. There is no vast Maduro-led drug conspiracy, Hathaway explains, only a political fiction designed to mimic past excuses for intervention. He is blunt in stating that Washington has repeatedly used narcotics accusations as camouflage for intrusion, sabotage, and coercion. This is not about drugs. It is about dominance.
To continue down the present path is to invite disaster: another needless conflict, another wave of human suffering, another blot on American history.
Even those once inside the system acknowledge this. Jordan Goodro, a former Green Beret involved in the ill-fated 2019 coup attempt against President Nicolas Maduro, offers a rare insider glimpse into the dysfunction and deception behind such operations. The effort to remove Venezuela’s government was pushed aggressively by the Trump administration and then sabotaged internally by divisions within the American intelligence establishment. Yet despite that spectacular failure, the narrative is being recycled again—complete with the same exaggerations and the same hollow slogans about protecting freedom. Goodro’s own admission is unambiguous: Venezuela poses no military threat to the United States. Repeating failed strategies does not make them more credible; it merely exposes the compulsions driving them.
If the military and narcotics arguments fail, the economic one becomes impossible to ignore. Professor Jeffrey Sachs, one of the world’s most respected economists, calls out the interventionist posture for what it is: a resource-driven gambit. The aim is not humanitarian aid, nor national security, nor democracy—it is control over one of the world’s largest oil reserves. Sachs warns that the moral veneer placed over this pursuit is dangerously thin. To blockade, bomb, or invade a sovereign country under such distortions is not simply misguided; it is, in his words, “the epitome of gangsterism.” The cost would be human suffering on a mass scale—suffering already amplified by years of sanctions—and the benefits would accrue not to the Venezuelan people, but to those seeking to reshape the hemisphere for profit.
While these foreign provocations unfold, an equally disturbing drama plays out at home. A number of Democratic lawmakers—many with backgrounds in the military or intelligence services—issued a sober warning to US service members: Illegal orders must not be obeyed. They reminded the armed forces that loyalty lies first with the Constitution. Instead of engaging that foundational principle, President Donald Trump responded by accusing them of sedition and musing that such dissent might warrant the death penalty. No president who respects the rule of law speaks this way. Such rhetoric is not an expression of strength; it is a hint of despotism.
The irony is that the Americans telling the truth about Venezuela are not radicals or fringe theorists. They are sober-minded public servants and scholars—people like Sachs, Mearsheimer, Hathaway, and Goodro—whose assessments reflect America at its best: skeptical of power, loyal to constitutional principles, and unwilling to manufacture enemies where none exist. Their voices stand in stark contrast to those who believe that power confers moral exemption. Trump’s saber-rattling does not embody American values—it betrays them.
There is no strategic, legal, or moral justification for surrounding Venezuela with the most lethal naval assets on Earth. The Gerald R. Ford is not defending American shores; it is intimidating a smaller nation whose only “crime” is political independence. The United States must withdraw its fleet. It must halt its reckless rhetoric. And President Trump—whether sitting in the Oval Office or aspiring to return to it—must apologize to the lawmakers defending constitutional duty and make unambiguously clear that illegal orders will not be tolerated.
To continue down the present path is to invite disaster: another needless conflict, another wave of human suffering, another blot on American history. The case against intervention is not complicated. It is not partisan. It is not abstract. It is moral—and it is overwhelming.
The question is no longer whether the United States should move toward legalization, but why federal law still treats a mainstream industry as a crime.
This fall, the Drug Enforcement Administration is anticipated to decide whether to reclassify cannabis at the federal level. Nearly 90% of Americans support cannabis legalization, 47 states have legalized it for medical use, and over 20 allow for recreational use. The question is no longer whether the United States should move toward legalization, but why federal law still treats a mainstream industry as a crime.
In 2024, Americans spent just as much on cannabis as they did on beer. The US legal cannabis market is worth more than $35 billion and expanding quickly. Yet, under federal law, cannabis is still a Schedule I drug, grouped alongside heroin and considered to have “no medical use.” It’s a Nixon-era relic that has remained unchanged since 1971—by those outdated standards, cocaine and crystal meth are classified as less harmful Schedule II substances. That classification is not only outdated, but it also creates an untenable mismatch between federal policy and economic reality.
Today, cannabis is one of the fastest-growing industries in America, employing nearly 500,000 people—more than the beverage and tobacco manufacturing industries combined—and generating billions in annual tax revenue. Federal legalization would strengthen an already significant engine of economic growth. The cannabis industry added roughly $115 billion to the US economy in 2024 alone and is expected to reach $45 billion in legal sales by 2025. It is one of the few sectors that is both labor-intensive and domestically produced—every gram sold is grown, tested, packaged, and distributed in the US.
All of this growth has happened without access to the basic tools every other sector relies on: banking, capital markets, credit cards, and institutional investment. Because cannabis remains federally illegal, businesses can’t take out conventional bank loans, list on US stock exchanges, or process credit card payments. Dispensaries operate as cash-only businesses, creating daily security risks for employees and customers. Entrepreneurs cannot access Small Business Administration loans or standard insurance. Even employees, founders and executives in the cannabis industry often struggle to qualify for personal mortgage loans due to the industry they work in.
Rescheduling would not be radical. It would be a recognition of the obvious: Cannabis is already part of American life and the American economy.
The result is a thriving yet hobbled industry, competing on an uneven playing field. Legal operators are forced to navigate a different set of regulations, packaging requirements, and facilities for every state where they conduct business, while the illicit market still accounts for an estimated $50 billion in unregulated sales each year and has no problem selling cannabis to the American youth. The DEA’s forthcoming decision offers an opportunity to modernize this system before it calcifies further.
The cultural and economic shifts are here to stay. Cannabis is mainstream. It’s integral to how Americans relax, socialize, and take care of themselves. It’s in our music, our fashion, our film, and our homes. What’s missing is a legal, regulatory, and financial framework at the federal level that reflects reality.
The public health case is equally clear. Consistent national standards would strengthen consumer safety and transparency, closing the gap between legal and illicit markets. Rescheduling would also remove barriers to research and innovation. The current classification makes it nearly impossible for US scientists to study cannabis at scale, leaving critical medical discoveries to foreign and underfunded research programs.
In a country where millions of adults use cannabis for anxiety, pain, and sleep, and where opioid dependency remains a public health crisis, the restriction is not just outdated, but negligent.
A recent study published by the American Journal of Health Economics found that states with legal cannabis programs reduced opioid prescriptions by up to 22%. The American Medical Association also found that cannabis helps cancer patients reduce opioid use throughout their treatments.
Legalization would also improve public safety. With access to banking, dispensaries could move away from cash-heavy operations that make them frequent targets for robbery. National standards for labeling, potency, and contaminants would protect consumers and build trust. And as we’ve already seen in legal states, underage use declines when cannabis is regulated.
Rescheduling would not be radical. It would be a recognition of the obvious: Cannabis is already part of American life and the American economy. In 2023, the Department of Health and Human Services formally recommended to the DEA that cannabis be rescheduled—a historic acknowledgment that federal law is out of step with science, public opinion, and economic reality. Even the Supreme Court has noted the “contradictory and unstable” relationship between federal and state cannabis laws.
This is one of the few policy issues with broad bipartisan support. Former President Joe Biden campaigned on rescheduling cannabis in 2020. So did President Donald Trump in 2024. With the DEA’s decision imminent, the window for meaningful modernization has never been clearer.
The cultural reality is undeniable. The economic opportunity is massive. The public mandate is clear. The question is no longer whether cannabis belongs in American life—it already does. The question is when federal law will finally catch up.
It’s time for Washington to finish what the majority of states have already started: Bring cannabis policy into alignment with science, economics, and public consensus.