Monetizing Jeffrey Epstein
By: William, Dollar Bill
Tags: Life Lessons, Culture, Prison, Inspiration, Business

Monetizing Jeffrey Epstein

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels

Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined that after getting convicted of tax fraud and sentenced to serve a year and a day at MCC federal prison in New York City, that I would spend numerous hours alone with JEFFREY EPSTEIN on suicide-watch. But “Lifestyles of the Rich and Infamous” it was for this inmate. Totally bizarre!

I was not the kind of prisoner who was content to sit around all day and hang with the other criminals. In fact, that was the last way I wanted to live my life behind bars. I figured I’d work every hour and every job I could convince the prison officials to give me, the idea being that my time would pass faster at work than lying idle.

And so…I signed up for suicide-watch duty on my second day, which as it turned out, was the only job prisoners were allowed to work before getting medical clearance (which took a few weeks).

My bunky recommended I put my name on the posted sheet. And within a week or two, I’d been oriented for the job (four hours of training) and was on my way to the big time (financially speaking) what with the occasional 4-hour shift at 40 cents per hour I’d be assigned.

There were a lot of inmates who volunteered for the program because (and according to the prison officials), working suicide for 100 hours would get the inmate a certificate which would be worth its weight in gold on the outside when he was released and sought employment in the real world. Plus, that same certificate would cause a sentencing judge to look favorably on MCC inmates who were awaiting that sentencing.

Personally, I wasn’t buyin’ that bullshit. I figured it was simply a way for the Bureau of Prisons to hustle inmates into working a shitty job at slave wages. But I didn’t care about all that. I just wanted out of the unit as much as possible. I found the unit to be a toxic place.

Two things happened simultaneously to give me all the suicide shifts I wanted. First, I took a job in the kitchen — which gave me access to superior food I could bring to the unit after work.

And second, I befriended the prisoner who did the scheduling for the suicide shifts. It wasn’t long before Miles approached me with an offer I couldn’t refuse. If I brought him free food from the kitchen, he’d give me any suicide shift I wanted. The deal was struck. And most days you’d find me downstairs in the kitchen from 1 PM — 7 PM, and on suicide watch from 7 PM — 11 PM. As you can see, I was fully employed.

On August 6th, 2019, when Miles was sent home having served his time, he gave me the scheduling job. Thus, while Jeffrey Epstein was at MCC federal prison — and down in the suicide unit — I was the guy who watched him most nights from 7 PM — 11 PM.

Epstein’s arrival at MCC wasn’t as huge an event as you’d think. I’d already been cellied up with PAUL MANAFORT the week before, and had suicide-watched a couple of inmates whose stories had made it to the media. (One was a terrorist and the other a murderer who chopped off his lawyer’s head.) And EL CHAPO was housed in 10 South. MCC, by nature of its location, was the place to be if an inmate wanted to hobnob with the elite.

What I didn’t understand at the time was that I’d become a primary source for the media on all things Jeffrey once I got out. If I had, I would have asked him many more questions about influential people in his social sphere. As it was, I got some juicy tidbits from Epstein. But it wasn’t my intention to delve deeply into his history and psyche. It was simply my job to keep him upbeat and alive.

In fact, he didn’t kill himself while down on suicide watch. It happened once he was back in the SHU (special housing unit for super bad boys and guys who couldn’t handle general population — which was Jeffrey).

Anyway…because Epstein was of the same age, same religion, and of similar background and educational level as me, we got along instantly. In truth, for a hot minute there, we became part of each other’s routine. I knew that at 7 PM, I’d be descending to suicide to watch Jeffrey. And he looked forward to my arrival even asking once or twice “Mersey! You’re coming back down tomorrow night, right?” with some urgency.

I won’t repeat myself about all the conversations we had. You can go here for that information. Suffice it to say that our interaction was signficant.

Fast forward to November after Epstein had killed himself in August of the same year. Upon my release from prison, I contacted (among other people), an old friend from the music business who knew a lot of influential people in several realms.

When I told him about my relationship with Jeffrey, he fairly exploded “You have to go to the Enquirer with this. Your story is worth six figures. This is going to change your life!” said he.

Well, Fred is an old promotion man, and I was not especially inclined to believe his hype. But the next day, when I received a call from not just the Enquirer…but the daily Mail as well, I began to believe him. Fred had contacted editors who he knew at each media outlet on my behalf, and they were both interested in my story.

Not even one week out of prison and I was having fancy lunches with reporters and/or editors looking to get an exclusive on my story! Not bad for an old jailbird! The Fed could enslave me at 40 cents per hour to watch suicidal inmates all right. But I was about to laugh all the way to the bank owing to my special relationship with one of their suicidal inmates!

After a somewhat protracted negotiation (which only took a few days — but several phone calls and lunches), I gave the Daily Mail a one-week exclusive on my story in exchange for a check which effectively paid all my apartment rent for 2019! Not too bad!

And that wasn’t the end of it. Once I’d been featured in the Daily Mail’s media empire, Discovery ID, the BBC, and Fox Nation emailed me. And because I knew an editor at the Daily Beast, I scored several freelance writing gigs with them and the NY Daily News. And of course, I negotiated paydays for each and every appearance and freelance writing gig.

For a while there, I basked in my 15 minutes of fame — and got some fortune in the deal to boot. And all because the federal government thought it appropriate to take twice as much as I owed in taxes, and send me to prison for a year. If there is a God, he was hooking me up big time!

It is now a year later. After 6 months, my “15 minutes” has ended. That fame and fortune is becoming a distant memory. But it was cool while it lasted.

While I owned my crime and did my time like a man, I always felt that the federal government had taken a pound of flesh when my crimes warranted but a few ounces. And all this fame was karma working itself out.

I’d placed all the unpaid tax money in a municipal bond fund which lent that cash to municipalities in need of infrastructure improvements. When the Feds found me, I had their money. And they not only took what I owed them — but a whole lot more in interest and penalties. Did they really need to lock me up as well? Apparently, yes. But there was a silver lining: a little fame and fotune for a hard-working inmate. Go figure.