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 collaborator 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 threesome made a right onto 71st Street and headed toward an enormous town house—a house that was almost a fortress—right vii HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_009053¶
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 registered 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 different, 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 mom Epstein definitely like even three, young wome island. He’d been operat who were these girls? Wh find their way to his hom Epstein had powerful in his private jet and rubl Prize winners, any numl man sixth in line to the E 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 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 work and lawyers on all sides which are still working tl Combining our inter from court filings and HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_009054¶