Epstein Exchanged Emails With Former Lawyer For Barack Obama
Pedophile Jeffrey Epstein cut ties with Bill Clinton because he thought the former president was a liar, according to new emails his estate turned over to Congress on Wednesday.
The emails, obtained by the House Oversight Committee, also reveal that Kathryn Ruemmler — former White House counsel to Barack Obama — maintained a remarkably cozy relationship with Epstein. The two exchanged friendly messages and regularly chatted politics in the run-up to the 2016 election, underscoring just how deep Epstein’s connections ran inside Democratic power circles, the New York Post reported.
In a Jan. 23, 2016, email, Epstein wrote that he broke off contact with Clinton after “he swore, with whole-hearted conviction to me that he had done something, he had forgotten that he also swore the exact opposite to me only weeks before.”
“Who knows what they’re talking about,” a Clinton spokesperson replied in a statement. “What we do know and have always said is that President Clinton knew nothing about Epstein’s heinous crimes and hadn’t spoken to him in twenty years. Now here it is in black and white.”
“I will just say I told you so. Not to sound overly dramatic, but he is very close to being a psychopath,” Ruemmler had said earlier in the exchange of the mysterious individual. “[H]e has no conscience. It’s scary.”
“He obviously said something to you yesterday that was disturbing, and you don’t want to tell me. Just tell me — I can take it. I promise,” added Ruemmler of the person, who at one time was listed in January 2019 as a backup executor to Epstein’s estate, according to The Wall Street Journal.
who was once listed as a backup executor to Epstein’s estate in January 2019, the Wall Street Journal reported.
But it remains unclear how long the rift lasted, as Clinton appears in other emails within the more than 20,000 pages of documents released Wednesday by the House Oversight Committee.
“Let’s do a men of the world conference,” theoretical physicist Lawrence Krauss said in an April 5, 2018, email to Epstein, sending a proposed invite list that included Clinton, actor Kevin Spacey, former Sen. Al Franken (D-Minn.) and director Woody Allen.
Ruemmler met Epstein while working as a partner at Latham & Watkins. She is now the chief legal officer and general counsel at Goldman Sachs. A spokesperson for the firm said her interactions with Epstein were limited to business.
“They shared a common client that originated as an Epstein referral,” the spokesperson said, referring to her time at Latham & Watkins.
Clinton and Epstein’s ties date back to at least the early 1990s, when Epstein donated to Bill Clinton’s presidential campaign. He later contributed $20,000 to Hillary Clinton’s 1999 Senate campaign. White House visitor logs show Epstein visited the White House more than a dozen times during Clinton’s presidency.
After Clinton left office, the two remained in contact. Epstein continued donating to the Clinton Foundation, and flight records show Clinton took more than two dozen trips on Epstein’s private plane, often referred to as the “Lolita Express.”
Epstein was known to travel with young women on his jet while maintaining relationships with a number of prominent public figures.
The former president was photographed receiving a shoulder massage from Chauntae Davies, a 22-year-old massage therapist, during a refueling stop on a 2002 humanitarian trip to Africa aboard the “Lolita Express.”
Clinton also visited Epstein’s New York apartment, though a spokesperson said he never traveled to Epstein’s private island, Little St. James. Notably, Epstein kept a painting in his Upper East Side residence depicting Clinton in a blue dress — a reference to the garment central to the former president’s scandal involving Monica Lewinsky.
"""My husband brought his mistress to our daughter’s wedding—and then asked me to give her my seat beside him.
"""My husband brought his mistress to our daughter’s wedding—and then asked me to give her my seat beside him. For a few seconds, I honestly thought I was looking at the wrong table, because my name card had vanished and Melissa’s was sitting exactly where mine had been on every seating chart. She wore a pale blue silk dress, lifted her champagne as if she belonged there, and avoided my eyes when I stopped beside the chair. David stood up, pointed to an empty seat at the next table, and quietly said, “For tonight, why don’t you sit over there?”
I had spent fourteen months helping our daughter, Emily, plan that wedding, from dress fittings and florist meetings to late-night calls over napkins and seating charts. That morning, while I fastened the pearl buttons on her gown, she made me promise I would enjoy the day and not let anything between her father and me touch it. I meant that promise, because whatever was left of my marriage, I would not make my daughter’s wedding the battlefield where it died. But David had apparently made a different plan, and he expected me to cooperate with it in silence.
When I asked what Melissa was doing there, David’s face showed guilt for only a second before he hid it behind irritation. He acted as though I were creating the problem simply by noticing that his mistress was seated at the family table in the place reserved for the bride’s mother. Then Melissa looked at me and said, “Honey, today really isn’t the day to make Emily uncomfortable.” I almost laughed, because the woman who had been sleeping with my husband for nearly a year was now warning me not to embarrass my own daughter.
I could feel people settling into nearby seats, laughing and talking, unaware that my marriage was being quietly rearranged in front of them. David kept his voice low and told me we should not “do this here,” as if the humiliation belonged to me because I refused to disappear politely. I looked at the empty chair he had chosen for me between a cousin and someone from the groom’s side, and I realized something colder than anger. This was not spontaneous; he had thought about where Melissa would sit, and he had assumed I would move.
For twenty-eight years, I had been the woman who adjusted, explained, forgave, and made excuses when David forgot anniversaries, missed dinners, or put work ahead of family. When he became distant, I learned to expect less instead of asking for more, and somewhere along the way he mistook that patience for permission. Even now, part of me considered taking the other chair, smiling for photographs, swallowing the humiliation, and telling myself it was all for Emily. I actually reached for the chair because protecting my daughter still mattered more to me than winning a public fight.
Then I heard one word behind me: “Mom?” Emily was walking toward us in her wedding dress, still glowing from the ceremony, and at first she looked confused rather than angry. Her eyes moved from me, to the empty chair, to Melissa, then back to the family table where she had personally placed me months ago. David quickly stepped in and announced that he had “rearranged a few things,” as if changing the bride’s seating chart without permission were no more serious than moving a centerpiece.
Emily asked why I was not sitting in my seat, and David casually pointed to the neighboring table and said I would be sitting “right there.” Her smile disappeared, and her eyes dropped to the place card in front of Melissa. I watched my daughter’s expression go completely still as she picked up that card and turned it over in her hand. In that instant, I understood the worst part: Emily had not approved this, and David had brought his mistress into our daughter’s wedding believing he could force everyone to accept what he wanted once it was already done.
What Emily did not know was that six months earlier, I had discovered David’s affair through a message that appeared on his phone while he was in the shower. Melissa had written, “I hate pretending I don’t miss you when she’s around,” followed by another message asking whether Friday was still theirs. When I confronted him, David spent eleven minutes calling me paranoid, insecure, dramatic, suspicious, and unfair before I repeated Melissa’s words exactly. The silence that followed ended our marriage long before either of us ever said the word divorce.
We had kept the details quiet because Emily was planning her wedding, and I refused to turn her happiest season into a crisis about us. David told me he was “confused,” that what he had with Melissa was “more complicated than an affair,” and that he needed time before making decisions. I agreed only that Emily’s wedding came first, so we slept in separate rooms, spoke carefully, and tried to appear functional while our marriage quietly collapsed. I believed David understood that one day required restraint, but he had apparently used that silence to prepare something else.
Three weeks before the wedding, he had casually asked whether Emily had finalized the family table and whether every seat had been assigned. At the time, I thought it was harmless conversation, but standing there with Melissa’s card in my daughter’s hand, I finally understood why he had asked. He had been checking whether there would be room, and when there was not, he simply removed me. Emily looked up at her father and asked, very quietly, “Where is Mom’s place card?”—and for the first time that night, David had no easy answer.
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