In 2006, I came face to face with a monster. Not the hideous, scary looking sort but the deceptive sort.
The sort of monster who fulfills his sick desires in the dark but transforms into a semblance of a human during the day.
A monster who can smile, say the right things, and draw you in with his money and fake charm.
A monster whose despicable acts had not yet been fully revealed.
So why was I now sitting across from this monster in a six by ten room?
It was my job.
For over a year, I spent most of my working days interviewing inmates at the Main Detention Center in West Palm Beach, Florida.
My visits were prompted by a court order that required me to conduct substance abuse evaluations to determine if the person met the criteria for inpatient or outpatient substance abuse treatment OR if no substance abuse treatment was warranted.
The total bed capacity of this correctional facility is 2,166. This number includes infirmary and special management bedding. The South Tower can house 1,285 inmates, the East Tower 418, and the West Tower 404. The inmate population is primarily comprised of pre-trial, un-sentenced adult males. Also housed in the Main Detention Center are adult females and juveniles.
The largest of the three Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office correctional facilities, the Main Detention Center has the greatest security capabilities and is used to house high-risk inmates, federal inmates, inmates who are in need of special medical and/or mental health care and also those inmates who cannot function at any other facility. The average inmate population for the Main Detention Center is 1769 inmates. Source
The attorneys and judges that requested these evaluations usually did so because the person arrested had a history of drug-related arrests, was under the influence at the time of arrest, or a family member reported drug and/or alcohol use.
I interviewed inmates whose crimes were covered on the local news, inmates who were repeat offenders, inmates who were deemed suicidal, inmates who were homeless, inmates who lived in mansions, inmates who were sex offenders, inmates who committed vehicular homicide while under the influence, inmates who spent the majority of their lives in prison, and more colorful characters.
And then came the day in 2006 when my supervisor and I made our way to the Palm Beach County Stockade to evaluate Jeffrey Epstein.
Yes. That Jeffrey Epstein.
A monster.
The charge? Solicitation of prostitution.
I wish I could say that this was the first time I heard Jeffrey Epstein’s name.
I wish I could say that I had never heard the whispers of Mr. Epstein’s sexual proclivities before.
But that would be a lie.
Side note: I lived in Palm Beach County, Florida for 35+ years.
Whispers of improper behavior with underage girls had swirled around him for most of the 1980s and beyond but no concrete proof ever materialized.
That is until the 2006 arrest.
And the 2006 case would drag on until 2008 when in my humble opinion, Mr. Epstein received preferential treatment.
Police had asked (Palm Beach County State Attorney Barry) Krischer to charge Epstein with four counts of unlawful sexual activity with a minor and one count of lewd and lascivious molestation. The charges, punishable by maximum 30- and 15-year sentences, respectively, could have sent Epstein to prison for decades.
Instead, the grand jury indicted Epstein on a single charge of solicitation of prostitution.
By then, an outraged Palm Beach Police Chief Michael Reiter had taken the case to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. After months of negotiation with Epstein’s defense team and Krischer, South Florida U.S. Attorney Alex Acosta crafted a secret nonprosecution agreement.
If Epstein would plead guilty to two state prostitution charges, Acosta agreed to shelve a 60-page federal indictment that had been prepared against him. As part of that agreement, Krischer added a charge of soliciting a minor for prostitution. Federal prosecutors insisted on it because it would force Epstein to register as a sex offender.
Epstein ultimately pleaded guilty to the two charges. He served 12 months of an 18-month sentence in the Palm Beach County Stockade, a cellblock he was allowed to leave for 12 hours a day, six days a week. Source
For reference, HuffPost has written a helpful timeline of Jeffrey Epstein’s criminal allegations and convictions.
Back to my visit: It was rare that two people evaluated one inmate but since this was a high-profile case, the higher-ups wanted two people to conduct the evaluation.
So off we went.
The monster was currently being kept in the Palm Beach County Stockade.
The Stockade was a low-security detention facility that was comprised of buildings separated into pods.
The building that Mr. Epstein was being housed in was designated for individuals of special interest.
When we walked in, the TV was blaring, inmates were laughing and playing cards, and snacks were spread across the tables.
I was immediately struck by how much fun the inmates seemed to be having.
In a locked facility.
With guards partaking in the festivities.
Am I in Oz?
Anyway, as my supervisor and I prepared our paperwork in the attorney’s room, we waited for the guard to escort Mr. Epstein to the room.
When he walked in, he scanned the room like a fox looking for prey.
Mr. Epstein sported the orange inmate shirt but he remained in blue jeans which screamed privilege.
My supervisor introduced us and explained that we were there to conduct a court-ordered substance abuse evaluation.
It was decided that my supervisor would conduct the first half of the evaluation and I would conduct the second half.
Since client/assessor or client/therapist confidentiality does not end when a client dies, I cannot tell you the content of the evaluation but I can describe my observations and experience.
And they’re doozies.
While my male supervisor asked the questions, Mr. Epstein directed his answers toward me.
He avoided eye contact with the person asking the questions and instead, locked eyes with me.
Whether he was trying to intimidate me. size me up, or elicit sympathy, he had no difficulty looking directly at me.
My response?
It was visceral. My stomach churned and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
The only other time I’ve had a visceral experience like this was when I interviewed an inmate convicted of kidnapping and rape.
It sounds cliche but I literally felt like I was in the presence of evil.
Halfway through the interview, a guard walked in with a can of Sprite and handed it to Mr. Epstein.
Read that again.
This was a detention facility and the guard was bringing him a cold soft drink that was considered a luxury for the majority of the inmate population.
It was bizarre.
As I started my portion of the evaluation, Mr. Epstein softened his voice and averted his eyes for the majority of the interview.
He shifted in his seat, fiddled with his hands, and played with the tab on the can of Sprite.
He almost seemed child-like but it was an act. He was manipulative with fake charm.
His answers during the evaluation were rehearsed and not truthful. He was telling us what he thought we wanted to hear.
Mr. Epstein was well-versed in the art of manipulation. If only I could tell him that I saw straight through his act.
Since I was there to conduct a substance abuse evaluation and not a psychological evaluation, I resisted my urge to write down “a malignant narcissist.”
Or monster.
Years later, he would also be called a sexual deviant with an unquenched thirst for underage girls.
As my supervisor and I exited the attorney room and walked toward the pod’s exit, I heard, “Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Epstein?”
Yes, there really is a two-tiered justice system.