Colbert’s Fiery Rebuke to Pam Bondi: “If You Haven’t Opened That Book…”

It was a moment that sliced through the polite veneer of late-night banter like a razor through silk. On November 12, 2025, during *The Late Show with Stephen Colbert*, the host—usually a master of satirical jabs—dropped his comedic guard entirely. The target? Pam Bondi, Donald Trump’s freshly announced nominee for U.S. Attorney General, a figure whose history with the Epstein scandal has long been a lightning rod for controversy.

The monologue started innocently enough, riffing on the week’s political headlines: Trump’s cabinet picks, the endless cycle of nominations, and the spectacle of it all. But when Colbert turned to Bondi, his tone shifted. No punchline. No ironic aside. Just raw, unflinching intensity.

Bondi, a former Florida Attorney General and staunch Trump ally, has faced scrutiny for years over her office’s handling of Jeffrey Epstein’s 2008 plea deal—a lenient arrangement that allowed the financier to serve just 13 months in a county jail while continuing his predatory activities. Documents unsealed in recent Epstein-related lawsuits, including Virginia Giuffre’s high-profile case, have painted a damning picture: allegations of influence from powerful figures, including Trump himself, who once praised Bondi effusively. Giuffre, one of Epstein’s most vocal survivors, detailed her harrowing experiences in her 2025 memoir *The Silent Auction*, a gut-wrenching account that has reignited calls for accountability. The book, which hit shelves amid the post-election frenzy, doesn’t hold back on naming enablers, recruiters, and those who turned a blind eye.

Colbert held up a dog-eared copy of the memoir, its cover stark against the studio lights. “Pam Bondi wants to be the top cop in America,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly register reserved for moments of genuine fury. “She spent years cozying up to Epstein’s circle, letting that monster walk free while victims like Virginia Giuffre were left to rot. And now? She’s up for AG, like nothing happened.”

The audience, sensing the pivot from levity to indictment, fell into a hush. Colbert paused, letting the weight settle. Then, leaning into the camera as if addressing Bondi directly, he unleashed the line that’s now echoing across headlines: “If you haven’t opened that book yourself, Pam—*this* book—then don’t fool yourself into thinking you have the courage to talk about the truth.”

It wasn’t a quip. It was a curse, hurled with the precision of a prosecutor. The word “courage” landed like a slap—implying not just Bondi’s alleged complicity but her audacity to seek a role enforcing justice while dodging her own past. “You’ve built a career on denial,” Colbert continued, his eyes never leaving the lens. “Epstein’s deal? Your office signed off. Giuffre’s screams for help? Buried under NDAs and palm trees. And now you want to lead the DOJ? Open the damn book, Pam. Read what your silence cost.”

The studio erupted—not in laughter, but in stunned applause that built slowly, like thunder rolling in. It was the kind of silence-shattering ovation that follows a eulogy, not a joke. Colbert didn’t break character; he doubled down, reading excerpts from Giuffre’s memoir aloud. Passages about recruitment at Mar-a-Lago, flights on the Lolita Express, and the casual cruelty of the elite. Names tumbled out: Epstein, Maxwell, and yes, indirect nods to Bondi’s benefactors. No bleeps. No walkbacks. Just truth, served cold and unfiltered.

Viewers at home felt it viscerally. Social media, dormant for the night, ignited. #ColbertVsBondi surged to the top of X trends within minutes, spawning memes, threads, and viral clips. “This isn’t comedy; this is catharsis,” one user posted, sharing a screenshot of Colbert’s glare. Survivors’ advocates flooded timelines with Giuffre’s story, her book sales spiking 300% overnight. Even critics who dismissed it as “partisan rage” couldn’t deny the raw power: for the first time on network TV, a host had weaponized a victim’s voice against a potential cabinet secretary.

Bondi’s camp fired back swiftly. A terse statement from her team called the segment “defamatory fiction peddled by a failing comedian,” vowing “legal recourse” and accusing Colbert of “smearing a public servant.” Trump himself weighed in on Truth Social, labeling it “fake news witch hunt—Stephen Losert!” But the damage was done. Senate Democrats, eyeing confirmation hearings, began demanding Bondi’s Epstein files. Pundits on CNN and MSNBC replayed the clip endlessly, debating whether this was the spark for a broader reckoning.

For Colbert, it was personal. In a post-show interview with *The New York Times*, he admitted the monologue “burned” him to deliver. “Humor’s my shield, but some truths don’t deserve a joke. Giuffre opened that door; the least I could do is walk through it.” At 61, the host—who’s skewered Trump for years—seemed reinvigorated, his satire evolving into something fiercer: activism disguised as entertainment.

This wasn’t just a “chửi” (as Vietnamese netizens are calling it online, translating to a blistering roast or curse-out); it was a cultural earthquake. Late-night TV, once a cozy rebellion, now feels like a battlefield. Bondi’s nomination hangs in the balance, her past clawing back from the shadows. And Giuffre? She tweeted simply: “Thank you, Stephen. For seeing me.”

In an era where power protects its own, Colbert’s words remind us: silence isn’t neutral. It’s a choice. And sometimes, the boldest curse is just demanding someone face the mirror.