Relentless Pursuit

by Bradley J. Edwards

  While he did show interest in solving this problem of his, it wasn’t a real offer. It was just his normal creative pontification. He knew that I would have to share these ideas with Courtney and that she would get her hopes up. Just another move in the game that he was always playing.

  We left without much further discussion other than an agreement to see if some alternative was possible to resolve the CVRA.

  When we tried to set up a three-party mediation where the victims, the government, and Epstein would attend, Epstein backed out. Was he pulling the rug out at the last minute as a negotiating tactic, as he had done so many times before? Or had he suspected another investigation was under way and mediation might be a trap? Who knows.

  We never spoke again.

  In June 2019, while my son Austin and I were driving home from a day of fishing, a call came in—0000000000. I had always answered in the past. This time, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what he knew or what he might have suspected. My knowledge alone of the New York investigation would have been treated by him as the ultimate betrayal. Consequently, it would have subjected me to the full power of his wrath.

  After staring at the number for several rings, deciding whether to answer, the ringing stopped.

  I felt my heart beating fast. I called Brittany and Stan on a three-way call. “If something doesn’t happen soon, then it will never happen. I have this feeling he knows something. Or he is about to find out. And he will kill someone this time. Me. He will see me as the common denominator to his problems.”

  Brittany jumped in, “You didn’t do this to him. He did this to himself.”

  Stan quickly assured, “If truth be told, he should be mad at me, not you, Brad.”

  “He won’t see it that way,” I explained recounting the details of the events that had unfolded over the past few months.

  Shortly thereafter, we hung up.

  Stan and I didn’t talk until I was on my Fourth of July family vacation in Naples, at a bowling alley, waiting out a sudden thunderstorm. After letting Stan go to voice mail at least four times, I answered to hear him say, “I just got a call from the FBI. He’s in handcuffs…”

  EPILOGUE

  ON JULY 6, 2019, JEFFREY Epstein was arrested on sex-trafficking charges. On August 10, 2019, Jeffrey Epstein was dead. He was so unique in his way of thinking that it was hard for anyone not to want to get closer to him. I understand why he had so many visitors when he was in jail the first time. I, for one, would have had a difficult time not showing up to visit him in jail the second time. I had a lot of questions for him and I know he had a lot for me.

  While our meetings usually began with a struggle over who would talk first, I am sure he would have beaten me at that game if we’d ever met in his cell. I expect he would have tugged at his prison garb and wasted no time asking, “Did you have anything to do with this?”

  The CVRA case, which he had dismissed as unimportant, led to more litigation, then more public charges, then more nasty press, and then, finally, the attention of the Southern District of New York’s prosecutors. Once they were focused on him, the other knights and pawns also fell: there was a secret grand jury; an unforeseen airport arrest; a court decision not to grant bail; an awful case of detention shock; the prospect of a lifetime of more of the same along with his hard personal assessment of an impossible-to-accept future; and the profound conclusion he reached—the most profound personal conclusion any human being can reach: to be or not to be. And then, in the middle of the night, there was his final exercise of total control, the guiding principle by which he lived, and died.

  The truth is, I struggled with Epstein’s death. It is what it is, right? But really, it isn’t. I couldn’t figure it out. Maybe I still haven’t. This is a man whom I despised. He had threatened me; he had threatened my family. He had harmed many of my clients. He had tried to ruin my career.

  Yet somehow, every single time we stepped into the ring, he made me think that he was a fair guy. It wasn’t until after he was gone that I finally realized he had read me like a book and fought me on my terms. Despite the years that I had spent explaining the ways in which he had exploited every single one of my clients, his victims, I never realized how incredible he really was at reading and manipulating his target.

  Epstein tried to manipulate me the way that he manipulated everyone else in his life. He probably believed he had succeeded until he was handcuffed in New Jersey getting off of his plane from France.

  But honestly, to a certain degree, he was right. I had one major miscalculation: the subjectivity of fairness. I have based my entire legal career on fairness. Maybe even my entire life. From the lessons that my father and Papa taught me as a kid to the way that Scott Rothstein purported to run his law firm, the concept of fairness always resonated with me in the belief that so long as you are fair, you are doing the right thing. Fairness was my moral compass. Fairness has always been a fundamental pillar of who I am.

  Jeffrey Epstein was a master at figuring out what drives other people. Because he actually had no conscience and no allegiance to any ethical belief, he would latch on to his adversary’s driving force and exploit it. He did that every time. It turns out he even did it to me.

  As I sit here today, after all these years, I finally know how it happened. I can remember our first real conversation as clear as day. I was in my office, with my back against the wall and my feet up on my desk. It was our very first one-on-one conversation on the phone. Thinking about it now, I really can’t believe how I didn’t see it then.

  He had called my office to see how he could resolve our personal lawsuit. “How much did you make last year?” he asked me.

  “Why?” I responded.

  He quickly told me that he would pay my yearly salary to settle our personal case.

  Without even considering the idea, I said, “That’s not fair.”

  Rather than disagree, he retorted, “Well, what does fairness mean to you?”

  I thought about it for a few seconds and said, “You know it when you see it. I can’t give you a universal definition, but at the very least, it means that you take into consideration all factors and not just one.”

  He surprised me again by inquiring, “Tell me all of the factors I should be considering.”

  From that moment forward, he would incorporate the concept of fairness into every substantive discussion that we would ever have. Not because he believed in it, but because he knew I did. Once he grasped the notion that my entire way of dealing with an adversary was in terms of fairness, he began to speak my language. Whether he was conveying an offer, a counteroffer, or just a general principle of life, he would couch his position in terms of what was fair or unfair.

  It turns out that I left that same conversation thinking I had gotten somewhere with him, when in reality he was learning everything he needed to convince me that we both believed in fairness, even between adversaries. I didn’t realize until after he was dead that the common ground that I believed existed between us was really a facade.

  Not a single person could ever win the ultimate game against Jeffrey Epstein. If he were alive, I have no doubt he would say I came the closest. And I suppose looking objectively at our entire relationship, especially at the end, he would say I won. But while I got him in a way he didn’t see coming when he stepped off of his plane in New Jersey, he was playing me all along in a way I never saw happening. We were both exploiting one another’s weaknesses, each always sincerely believing the other had no idea.

  In my current state of reflection, I’ve remembered a conversation that it would now be tough to forget. We got into a debate on the age of consent. I reminded him that according to the law, the age of consent is not negotiable. He said: “I can only assume you are couching this in terms of fairness, and if so, at this point are we talking about subjectively or biologically? And to whom? You do agree, right, Brad, that whoever is analyzing this should be fair to me, too, right? Shouldn’t the real questio
n be whether I treated everyone fairly? Before you answer, have you ever had a client say that I was aggressive to them when they weren’t into it or tried to hurt them when they were saying no?

  “My point is that no matter how uncomfortable the subject, some objective fairness should be applied all around. To everyone. Even to me, don’t you agree? My lifestyle is unorthodox. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. I have improved many lives and injured, in reality, very few. I know you disagree with that, but your best argument is an arbitrary line in the sand. That line can’t apply to every situation—you can’t think the application of arbitrary rules is fair, Brad.” He knew that I would agree that everything should be fair. He took each conversation and centered the driving principle around fairness.

  Over the years, because I really didn’t fully appreciate his exploitation of fairness and, more important, his ability to exploit the susceptibility of the concept to interpretation, he was able to extend this apparent mutual respect garnered after many conversations and several meetings one step further. Fairness naturally transformed into trust. Trust transformed into a strange relationship that, to someone looking at us talking through the window of Starbucks, might have looked like friendship, although knowing how things ended, it’s obvious it never was.

  During one conversation, he made a point to tell me he knew and very much respected that I prided myself on being fair. “I know you as someone who would never go back on your word or on your beliefs,” he explained, adding, “so I want to make sure that when you evaluate what is fair to you and your clients, you also look at what is fair to me to make sure that the ultimate result is fair, because true fairness cannot only be fair to one side. By definition, that would not be actual fairness, right?” I agreed that fairness inherently required a mutual consideration of all positions. “We are on the same page. We have the same belief. You know, Brad, we’re more similar than you think,” he attempted to convince me once again that we shared common beliefs.

  It was this idea of “going back on my word” that I couldn’t really let go of after Epstein and I had finally shaken hands and formally agreed to settle our issues with one another and move on. In his terms, it was our official “divorce” from being adversaries.

  Not long after, I was called by a new client to represent her against him. When I called Jeffrey to tell him about this new client, he said that my representation of her was inconsistent with our agreement to be done with one another. In some technical sense, he was right.

  That actually made me second-guess things.

  Just before we finished the conversation, he took it a step further and said, “I know you wouldn’t go back on your word.”

  What he certainly didn’t know was that by that stage, I was already deeply cooperating with the highly confidential criminal investigation against him being conducted by the Southern District of New York.

  I couldn’t go back on my word. He was right. I don’t go back on my word. The concept of fairness was far too ingrained in my brain. But he was a criminal. He had destroyed the lives of so many people. People I cared about. So why did I care?

  I couldn’t explain, I still can’t explain, why I felt compelled to stand true to my word, but what I knew was that Julie Brown, the Miami Herald reporter, had entered the picture at almost the perfect time. She had published her story at the same time that Epstein and I had reached our agreement to stay out of each other’s lives forever. Julie Brown wanted her publication to mean something. And, no doubt, it was meaningful. Her timing of publishing—incidentally—to coincide with our settlement was impeccable. It meant that if I cooperated with authorities, Jeffrey Epstein would forever believe Julie caused the investigation. I saw this as a clear opportunity to do the right thing for my clients and the world while also never allowing Jeffrey to know that I had not kept my word to him.

  The truth is, all I ever wanted was for the right thing to happen. In some messed-up universe, I didn’t want the right thing to happen at the expense of compromising my fundamental principle of fairness. Even though it was right, it wouldn’t be fair to go back on my word. Jeffrey Epstein had pinned me between rightness and fairness.

  My two worlds were colliding—the idea of accountability for everyone who has done something wrong and the idea that you should honor your promise. It was impossible to reconcile those two things. But I ultimately managed to do it.

  Maybe someone out there will fault me, but I think that what I realized in the end, while not fully understanding until now the ways in which he was able to manipulate me, was that everything paled in importance to getting the right end result. Whether the “agreement” that the two of us had reached was fair or not, seeing him in jail for the rest of his life was the only thing that was fair to me, to my clients, and to the world.

  Still, I couldn’t risk him learning that I had dishonored him. Isn’t that funny? He was behind bars, and still, I was worried about what might happen if he found out that I had somehow betrayed him. He would have been so disappointed. But why did I care? Maybe I’ll never know.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I owe this book to my wife, Terry. The life of a trial lawyer, especially one who chases bad guys for a living, can be trying on any family. Yet, no matter how much was at risk or how much danger was present, she kept our family together and safe while supporting me every step of the way. After the Epstein case was finally over, she encouraged me to write this book, even though it meant many long nights away. Thank you, T.

  I also dedicate this book to my three boys, Blake, Cashton, and Austin, who were my constant reminder to never give up. As they grew older, the importance of the continued pursuit became increasingly evident. Boys—fight for what you know is right and never give up, no matter what stands in the way.

  To the many victims and survivors of Jeffrey Epstein, those with whom I have met and those I have not, I am sorry for what you experienced. I hope our efforts helped ease the pain and that you know we have tried to do everything that we could to let you know that you mattered to us.

  Brittany Henderson: I could not have written this book myself. In fact, I didn’t. After talking about writing the book for years, you were the one who put your foot down and said, “Let’s do it.” We will get to look back on this book-writing experience and know we accomplished something as a team. When the workday ended, we started writing. I would stand in your office dictating (more like ranting) as you typed. Then I would look at the screen hours later and see that you had worked your typical magic, editing, rearranging, fact-checking, and generally writing the book. My Ratatouille. In truth, you deserve more credit for the final product than I. After storytelling for hours, I would be done (sometimes in the wee hours of the morning) and you kept going. (I’m sure you would insert an age joke here.) You are not only one of the very best lawyers I know but also my most trusted friend, and now my coauthor. Yes, I will keep my promise—the next book we write together, your name will go first.

  Courtney Wild: You are my friend. Thank you for always keeping it real. Your perseverance and resolve are unmatched. You overcome all obstacles and, to me, are the definition of an American hero. Dream big. Follow your dreams. You have so much to give this world.

  Lynn: Thank you for never sugarcoating anything, always calling things like you see them, and staying true to yourself. Your perspective is fascinating and like I have always told you—you will be a star one day.

  Marissa: I am sorry you have been through so much but am so proud of how far you have come. I am thankful for your trust in me and having the opportunity to represent you and help improve your life.

  Virginia Giuffre: Nobody is a stronger force than you. In any war, you are the person I want by my side, mate. I am proud to call you my friend but by this point you are like a sister. Keep changing the world!

  Sarah Ransome: Thank you for coming forward when you did. You made a difference in the lives of many.

  Maria Farmer: You were the first to say anything. The
world would have been a safer place had someone just listened to you. I am sorry they didn’t. But thank you for staying with it and continuing the fight.

  Chauntae Davies: From the day we met with you in California, we knew you were special. You helped to shed light on the fact that Epstein’s victims were not all underage and that his strategy was often long-term and much more devious and calculated than most knew. I look forward to reading your book one day.

  Anouska De Georgiou: Thank you for finally making the call to me. I know that was tough but from our first conversation you connected dots that we previously couldn’t. It is an honor to have met and represented you.

  Jena-Lisa Jones: You helped bring Epstein to justice by coming forward and fearlessly telling your story. That took guts. Thank you for your bravery.

  Michelle Licata: Thank you for sticking with this when many people had given up hope.

  Maria Kelljchian: Words cannot express how thankful I am for you putting up with me, listening to my crazy ideas (usually), and keeping our law firm running. Without you, these cases could not have turned out as successfully as they did, and this book wouldn’t be the same.

  Mike Fisten: No good investigation can be done alone. While I had numerous investigators along the way, you were in the trenches with me during crucial times. In addition to game-planning with me, tracking down witnesses, and coordinating surveillance on Epstein, you also guarded my house and my family when things got hairy, for which I am forever grateful.

  Randee Kogan: In my view, you are hands down the best trauma therapist. You helped ease the victims’ suffering.

  Shelby Marin and Paige Murtagh: My longtime friends and trusted confidants. Thank you for taking the time to read this, for talking it through, and for your valuable ideas.