In the shadowed halls of Windsor Castle, where portraits of stern-faced monarchs gaze down like silent judges, Prince Andrew’s fall from grace has reached a precipice no member of the British royal family has ever teetered upon. On October 22, 2025, amid a torrent of renewed allegations and public fury, sources close to the U.S. House Judiciary Committee revealed that the disgraced Duke of York—now stripped of his HRH styling and military affiliations—may soon be subpoenaed to testify under oath before Congress. This extraordinary summons, tied to an expansive probe into Jeffrey Epstein’s global web of influence and abuse, would mark the first time a sitting or former senior royal has been compelled to appear in an American legislative chamber. For Andrew, 65, whose life has unraveled from gilded privilege to pariah status since the 2019 Epstein revelations, the prospect is nothing short of seismic: a public inquisition that could strip away the last vestiges of his royal immunity and force confessions on a world stage. As one Westminster insider confided, “He’s cornered like no royal before him—testifying in Washington isn’t a courtesy call; it’s a confessional booth with C-SPAN cameras rolling.”

The scandal’s embers, long smoldering since Andrew’s infamous 2019 BBC Newsnight interview where he infamously claimed he couldn’t sweat due to a Falklands War injury, have flared anew in the autumn of 2025. It began with the October 18 release of “Shadows on the Island,” a posthumous memoir by Virginia Giuffre, the American accuser who alleged Epstein trafficked her to Andrew for sex when she was 17. Giuffre, who died by suicide in March 2025 at age 41 after a battle with chronic pain and PTSD, left behind a manuscript that palace aides describe as “dynamite in diary form.” Serialized excerpts in The New Yorker detailed graphic encounters at Epstein’s Manhattan townhouse and Little St. James island, corroborated by flight logs showing Andrew’s nine trips on the Lolita Express between 1999 and 2006. More damning: Giuffre’s accounts of Andrew’s “fixers”—aides and socialites who allegedly procured young women for his “entertainment”—echoing fresh claims from investigative author Tom Bower’s upcoming book, “The Fixer,” which alleges Andrew directed staff to “arrange girls” during his bachelor days, often unaware or unconcerned if they were underage.

The memoir’s timing couldn’t have been worse for the Windsors. King Charles III, already navigating his own health challenges post-cancer treatment, had hoped Andrew’s voluntary relinquishment of titles—announced on October 17 after “frank discussions” at Balmoral—would quarantine the contagion. Andrew, in a terse statement from Royal Lodge, his sprawling Windsor estate, pledged to “step back fully from public life,” surrendering not just “Duke of York” but patronages of 20 charities, including the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Yet the gesture rang hollow amid reports of his rent-free occupancy of the 30-room mansion, funded by the Sovereign Grant to the tune of £3 million annually for upkeep. Public outrage boiled over: a YouGov poll on October 20 showed 68% of Britons demanding his eviction, with headlines in The Sun blaring “Epstein’s Lodger Must Go!” Protesters gathered outside Buckingham Palace, waving placards of Andrew’s infamous pizza Express alibi photo, chanting “Out with the Non-Sweater!”

Enter the U.S. Congress, where Epstein’s ghost refuses to rest. The House Judiciary Committee’s Subcommittee on Crime and Federal Law Enforcement, chaired by Republican firebrand Rep. Jim Jordan of Ohio, launched a bipartisan inquiry in July 2025 into Epstein’s enablers, spurred by declassified FBI files released under the Freedom of Information Act. The probe, dubbed “Operation Island Reach,” has already hauled in Wall Street titans and Silicon Valley venture capitalists, extracting settlements totaling $450 million for victims. Andrew’s entanglement surfaced via Giuffre’s logs: his name appears 14 times in Epstein’s “black book,” alongside entries for “massage” appointments and island coordinates. U.S. prosecutors, long frustrated by London’s extradition stonewalling, now eye congressional testimony as a backdoor lever. “A subpoena trumps diplomacy,” a committee staffer told Axios. “Andrew’s not head of state; he’s fair game. We’ll swear him in, put him under the lights, and let the questions fly.”

For Andrew, the implications are cataclysmic. No British royal has ever testified before a foreign legislature—let alone under oath, where perjury carries five-year prison terms. Edward VIII, post-abdication in 1936, faced U.S. Senate grilling over Nazi sympathies but dodged with written submissions. Prince Harry, in his 2023 High Court libel suit against the Home Office, testified domestically but evaded international summonses. Andrew’s appearance—potentially in early 2026, streamed live from the Rayburn House Office Building—would shatter that precedent, exposing him to cross-examination on everything from Epstein’s 2005 Palm Beach raids to the 2010 Giuffre settlement, where he paid £12 million without admitting liability. Legal eagles predict a spectacle: Jordan lobbing softball “sir” questions laced with conservative chum, while Democrats like Rep. Zoe Lofgren of California probe royal complicity in Epstein’s 2008 sweetheart plea deal, allegedly greased by British intelligence ties.

Palace corridors buzz with dread. Prince William, 43, has reportedly assumed “crisis quarterback” duties, convening emergency summits at Kensington Palace with his father and private secretary Sir Clive Alderton. Sources say the Prince of Wales, long Andrew’s quiet nemesis, favors “total severance”—eviction from Royal Lodge, forfeiture of his £250,000 annual allowance, and a formal Letters Patent downgrading him to “Mr. Andrew Windsor.” Charles, torn between fraternal loyalty and monarchical survival, leans toward pragmatism: “Andrew’s poison; we can’t amputate fast enough,” he confided to aides during a Sandringham walkabout. The King, whose eco-tour in Brazil last month drew 80% approval, fears spillover—polls show 42% of Commonwealth nations now viewing the royals as “outdated relics” amid the scandal. Camilla, ever the steel spine, has urged “compassionate exile,” suggesting Andrew relocate to a discreet Scottish estate, far from tabloid lenses.

Andrew himself, holed up at Royal Lodge with his ex-wife Sarah Ferguson and a skeleton staff, oscillates between defiance and despair. The 18th-century pile, once Queen Victoria’s summer retreat, now feels like a gilded cage: gardeners tend 16 acres of manicured lawns, but deliveries of pheasant and claret have dwindled. Friends describe him as “a ghost in tweeds,” pacing oak-paneled libraries, poring over legal briefs from his £5 million-a-year American attorneys. “He insists it’s all ‘media witch hunts,'” one confidant shared over cigars at White’s club. “But nights are bad—flashbacks to that Newsnight car crash.” Andrew’s inner circle, whittled to loyalists like his daughter Beatrice’s husband Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi, floats counter-narratives: leaked diaries purportedly exonerating him as Epstein’s “golf buddy,” not groomer. Yet fresh allegations in Bower’s book—claiming Andrew’s equerry orchestrated “pool parties” at Sunninghill Park with Eastern European models—have eroded even that flimsy fortress.

The broader royal ripple effects are profound. With Catherine, Princess of Wales, easing back into duties post-chemotherapy, the family calendar—Trooping the Colour in June 2026, Charles’s Australian tour—hangs by a thread. William’s camp fears “Andrew fatigue” could tank support for his Earthshot Prize, already facing donor jitters. Across the pond, the subpoena threat amplifies transatlantic tensions: Britain’s Foreign Office, in a leaked memo, warns of “diplomatic frost” if Jordan’s committee grandstands. Epstein victims’ advocates, led by the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, hail it as justice long delayed. “Andrew’s not above the law—he’s below it,” said one Giuffre estate representative, who plans to submit her full archives to the subcommittee.

As October’s chill grips Windsor Great Park, Andrew’s future teeters on congressional whims. Will he jet across the Atlantic, Windsor knot impeccable, to face the Hill’s inquisitors? Or invoke some arcane sovereign shield, risking contempt charges? Whispers suggest a plea bargain: voluntary deposition in London, broadcast delayed, in exchange for no perjury traps. Yet for a man who once quipped “I don’t do regret,” the mirror reflects a reckoning unavoidable. In the House of Windsor’s annals, where scandals like Wallis Simpson’s abdication or Diana’s tapes scarred but didn’t slay, Andrew’s chapter looms largest: the prince who plummeted, forced to utter truths no royal tongue has dared. As leaves swirl through Royal Lodge’s iron gates, one certainty endures: the Firm survives, but Andrew? He may not.