Knowing what was at stake, Palermo conducted the opening statement of the settlement conference sitting at his desk in his office with Epstein and his attorney sitting directly across from him. Marissa, Paul Cassell, Steve Jaffe, and I were in the conference room that connected to Palermo’s office. In order to speak to all parties at once while ensuring that Marissa did not have to see Epstein’s face, I sat in the doorway between the conference room and the office, with Paul behind me and Marissa inside the next room at the opposite end of the table—she was close enough to hear but far enough to feel safe.
Judge Palermo made it clear right out of the gate that he would not tolerate any potential intimidation, which was why he’d positioned the parties as he had. Epstein’s attorney immediately attempted to interject, but was met by Judge Palermo holding his hand up to stop the attorney from talking. Palermo didn’t say a word. He put his head in his hand and paused for an uncomfortable period of time. Steve quietly asked if I thought the judge had fallen asleep. After at least thirty seconds, Palermo looked up, straight at Epstein, who was sitting four feet in front of him. “I’ve read the recent motion that the plaintiff filed in this case. I understand that certain events unfolded resulting in the lawyers having to take this girl away from her child and her home. I’m thinking about throwing you in jail.” Epstein looked amazed. He couldn’t believe that someone would speak to him that way. Judge Palermo was dead serious. For the first time, Epstein looked like he knew he wasn’t in control. Everyone in the room sensed that this wasn’t going to end well for him.
There came a point when Epstein said he was making a good-faith effort to settle Marissa’s case, but that it didn’t make sense for him to do so unless Courtney and Lynn settled their cases, too. No doubt Epstein planned to use this as another reason to try to postpone the trial. But this move was predictable. We called our investigator, who was waiting outside with Courtney and Lynn, and told him to bring them to the front of the courthouse. When I walked back upstairs with them, Judge Palermo had a big smile on his face.
Palermo got all three cases settled. Courtney, Lynn, and Marissa were relieved, and my law partners were happy, but I was disappointed. I had put so much time into getting ready for this trial, and now it was gone. Most people thought I won that round, but I didn’t see it that way. Still, while Epstein thought it was over, I was not about to let it go.
As a consolation, in preparing for Marissa’s trial, we had found two additional victims who were going to testify as witnesses. When Courtney, Lynn, and Marissa’s cases settled, on July 6, 2010, these witnesses became clients who wanted to pursue their own claims against Epstein. So we picked up where we’d left off, immediately filed a lawsuit for one of the women, and went at him again.
TWENTY GAMING THE SYSTEM, AGAIN
IN JANUARY 2011, I GOT a call from Reichart Von Wolfsheild, a genius computer programmer and engineer who had developed the data management program Qtask. Qtask was used to keep track of the many pieces of information a law practice must use—from files, pleadings, depositions, conversations among team members, and evidence, to calendars, client contacts, emails, and letters. Qtask was also the software company that RRA had used to store case-related information. Rumor was that the firm had even invested in the company. When RRA imploded, all of Scott Rothstein’s investment assets, and presumably those of the firm, were seized by the government and subject to forfeiture.
Because of the relation to RRA, Qtask, Reichart’s software company, was a prime target of the government. The bankruptcy trustee then attacked Qtask as the storage system of information likely to include Ponzi-scheme-related evidence. It was a shame because Reichart—who wasn’t involved in the firm’s dealings, illegal or otherwise—was an innocent entrepreneur. He didn’t deserve the headache.
Nonetheless, the bankruptcy action dragged Reichart in to defend the confidentiality of the program’s users. The government wanted his software company to turn over confidential information derived from the database, which Reichart couldn’t allow or else every client he had would have pulled out for fear of similar forced disclosure. Reichart spent a lot of money protecting this important user data, causing his product to practically be killed during the proceedings. Still, he was a good and honest guy who would have died fighting for his product and what he thought was right.
I had followed the attacks on Reichart in Judge Ray’s bankruptcy court. Since I was also being attacked, we were in the same boat. By the time Epstein invited Reichart to his island, Little Saint James, in January 2011 for a scientific brain-trust meeting he was hosting, Epstein also knew all about Qtask. Epstein’s lawyers had asked me many questions in my deposition about the program and especially about the projects that I had stored in Qtask related to Epstein. This program basically contained all the most secret investigative information that I had on Epstein, and Epstein knew from the RRA bankruptcy proceedings that Reichart was the protector of that information. Epstein also knew that if he could get access to my Qtask projects, he would know everything that I knew—or didn’t know—about him, enabling him to very easily defend against my attack.
While Reichart knew of me as a trial lawyer at RRA, and was aware that I was litigating a case against Jeffrey Epstein, he had no idea about the substance of that litigation. Nonetheless, Reichart was an honorable person and Epstein had underestimated his loyalty to doing what was right. So, when Epstein invited Reichart to his island, Reichart accepted the invitation in order to do a reconnaissance mission.
Reichart wasn’t back for a day before he reached out to me through his lawyer, a mutual friend named Rob Buschel, to tell me about his visit to the Caribbean island where Epstein hosted various scientists and mathematicians. He gave me a full download.
Reichart isn’t like a normal person. He has an extraordinary mind and remembered every single detail from the entire trip. Other people at this event included Nobel Prize winner Murray Gell-Mann, Ron Reisman of NASA, actor and financial wizard Brock Pierce, Caltech biochemist Frances Arnold, and journalist Dan Dubno. As soon as Reichart introduced himself to Epstein, he was cornered about the true reason why he was invited.
In Epstein’s typical way, he attempted to befriend Reichart by telling him, “You and I are connected in a weird way, through the RRA litigation.” He then asked him, “Do you know Brad Edwards? He’s a problem for me. To resolve this problem, I filed a lawsuit against him to throw flak at it.” Epstein told Reichart that his plan was to just continue throwing knives at this “Edwards problem” with the intent to derail the cases that I had filed against him. To facilitate his master plan, Epstein was requesting information and data to which he knew he wasn’t entitled, similar to my emails he was trying to get. To further this goal, Epstein asked Reichart directly how he could obtain the information that I had accumulated on him, which was stored in RRA’s Jeffrey Epstein Qtask project. He wanted to know whether he should subpoena it from Reichart directly.
More important for my purposes, Reichart reported to me that Epstein actually talked openly about sex and about girls on the island. Epstein shared that he liked young girls, but not “children,” which Reichart interpreted Epstein to mean prepubescent. Epstein attempted to justify his philosophy that age is inconsequential, explaining that he simply wanted girls who were physically developed but were as young as possible. To Reichart, it appeared that Epstein was a “cult leader”—the many girls around him appeared to follow him and respect his “cult.”
Epstein told Reichart that he targeted very young girls, and that before he got in trouble, he hadn’t cared about their ages. Reichart described him as a lion that wanted to prey on girls who were, according to an old definition, “nubile,” or, as Epstein put it, “the youngest-looking girl with breasts.” Epstein said that he was now aware that people were watching him, so he was not going to be caught with an underage girl again, at least not in the United States, where it is illegal to touch them. At the same time Reichart felt that Epstein was not sor
ry in the least for his past sexual interactions with underage girls.
In fact, Reichart said, other than complications that arose from the law, Epstein seemed to see no problem on any level with his previous activity that landed him in legal trouble. In an attempt to minimize what he’d done in the eyes of others, Epstein would say to a New York Post reporter in February 2011 that his sexual interactions with minors were no big deal. He told the reporter specifically, “I’m not a sexual predator, I’m an ‘offender.’ It’s the difference between a murderer and a person who steals a bagel.” To Epstein, the law was wrong. Not his ways. But he knew getting caught again would not be as easy to get out of. The next “bagel” he stole would be much more costly.
Epstein spent most of his time with Reichart talking about formulaic systems that might be invented to “get young girls.” Epstein expressed the view that women were “a life support system for a vagina.” So, he wanted to discuss the statistical analysis of the marketplace and new ways for finding girls. He admitted that he knew nothing about computers but he thought the internet might hold the key for meeting volumes of young females in a short time.
A lot of the information Reichart provided I was already aware of. Epstein knew there was not a thread of truth to the lawsuit he filed against me and was using it to try to get information to which he was not entitled. He saw me as a major problem that he needed to shut down, both to eliminate any trouble from his prior conduct and to ensure that he could continue to go about business as usual. Epstein’s arguments that my RRA emails were relevant to his fake lawsuit were an old tune at this point. The weak points only confirmed what I already understood: he was trying to get inside my private work product, my thinking, and my strategy in order to effectively map out his moves against me.
Reichart verified something else I suspected: Epstein was not going to stop his sex abuse or change his thinking about girls simply because he had been caught in Palm Beach and jailed for a few months under a cushy deal. He couldn’t stop. This was his way of life. It was what drove him. Now he was just looking for more sophisticated and technologically advanced ways to find more girls and pursue them with less risk. The only thing jail had taught him was to be more careful and not get caught.
Reichart was on my team, but Epstein had no idea, so I was not about to blow his cover. Reichart’s information would have helped with the judge presiding over my case, but the facts would come out eventually, so I decided to use his information in other ways.
With Reichart confirming Epstein’s desire to discover what I knew about him, there was no doubt in my mind that Epstein had kept a copy of my entire trove of emails when they were turned over to his lawyer (supposedly for benign copying purposes and nothing more). We had warned Special Master Carney that this would happen.
Improperly having my emails wasn’t enough. Epstein wanted everything he wasn’t supposed to have. He wanted to find a way to get into my Qtask files, where I had stored my most valuable information about him. This was the reason he’d brought a computer programmer to his island: to figure out how to steal the most secretive part of my files and work product, including all the information too sensitive to put into emails. It would have been a smart move had it worked, but it didn’t. Reichart couldn’t be bought by the bad guys.
TWENTY-ONE THE ISLAND
OTHER THAN WHAT WE HAD learned from the media, Reichart had provided the only information that we had about Jeffrey Epstein’s private island, Little Saint James, which Epstein referred to as Little Saint Jeff’s. While Reichart provided a full description of what he saw, he didn’t have access to the entire island during his stay, and he didn’t experience what we came to understand was going on behind the scenes.
Over the years, I interviewed at least half a dozen clients who were part of the fuller story of what happened on Little Saint Jeff’s. Some had been to the island only once and others had been many, many times. Each had her unique stories, but all of them had a common thread: sex.
Seloh was one of Epstein’s eighteen-year-old female invitees. She recounted her story to me, which encapsulated what I came to learn was a typical island “adventure” for a newcomer. She was an aspiring model in New York when she was recruited to meet Jeffrey Epstein, a wealthy financier with boundless connections who convinced her he was able to fulfill her most ambitious dreams and catapult her into the professional modeling life that she had always wanted.
After a few visits to his mansion in New York, and a few “massages,” she was invited to his island along with several other young women in 2007. She was flown from Teterboro Airport in New Jersey to Saint Thomas on Epstein’s private Boeing 727 jet. After landing in Saint Thomas, she was taken by Epstein’s private helicopter to Little Saint James. Once they arrived, Seloh and the three other similarly aged girls who had flown over with her stepped off of the helicopter into paradise while the island staff grabbed their bags. The girls walked barefoot toward the main house. Sculptures and statues lined the pathway up to an open structure. The girls were greeted by the regular crew—Ghislaine Maxwell, Jean-Luc Brunel, Nadia Marcinkova, Sarah Kellen, and, of course, Jeffrey Epstein.
Seloh was shown to her room: a beautiful, spacious cabana with one king-size bed. She walked out to the main outdoor area where everyone was gathered. “Go explore,” said Ghislaine in her British accent to Seloh and the others, whom she referred to as “my children.” Nadia led Seloh and her new friends down the steps and through an enclosed tunnel, where they encountered a small turtle that they took turns taking pictures with. This was a world that none of these girls had ever experienced.
“What do you want to do next?” asked Nadia.
One of the other girls responded, “Well, what are our options?”
To which Nadia replied, “Anything you can imagine,” as she ran back up the stairs and toward ATVs parked on the beach.
Almost as if the whole thing was staged, Epstein was sitting atop one of the ATVs at the front of the line. Each girl jumped on her own ATV. Epstein looked back at the line of girls and yelled, “Follow me!” as he tore off through the sand. Seloh and her new friends followed.
They drove along the purest, cleanest-looking water Seloh had ever seen to their left, and past the intricate architectural structures that filled the island to their right. Seloh had only ever dreamed of seeing a place this beautiful; it was like somewhere from a postcard or in a movie. The experience was exhilarating.
As they approached the main house on their way back, Jeffrey—who was still leading the caravan—slammed on his brakes while going full speed and turned sharply to the right, causing his ATV to spin in dramatic fashion. Each of the women behind him stopped to admire his expert handling of the machine. He stepped off the ATV and said to Nadia, “Take everyone to the kitchen. I’ll see you later.” He then walked away.
Everyone knew that Nadia Marcinkova held the role of Jeffrey Epstein’s girlfriend at the time. She was always around. You see, he had his favorite girls, but there was a difference between a “favorite girl” and his “girlfriend.” First, it was Eva Andersson, then it was Ghislaine Maxwell, and now it was Nadia Marcinkova. Anyone who reached girlfriend status had also proven a commitment to a lifetime of allegiance and unwavering friendship. He once famously said that when a relationship is over, the girlfriend “moves up, not down” to friendship status.
Nadia walked Seloh and the other girls to the main house, where dinner was prepared. Everyone on the island, except for Jeffrey, ate together. The girls sat at the table talking while Sarah sat distantly in the background, scanning the room as if to assess the liabilities and assets. Jean-Luc walked over to pet Maxwell’s Yorkie, Max, at the same time. Jean-Luc then tackled Ghislaine into the nearby chair before he engulfed her in one of his playful hugs. To Seloh, Jean-Luc and Ghislaine seemed thick as thieves.
Periodically throughout the day, each of the others had disappeared after Ghislaine or Nadia told them Jeffrey wanted to see them, but Seloh had yet to be s
ummoned for private time with Jeffrey. After dinner, she retired to her room. As she grabbed her phone to check her text messages, there was a knock at the door. It was Ghislaine: “Jeffrey wants to see you now.” Seloh walked over to the grand master bedroom. As she approached the door, she was nervous, but she didn’t know enough to be too nervous. At most, she thought this would be a “regular” massage, which was sure to include having to pinch Jeffrey’s nipples while he masturbated, but by this point, she was accustomed to that.
She opened the door and saw Jeffrey standing sternly in his white bathrobe in front of her. He pointed to the other side of the room, where there was a bar, and instructed her to turn around, bend over, and hold it. Seloh walked slowly toward the bar. When she got there, she turned back to look for Jeffrey and saw one of Jeffrey’s other girls walk out from behind him. The girl was dressed in all leather with a leather whip in her hand. “Remove your clothes,” she said.
Seloh complied. Her thoughts spun. I have no way out. I have no choice. I’m on an island in the middle of the ocean. WTF. Before she could get very far: crack. She felt the straps of the leather whip smack against her bare bottom.
Jeffrey then instructed, “Put it on.” His girl attached a harness containing a plastic dildo across her waist. Seloh turned around to see what was going on. As she began to turn, Epstein sternly warned her, “Do not turn around. Keep your hands on the bar.” Reminding herself that she didn’t have any other option but to comply, Seloh did as instructed. The girl approached and within seconds, Seloh felt something thrusting inside of her.
Relentless Pursuit Page 18
