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March 9, 2025 - Lionel Nation
16:23
Gaslighting America: The Epstein Files Release Is a SHAM – We’ll NEVER Know the Truth!
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Dirty Man Safe, because protecting your family I got some news.
I got some information.
I got some advice for America and for most people.
Would you get it through your head?
You're not going to find anything else about or anything about the Epstein case.
The DOJ dropped their so-called first phase of...
Jeffrey Epstein documents in late February 2025.
Okay?
And what did we get?
Nothing!
A pathetic stack of flight logs and redacted evidence and lists of I don't know what.
And a whole lot of nothing.
Attorney General Pam Bondi's out there.
Some people say waving her arm.
I think she's trying the best.
I don't think she understands what's going on here.
I don't think anybody understands what's going on.
I don't think anybody understands.
Not out of some kind of nefarious conspiracy.
I just don't think people know what's going on.
She was accusing the FBI of sitting on thousands of pages while the ex-Peanut Gallery churns out wild theories about Mossad, the CIA, and every three-letter agency under the sun.
You don't know what you're talking about!
Bibi Netanyahu...
I call him Benny.
Bibi Netanyahu...
He chimed in, tossing Ehud Barak under the bus.
It's like it's some grand reveal.
But let's cut the crap.
This isn't a breakthrough.
It's a funeral dirge for the truth.
Whatever Epstein knew, whatever he did, whomever he served, it's long gone.
Shipped off to Tel Aviv, Langley, or some black site vault where it'll rot forever, Bondi and Kash Patel didn't drop the ball.
They're just playing their parts in a rigged game.
Bill Barr's ghost looms large, and Epstein, he's not sipping cocktails in hiding.
He's dead.
A loose end snipped by the...
Mossad CIA machine.
Ghislaine Maxwell?
She's a prop.
A distraction.
Probably bargaining for her life behind bars.
And those files?
They're not files.
They're scraps.
Meaningless scribbles.
Flight records.
Flight logs that tell us silch.
Look, the real story is over and we'll never know.
Let's start with the release.
Flight logs from Epstein's Lolita Express.
Oh, so...
Spooky, ooh, except they've been floating around for years, picked up and picked over by every armchair detective with a Wi-Fi connection.
Names like Trump, Prince Andrew, and a slew of rich nobodies?
Look, old news, evidence lists with massage tables and sex toys?
Come on!
Yawn, baby!
I don't know what the yawn thing is.
Look, I don't want to...
Ruined your day here.
But it's a rehash of the Ghislaine Maxwell trial.
A greatest hits album nobody asked for.
Pam Bondi's doing the best she can.
She looks sometimes like she's strutting around like she's cracked the case, but she's not.
Look, this is a PR stunt they handed her and everybody else.
It's not a revelation.
People are yelling about the CIA holding back thousands of documents and Kash Patel's nodding along promising no cover-ups!
No cover-ups!
They're saying this on X like they're some crusader.
Really?
The FBI is her damn subordinate.
She runs the DOJ, which runs them.
And if she wanted those files, if anybody wanted those files, if Trump wanted those files, if the world wanted those files, whatever these files are, we'd have had them.
If they existed.
Unless, of course, they don't want them.
Or unless they're not here.
Unless they're not there to get.
You see, there's the kicker.
Those thousands of pages that we keep changing, or chasing, I should say, they're a mirage.
The real stuff.
The tapes, the recordings, the blackmail goldmine that Epstein's allegedly hoarded.
It ain't sitting in some New York field office waiting for cash to dust it off.
It's gone.
Long gone.
Vanished.
Shipped.
Snipped.
Gone.
Transferred out the second Epstein self-harmed himself in 2019.
But they were also removed the moment that the event happened.
The moment of the event, the liaison, it was taken.
They're not sitting in a box!
In 2019, when the world said bye-bye to Jeff, that was it.
Now, if you buy this fairy tale, go ahead.
I don't.
You don't.
How do we say you don't?
Ah-ah!
Yourself with a bed sheet while guards nap and cameras glitch unless someone's pulling the strings.
Not only that, remember the guy he was in jail with?
How many times do I have to tell you?
Tartaglione, look at him.
I'm tired of saying this.
I sound like a fool.
I've been saying this forever.
Nobody's listening to me.
Mossad, CIA, both, take your pick.
They've got the motive, the muscle.
Sometimes we act like there are different divisions.
It's the same thing.
Epstein wasn't just some perv with a private island.
He was an asset.
A collector of dirt on the powerful.
A walking insurance policy for whoever held his leash.
When he got too hot, or for whatever reasons, reasons that were never going to be given, they cut the cord.
I don't mean the CPAP cord.
They liquidated him, staged it, scrubbed the evidence faster than you can say national security.
And B.B.'s little speech doesn't help either.
He's out there, March 2025, pointing fingers at Barack, his old rival, saying, oh, it's all him.
He's the one tied to Epstein.
Convenient, huh?
Barack's been named in those flight logs forever.
Big deal.
Maybe he's not spilling secrets.
He's deflecting.
Israel's got skin in the game and Mossad's prints are all over it.
CIA too?
Surprise, surprise!
Epstein's ties to Israeli intelligence aren't some weird, you know, conspiracy dream here.
Look at Robert Maxwell, Ghislaine's dad.
A media mogul with Mossad cred who fell off his yacht in 91. Coincidence?
Sure.
And I'm Eleanor Roosevelt.
Nice to meet you.
The CIA's in deep, too.
Epstein's cushy plea deal in 2008 screams a spook protection.
Bill Barr, AG back then, oversaw the whole mess.
Then conveniently ran the DOJ when Epstein died.
Now Bondi's in his old chair.
And Patel's at the FBI.
And we're supposed to believe they're the cleanup crew?
Nah.
Come on!
They're the mop-up squad for a spill that's already evaporated.
Think about it.
If there were real files, videos of senators and CEOs and royals and compromising spots, would they still be stateside?
Hell no!
They'd be in a safe in Tel Aviv or a server in Virginia, leveraged for the next geopolitical chess move.
Look, the FBI might have had copies once, but they're not hoarding them now.
Bondi's letter to Cash Patel, demanding everything by 8 a.m., February 28th.
Theater, baby!
Theater!
And it was good!
Patel's two-week investigation into why the FBI held back a scripted encore.
They're not in bed with Bill Barr.
They're just reading from the same playbook.
Barr knew the score in 2019, kept his mouth shut, let the evidence slip away.
And the folks in charge now are late to the party, kicking over empty cans and acting shocked that there's no beer left.
Oh, come on.
And Epstein alive?
Please.
Please.
That's wishful thinking.
I don't care what you say about ears and folds.
Stop it.
That's wishful thinking.
For the, I don't want to say the tin foil crowd.
It's aluminum foil, by the way.
He's not sipping pina coladas in some witness protection bungalow.
He's worm food, baby!
Taken out because he knew too much and talked too little.
And they just wanted things to change.
It was a new day.
Sometimes these folks do things because, well, frankly, they don't know why they're doing it.
They do things for reasons that don't make any sense.
The autopsy?
Oh, my God.
Screams cover-up.
Would you stop it?
Fractured hyoid, thyroid, cartilage, particular hemorrhaging?
Stop it!
It's more consistent with strangulation and asphyxiation than hanging.
You know that.
The guard's asleep.
The camera's broken.
It's a B-movie script, baby.
But it worked.
It worked.
Whoever wanted him gone had the reach to make it happen.
And Mossad, CIA's, the dream team for that gig, please!
They don't have loose ends.
They bury them.
Those thousands of documents that the feds are chasing now, probably shredded, burned, or digitized, or altered, or sent to puppet masters years ago.
What's left is chaff.
Flight records, phone logs, meaningless noise to keep up and to keep you and everybody barking up the wrong tree.
Ghislaine Maxwell is another piece of this rotting puzzle.
She's locked up for, what, 20 years for trafficking?
But where's the client list?
Where's the dirt she flipped to dodge life?
Why?
Nowhere.
Because she didn't flip.
Or because what she gave went straight to the shadows.
She's alive, sure, but she's a ghost in the machine, my friend.
A bargaining chip or a warning to others.
If she had the goods, she'd be too.
You know what I mean?
She'd be on the...
I've got to be careful with these words.
But they would have dispatched her in a heartbeat.
Unless...
Unless she's still useful to someone upstairs.
You know, the Maxwell trial gave us crumbs.
Victim testimonies, a few names, but no smoking gun.
Why?
Because the gun's not there.
It's overseas or it's ash.
The DOJ's phase one release just recycles the old bait.
And the DOJ and the FBI's outrage is the hook to keep us biting.
Social media is ablaze with X. I'm saying X now.
I'm getting past the Twitter.
But the X posts screaming about Mossad, CIA cover-ups.
They're hiding the real files.
Epstein was a spy.
Maybe they're right.
Maybe not.
But it doesn't matter.
The truth's not coming.
The influencers clutching their binders outside the White House last week.
Dupes or shills?
Take your pick.
They were handed them, redacted.
It was garbage.
And they called it transparency.
Patel's flexing on X, vowing no stone unturned, but he's turning pebbles while the boulders are long gone.
Look, the FBI's New York office might have held out once, but they're not the masterminds.
They're pawns.
Same as us, watching the real players cash out, looking at the timing, Trump's back promising to drain the swamp, and Epstein's the perfect scalp.
But this?
Nah, this ain't it.
If Bondi and Patel had the juice, we'd see heads roll.
Bars, Barack's, who Barack?
Obama, someone's.
Instead, instead we get a slap fight, I guess, some kind of little kerfuffle over missing paperwork.
Netanyahu blaming Barack's sideshow.
Israel's not coughing up squat, and neither's the CIA.
The Mossad-CIA nexus doesn't leak.
It doesn't break.
It buries.
Epstein's Island, his Manhattan townhouse, his Zorro Ranch, crawling with bugs and cameras, sure.
But those feeds didn't go to some FBI evidence logger.
They went uplink to the handlers and then, poof, erased or exported the thousands of pages that Pam Bundy and Cash wants.
Even if they exist, they're fluff.
Memos, receipts, not the compromising information we're chasing.
So what's the deal?
It's over.
It's done.
The Epstein saga is a black hole and we're stuck on the event horizon, my friend, grasping at shadows.
He was a tool, a honey trap for the elite.
You know that.
Run by spooks who don't answer to Pam Bondi or Kash Patel or us.
You know.
Murder.
Not swiftly.
No.
No.
Because silence was the only option.
The file's gone.
Scattered to the winds.
Or locked.
Locked away where no FOIA can touch them.
Maxwell's a footnote, alive but mute.
Netanyahu's jab at Ehud Barak, noise.
Barr's old crew, Bondi's new one.
They're not complicit.
They're just late.
The Mossad CIA op cleaned house years ago.
And these flight logs are the dust they left behind.
We'll never know.
Because the knowing's not for us.
It's for the ones who ordered the hit.
Who shipped...
The tapes who still pull the strings.
The rest, just static.
And we're fools to think otherwise.
I hate to bring it to your attention, my friend.
I hate to tell you this.
I'm sorry, but it's true.
What do you think, my friends?
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