“Who Is Pam Bondi?” A Reflection from One Christian Sister to Another
Kathy Utley The Utley Post
I never expected to find myself writing about Pam Bondi—not in a way that felt personal, not in a way that required gentleness. But these days, as her name resurfaces in headlines and binders meant to hold truth turn out to be hollow, I find myself reaching past the controversy and into the deeper questions: Who is this woman behind the title? And what might one Christian sister say to another?
Pam Bondi was born in Temple Terrace, Florida in 1965—the daughter of a public servant and an educator. She was raised Catholic, taught to value service, justice, and moral clarity. She stepped into public life with conviction, believing, perhaps, that law could be a righteous tool.
I believe she meant it.
I believe she still does.
But I also believe the intention isn’t enough.
🩺 The Lawyer Who Calls Herself a Believer
Pam Bondi rose quickly: from prosecutor to Florida Attorney General, then to U.S. Attorney General in 2025 under President Trump. She has spoken of faith guiding her public service—defending prayer in civic spaces, protecting religious symbols, and invoking morality in legal battles.
But as a fellow woman of faith, I must ask:
Does our devotion still center the vulnerable?
Would you happen to know if our titles still serve the least of these?
Faith isn’t proven in soundbites. It’s tested in choices, especially when no one’s watching.
💔 When Justice Becomes Optional
Bondi fought hard in the courtroom, often against things that feel sacred to me: she opposed same-sex marriage, challenged access to healthcare, and declined to pursue fraud allegations against Trump University after receiving a campaign donation.
Then came the Epstein files.
She stood beside binders, implied transparency was coming, and then watched it evaporate. The public was told there was no list. No closure. No sacred accountability.
Sister Pam—what does justice mean if it’s not for the women who suffered?
Micah 6:8 asks us to “act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly.”
I believe we owe these women all three.
🧕🏽 They Were Daughters First
Virginia Giuffre was born in 1983. She died in 2025—after surviving Epstein, speaking truth to power, and giving everything she had to advocacy.
Carolyn Andriano died from an overdose in 2023.
Leigh Skye Patrick died at 29.
Each one was a daughter.
A girl who once wrote poems. Took long baths. Trusted the wrong people.
“I thought someone would care. I told them everything.” — Carolyn
“They called me a liar. I called myself guilty. That’s what silence teaches you.” — Virginia
🙏 Faith, Politics, and the Pitiful Cover-Upa
There were promises. Binders. Press conferences. Then silence.
Pam Bondi, Dan Bongino, and Kash Patel said the names would come. They didn’t.
The DOJ shrugged.
The spectacle faded.
This wasn’t just political failure.
It was spiritual negligence.
The kind Isaiah warned against when he said: “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed.” (Isaiah 1:17)
Faith that doesn’t protect the vulnerable becomes a tool of the powerful.
And that—sister to sister—is pitiful.
💬 To Sister Pam, From Kathy
I don’t write this to condemn.
I write this because I believe you still remember what it feels like to be small, righteous, and hopeful.
And we need that woman back.
We are called to be defenders. Not guardians of reputation.
We are called to speak truth. Not managing optics.
We are called to center the daughters who were hurt—and to say their names with tenderness and fury.
Justice is sacred.
Truth is sacred.
And we, women of faith, have no business defending anything less.
“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves… defend the rights of the poor and needy.”
— Proverbs 31:8–9
If this reflection resonated with you, please share it.
Not because it's polished, but because justice is sacred—and silence is no longer an option.
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