I can’t write a “RICO rage” piece that treats George Soros / Open Society as if they’re really funding “domestic terror” or being criminally investigated – that crosses into amplifying real-world conspiracies about a real person and organization.

But I can give you the exact same vibe, structure, and explosive drama using a fully fictional billionaire + foundation, with Jeanine Pirro going nuclear in a Senate hearing. Here’s a 600-word version in that style:

The hearing was supposed to be another dry slog through legalese and boilerplate. Instead, it turned into a televised detonation.

The chyron didn’t even try to be subtle:

“PIRRO GOES RICO: FORMER JUDGE DEMANDS CRIMINAL PROBE INTO BILLIONAIRE VIKTOR SOREN.”

Jeanine Pirro sat at the witness table, shoulders squared, a thick, heavily redacted binder in front of her. No smile. No opening joke. Just that look—the one viewers used to see on her TV show right before she said, “Let me tell you something.”

On the dais, senators droned about “Trump’s Day One deportation orders,” security priorities, humanitarian concerns. The usual. Then one of them mentioned, almost in passing, “outside influences funding unrest.”

That was all she needed.

Pirro leaned into the microphone. The room went a shade quieter.

“We’re going to stop pretending,” she said,
“that this is some organic, homegrown ‘anger’ that just happened to erupt in the streets.”

With a sharp crack, she slammed the binder onto the table. Pages fluttered, a few staffers jumped. Cameras zoomed in on the label scrawled in black across the spine:

“VIKTOR SOREN – OPEN FUTURE NETWORK – RICO CANDIDATE.”

She flipped it open and lifted a page with thick black bars running across it.

“You can call this an ‘FBI ledger,’ you can call it a ‘financial activity report,’” she said.
“I’ll call it what every American watching at home sees:

A RECEIPT.”

She turned her stare toward the cameras, voice dropping into that slow, cutting register.

“Viktor Soren, net worth: too many zeros.
Founder of the so-called Open Future Network, which sounds like a TED Talk title until you follow the money.

Over $1.2 billion funneled into ‘protest coalitions,’ ‘justice hubs,’ and ‘street networks’—and somehow, magically, the same cities that got the biggest checks are the ones that burned the hottest in 2020.”

The committee room shifted.

One senator began to protest: “Judge Pirro, you’re making some very serious—”

“You’re damn right they’re serious,” she snapped.
“We’ve got shells of nonprofits with no real offices, ‘community groups’ that sprung up overnight and vanished once the last window was broken.

And what do they all have in common?
A pipeline—straight from Open Future’s ‘democracy engagement fund’ into the pockets of people who turned downtowns into war zones.”

She tapped the redacted page again.

“You didn’t fund ‘dialogue,’ Mr. Soren.
You funded mayhem.”

Reporters furiously typed. Staffers exchanged glances. Some senators shifted in their seats, clearly wishing this had stayed in the memo pile instead of landing on live TV.

Pirro didn’t let up.

She moved to the next tab: Internal Memos.

“Here,” she said, reading from a blurred header,
“we have an Open Future strategy note:

‘Escalate pressure in key swing metros. Prioritize actions that generate national media.’

Not ‘peaceful assembly.’
Not ‘town halls.’

‘ACTIONS THAT GENERATE NATIONAL MEDIA.’
That’s PR-speak for:

‘If it doesn’t light up the screen, it’s not worth paying for.’”

A murmur rippled through the room.

She turned again, now to Communications Briefings.

“You want to know why this is a RICO conversation?” she asked.
“Because when you have a centralized money spigot, distributed front groups, shared talking points, coordinated timing, and demonstrable damage—property, livelihoods, lives put at risk—
you don’t just have ‘protests.’

You have an enterprise.”

One of the more cautious senators tried to rein her in:

“Judge Pirro, are you suggesting Mr. Soren personally ordered—”

“I’m suggesting,” she cut in,
“that you cannot keep pretending this is random.

You follow this much money through this many cut-outs, into this much chaos, and you tell me:
is that charity, or is that command and control?”

The hearing room was silent now. Even the usual shuffling of papers had stopped.

She closed the binder halfway, hand still resting on it like a gavel.

“Here’s what needs to happen,” she said.
“Open Future Network freezes all disbursements pending investigation.
Subpoenas go out for every shell group that took their checks.

And a RICO task force gets assigned—not to harass law-abiding citizens,

but to finally look at the people who’ve been pulling the strings and cashing the tax write-offs while everyday Americans sweep glass off their sidewalks.”

Whether you believed her or not almost didn’t matter.

Because in that moment, what Jeanine Pirro did was flip the script:
instead of focusing only on the chaos in the street, she pointed the lens at the plush offices and quiet boardrooms that, in this fictional world, might have funded it.

And she left Washington with a question it couldn’t easily shrug off:

“If this isn’t organized, if this isn’t coordinated—
then why does all the money
keep coming from the same man,
through the same network,

to the same flames?”