The fog of war was once meant to describe battlefield conditions in which limited, contradictory, and inaccurate information compromised a commander’s decision-making. But then the fog was extended; reality itself was in a constant state of confusion and uncertainty, clouded by competing political agendas, a flattening and conflating of sources, the miasma of social media... Hence, now, the fog of Epstein—a story that has been shaped to fit almost everybody’s view, right-wing or left, and to confirm the depravity of virtually anybody you don’t like. An anomaly of this story is that anyone who had an up-close view of Epstein’s life has every reason not to want to share it. To relate their experience of it, other than as a forced confession, would implicate them. Everyone, therefore, becomes part of the cover-up, part of the conspiracy. It is a story, therefore, left largely to be told by accusers and by people who don’t know it. Until now. What I am going to try to do is tell the story that I have been privy to. All battles for truth seem to end up creating even greater fog. My intention is not to engage with the battle, but to offer a personal version of the story—I will tell it only according to what I have seen.
Click through and subscribe to Michael Wolff’s HOWL, where this story begins with a first meeting with Epstein—a ride on what was not yet known as the Lolita Express.
