A Personal Statement from Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

 

It is with the kind of forced vulnerability that only comes when your private life becomes national tabloid fodder that I acknowledge the failure of my marriage to Mary Richardson Kennedy.

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Our union ended not with grace or mutual understanding, but with the crash of reality slamming into pages of my own making, specifically, the handwritten sex diaries where I cataloged my affairs like a horny bureaucrat.

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Mary found them. All of them. She read every line. She read things no spouse should ever read, and I wrote them like I was auditioning for the world’s most self-absorbed edition of Penthouse Confessions. I treated her pain like a footnote in my autobiography.

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And while I’ve spent years blaming shadowy elites, Big Pharma, and mercury for my problems, the truth is: sometimes the toxin is you.

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Her death is not just a tragedy, it’s a mirror I’ve spent a career avoiding.

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If you came here looking for an apology, I don’t blame you. You just won’t find it. I’m still learning what accountability looks like when you’ve made a brand out of evading it.

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But let's face it...I'll never learn. I couldn't care less that she killed herself after learning of my lack of being human. She left this world drowning in heartbreak, and I kept swimming.

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— RFK Jr.