Epstein Didn’t Commit Suicide

“We all have a purpose. Look to your life to find out your purpose,” he’d said. Hmm. I’m a lawyer in administration, I thought to myself. Then I woke up.

I’d had a recurring dream. I had gone to some place that seemed familiar, a place where everything seemed middle-of-the-road: where they served chicken breasts poached, where Lewis Capaldi played on the radio 24-7, and where the water pressure in the shower was meh. That is to say, nothing seemed terrible, but nothing was really great, either. It was only when I spied angel wings on the man who was interviewing me that I began to suspect that I was in the middle place.

I really thought that I should be in Heaven. I catalogued some of my better qualities:

“I bought a pair of TOMS shoes, which means that I donated a pair.”

The angel in my dream had rolled his eyes. “That was a status purchase.”

“I gave my mom that expensive perfume last Christmas.”

“Yeah, so that you could get the free tote. Your mother doesn’t even like perfume.”

“Well, what about what I do for the family?”

“You mean sampling the cookie dough ‘to ensure that it’s edible?’ That doesn’t count.” He frowned. He paused and appeared thoughtful. You really need to think about your life. “What is your true purpose? How are you using your gifts to accomplish good in the world?”

“What kind of a question is that?” I asked. “I manage an office. I hold meetings. I occasionally direct people to other people who are helpful. Isn’t that enough?”

The angel looked annoyed. “What would you want people to say about you if they found you in a car crash?”

“How about, ‘look, she’s still breathing?’”

* * *

So, apparently, I had to do something for the good of mankind, something that would make the world a better place. And I was supposed to use my gifts, as evidenced by the talents that had helped me to prosper during my earthly existence. Easy-peasy.

* * *

I couldn’t recall how I’d found myself on the plane. I was sitting in first class. When I asked the flight attendant when we’d touch down, she told me that we’d touch down at Palm Beach International airport at approximately 6:05 p.m. Palm Beach, I thought. That sounded like a great place to use my gifts to redeem myself and finally accomplish my life’s purpose.

I was working on the crossword puzzle when I smelled cologne. This wasn’t Old Spice, this was cologne. The kind that you just catch a tiny sniff of when a classy person passes by, but then you have to breathe in again, deeply, because you want to take it all in. He was tall and handsome, with salt and pepper hair. I could tell by the narrow tailoring of his clothes and the way he knew the flight attendant that he flew this way often.

Have you ever had that feeling that you’ve seen someone before?

I suddenly had that feeling. His face looked so familiar to me. My German teacher from college? No, too wealthy. Was he a celebrity? Nah, seemed kind of shy and understated, actually.

Hmm. So familiar. I had seen that broad smile, the strong chin and the heavy eyebrows before. He caught me staring. His dark eyes slowly lifted from his Investor’s Weekly. He held out his hand with the gusto of someone who is about to have his hand cut off.

I held grasped it with my own. “I’m Amy.”

“Jeffrey.”

Something about that soft, cold hand touching mine sent a long shiver up my spine. I went back to my crossword.

He ordered a drink and flipped through the in-flight catalogue. I put on my sleeping mask and peered out at him from under the edge. I saw him flag down the flight attendant and point out an item in the catalogue.

Something about Jeffrey seemed so familiar. There was a tiny gold ankle bracelet that he was pointing to in the catalogue. It wouldn’t have fit around the ankle of an adult. It was a child’s anklet. I heard him mention to the attendant that she should charge it to his account. He was purchasing it, apparently. Must have a relative, I thought. I looked at his fingers. They were smooth and buffed, like a doctor’s. He continued to leaf through the magazine. He was flipping to the personal care items.

I’d never met anyone who actually purchased anything from the in-flight catalogue. I wondered why he’d purchase in-air, especially when we were on a domestic flight. I wondered where he lived. Then it came to me. His face on a black background in a glossy magazine. Yes, yes. I recalled it now!

In fact, my friend had interviewed him for the magazine she wrote for. She had called me crying after she submitted the story. She told me that there were victims, “survivors,” she called them. She told me that parts of the article had been edited out, and she had wept for the survivors, because the article made it sound like he was just a jet-setting executive, when actually. . .

My heart skipped a beat. Now I knew who this man was. I bristled. This man was a danger! He was flying to Palm Beach, probably where he lived in the big mansion featured in this glossy magazine. He’d just purchased a child’s ankle bracelet. Who knew what would occur when the plane landed? I had to do something to stop this! This must be my mission. I was to make the world a better place. My veins turned to ice.

I had to off him. Ok, then, how would I do this? I was on a plane. That would make it a federal crime, wouldn’t it? No. No. Wait. I was supposed to do only good. Offing somebody would probably negate the good. And also, killing someone sounded messy and would probably be complicated.

No, no, that couldn’t be what I was supposed to do.

I thought some more. I knew the future. I knew the basis upon which Jeffrey would be prosecuted, and it wasn’t good. In fact, it was very, very bad. I had to stop him before he ruined other lives. But how?

I could out him. I would tell everyone about the terrible things he had done, no would do, or, intended to do? . . . No, wait. That wouldn’t work. I had no evidence really. What would I say, that an angel from the future had told me to get rid of Jeffrey so that the world would be a better place? That I had a strong gut feeling that he was going to do something very, very bad, but I couldn’t say to whom, how, or when? If only I could just get rid of him some how, just jettison him. . .

Hmm, I thought, for a moment, distracted. Maybe there are others I should also jettison in order to make the world better. . . I could think of a few candidates. No, no. That’s not really me, and besides, I was getting distracted. What was I supposed to do? Use my gifts?

Yes, I was fairly certain that I was supposed to use my gifts, learned during my lifetime, to make the world a better place. “Think!” I told myself. In my former life, I was a lawyer and an administrator. I looked down at my clothes. I thought that I usually wore better clothes than this. I was wearing a brown uniform with a name plate over my right shoulder. Weird. I apparently worked for the Florida DMV now.

Jeffrey caught me staring at myself perplexedly.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Um, ahh. . . ” I stammered. And then, a flash of insight!

“Actually, yes. I do think something is terribly wrong.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you have your RealID?”

“No. I use my passport.”

“What?You mean you don’t have RealID?”

“No, but it’s never been a problem.” He smiled.

I put on my best authoritative voice, a gift from my past life. “Oh, no. Jeffrey, it is most certainly a problem. You should have gotten your RealID before you got on this flight.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“It is not fine.” I had put on my voice of authority again. “I am putting you under a citizen’s arrest.” I stood up. I raised my right hand and placed it on Jeffrey’s shoulder. “You are under citizen’s arrest.” I bellowed.

The other passengers continued to listen to their earbuds. I was uncowed. This was plenty familiar to me from having used my gifts in the past. At least Jeffrey seemed to be somewhat concerned. Or was it embarrassed?

Jeffrey shifted in his seat. “Ok. Fine. Sit down, please. I’ll take care of it.”

“This is important,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I’ll make sure I get it next chance I have.”

“Oh, no! You have to get it now. You and your little friends might have difficulty with international travel if you don’t.”

He looked at me strangely.

“Wouldn’t want anything to come tween you and your social escapades, if you know what I mean.”

He cocked his head at me. “You just want me to get a RealID, right?” he asked.

“I want you to start now and don’t do anything else until you complete the process.”

He stared at me.

“Okay,” he said. “Fine.”

“Thank you for being part of our ongoing effort to improve the integrity and security of state-issued Driver’s Licenses.” I beamed.

“What do I have to do?”

Dear Reader, you are not going to make me tout my own special gifts by detailing them here, are you? Lawyers and administrators are criticized for not getting things done, for creating mountains of unnecessary paperwork, for spending and causing others to spend time and money needlessly. Oh, those myopic critics! I simply harnessed my talents as a lawyer and as an administrator to direct Mr. Epstein on what to do. I didn’t actually do anything. My talent lies in facilitating.

Suffice it to say that Mr. Epstein had a phone call to make first. Option number 16 is for those who are interested in hearing about RealID. Option 27 is for those who would like to pre-register. I could direct him to both telephone numbers. He might be placed on a brief hold. What if he became frustrated? He could always try the website. I’d be happy to direct him there. But really, he’d ultimately have to appear in person. It would be necessary to complete a little bit of paperwork. He may have to wait in a line--just briefly. Well, unless the DMV was understaffed. Or our people were on break. No worries. I was pretty sure that there would be at least one teller working. Of course, she’s the new one. . .

And that is how I saved the world from Jeffrey Epstein.

Those memes that say “Epstein didn’t commit suicide?” They are one hundred percent correct. Epstein didn’t commit suicide. He’s still at the DMV, suffering a fate that some would characterize as worse than death. I, however, like to refer to it as “saving the world,“or, alternatively, “using my talents.”

You want to know about my fate? Well, I’m back in a familiar place, and let me just say that only today I facilitated another meeting. No need to thank me. It’s all in a day’s work.