Rep. Nancy Mace went public Monday with the names of six former House members she alleges tapped a congressional "slush fund" to quietly settle sexual misconduct claims, and posted dollar amounts she says came straight from 1,000 pages of documents she pried loose from Congress.
The South Carolina Republican, who has spent months pressing for transparency on Capitol Hill's sexual harassment record, listed the names and alleged settlement figures on X. The entries span from 2007 to at least 2014 and include members of both parties, three Republicans and three Democrats or their offices.
The disclosure lands at a moment when Congress is already reeling from two high-profile sex scandals that produced resignations, a censure vote, and an expulsion push. And it raises a question that taxpayers deserve answered: How many more names are buried in records that, by Mace's account, stretch back only 22 years, because everything before 2004 was "destroyed"?
Mace's post on X, first reported by the Daily Caller, laid out the following alleged settlements drawn from the congressional fund:
Mace said the documents cover only the last 22 years. All reports prior to 2004, she claimed, were "destroyed." She did not specify by whom or under what authority.
Farenthold, Conyers, and McCarthy have all passed away in recent years, meaning they cannot respond to the allegations. None of the other named former members have been quoted responding in available reporting.
Mace's naming of names did not come out of nowhere. She originally subpoenaed the House Oversight Committee in March after a string of sexual scandals that resulted in two congressional resignations. Those resignations, by former Rep. Tony Gonzales, a Texas Republican, and former Rep. Eric Swalwell, a California Democrat, both took effect April 14.
Gonzales came under scrutiny after one of his district staffers died by suicide by setting herself on fire. Text messages released by the woman's widower alleged Gonzales and the late staffer had an affair, an allegation Gonzales later admitted to. The Washington Examiner reported that the Office of Congressional Conduct transferred its report to the Ethics Committee after finding "a substantial reason to believe" Gonzales had a sexual relationship with a subordinate.
Swalwell resigned after several women levied accusations ranging from sexual misconduct to rape. Fox News reported that at least five women accused Swalwell of misconduct, all of which he has denied. He also dropped out of California's gubernatorial race amid the fallout.
The twin scandals gave Mace an opening. She introduced a resolution demanding that the House Ethics Committee release its records on sexual harassment by lawmakers. The response from her colleagues was telling.
The House voted 357, 65, 1 to refer Mace's resolution to the Ethics Committee, a procedural move that effectively buried it. Rather than force disclosure within 60 days, as Mace wanted, the bipartisan supermajority chose to send it to the very body that has historically sat on these records. As we have previously examined, the secretive settlement system Congress has maintained for decades was designed to shield members, not protect victims.
"Both parties colluded to protect predators."
She added: "Every member who voted against this resolution voted to protect the cover-up instead of the victims."
The broader context makes Mace's disclosures even harder for Congress to wave away. National Review noted that back in 2017, the Congress Office of Compliance disclosed it had paid more than $17 million in 268 settlements since the 1990s. Those settlements covered harassment, discrimination, and other workplace complaints, a staggering sum drawn from taxpayer funds, with almost no public accounting of which members were involved or what they did.
The known cases at the time already included settlements tied to Farenthold, Conyers, and Meehan, the same names now appearing on Mace's list with specific dollar amounts attached. National Review's Jim Geraghty put it plainly: "Your tax dollars were used to pay settlements with the victims of sexual harassment, and the fact that we now have names and specific amounts is big news."
That 357, 65 vote to bury the resolution drew a sharp response from Rep. Anna Paulina Luna, who argued that shielding such records sends a damaging message to congressional staff, the very people most likely to be victimized. The broader dysfunction in Congress, including warnings from Senate Republicans about House GOP gridlock, has only amplified public frustration with an institution that seems more interested in protecting its own than serving the people who pay its bills.
The settlement disclosures are only one front in Mace's accountability campaign. She has also been pressing hard on Republican Florida Rep. Cory Mills, who has faced allegations about his military record, his business dealings, and domestic violence. Mace previously led a vote to censure Mills and has since called for his outright expulsion from the House.
On X, Mace framed the Mills fight in blunt terms:
"If you're against men beating women, stolen valor, and corruption, you should be voting YES on my resolution to expel Cory Mills. And if you vote no, go home and explain to your constituents why that behavior is acceptable. We are setting the standard that corrupt dirt bags who hurt women and harm the reputation of real war heroes don't stay in Congress. Anyone else who behaved like this would be sitting in jail."
The expulsion push against Mills fits into the same accountability wave that already claimed Gonzales and Swalwell. As we reported, the push to remove those members gained momentum when lawmakers returned from recess and faced constituent pressure to act.
Mace has made clear she sees no distinction between parties on this. She told the New York Post that she wants "an avalanche of resignations" and added: "I want every single predator that's in Congress now to be forced to resign. I don't care how long it takes. If we can do it fast, let's do it now, regardless of party."
She also identified the bipartisan incentive structure that keeps these records locked away: "Both parties decided that they would vote against revealing the sexual harassment records of their own party." Or as she put it more directly: "What happens is both parties will protect the other because they don't want their skeletons out there."
Mace's disclosures raise as many questions as they answer. The 1,000 pages of documents she says she uncovered have not been made publicly available in full. The specific nature of the allegations behind each settlement remains unclear. And the claim that all records prior to 2004 were "destroyed", if true, suggests a deliberate effort to erase the institutional record of misconduct that could stretch back decades further.
The truncated entry in Mace's post, "2014: John...", hints at additional information that was cut off. Whether that refers to a second Conyers settlement or another lawmaker named John remains unresolved. Meanwhile, the broader landscape of congressional ethics and accountability continues to draw public attention from multiple angles.
None of the six named former lawmakers or their representatives have been quoted responding to Mace's specific allegations in available reporting.
What Mace has exposed, or at least forced into public view, is a system built to protect the powerful at the expense of the vulnerable. Taxpayer money flowed to settle claims. Names stayed hidden. Records were destroyed. And when one member of Congress tried to force the doors open, 357 of her colleagues voted to slam them shut.
Mace summed up her position in two sentences posted to X:
"Accountability is not a threat. It is a promise."
Congress has spent decades proving it prefers the opposite arrangement, where silence is the promise and accountability is the threat. Mace is testing whether that arrangement can survive sunlight. The 357 members who voted to bury her resolution are betting it can.
The taxpayers who funded those settlements deserve to know every name on every check. If Congress won't release the records willingly, voters should remember who fought to keep them sealed, and hold them to account the old-fashioned way, at the ballot box.
