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A POWERFUL BILLIONAIRE,
THE SEX SCANDAL THAT UNDID HIM, AND ALL
THE JUSTICE THAT MONEY CAN BUY:
THE SHOCKING TRUE STORY OF JEFFREY EPSTEIN
1426
Interviewer: "It's the
too close to the sun."
Jeffrey Epstein: "Did
Copyright CO 2016 by James Patterson
Excerpt from Cross the Line copyright © 2016 by James Patterson
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Printed in the United States of America
016 by James Patterson
to free expression and the value of
o encourage writers and artists to
ir culture.
n of this book without permission
Ierty. If you would like permission
n for review purposes), please con-
)1.1 for your support of the author's
NY 10104
). of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The
.rks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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tespeakersbureau.com or call (866)
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Interviewer: "It's the Icarus story—someone who flies
too close to the sun."
Jeffrey Epstein: "Did Icarus like massages?"
—New York City, 2007
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Late one afternoon, while taking a leisurely stroll on the Upper
East Side of Manhattan, Tim Malloy, a friend of mine and a col-
laborator on this book, nearly ran into a trim, silver-haired
neighbor of ours from Palm Beach.
The man was walking down Madison Avenue, and several
things about him were striking. For one thing, he was wearing
slippers. Expensive, embroidered, monogrammed slippers. But
slippers all the same.
For another, he was accompanied by two attractive women.
Even in Manhattan, an island that attracts beautiful women from
all over the world, these women stood out.
As the man half shuffled, half walked down the avenue, the
women walked slightly behind him, as if they were attendants or
staff.
Tim followed, keeping a respectable distance, as the three-
some made a right onto 71st Street and headed toward an enor-
mous town house— a house that was almost a fortress—right
vii
AUTHOR'S NOTE
in the middle of the block. The imposing residence had a stone
facade and a fifteen-foot-high front door that wouldn't have
looked out of place protecting a castle. And, like our neighbor's
slippers, the house had a monogram: raised brass letters that
spelled out JE.
The house and, quite possibly, the two women belonged to
Jeffrey Epstein, a rich and powerful man who was also a regis-
tered sex offender with a strong taste for underage women.
Not just sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds. But younger girls
as well.
Epstein was alleged to have abused dozens of young women,
or, more accurately, girls. He'd settled potential lawsuits with
some of them. He'd done a bit of prison time for his crimes. A bit
of time. And now here he was, out in the world again.
Accompanied by two beautiful young women.
I had been hearing hair-raising stories about Jeffrey Epstein for a
couple of years. Our interests could not have been more differ-
ent, but Palm Beach, where we both live, is small and tightly
knit, and we knew some of the same people.
Epstein's arrest had made headlines in papers all over the
world. But in Palm Beach, it caused a scandal that continues to
set off aftershocks and leave a bad smell.
So I had followed Epstein's case in the media and talked
about it over dinners with friends. I wondered why it had taken
so long for the Palm Beach police to catch up with Epstein. And,
once they did, why he had served so little jail time.
Those were the obvious questions, but there were others:
How had Epstein made his money, possibly billions? No one
viii
seemed to know. And w
about the underage girls
had happened at the morn
Epstein definitely Ilk(
even three, young wom(
island. He'd been operat
who were these girls? WI
find their way to his horn
Epstein had powerful
in his private jet and rubt
Prize winners, any numl
man sixth in line to the B
Were any of these co
now a free man?
I wanted to know. Aft
and Epstein's actions had
where I lived. Stirred by t
Tim Malloy and I began t
We partnered with
journalist who had once I
following the Epstein sto:
Working together, we
the way back to his chil(
tances, employees, neight
with the families of his
ment officers who'd wonl
and lawyers on all sides
which are still working ti
Combining our inter
from court filings and
AUTHOR'S NOTE
NoTE
'posing residence had a stone
mit door that wouldn't have
tstle. And, like our neighbor's
ram: raised brass letters that
, the two women belonged to
ul man who was also a regis-
;te for underage women.
n-year-olds. But younger girls
ased dozens of young women,
flied potential lawsuits with
ison time for his crimes. A bit
in the world again.
tng women.
ries about Jeffrey Epstein for a
id not have been more differ-
oth live, is small and tightly
le people.
Lanes in papers all over the
:c1 a scandal that continues to
smell.
ase in the media and talked
I wondered why it had taken
o catch up with Epstein. And,
;o little jail time.
tions, but there were others:
ey, possibly billions? No one
seemed to know. And while the news media had some details
about the underage girls, reporters seemed only to know what
had happened at the moment of his arrest.
Epstein definitely liked his massages. He got them from two,
even three, young women a day, right in his mansion on the
island. He'd been operating on an almost industrial scale. But
who were these girls? Where had they come from? How did they
find their way to his home on a secluded street in Palm Beach?
Epstein had powerful friends. He'd flown Bill Clinton around
in his private jet and rubbed shoulders with heads of state, Nobel
Prize winners, any number of billionaires. Prince Andrew, the
man sixth in line to the British throne, had been a close friend.
Were any of these connections the reason that Epstein was
now a free man?
I wanted to know. After all, our homes were a half mile apart,
and Epstein's actions had had an undeniable impact on the town
where I lived. Stirred by that sighting of Epstein up in New York,
Tim Malloy and I began to investigate.
We partnered with John Connolly, a tough, no-nonsense
journalist who had once been a cop with the NYPD and had been
following the Epstein story for close to ten years.
Working together, we interviewed Epstein's friends, going all
the way back to his childhood; we met with Epstein's acquain-
tances, employees, neighbors, and business associates, and finally
with the families of his victims. We interviewed law enforce-
ment officers who'd worked on the investigation in Palm Beach
and lawyers on all sides of the resulting court cases, some of
which are still working their way through the court system.
Combining our interview material with evidence obtained
from court filings and other investigations, such as the one
ix
AUTHOR'S NOTE
conducted by Connolly's Vanity Fair colleague Vicky Ward, we
began to put the pieces together.
In a few instances, we have re-created brief scenes and
snatches of dialogue. These are based on interviews, police
investigation documents, and court filings. We changed the
names and identities of the girls, hoping to protect them from
more embarrassment and harm.
There never was any doubt that Jeffrey Epstein was guilty. He
admitted as much in the non-prosecution agreement he agreed
to sign in 2007. The question is, what exactly was he guilty of?
This book attempts to answer that question and many others
about this strange and mysterious man. These days people all
around the world are angry about and suspicious of the super
rich and powerful. The story of Jeffrey Epstein is an object lesson
about why we ought to be. To put it simply, some people think
they can operate outside the law. And that's what they do.
—James Patterson, Palm Beach, February 20, 2016
x
NOT E
'air colleague Vicky Ward, we
: re-created brief scenes and
based on interviews, police
)urt filings. We changed the
hoping to protect them from
t Jeffrey Epstein was guilty. He
secution agreement he agreed
hat exactly was he guilty of?
that question and many others
,s man. These days people all
it and suspicious of the super
frey Epstein is an object lesson
t it simply, some people think
knd that's what they do.
?alm Beach, February 20, 2016
PART I
The Crime
CHAPTER I
Mary: February 2005
/t's a typically slow South Florida Sunday, and Mary's staring
into the mirror, trying to wipe the morning cobwebs away
from her dark, sleepy eyes.
She's a pretty girl, tiny—just five feet three inches tall—but
tanned and athletic, with curly black henna-streaked hair.* Her
bedroom's a playland of pinks and pastels, stuffed animals, and
boy-band posters. But Mary's a teenager now. Fourteen years old.
She even has a boyfriend. He's cute and popular. Joe' is the heart-
throb of her school, and Mary's feelings for him are new to her,
powerful, hard to untangle. She's thinking of Joe as she presses
the Play button on her iPod.
The MP3 player's on shuffle. There's no telling what song will
* Mary's name, some identifying details, and dialogue have been changed.
Joe's name, some identifying details, and dialogue have been changed.
3
JAMES PATTERSON
come up, and Mary's head drops dramatically in anticipation.
Then a loud, sexy throb spills out of the earbuds: Britney Spears.
The bass line takes over, and she starts to dance, moving her
hips as she lip-synchs the lyrics:
With a taste of a poison paradise . . .
Mary's swept away by the song. She's twirling around and
around, flinging her arms out to grab the clothes hanging up in
her closet—it's like embracing ten thousand fans! Then she stops
and pulls out the earbuds. Suddenly she's become fourteen again.
Just a girl, jittery, nervous.
What she's thinking about now is what she will wear to the
big fancy house.
Mary desperately wants to make an impression. This will be her
first trip to the house. She does not want to look like a child on
this outing.
She picks out a pair of skinny white jeans, puts on a freshly
washed halter top that leaves her flat stomach bare. The cross
that Joe gave her last Christmas hangs from her neck.
Think of the money, she thinks.
For Mary, it's incredible money. Several weeks' wages at
Mickey D's. And just for giving some old man a massage? She
twists the earbuds back in, dives into the closet, sings along with
Britney Spears:
Don't you know that you're toxic?
The tight white jeans fit Mary perfectly. She turns to check
herself out in the mirror, cropping the scene with her fingers to
4
block out the Barbies bi
in big, high-ceilinged b(
with natural smiles, pei
dolls are beautiful. The,
if Mom and Dad are w
mothers and fathers are
you get Barbies— passe
sister to sister. They're n-
of knowingness to the c
American Girl dolls are
Barbie's dangling her lot
from women.
Be like Barbie, Mary t
She can't be nervous.
What she tells hersel
a deal.
But, of course, it is a
big fancy house will bee
police investigation— al
the Palm Beach PD — ar
the home's owner, Jeffrey
ERSON
FILTHY RICH
dramatically in anticipation.
)f the earbuds: Britney Spears.
starts to dance, moving her
She's twirling around and
prab the clothes hanging up in
thousand fans! Then she stops
ly she's become fourteen again.
AT is what she will wear to the
in impression. This will be her
ot want to look like a child on
• white jeans, puts on a freshly
r flat stomach bare. The cross
angs from her neck.
)ney. Several weeks' wages at
some old man a massage? She
nto the closet, sings along with
c?
y perfectly. She turns to check
ig the scene with her fingers to
block out the Barbies behind her. Over on the Gold Coast, girls
in big, high-ceilinged bedrooms have American Girl dolls. Dolls
with natural smiles, perfectly vacant moon faces. American Girl
dolls are beautiful. They're expensive. But you have to have one
if Mom and Dad are willing to pay. Over on the Coast, most
mothers and fathers are. But out in the sticks, where Mary lives,
you get Barbies —passed down from mother to daughter, from
sister to sister. They're rail-thin, missile-breasted. There's a touch
of knowingness to the curl of their otherwise innocent mouths.
American Girl dolls are girlie, but Barbie's like Britney Spears.
Barbie's dangling her long legs over the line that separates girls
from women.
Be like Barbie, Mary thinks.
She can't be nervous. Not now. Not today.
What she tells herself, over and over again, is: It's not that big
a deal.
But, of course, it is a big deal. Before long, Mary's visit to the
big fancy house will become part of a months-long Palm Beach
police investigation—an affidavit for probable cause, filed by
the Palm Beach PD — and, finally, the arrest and conviction of
the home's owner, Jeffrey Epstein.
5
CHAPTER 2
Jeffrey Epstein: February 2005
Jeffrey's morning routine is precise and unvarying. First he
spends twenty-five minutes in silence, visualizing the day
ahead as he digests the guava, banana, and Mileslix that his
chef prepares for him— the same way every day—at six in the
morning. Then Jeffrey walks a third of a mile up to South County
Road, pausing once in a while to take deep, restorative breaths.
It's a slight slope that leads toward the ocean. Jeffrey's home
on the Intracoastal Waterway is behind him now. The morning's
not windy. The Atlantic is calm and glittery, and fishing trawlers
bob gently on distant waves.
Jeffrey's partial to monogrammed sweatpants, monogrammed
fleece pullovers, and hoodies. Casual attire offset by embroi-
dered Stubbs & Wootton slippers— the kind that sell for hun-
dreds of dollars a pair. His hair, which is thick, has turned silver.
But Jeffrey Epstein does not have a paunch. For a fifty-two-year-old
6
man, he's extremely fit.
strong jawline.
He's never been a di
and he takes care good c
It's a magnificent min
lations, abstract formu1a5
math problems that woul
fall into place for him,
manipulate—and multip
mathematician. As a you
Then he became an inve5
philanthropist, like Bill G
to give millions to acadei
ing mysteries of the brain
lions to Harvard. And h
Eliot Spitzer, of New Yor
Mexico, where Epstein ON
Epstein's flown Bill
the Gulfstream he owns
own trading floor—so 1
his various and worthy (
Just for fun, Chris 1
Kevin Spacey had tagge(
"Jeffrey is both a higl
philanthropist with a
in-depth knowledge of
would say through a spc
insights and generosity
on democratization, em
combating HIV/AIDS."
FILTHY RICH
CHAPTER 2
ecise and unvarying. First he
a silence, visualizing the day
banana, and Mileslix that his
way every day—at six in the
.d of a mile up to South County
ake deep, restorative breaths.
ward the ocean. Jeffrey's home
ehind him now. The morning's
id glittery, and fishing trawlers
ied sweatpants, monogrammed
.asual attire offset by embroi-
s— the kind that sell for hun-
hich is thick, has turned silver.
paunch. For a fifty-two-year-old
man, he's extremely fit. Six feet tall, 180 pounds, brown eyes, a
strong jawline.
He's never been a drinker. He doesn't smoke or take drugs,
and he takes care good care of his body as well as his mind.
It's a magnificent mind. His gift is for numbers: complex calcu-
lations, abstract formulas. Even as a child, Jeffrey could untangle
math problems that would stump most smart adults. Numbers just
fall into place for him, forming in ranks he can bend, twist,
manipulate—and multiply. He could have been a scientist or a
mathematician. As a young man, he taught calculus and physics.
Then he became an investor—a very rich man. Then he became a
philanthropist, like Bill Gates. His love for science has inspired him
to give millions to academics and institutions committed to study-
ing mysteries of the brain and the arcana of physics. He's given mil-
lions to Harvard. And he's given money to politicians: Governor
Eliot Spitzer, of New York, and Governor Bill Richardson, of New
Mexico, where Epstein owns the largest home in the state.
Epstein's flown Bill Clinton to Africa on a private jet—not
the Gulfstream he owns but his Boeing 727, customized with its
own trading floor —so that the former president could promote
his various and worthy causes.
Just for fun, Chris Tucker, the comedian, and Clinton's pal
Kevin Spacey had tagged along for the ride.
"Jeffrey is both a highly successful financier and a committed
philanthropist with a keen sense of global markets and an
in-depth knowledge of twenty-first-century science," Clinton
would say through a spokesperson. "I especially appreciated his
insights and generosity during the recent trip to Africa to work
on democratization, empowering the poor, citizen service, and
combating HIV/AIDS."
7
JAMES PATTERSON
But is Jeffrey thinking about that trip now?
His first guest is due that morning at nine, and that leaves
him enough time for a shower, a lunch, and a few phone calls
before the second girl arrives.
Sarah has scheduled that girl for one.
For Jeffrey, it's just part of the daily routine.
But on this day, there's a delicious twist.
One of the girls is a first-timer.
Mary: February 200.f
D ownstairs, the dc
gruffly:
"Ella estd aqui
"She's here. Your friel
Mary runs down the
got the TV on. Her steprr
sister has gone out, too, I
"Going shopping," sh
Bubble into her mouth.
"Ace quien?"
"Says who?"
Mary's already half'
again, but on Sundays t.
Besides, Mary knows hE
she's made. Real mone)
8
3RSON
it trip now?
fling at nine, and that leaves
lunch, and a few phone calls
1r one.
laily routine.
us twist.
CHAPTER 3
Mary: February 2005
ownstairs, the doorbell is ringing. Mary's father shouts,
gruffly:
"Ella estci aqui. Su amiga con el camiOn."
"She's here. Your friend with the truck."
Mary runs down the stairs. It's game day, and Dad's already
got the TV on. Her stepmom's out running errands. Mary's twin
sister has gone out, too, Rollerblading with a few of her friends.
"Going *shopping," she yells, and she pops a piece of Dubble
Bubble into her mouth.
`2Dice quien?"
"Says who?"
Mary's already halfway out the door. Her father calls out
again, but on Sundays there's no getting him out of his chair.
Besides, Mary knows he'll be happy when he sees the money
she's made. Real money, like Joe's cousin Wendy Dobbs, is
9
JAMES PATTERSON
making.* And it's not like she's running off to do something
crazy. After all, Wendy's assured her already that there's nothing
to worry about.
Mary's father is Cuban—an immigrant—a self-made man who
runs a contracting business. He's wise to the ways of the world
and highly protective of his two daughters. They're good girls, he
knows. Almost angels. As far as he knows, they don't drink.
They've never tried drugs. They love clothes and, especially,
music —Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, Maroon 5, the boy band
with that dreamy lead singer. Mary loves California, which she's
never seen but daydreams about. She just knows she'll live there
someday—a plan that's okay with her father as long as Mary
keeps up with her homework and chores.
What he worries about, in the meantime, is the crowd that
Mary runs with.