So the public is left with fragments. Flight logs without conclusions. Photographs without context. Documents partially revealed, partially sealed. Enough to suggest a larger architecture, but never enough to compel accountability beyond a single figure now serving a sentence. The sense that something consequential has been contained—not disproven, but quietly set aside—lingers.
Maxwell’s fate is settled. The questions surrounding her world are not. And so the story ends not with clarity, but with a closed door at the end of a long hallway—locked not by lack of interest, but by the limits of what institutions are willing, or able, to pursue.
