The Damnation of Jeffrey Epstein’s Friends

The world is shocked, shocked…

Photo credit: Patrick McMullan via Getty Images

Around the world, people in the “Epstein files” have been unable to explain what they were doing in Epstein’s company without appearing ever more guilty. Their apparent only recourse is to intensely regret being there, to publicly confess to the monumental misjudgment that placed them there, and to wish harder than they have ever wished for anything that they might never have been in Epstein’s airspace or correspondence.

These are all North Korea-style confessions.

The real explanation for so many is that they were at Jeffrey Epstein’s home and in frequent communication with him because he was their friend. What made him their friend? Should he have been their friend? Were these friendships of the soul or of mutual interest? Certainly, fair questions for the friends of a sex offender, if not of all friendships. But friends they were, at Epstein’s house because they liked him, enjoyed his company, were pleased to meet his other friends, and all in all felt at the time, even though it turned out to be a grievous misjudgment, that they were better off for being his friend.

I suppose it is a special kind of cowardice when you won’t stand up and acknowledge a friend.