Epstein | Leaked Emails EXPOSED Part 2
EXPOSED Leaked Emails
Wexner alleged that Epstein had misappropriated vast sums from him. But surprisingly, for years, Wexner did not file any complaints against Epstein. Nor had he taken any legal action against him. Epstein had money, a mansion, and a private island. But something else made him untouchable. Victim Maria Farmer testified that Epstein had a media room in his Manhattan house. Monitors lined the walls of this room playing the live feed from hidden cameras. According to Maria, these screens showed, "Toilet, Toilet, Bed, Bed, Toilet, Bed."
"The men monitoring everything were, Toilet, Toilet, Bed, Bed, Toilet, Bed... I'm like, I'm never gonna use the restroom here." There were cameras in every bedroom, and in every bathroom. In 2005, when the police raided Epstein's Florida house, they had found hidden cameras there too. And in 2019, when the FBI raided this Manhattan mansion, they found Epstein's CDs too. These CDs were locked and kept in a hidden safe. And each of the CD was labelled. The labels on the CDs read,
Young (name) + (name) The first name was that of a minor. And the second was someone else's. This make some people claim that this was Epstein's real business. Recording powerful people doing illegal things. Making their videos secretly, and then using those CDs to blackmail them later. For years, many celebrities and influential people kept denying that he that ever gone to Epstein's island. "By the way, I never went to the island." They kept saying that they had nothing to do with Epstein.
"I have nothing to do with Jeffrey Epstein." But the files released on 30th January 2026, reveals the truth of many of these people. The new documents reveal that Sergey Brin, the co-founder of Google, one of the richest people in the world, had gone to Epstein's island. A victim also testified that on 1st January 2007, she had seen Brin and his fiancée on the island. Epstein's former boat captain also confirmed that he had seen Brin on the island more than once. Back in June 2025,
Elon Musk and Donald Trump were publicly bickering, Musk had tweeted "Time to drop the really big bomb: Trump is in the Epstein files. (That's why)...they have not been made public." But in January 2026, when the new files were released, look at the irony. Elon Musk was also named in the Epstein files. Between 2012 and 2013, at least 16 emails were exchanged between Elon and Epstein. In November 2012, Elon asked Epstein if he could visit Epstein's island. Elon wrote, "What day/night will be the wildest party on your island?"
After this, in December 2012, Elon wrote, "Do you have any parties planned? I've been working to the edge of insanity... I really want to hit the party scene...and let loose." In 2014, there was an entry in Epstein's calendar which said, "Reminder: Elon Musk to island Dec. 6 (is this still happening?)" Friends, if you have noticed, Epstein's life-story is based on only two things. information and access. Those who had the right information, the right connections,
became powerful. And those who didn't have it, were left out of the system. Today, in 2026, the game has changed.
The most dramatic downfall in the Epstein case is the story of Prince Andrew of the British Royal Family. A victim, Virginia Giuffre, said that she was raped thrice by Prince Andrew when she was only 17. A photo went viral, in which Andrew can be seen with his hand on 17-year-old Virginia's back. "How many times were you trafficked to him?" "Three times." "How old were you?" "I believe I was 17." And in the latest release, there are pictures of Prince Andrew with another victim.
About the Creator
Imran Ali Shah
🌍 Vical Midea | Imran
🎥 Turning ideas into viral content
✨ Watch • Share • Enjoy
Keep reading
More stories from Imran Ali Shah and writers in Criminal and other communities.
Epstein | Leaked Emails EXPOSED Part 1
Hello, friends. A seven-storey house in New York City. The entrance of this house, is decorated with dozens of fake eyes. A sculpture hangs in the middle of the hall. A sculpture of a bride, hanging on a rope. And there's a taxidermied tiger sitting in the office. At the corner of the office, there's a shelf. And on this shelf is the first edition of Lolita. An infamous novel, in which an adult man abuses a minor girl. This isn't from a movie set. The most powerful people of the world used to visit this house.
By Imran Ali Shahabout 9 hours ago in Criminal
Every Night at 2:17 AM, Someone Knocks”
Every night at exactly 2:17 AM, someone knocks on my door. Not bangs. Not frantic pounding. Just three slow, deliberate knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. The first night it happened, I assumed it was a mistake. Someone drunk. Someone lost. Someone who would eventually realize they had the wrong apartment and go away. I didn’t check the door. The second night, I checked the clock first. 2:17 AM. The knocks came seconds later, as if whoever was outside had been waiting for me to notice the time. I froze in bed, listening. My apartment was silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator and my own breathing. After the third knock, there was nothing. No footsteps walking away. No elevator ding. Just silence thick enough to press against my ears. By the third night, fear had settled in. I live alone on the fourth floor of an old building where sound carries strangely. Pipes groan like tired animals. The walls whisper when the wind is right. But this—this was different. This was intentional. Again, I checked the time. 2:17 AM. Again, three knocks. I forced myself out of bed and crept toward the door. I didn’t turn on the lights. I don’t know why—some instinct told me I shouldn’t let whoever was out there know I was awake. I peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty. No shadows. No movement. Just the flickering overhead light and the dull beige carpet stretching toward the stairwell. I laughed quietly, trying to convince myself I was imagining things. Sleep deprivation does strange things to the mind. Then I heard it. A soft sound. Breathing. Not mine. It was right outside the door. I stumbled back, heart hammering, every nerve screaming at me to lock myself in the bedroom. The breathing stopped the moment I moved, as if it knew I had heard it. That night, I didn’t sleep again. On the fourth night, I decided I wouldn’t let fear control me. I stayed awake. Sat on the couch with all the lights on. Coffee in one hand, phone in the other, door in my line of sight. Midnight passed. Then one. Then two. At 2:16 AM, my phone buzzed. I hadn’t set an alarm. The screen lit up with a notification from an app I don’t remember downloading. “It’s almost time.” Before I could delete it, the knocks came. Knock. Knock. Knock. My entire body went cold. I didn’t approach the door this time. I shouted instead. “Who is it?” No answer. “Go away,” I said, my voice shaking. “I’m calling the police.” Silence. Then, slowly, something pressed against the door from the other side. Not a hand. Not a fist. A forehead. I could see the faint indentation through the wood, the way the door bowed inward just slightly, as if whatever was out there was leaning its full weight against it. And then it spoke. Not loudly. Not clearly. Just enough. “You’re late.” The pressure vanished. Footsteps echoed down the hall—finally, real footsteps—and then nothing. The police found nothing. No fingerprints. No camera footage. No neighbors awake at that hour. They suggested stress. Anxiety. Hallucinations. I almost believed them. Almost. The knocks continued every night. Always at 2:17 AM. Sometimes there was breathing. Sometimes there was whispering. Once, I swear I heard my name spoken in my own voice. I stopped sleeping entirely. By the seventh night, I noticed something worse. My reflection had changed. Dark circles under my eyes deepened, but that wasn’t it. When I brushed my teeth that morning, my reflection blinked a fraction of a second after I did. I laughed it off. That night, the knocks came early. 2:16 AM. Knock. Knock. Knock. I didn’t check the door. Instead, I checked my phone. Another notification. “You were supposed to open it.” I don’t remember unlocking the door. I remember standing in front of it. I remember my hand on the handle, shaking. I remember thinking that whatever was out there had already been inside my apartment long before the knocking started. The door opened. The hallway was empty. But my apartment was not. I saw myself standing in the living room, barefoot, eyes hollow, smiling in a way I never had before. It spoke first. “Thank you,” it said. “I was getting tired of waiting outside.” The clock on the wall clicked over. 2:17 AM. I wake up every night now at that exact time. Not because someone knocks. But because I hear it knocking from inside the apartment—from behind my bedroom door. And every night, I knock back three times. Knock. Knock. Knock. Waiting for someone else to open it.
By Faizan Malik7 days ago in Criminal
📢 Raise Your Voice Thread: 02/05/2026
Our “Raise Your Voice Threads” are hosted most alternating Thursdays at 12PM ET to offer creators more avenues to uncover exceptional stories on Vocal. As we are continuously searching for fresh creators and inspiring stories, this thread provides an opportunity to exchange and discuss the stories that have moved and motivated us on Vocal.
By Raise Your Voice by Vocal6 days ago in Resources
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.