washington post

“Top Chef” alum and popular Food Network host Eric Adjepong has been ordered to stay away from his 7-year-old daughter following an investigation into abuse claims.

According to the Washington Post, a Maryland judge found that “there is a preponderance” of evidence to believe Adjepong physically abused his daughter, leading to a protective order that bars the celebrity chef from contacting or being alone with his daughter until he completes parenting courses and reunification therapy with the child.

Adjepong’s former wife, Janell Davis-Mack, posted a screenshot of the case information on Instagram last week, writing that she and her daughter had been quiet long enough.

“My daughter has watched me rebuild our life focused on our safety after I divorced her father four years ago,” she wrote. “I’ve also taught her about body autonomy, consent, boundaries, and to tell the trusted adults around her when she feels unsafe.

“My daughter was just granted a protective order against her father because she was brave enough to speak up against who should have been one of the most trusted adults in her life.

“Unfortunately for him — I’ll never stop believing her, protecting her, or reminding her that her voice matters.”

Judge Maurice C. Frazier issued the protective order against Adjepong on July 10; it will remain in place until July 10, 2027. The James Beard-nominated chef is mandated not to contact, harass, abuse or threaten to abuse his daughter or former wife. While the order is in place, Adjepong can have supervised visits with his daughter.

In May, Davis-Mack filed a petition in Howard County, Maryland, seeking protection for her daughter from Adjepong, citing alleged child abuse. Per the Washington Post, Davis-Mack claimed that a nurse who examined their daughter filed a report with the D.C. Child and Family Services Agency, which launched an investigation by D.C. police.

A spokesman for D.C. police told the Washington Post that its Youth Investigations Branch was prompted to investigate claims of “sexual abuse” but that detectives found no probable cause that sexual abuse had taken place and referred the case back to Child and Family Services. On Wednesday, Adjepong posted what appeared to be a screenshot of email correspondence from the D.C. Child and Family Services Agency stating that, on April 29, they received a report of potential neglect or abuse, investigated the claims and found sexual abuse claims “unfounded.”

“I am aware of recent media inquiries concerning a protective order entered on July 10, 2026,” the chef wrote alongside the screenshot. “Because this matter involves my young daughter, whom I love deeply, I intend to protect her privacy and will not discuss the underlying allegations or other sensitive family matters publicly other than to say that these allegations arose in the context of a long running divorce and custody proceeding, which finally concluded on June 2, 2026.

“The Court’s protective order followed careful reviews by law enforcement and the District of Columbia Child and Family Services Agency (‘CFSA’). The District of Columbia Metropolitan Police Department closed its investigation without filing charges. CFSA concluded its investigation with an ‘unfounded’ disposition, which its report defines as not true.

“I have the utmost respect for the Circuit Court that issued the protective order and am strictly complying with every facet of the order, which is designed to ensure that my daughter is safe and treated respectfully, and to ensure her reunification with her father. The Judge eloquently described the nature of my relationship with her at the hearing. My foremost concern is my daughter’s well-being. It is my fervent hope that in the future my ex-wife and I can resolve these matters privately and through the proper legal channels, rather than in the press, if only for the well-being of our daughter.”

WASHINGTON — The Trump administration wants all current and future federal employees to sign nondisclosure agreements, part of a continuing crackdown on leaks to the media.

The notice in the Federal Register from the Office of Personnel Management posted Tuesday asked for comment on a draft NDA to be used by federal agencies for “both new and existing employees.”

“The form is intended to document Federal employees’ acknowledgment of, and agreement to comply with, current legal obligations to safeguard non-public, confidential, or proprietary information, created or obtained through their official duties, while expressly preserving the right to make disclosures authorized by law,” the notice said.

The Office of Personnel Management noted “several recent instances” where internal agency communications related to rulemaking and policy development were disclosed without authorization. It also discussed specific instances in which federal employees at the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security disclosed information without authorization about planned immigration enforcement actions.

In one case, the New York Times and Washington Post received unauthorized information on the U.S. raid on Venezuela in January and delayed “publishing what they knew to avoid endangering U.S. troops,” the request for comment said.

Representatives for the two newspapers did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

Ferreting out leaks that the administration deems harmful to its messaging has been a priority across multiple agencies since President Trump returned to the White House. As part of that crackdown, the FBI in January seized the electronic devices of a Washington Post reporter, a move that alarmed media organizations and advocates of press freedom.

One other notable incident occurred last year when dozens of reporters turned in their access badges at the Pentagon, rejecting new rules imposed by Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth that would leave journalists vulnerable to expulsion if they sought to report on information — classified or otherwise — that had not been approved by Hegseth for release.

The American Federation of Government Employees did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

“All the President’s Men” was released 50 years ago this month, an anniversary that’s been greeted with equal parts rue and reverence by the journalists, political junkies and discerning cinephiles who have worshiped the film for five decades.

As a member of all three of those constituencies, I’ve done my share of genuflecting, most recently as chief film critic at the Washington Post, whose city room was as vivid and fully realized in the movie as Robert Redford’s Bob Woodward and Dustin Hoffman’s Carl Bernstein.

Like so many Posties of my generation, I’ll never forget the so-real-it’s-surreal experience of walking into the fifth-floor newsroom for the first time in 2002. By then, standard-issue electric typewriters and six-ply carbon paper had been replaced by far less visually interesting computers. But the office’s pervading atmosphere of hard work and quiet focus felt uncannily similar to its big-screen analog.

For the last two years, I have been researching a book about the making of “All the President’s Men,” whose production involved almost as many contingencies and unresolved questions as Watergate itself. Among the film’s many mysteries, one I’ve found particularly intriguing has to do with Katharine Graham, publisher of the Washington Post and CEO of its parent company during the Watergate investigations. As the movie amply demonstrates, it took guts for Woodward and Bernstein to persevere with their reporting in the face of terrified sources and their own growing paranoia. But, unbeknownst to many observers at the time, Graham was enduring even more withering pressures, with determination that was all the more impressive for being almost entirely invisible.

I’m still in the process of discovering why she remained invisible in “All the President’s Men.” For now, it’s clear that the backstory is more nuanced than mere oversight or, as many are quick to assume, simple sexism.

In fact, William Goldman’s first script of the film featured a sequence with Graham and Woodward, a scene that appeared in every subsequent draft. Based on an actual meeting between the two, it’s a cagey game of cat-and-mouse, with the publisher taking the measure of a nervous, still-inexperienced journalist, looking for reassurance that his reporting will prove out.

Earlier this year, at a January staged reading of “All the President’s Men” at Harmony Gold Theater in Hollywood — a fundraiser for the Stella Adler Academy — it was possible for fans to conjure what might have been. Mark Ruffalo played Woodward and Ethan Hawke played Bernstein in a version of the movie assembled from different Goldman drafts.

A high point of the evening was when Ruffalo and actor Susan Traylor brought the Graham-Woodward scene to tentative, tense and teasingly playful life. After grilling Woodward about his sources and coyly asking him about Deep Throat’s identity, Traylor’s Graham asked him if the truth about Watergate would ever be revealed. “It may never come out,” Ruffalo’s Woodward replied. “Don’t tell me ‘never,’” Graham laments, before bringing the meeting to a close with a gently peremptory “Do better.”

In poring over director Alan J. Pakula and Goldman’s papers, I’ve probably read that scene dozens of times. But when I heard it play out in real time, I was ambushed by the emotions it stirred — a mixture of pride in Graham’s legacy and deep sadness at how that legacy has been so inexplicably ignored in recent years.

I was also sad that Redford, who died in September, wasn’t there. He often expressed regret that Graham wasn’t a featured character in “All the President’s Men.” Keenly aware of how her spine and steadfastness made Woodward and Bernstein’s work possible, he wanted to honor that crucial support. When I interviewed him for the first time in 2005, he insisted that fearless owners were every bit as important in preserving democracy as the reporters he and Hoffman helped glamorize.

Over the next two decades, every time I saw Redford, he bemoaned the “downward slide of this thing,” by which he meant the constellation of institutions “All the President’s Men” celebrates: not just journalism and a robust First Amendment but a Washington where investigators, prosecutors, judges, the Senate and Congress did their jobs regardless of partisan loyalties, and a Hollywood where a studio as mainstream as Warner Bros. would agree to finance a tough-minded film about a contentious and still-raw period in recent history.

Granted, that film was based on a bestselling book and anchored by two huge stars. But today, with political and corporate leaders — including media companies — falling over each other to curry favor with President Trump, “All the President’s Men” feels like an artifact from a vanished age.

Nowhere is this more distressingly true than at the Post itself, where the newsroom immortalized by the movie has been slashed by more than a third, and where Jeff Bezos, who bought the paper in 2013, seems intent on erasing Katharine Graham’s legacy until it vanishes completely. During the first Trump administration, Bezos stood up to threats against the Post and the press at large that would make Nixon blush, or at least pea-green with envy.

Now, Bezos has become a one-man meme of what author Timothy Snyder calls “obedience in advance,” quashing an endorsement of Kamala Harris, ostentatiously grinning his way through Trump’s second inauguration, vastly overpaying for a promotional film about First Lady Melania Trump and staying conspicuously mum (at least publicly) when a Post reporter’s home was raided by the FBI in January.

All of this has come at an enormous moral and material cost, with thousands of readers canceling their subscriptions and an alarming number of the Post’s finest reporters and writers leaving for other publications and platforms. As my former boss Marty Baron told my former colleague Ruth Marcus in the New Yorker in February, Bezos’ turnaround has been “sickening” to witness: “a case study in near-instant, self-inflicted brand destruction.”

Of course, that brand was built, in no small part, by “All the President’s Men,” which taught a generation how to walk, talk, dress and act like real reporters. (Hint: A good corduroy jacket and a pen in your mouth can’t hurt.)

In 1976, Pakula was interviewed about his dealings with Graham, whom he admired tremendously and with whom he would become close friends. “I could do a film about the Katharine Graham story,” he enthused. “It’s a superb story.”

Thirty years later, Steven Spielberg would bring Pakula’s idea to fruition with “The Post,” about Graham’s decision to publish the Pentagon Papers, a dress rehearsal for the even higher stakes of Watergate a year later.

“The Post,” which starred Meryl Streep in a shrewdly judged performance of aristocratic assurance and creeping insecurity, premiered in Washington less than a year into Trump’s first administration. Bezos attended that screening, which many of us saw as tacit acknowledgment that he was taking her lessons in character, comportment and competence to heart.

That was clearly wishful thinking. Graham may have finally assumed her rightful place in the newspaper-movie canon, but we’re still left to ponder her absence from the most iconic journalism movie of the 20th century.

It’s no longer the shoe-leather reporters who need a big-screen tutorial in how to do their jobs. It’s their bosses. A simple place to start would be to memorize the best two-word speech to never appear in a major motion picture: Do better.

Ann Hornaday was a film critic at the Washington Post from 2002 to 2025, when she retired. “All the President’s Men” plays at TCM Classic Film Festival Saturday at 2:45 p.m.