In a twist that surprised precisely nobody with a functioning cynicism gland, billionaire Leon Black strode out of the Epstein inquiry yesterday as free as a budget airline's baggage allowance. The private equity colossus, whose fortune is so vast it has its own weather system, emerged blinking into the London drizzle and promptly demanded that the United Kingdom tighten its judicial grip. One assumes he meant on other people.
Mr Black, whose net worth could probably buy Wales and have enough left over for a commemorative snow globe, had been summoned to answer questions about his dealings with the late, deeply lamented (by nobody) Jeffrey Epstein. But like a particularly confident badger evading a trap, he slipped through the legal undergrowth without so much as a scratch on his bespoke suit. The inquiry, it transpires, had about as much bite as a gummy shark.
Upon his release, Mr Black held an impromptu press conference, presumably to share his wisdom on how the rest of us might avoid accountability. 'The British judicial system is a shambles,' he declared, adjusting his cufflinks with a hand that probably hasn't lifted anything heavier than a gold bar. 'We need stronger laws, more robust enforcement. Criminals should face the full might of the state.'
The irony hung in the air like a bad smell from a decaying hedge fund. This, after all, is a man who has spent years and presumably millions avoiding scrutiny. But Mr Black, evidently a connoisseur of chutzpah, was unrepentant. He called for mandatory minimum sentences, less judicial leniency and a crackdown on 'foreign interference'. One presumes he was not referring to his own offshore accounts.
The legal experts, those fidgety creatures who always appear on television during such farces, were quick to point out the staggering hypocrisy. 'It's rather like a fox demanding better security for hen houses,' opined one, before being informed he was no longer needed. But Mr Black's supporters, a group that appears to consist mostly of other billionaires and their tax advisers, nodded sagely. 'He's right,' they chorused, their wallets trembling in agreement. 'We need law and order.'
The inquiry itself, which had promised to be a watershed moment for justice, turned out to be more of a lukewarm puddle. Witnesses were few, questions were apologetic and the final report is rumoured to be heavily redacted with what looks suspiciously like champagne stains. The whole affair has left the public feeling rather like a man who paid for a full English breakfast and received a single cold chip.
Meanwhile, Mr Black boarded his private jet, bound for somewhere with extradition treaties that are even more porous. As he soared into the clouds, one imagines he looked down upon the foolish peasants below, perhaps pondering his next move. A crackdown on judicial leniency, perhaps? Or just another billion? The world, after all, is his oyster. And as we all know, oysters rarely complain.
So here we stand, in the rain outside the inquiry building, clutching our soggy notions of justice. The billionaires walk free, the system coughs politely and the rest of us are left to wonder: what exactly is the point of it all? But no matter. Mr Black has spoken. The judicial grip must tighten. Just not on him, obviously. Never on him.
