In a world where we’ve successfully disrupted everything from taxi cabs to the concept of a decent night’s sleep, the tech industry has finally set its sights on the one thing missing from our collective digital landscape: a Wikipedia for rich people who had the misfortune of being CC’d on a pedophile’s Outlook calendar. Enter “Jikipedia,” the latest project from the visionaries at Jmail—a company that usually focuses on providing email services to the incarcerated. Because when you think “rigorous investigative journalism and unbiased archival integrity,” you naturally think of an email client for people in orange jumpsuits.

The primary claim here is that Jikipedia is an “encyclopedia of powerful friends,” turning a “treasure trove” of leaked emails into “detailed dossiers.” It’s a lovely sentiment if you ignore the fact that “encyclopedia” usually implies a level of objective scrutiny higher than a glorified Ctrl+F search. By this logic, my “Sent” folder is a detailed dossier of my mounting grievances with the local garbage collection service. Jikipedia assumes that the volume of emails exchanged is a direct metric for criminal conspiracy. If exchanging fifty emails with a person makes you a co-conspirator, then every corporate middle manager in America is currently part of a high-level heist involving “synergy” and “circling back.”

The site lists “possible knowledge of crimes” and “laws that might have broken.” It’s “Law & Order: SVU” rewritten by someone who spends too much time on Reddit forums. The assumption that an algorithm or a crowdsourced Wikipedia clone can accurately parse the nuances of the RICO Act or the complexities of international jurisdiction is charmingly optimistic. It’s “amateur hour” masquerading as “public service.” We’re essentially watching the gamification of the legal system, where the high score is determined by how many times a billionaire’s name appears next to a private jet’s tail number.

Furthermore, the “dense” reports boast about detailing Epstein’s property acquisitions. Because what the public truly needed to crack this case wide open was a more comprehensive understanding of the zoning permits on Little St. James. It’s the ultimate “data for data’s sake” approach. Knowing how a property was acquired doesn’t necessarily lead to justice; it leads to a very depressing version of Zillow.

Jikipedia leans heavily on the “Wikipedia” brand—the “clone” aspect—hoping to inherit the credibility of the world’s most famous open-source project. But Wikipedia works because of a neutral point of view (NPOV) and a vast army of editors who fight over the punctuation of Star Trek episodes. A site dedicated exclusively to the fallout of a single criminal enterprise is, by definition, a digital burn book. It’s not an encyclopedia; it’s LinkedIn for the Depraved, curated by people who think “transparency” is a synonym for “dumping a 100GB zip file and letting the internet lose its mind.”

While the creators likely believe they are providing a service to humanity by “shining a light,” they’re mostly just building a playground for armchair detectives to practice their confirmation bias. It turns out that when you provide the public with a “treasure trove” of data without context, they don’t become Sherlock Holmes—they just become people who are very, very angry at their computer screens. Jikipedia isn’t disrupting the justice system; it’s just making sure that the next time you want to feel morally superior to a venture capitalist, you have a handy, alphabetized list to help you out. Truly, the hero we deserved.