A former Epstein staffer, Juan Alessi, sat in a quiet courtroom, voice cracking as he recalled the daily ritual: teenage girls arriving at the Palm Beach mansion like clockwork, some looking no older than 14, ushered upstairs for “massages” while he was told to keep his eyes on the floor and his mouth shut. “We were just following orders,” he said—orders from Ghislaine Maxwell that echoed through every property: see nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing. Housekeepers described cash slipped to girls in envelopes, pilots admitted ferrying the same young faces back and forth without question, and security staff enforced silence with cold efficiency. Behind the gilded doors of multimillion-dollar mansions, luxury masked a machine of exploitation where employees claimed they knew little—yet saw everything. How much did “just following orders” really hide, and who gave those orders to look away?
A former Epstein staffer, Juan Alessi, sat in a quiet courtroom, voice cracking as he recalled the daily ritual: teenage girls arriving at the Palm Beach mansion like clockwork, some looking no older than 14, ushered upstairs for “massages” while he was told to keep his eyes on the floor and his mouth shut. “We were just following orders,” he said—orders from Ghislaine Maxwell that echoed through every property: see nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing. Housekeepers described cash slipped to girls in envelopes, pilots admitted ferrying the same young faces back and forth without question, and security staff enforced silence with cold efficiency. Behind the gilded doors of multimillion-dollar mansions, luxury masked a machine of exploitation where employees claimed they knew little—yet saw everything. How much did “just following orders” really hide, and who gave those orders to look away?
Juan Alessi, house manager at 358 El Brillo Way from 1999 to 2002, testified during Ghislaine Maxwell’s 2021 federal trial that he witnessed up to three young women or girls per day enter for “massages.” He described them as “very young,” some appearing 14 or 15, often nervous or tearful. Maxwell handed him a detailed 58-page manual with explicit instructions: never speak to guests unless spoken to, never make eye contact, dispose of any unusual items discreetly, and maintain absolute discretion. Alessi found sex toys after sessions, returned them to Maxwell’s closet without comment, and handed out cash envelopes—sometimes $200–$300—to departing girls. He felt trapped by the job’s high pay and fear of repercussions, later saying he was “just doing my job.”
Similar patterns surfaced at other properties. In New York and on Little St. James, staff followed parallel protocols. Housekeepers reported locked doors during long appointments, muffled sounds, and instructions to stay invisible. Pilots Larry Visoski and David Rodgers, who flew Epstein’s Gulfstream and Boeing 727 for decades, logged repeated trips with the same young women—often the “same type”: attractive, slender, frequently silent. In depositions and trial testimony, Visoski acknowledged seeing accusers like Virginia Giuffre and “Jane” (who testified she was trafficked at 14), but insisted he never witnessed sexual activity; cockpit doors remained closed, and he focused on navigation. Rodgers echoed the detachment: professional distance preserved plausible deniability.
Security personnel and other employees enforced the code of silence. Nondisclosure agreements, generous salaries, and Epstein’s aura of untouchability created a culture where questioning was discouraged. The 2008 Florida non-prosecution agreement—widely criticized as a sweetheart deal—further insulated the network, shielding potential co-conspirators and delaying federal scrutiny.
The phrase “just following orders” became a recurring defense. Staff saw fragments: the parade of girls, cash exchanges, locked rooms, fearful expressions, repeated faces on flights. Yet they claimed ignorance of what happened behind closed doors—coercion, assault, blackmail. Compartmentalization kept knowledge limited; fear of job loss, lawsuits, or worse kept mouths shut. Maxwell, as Epstein’s enforcer, issued the directives; Epstein set the tone of power and impunity.
Testimonies from Alessi, Visoski, Rodgers, and others cracked open the facade, contributing to Maxwell’s conviction on sex-trafficking charges. But the question lingers: How much was truly unseen versus deliberately ignored? The orders to look away—rooted in loyalty, money, and intimidation—protected a predator for decades. “Just following orders” hid a great deal: the machinery of exploitation ran smoothly because enough people chose silence over confrontation, allowing the abuse to continue until survivors’ voices and relentless investigation finally broke through.
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