Virginia Giuffre, the prominent advocate who played a pivotal role in exposing Jeffrey Epstein’s network, left behind a poignant handwritten note to her three children just before her death by suicide on April 25, 2025, at age 41. The message, shared publicly by her family in July 2025 through The Times of London, captures her profound sense of loss and enduring affection during a bitter custody dispute with her estranged husband, Robert Giuffre. “Every day that I don’t see your faces has a little less light,” she wrote, adding lyrics-like encouragement: “It’ll all be alright, you’ve always had a rainbow over your head, angels by your side and God in your heart. I’m here for you here and everywhere.” The note, discovered among her personal writings at her Perth-area farmhouse, underscores the deep emotional toll of her separation from sons Christian and Noah, and daughter Emily, whom she had not seen for months due to court restrictions.

Giuffre’s family, including brother Sky Roberts and his wife Amanda, released the contents to ensure the children—now in their father’s custody and shielded from contact—would one day know her devotion. Amanda Roberts told The Times, “Her death was a terrible ending to this story, but there is a big part of it she never got to tell.” The couple, married in 2002 after Giuffre relocated to Australia, separated in late 2024 amid what her family described as escalating tensions. Robert Giuffre, an IT specialist, obtained a court order in February 2025 barring Virginia from seeing the teens, citing safety concerns—a ruling that left her isolated at her $1.3 million Neergabby property, about 50 miles north of Perth. At the time, Virginia faced charges for allegedly breaching a family violence prevention order by attempting to text her children, charges her family viewed as a desperate bid for connection.

The note’s revelation coincides with excerpts from Giuffre’s final diary entries, which paint a picture of mounting despair. In one entry, she expressed feeling confined: “The stronger I became, the scarier he became,” referring to her husband’s alleged jealousy as her public profile grew through advocacy. Another described her home as a “prison,” with pleas for help that went unanswered. These writings, obtained by The Times, highlight a stark contrast to Giuffre’s public persona as a resilient survivor who settled a high-profile civil claim against Prince Andrew in 2022 and contributed to Ghislaine Maxwell’s 2021 conviction. Andrew, who denied all allegations, recently relinquished his royal titles in October 2025 amid renewed scrutiny from Giuffre’s posthumous memoir, Nobody’s Girl.

Giuffre’s final weeks were marked by turmoil. In March 2025, she posted on Instagram about a traffic accident, claiming “kidney renal failure” and “four days to live,” a statement her family later clarified as an expression of overwhelming pain rather than a literal prognosis. Photos emerged showing her with visible bruises, which her brother Danny Wilson attributed to the accident, though speculation swirled online. Her brothers Sky and Danny had been staying with her at the farmhouse, providing support amid the custody fight. Caregiver Cheryl Myers, 71, who treated Giuffre like a daughter, expressed devastation to Daily Mail Australia: “Virginia was full of life, always fighting for others.”

A separate note, found among her papers and shared by Sky Roberts on social media shortly after her death, appeared aimed at fellow survivors rather than a traditional farewell. It read: “We are not going to go away. Mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers need to show the battle lines are drawn and we stand together to fight for the future of victims. Is protesting the answer—I don’t know, but we’ve got to start somewhere.” Giuffre’s spokeswoman clarified to People that this was not a “final note” but part of her ongoing writings, possibly tied to a planned Washington, D.C., rally for awareness. The family emphasized her children’s centrality: “They were the light of her life,” reading a statement post-death that highlighted her transformation into an advocate after holding her firstborn.

The custody saga unfolded against Giuffre’s high-stakes public battles. After fleeing Epstein’s influence in 2002—where she alleged recruitment at 16 from Mar-a-Lago—she built a family with Robert, raising the children in suburban Perth. Her 2019 accusations against Andrew and Epstein thrust her into the spotlight, leading to relocations for safety and strained home dynamics. Robert Giuffre, through lawyers, declined comment, citing Australian court gag orders prohibiting media discussion. The family violence charges, dropped posthumously, stemmed from her outreach attempts, which authorities deemed violations.

Public response to the note’s release has been a mix of sorrow and solidarity. On Reddit’s r/Epstein forum, users debated its context, with one noting, “It wasn’t a suicide note—it was a journal entry for her kids to know she loved them.” Supporters launched a GoFundMe for survivor scholarships in her name, raising over $500,000 by November 2025, while #JusticeForVirginia trended, blending tributes with demands for child welfare reforms. Amanda Roberts urged cultural shifts: “We are so quick to dismiss women in tough spots—we’ve got to stop.”

Giuffre’s story intersects broader issues of survivor isolation. Experts like Dr. Lena Patel, a family therapist at the University of Sydney, note that custody battles exacerbate trauma: “Separation from children can feel like the ultimate loss, compounding past wounds.” In Australia, where family court proceedings are private, advocates call for more transparency to prevent such outcomes. RAINN, the U.S. hotline Giuffre supported, reported a 12% call spike post her death, many from parents fearing estrangement.

The note’s lyrics—”rainbow over your head, angels by your side”—evoke a song-like hope, perhaps from her journaling habit. Friends recall her singing to the kids during happier times, a ritual shattered by the split. Sky Roberts, a tech professional, told People the family aims to bridge the gap: “We want the children to know we’re here, just like she was.”

As Nobody’s Girl climbs bestseller lists, its proceeds fund advocacy, but the note humanizes Giuffre beyond headlines. From a Palm Beach teen to a global voice, her final words reaffirm maternal bonds unbroken by circumstance. Robert Giuffre remains out of sight at their Ocean Reef home, gates closed to media. The children, teens navigating grief privately, inherit a legacy of courage—and a mother’s light, dimmed but eternal.

This disclosure prompts reflection on support gaps for high-profile survivors. Giuffre’s farm, once a refuge with horses and gardens, now stands quiet. Her family plans a memorial scholarship, echoing her Victims Refuse Silence work. In custody courts worldwide, her plea lingers: a call for systems that protect, not punish, the vulnerable. As Amanda said, “Start somewhere”—perhaps with a note, a hand, a hearing.