Leland Nally, writing for Mother Jones, has just published an article about his efforts in calling everyone in Jeffrey Epstein’s “Little Black Book” – an effort that ended with nearly 2000 phone calls.
Given what has happened to Jeffrey Epstein and the inability for all the alleged victims to face him in a court of law, we are reproducing Leland’s entire article here under the Fair Use doctrine. It is already being republished across the Internet, helping to ensure that this information does not disappear.
But as long as it is still up at Mother Jones, please go read it there, and support this incredible piece of journalism from Leland Nally. Such journalistic masterpieces as this are truly rare these days….
He writes:
Totaling 97 pages and containing the names, numbers, and addresses of a considerable cross section of the global elite, Epstein’s personal contact book first turned up in a courtroom in 2009 after his former butler, Alfredo Rodriguez, tried to sell it to lawyers representing Epstein’s victims for $50,000.
Rodriguez described the book, apparently assembled by Epstein’s employees, as the “Holy Grail.”
It is annotated with cryptic marginalia—stars next to certain entries, arrows pointing toward others–and the names of at least 38 people are circled for reasons that aren’t totally clear.
There are 1,571 names in all, with roughly 5,000 phone numbers and thousands of emails and home addresses.
There are celebrities, princes and princesses, high-profile scientists, artists from all over the world, all alongside some of the world’s most powerful oligarchs and political leaders—people like Prince Andrew (circled), Ehud Barak (circled), Donald Trump (circled).
In 2011, Rodriguez was sentenced to 18 months in prison for having tried to sell the book to an undercover agent after failing to notify investigators about its existence.
Rodriguez said in court that the book was “insurance” against Epstein, who wanted him to “disappear.”
Rodriguez died of mesothelioma shortly after serving his sentence.
The public first became aware of the book in 2015, when the now-defunct website Gawker published a version of Rodriguez’s copy, revealing for the first time just how ludicrously connected Epstein was to the people who run the world.
Gawker’s file showed only names; attached phone numbers and emails were blacked out.
Shortly before Epstein’s mysterious death in August 2019 in his cell at the Manhattan Correctional Facility, an unredacted version of the book popped up on some dark corners of the internet, with almost every phone number, email, and home address entirely visible, and I got my hands on a copy.
Epstein collected people, and if you ever had any interaction with him or Ghislaine Maxwell, his onetime girlfriend and alleged accomplice, you more than likely ended up in this book, and then several years later you received a call from me.
I made close to 2,000 phone calls total. I spoke to billionaires, CEOs, bankers, models, celebrities, scientists, a Kennedy, and some of Epstein’s closest friends and confidants.
I sat on my couch and phoned up royalty, spoke to ambassadors, irritated a senior adviser at Blackstone, and left squeaky voicemails for what must constitute a considerable percentage of the world oligarchy.
At times the book felt like a dark palantir, giving me glimpses of dreadful, haunted dimensions that my soft, gentle, animal being was never supposed to encounter.
I was interrupted [one day] by a call from a restricted number. The guy on the line said he was with the FBI.
He said there were “reports of fraudulent phone calls” being made on this line, which I immediately understood as bullshit—I wasn’t committing any phone crime or trying to trick someone into doing so.
“I don’t know about fraudulent, but I have a feeling I know what you’re talking about,” I said, undoubtedly sounding cool, relaxed, unbothered.
He hung up and never called again, as far as I know. Whether the guy was FBI or a private security goon posing as a fed, the call was an important development—it told me that the book I was dealing with and the numbers it contained were genuine.
Every cell phone, every yacht line, every private office number—they were all real, and every one of them was about to get a call from me.
