Epstein; Dreyfus
I’m not much into conspiracies. I think they require too much effort by too many people and, let’s face it, most people can’t keep a secret. I do believe there’s a lot more to learn about both the Lincoln and Kennedy assassinations, but I’m pretty sure ticks are not a runaway biological warfare experiment, and I do think Napoleon is buried in Napoleon’s tomb.
This being said, I’m certain there’s more to the Epstein hanging than we’re being told, and I really hope the Washington Post or New York Times will sic a bunch of young and hungry reporters on the story.
The Metropolitan Correction Center in Manhattan has been host to a bunch of villains over the years, all of whom managed to survive incarceration there. El Chappo, aka Joaquim Guzmàn, Bernard Madoff, John Gotti, and members of al-Qaeda, spent time at MCC and walked out alive. Epstein, certainly one of the most infamous inmates in recent times, did not.
According to reports, Epstein was in good spirits just prior to his death. He spent hours discussing legal maneuvers with his attorneys. He seemed neither depressed nor frantic. The official story is that the facility’s staff members are overworked, tired, sleepy, and quite obviously incapable. They left Epstein alone for more than a half-hour. He was supposed to have a cellmate but that man had been moved to another venue. Epstein was an at-risk inmate who had attempted suicide some months ago, but had been taken off suicide watch recently. He was not supposed to have anything that could be used to end his own life, i.e. shoe laces or a belt. When guards came to check on him (after they took a nap, I suppose, since they were so tired and spent) Epstein was dead. Security cameras, amazingly enough, were not trained on his cell.
Epstein had enemies. He was, among other things, a procurer of underage women to the rich and famous, including Prince Williams, Trump, perhaps Bill Clinton, the attorney Alan Dershowitz, and a myriad others who gloried in his company.
So I am tempted to yell J’Accuse, à la Émile Zola, the French writer who protested the incarceration of Alfred Dreyfus in what came to be known as the Dreyfus Affair and rocked France in the early 1900s. In modern day English, J’Accuse might be translated as ‘oh bullshit,’ which was my first reaction when I learned of Epstein’s death.
Simply stated, far too many important people—including no. 45—stand to benefit from his demise. Epstein would undoubtedly have contrived during his trial to inculpate others. His lawyers would have sought to make deals with anyone who might lighten their client’s inevitable sentence. He was too dangerous to live.
The head of the MCC will be fired, as will some prison guards. Blame will be apportioned, and the affair soon forgotten. Some important miscreants will breathe sighs of relief. Victims will be left without closure. A few books will be written. That’s America.
This being said, I’m certain there’s more to the Epstein hanging than we’re being told, and I really hope the Washington Post or New York Times will sic a bunch of young and hungry reporters on the story.
The Metropolitan Correction Center in Manhattan has been host to a bunch of villains over the years, all of whom managed to survive incarceration there. El Chappo, aka Joaquim Guzmàn, Bernard Madoff, John Gotti, and members of al-Qaeda, spent time at MCC and walked out alive. Epstein, certainly one of the most infamous inmates in recent times, did not.
According to reports, Epstein was in good spirits just prior to his death. He spent hours discussing legal maneuvers with his attorneys. He seemed neither depressed nor frantic. The official story is that the facility’s staff members are overworked, tired, sleepy, and quite obviously incapable. They left Epstein alone for more than a half-hour. He was supposed to have a cellmate but that man had been moved to another venue. Epstein was an at-risk inmate who had attempted suicide some months ago, but had been taken off suicide watch recently. He was not supposed to have anything that could be used to end his own life, i.e. shoe laces or a belt. When guards came to check on him (after they took a nap, I suppose, since they were so tired and spent) Epstein was dead. Security cameras, amazingly enough, were not trained on his cell.
Epstein had enemies. He was, among other things, a procurer of underage women to the rich and famous, including Prince Williams, Trump, perhaps Bill Clinton, the attorney Alan Dershowitz, and a myriad others who gloried in his company.
So I am tempted to yell J’Accuse, à la Émile Zola, the French writer who protested the incarceration of Alfred Dreyfus in what came to be known as the Dreyfus Affair and rocked France in the early 1900s. In modern day English, J’Accuse might be translated as ‘oh bullshit,’ which was my first reaction when I learned of Epstein’s death.
Simply stated, far too many important people—including no. 45—stand to benefit from his demise. Epstein would undoubtedly have contrived during his trial to inculpate others. His lawyers would have sought to make deals with anyone who might lighten their client’s inevitable sentence. He was too dangerous to live.
The head of the MCC will be fired, as will some prison guards. Blame will be apportioned, and the affair soon forgotten. Some important miscreants will breathe sighs of relief. Victims will be left without closure. A few books will be written. That’s America.
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