About three hours after we had left the courtroom and Epstein had filed his appeal, the appellate court ruled that his appeal had been accepted. Epstein got his emergency continuance yet again. Everyone on our side was mad as hell and trying to call me to give me some crazy explanation as to why this happened. I was at the movies with my kids and my phone was going off like a slot machine in Vegas. I silenced it. By the time I got out, I had more than twenty messages about how surprising it was that the Fourth had taken Epstein’s emergency appeal. I wasn’t as upset as they were, simply because I was used to Epstein getting his way and had always believed this was going to happen. We did everything we could and eventually we would get our day, but until then, if a delay of this kind could be won, Epstein would win it.
I looked at the glass as half-full. As much as I wanted the trial and as prepared as we were, this was March and we were overloaded with work trying to secure our client’s judgment in the yacht case. This delay allowed both sides to figure out exactly how Epstein had come into possession of privileged materials he had never been given. It didn’t take me more than a second to know how this had happened. From the moment I read the questions in the deposition of Bill Berger, before the leaked emails had even been filed, I’d told Jack that Epstein had obtained them from Fowler White, his former law firm in Miami.
On March 7, just days after the initial filing of the emails as trial exhibits, my suspicions were confirmed when Scott Link delivered a flash drive to Jack “duplicating the disc [he] located in Fowler White’s files.” The thousands of emails on that disc included an internal stamp indicating that the files had been last modified on December 8, 2010—the precise day that Special Master Carney’s copy of the RRA emails was delivered over our strong objection to Fowler White, with an order by bankruptcy Judge Ray to make a hard copy of the privileged emails and “not retain any copies.”
As we had forewarned everyone in 2010, allowing Fowler White to have the documents was truly allowing a fox to guard the henhouse. And now, here we were in 2018 learning that the fox had eaten the hen. We filed a legal motion to hold Fowler White in contempt in federal court in front of Judge Raymond Ray, who had presided over the entire RRA bankruptcy matter and who had signed an order on November 30, 2010, specifically directing that:
The law firm of Fowler White Burnett, P.A., will print a hard copy of all of the documents contained on the discs with Bates numbers added, and will provide a set of copied, stamped documents to the Special Master and an identical set to Farmer [my law firm], who will use same to create its privilege log.… Fowler White will not retain any copies of the documents contained on the discs provided to it, nor shall any images or copies of said documents be retained in the memory of Fowler White’s copiers [emphasis added]. Should it be determined that Fowler White or Epstein retained images or copies of the subject documents on its computer or otherwise, the Court retains jurisdiction to award sanctions in favor of Farmer, Brad Edwards, or his client.
Fowler White had the disc the order directed them not to have. And now, Epstein had it.
Outside the courtroom all of the lawyers were talking about the fact that the violation was obvious. Judge Ray let us take the sworn deposition of a Fowler White representative to get to the bottom of how the CD of emails came into Epstein’s possession. That representative testified truthfully that the disc now in Scott Link’s possession had been located in the bottom of one of the Fowler White boxes and, as such, had been transferred to Scott Link when he took over representation of Epstein. The representative confirmed that the disc had been last modified on December 8, 2010, a date on which the documents were in the possession only of Fowler White. While he personally was unsure of what happened to the disc afterward, he was sure there was an inventory in 2014 that had listed the disc as being in Fowler White’s possession before all of the boxes had been sent to storage. This testimony established the Fowler White breach.
We went to a final hearing and, from an outsider’s point of view, there were very few disagreements between the parties. Epstein now had in his possession a copy of the exact materials that Judge Ray’s 2010 order expressly precluded him from having. Despite knowing that we should win, I never got the feeling that Judge Ray saw it that way. As sad as it was, it came as no surprise to me when Judge Ray found a way to rule against us. Epstein called me the day the ruling came out to laugh at Judge Ray’s ruling. “It’s a funny ruling, isn’t it, Brad. My lawyers kept the disc and still got a ruling in their favor. I wonder how that happened,” he said, tongue in cheek. I wasn’t going to let him get to me.
This already extraordinarily complicated case, where everything had been determined and yet nothing was certain, was set for a monthlong trial now in December 2018. We began to prepare our mock trial, where Jack would represent me in front of a room full of three mock juries composed of approximately seventeen people total. I decided that in the mock trial, I would be the one to assume the role of Jeffrey Epstein’s attorney.
For my entire trial career, in mock trials I always represented the defense. I had paid very close attention to the problems in our case and the defenses that scared me most, and no one knew Epstein better than I did. Certainly, no one knew my case’s weaknesses better than I did. We had to make sure that the mock juries did not know the real identities of the lawyers and whom we really represented, otherwise they would realize who I was in the scheme of things and it would naturally bias the outcome.
On Epstein’s side, I had put together all the defenses I would present if I had been representing Epstein, including all those defenses his various attorneys had cooked up over the years, particularly the “no damages” argument Scott Link had developed by this time. The liability case was tough to defend on behalf of Epstein. It was undeniable. The evidence demonstrably proved the falsity of the allegations he had made against me in his complaint.
His bad motive for making those allegations was equally transparent. At the time he had exploited the Rothstein debacle, I was the one calling him out most for the crimes he believed he had otherwise gotten away with, and the CVRA case was a huge thorn in his side that he couldn’t remove. The posture in 2009, when he filed the case, was one where I was on the offense, eating his chess pieces one at a time, triangulating him, and leaving him with nowhere to go. He was already desperate, and when Rothstein happened, he seized on an opportunity.
We held the mock trial and, playing the role of Epstein’s lawyer, I argued that no matter what Epstein’s intentions were when he filed his complaint against Brad Edwards, nobody believed the allegations. In fact, Edwards’s profile had risen. Edwards had received eight jury verdicts in a row over a million dollars, and he’d recently won a record-breaking $71 million verdict. Ultimately, Edwards had suffered zero damages.
The results of the mock trial are confidential, but I can say that we left knowing two contradictory things: that a jury would likely find in “Edwards’s” (my) favor, but would likely not assess the damages very high.
FORTY-NINE MISS YOU, JOE
THERE WERE SOME PEOPLE JUST as excited as I was that Jeffrey Epstein was finally going to be forced to go to trial. One of them was Detective Joe Recarey. He put together a solid investigation back in 2005. He was one of the first good guys to be attacked by Epstein and his legal team. Still, for more than ten years he had taken my calls and was always there to help any of Epstein’s victims who needed it at any time.
I still remember our first conversation, in 2008. When I told him who I represented, he tried to pitch the idea of bringing new charges against Epstein on behalf of my clients. He didn’t hold back his frustration with State Attorney Barry Krischer, who had declined to bring the charges against Epstein that Joe had recommended. Instead, he told me, “Look, do not give up on this case. We are all pulling for you.” I had no idea at the time where this advice would lead me.
Over the ensuing years Joe would periodically call me to check on the status of matters. He had been off the ca
se for years but wanted to see justice done one day. I wanted him to see that, too. Unfortunately, he died suddenly on May 25, 2018, before he could see resolution. I was in New York on another case when his funeral was held. I was hurt that I couldn’t be there to say goodbye to this man who had become my friend over the years. The one thing that I know for sure is that Detective Recarey did an outstanding job on his investigation and beyond. For that, my clients and I will always be grateful.
FIFTY THE CALM
IN APRIL 2018, BRITTANY AND I went to visit Courtney at the work-release correctional center up in Palm Beach, where she was completing a three-year sentence for a drug offense. She was happy to see us. I felt like I had watched Courtney grow up. While it was painful for her to be in jail, she was one of the few people I’ve known who grew in a positive way while there. (And the good news is she was released later that year.) She had in my view always been a decent person, but she is particularly special when she is sober. I had told Brittany many stories about her, but she didn’t realize what I was talking about until that day.
On the one hand, Courtney has this natural harshness about the way she sees the world and the way that the world has treated her. On the other hand, she has a mature understanding of life and doesn’t dwell on the negative or look back. Regardless, no matter how serious a story might be, she can tell any part of it in a way that will make you laugh, not at her, but with her. And not just chuckle quietly but crack up. Somehow, she made her description of getting into a jailhouse fight a whole stand-up comedy routine.
Over the years, I talked to my kids about Courtney. They knew she was special to me, and that I was sad that she was in jail. But they were fascinated by her—both the fact that I thought she was an amazing person and, at the same time, the fact that she was in jail. This duality is not always easy for kids to absorb, but in time, they got it. They wanted to ask her some questions in the next letter I wrote to her. So, I added a section of questions from my kids. They asked her what she did for fun, whether she got to play any sports, and if she did, whether she won. She had never met my children, but she wrote back answering all their questions.
When Brittany and I sat with her that day, she told us how my kids’ questions had made her smile. She had a five-year-old boy of her own, and he was her motivation to do right and get out as soon as possible and join him again. We would have visited with her longer, but the corrections officers were watching us laugh and probably listening to the conversation we were having from the other side of what was meant to be soundproof glass.
We got into the car as Courtney walked across the prison parking lot to pull out the new bicycle that she was so proud to show us. Once a day, she was allowed to ride her bike off the property and go to work. The bicycle represented the only freedom she’d had in the past three years. We smiled and waved at her as we drove away. The second my car left the property, my phone rang. In the caller ID field a familiar set of numbers appeared: 0000000000.
It was almost funny, because it played right into this conspiracy theory that Brittany had developed. While I was sure that it was impossible, she was right about the repeatedly uncanny timing of Epstein’s calls. There were so many times when we would be talking, debating, and bouncing ideas off of each other around the office about my case and she would say, “Hey Jeff, call Brad really quick so that y’all can chat about this.” Within minutes, sometimes even seconds of that, he would call. 0000000000.
It had been odd before, but this time it was eerie. This was the first time we had ever gone to see Courtney, and yet, after not having heard from Epstein for a long time, within seconds of the visit we got a call from him.
The substance of the call was not unusual. He was still looking for a fair way to get a “divorce” from me. But, of course, he still had a distorted version of fairness. As usual, we couldn’t resolve any of the issues between us, but this particular call ended with him changing the topic to his relationship with Bill Clinton. He commonly name-dropped during our talks, but usually there wasn’t much of a point. After each anecdote about him hanging out with someone famous, he would answer a couple questions I had to complete the conversation. It was rarely about anyone who mattered to any case.
However, since he chose Clinton to boast about during this call, that led me to ask him why he would drop the name of someone he had been hanging out with during the same time period as Virginia. He acted like he had no idea what I was talking about. The conversation ended with the two of us making a bet and agreeing that whoever won it would sign a crisp dollar bill and send it to the other. I bet him that I could prove that he was with former president Clinton in Africa while Virginia was in Thailand, at his direction. He bet I didn’t have the evidence to prove that, although he didn’t deny it. Later that day, I proved it, with evidence.
He immediately called back. I said, “I want you to write ‘Dear Brad, you won.’ And sign your name.” He instead changed the facts and pretended not to have understood the bet. Classic Jeff. Regardless, I said I’d be waiting for my dollar bill, knowing even then I’d never see it.
As the summer of 2018 was coming to an end, I was juggling too many things while trying to get my own case ready for trial. I was still trying to play sports and coach my son’s football team. While hitting tennis balls one night I suffered another severely herniated disk in the same part of my spine that had been operated on previously. I needed urgent surgery.
The timing is never good for these things, but this time it was especially bad. I was four months from the Epstein trial. Regardless, I had no choice but to take a break, rehab my spine, and recover. Quickly, I hoped.
Following the very first hearing after the surgery, Jeffrey called to ask me about my back. I had not told him about the injury, and in fact had tried to keep it a secret from everybody. This was his way of reminding me that he knew everything. In fact, the day after my follow-up appointment in New York, where I had traveled to undergo surgery with one of the best spinal surgeons in the country, I got a call from Epstein. He told me that he had heard I’d just returned from New York, a fact that I had obviously not told him. He then said, “I wish I had known; I would have had you arrested.”
I thought I hadn’t heard him right, so I said, “You would have had me arrested?” and he said, “Don’t worry, I would have made them let you out after a few hours.” He was laughing, and maybe it sounded funny, but the comment said a lot.
That wasn’t the only time we talked about my surgery. Just before our case was set to go to trial, he called to tell me he was having back pain. Naturally, identifying me as the expert on back surgery, he wanted to know whether I liked my surgeon in New York. He went on to explain that he experienced pain after sitting for too long or after flying on an airplane. He said it was constantly nagging him, and he just couldn’t figure out how to get rid of it.
Finally, after listening to him complain for a while, I said, “I know exactly what you need.” He thought I was being serious because I was listening pretty intently to what he was saying, but I paused for a second and said, “A massage.”
He reciprocated my long pause before saying, “F*** you.”
We both laughed. But not for long.
FIFTY-ONE THE STORM
BEFORE THE TRIAL STARTED IN my personal case against Epstein, we were ordered to attend another mediation.
On October 9, 2018, we all arrived to mediate with retired judge Howard Tescher. In one room were Jack Scarola, his associate David Vitale, Brittany, and me. In the other room were Jeffrey Epstein, Jack Goldberger, Darren Indyke, and Scott Link. I was annoyed. I knew Epstein was, too. The classic process simply could not work in this case. It never had. It would have been far more productive if Jeff and I had just walked into the hall and talked. After staying for about two hours—long enough to be polite—I left. I learned later that Jeff was not upset that I had left, only that he had not left first.
After years of fighting, we knew each other well. We were mortal
enemies, yet at the same time, there was a mutual respect, perhaps even a measure of trust, that couldn’t be understood by the lawyers or mediators whose job inevitably created the barrier between us. Jeff and I were, in our own eyes, very different people. My actions were often based on emotion, many times without regard to whether a decision was good or bad from a business perspective. Epstein was a numbers person who only cared about the financial bottom line, his ability to control outcomes, and whether a proposed solution made mathematical or scientific sense.
But after all this time with Epstein trying to solve this case in his customary fashion—with money—he knew that was not going to get it done. Not with me, and not now. In my steadfast opinion, there needed to be a public trial where a jury exonerated me for the false attack he’d made in 2009.
The jury could only award money; this was a civil lawsuit. Jeffrey reminded me of that many times. “Yes,” I said, “but there is a message of vindication that comes with that monetary award that is not evident to the world with a settlement.” He said he understood. And he did. Because while we were very different personalities in most ways, we had some similarities. We were both competitive to the core, principled to a point where abiding by our respective principles often risked personal harm, and stubborn. Once we had considered all angles and were satisfied that there was only one resolution in line with the principle for which we stood, we were both likely to be unmovable.
I had promised myself long ago that I would fight this case until the end. That was the only way I could make sure he would be held accountable.
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