The Epstein Logs

The usual suspects. Also others.

The Jestons, in happier times.

The world has been on the edge of its seat to see the names.

OK, not the whole world. Some enormous percentage of the world. Or maybe not enormous. Let’s just say “some.” Some people are eager to see who besides Prince Andrew, Bill Clinton, Bill Gates and Alan Dershowitz flew on Jeffrey Epstein’s private jumbo jet to the billionaire’s private Caribbean island.

To what degree they were headed for a simple vacation getaway or sex retreat built on the human trafficking of teenage girls was never legally resolved — neither in the criminal case against Epstein’s gal pal and chief groomer, Ghislaine Maxwell, nor the lawsuit Epstein settled with Virginia Giuffre, who claimed to have been forced, as a 17-year-old, to have sex with Prince Andrew and others.

Now a federal judge has decided to release previously sealed evidence in the case, including a flight log maintained by one of Epstein’s pilots. Those passenger manifests are obviously scandal gold, and in a day or two the media will be ablaze. The fire is already smoldering.

Court documents naming Jeffrey Epstein’s associates to be unsealed: What to know

Jeffrey Epstein’s list is coming out: Who will be named?

Nearly 200 names linked to Jeffrey Epstein expected to be made public

Many potential listees’ identities have been speculated about, but it is not just celebrity, power and privilege that has TMZ and The View salivating. I mean, if Harvey Weinstein’s name were to appear, nobody would give it a second thought. Or R. Kelly. Or even Jerry Falwell Jr. No, all the anticipation is based on being either:

a) extremely delighted (I’d give away a kidney to see Ted Cruz’s name on the list. I’d give both kidneys away to see Tucker Carlson’s. For Samuel Alito I’d throw in both corneas and a liver), or

b) extremely surprised. Wouldn’t you be gobsmacked to look at your feed on Wednesday and see, say, Matt Damon’s name pop up? Pete Buttigieg? Ray Romano? Elon Musk? Because, come on … no way.

Can’t go into detail here, but I can say, happily, that those particular surprises are not in the cards. But there is one name that does pop out, and while surprising, it gives me no joy to share it now. One of the most frequent passengers on Epstein’s jumbo-jet jitney to Little St. James Island was Elroy Jetson.

Dear God. You remember him as the cute, well-behaved 6½-year-old boy in the pioneering 60s reality show The Jetsons. With his dad George, his mom Jane, sister Judy, robotic maid Rosie and dog Astro, Elroy captivated America with his sparkling personality and scientific curiosity. A pupil at Orbit City’s Little Dipper School, he excelled (according to program archives) in elementary electronics and advanced finger painting. The child star was 62 pounds of future spunk.

But, as often happens with child stars, as he reached adolescence his life began to unravel. The descent began with the merger of Cogswell Cogs with Spacely Sprockets, leaving George redundant and depressed. America’s future dad began to drink and lash out at those closest to him. Jane, distraught from the emotional toll, began a torrid but ill-considered affair with Barney Rubble, whom she got to know on the Hanna-Barbera Studios lot. That ended tragically when Betty Rubble confronted her wayward husband and, addled with rage, stabbed him with a pterodactyl beak she’d torn from the family record player. Barney survived. The workplace romance did not, but the Jetsons’ household was in ruins. Judy ran off to Saturn and Astro died of heartworm, leaving Elroy alone in a space condo with embittered, warring parents.

Who has been a very bad boy?

He turned to drugs. The tragic story goes on: arrest, rehab, arrest for distributing, prison, rehab, a brief fling with evangelical Christianity and then an overdose that he barely survived. He’d tried to get acting work, but for years couldn’t get past his identity as a grade-schooler from the future. His biggest heartbreak was losing the role of Michael Vronsky in The Deer Hunter to an up-and-coming young actor named Robert DeNiro. Rock bottom.

But then, in the 80s, riding a wave of nostalgia, he began appearing at ComicCon events around the country, did three infomercials and invested his earnings in an Orbit City Hooters franchise. Over the next 10 years, he turned one outlet into six, and then sold at the top of the market for $116 million. Suddenly, once again, he was a player. He pulled off a leveraged buyout of Spacely Sprocket & Cog, fired Mr. Spacely, then flipped the asset to KKR, the rising private-equity fund. When all was said and done, he had amassed $300 million and haunted the downtown Manhattan clubs with bling around his neck, supermodels on his arm and coke in his nose. That’s how he met Jeffrey Epstein. A famous New York Post front page from the period showed Epstein, Jetson and real-estate tycoon Donald Trump levitating a half-naked stripper. The headline: “The Three Lust-keteers!” Elroy stood out because he was wearing a beanie cap with an antenna mounted on it.

And then, just as fast as he had reemerged in the public eye, he disappeared again.Was he living in seclusion? Was he ill? Was he dead?

Well, he wasn’t dead. As we will soon see splashed all over the media, he was building up frequent flier points on the Statutory Rape Express. Having seen his name on the flight manifests, I tried to reach him but unfortunately failed. All I could get was a prepared statement from his PR agency.

Mr. Elroy Jetson is a beloved personality from America’s past and its future. He leads a private, exemplary life, and does not deserve to be the victim of rumor and innuendo. This so-called reporting is a smear and a hit job. Elroy has never flown in any airplane owned by the late Jeffrey Epstein … or any airplane at all. He uses a jetpack.

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