But my doubts stemmed from two earlier, less-noticed videos that featured close-ups of the blue-and-white building.
As you can see in the clip below, the arched, medieval-looking "door" — the one facing the island's interior — is in fact painted to give the illusion of depth. Indeed, all the temple's external archways were illusions, painted on the building's featureless, flat surface as a trompe l'oeil:
In a second video, Shackleford's drone captured a portion of the building's interior, seen through one of the side windows. You'll notice what appears to be construction-grade scaffolding, two stacks of small mattresses, and an easel:
These developments were mystifying. Why would Epstein, who had access to seemingly unlimited amounts of capital, choose a mural of an elaborate door over the real thing? And what was the significance of the mattresses? The footage gives the impression of a makeshift storage locker, a discreet place to stash seasonal implements, but wouldn't Epstein have had other places to keep extra mattresses?
The assumption that Epstein acted according to a certain logic, and that that logic could be ascertained through research and reporting, seemed less and less certain. I began to question the whole point of the exercise. How much more time and energy was I willing to spend on a story with so many dead ends? Did it even matter what Epstein used the building for?
Every reporter has a personal theory of journalism — a mental model of the entire process that explains why they bother with it in the first place. One might think their job is about informing readers, or speaking truth to power, or helping people live better lives, or bringing about societal change, and so on.
My own theory is that journalism is about solving mysteries — identifying the unknown and finding a way to know it. That is a little embarrassing to admit, with its connotations of Scooby-Doo and alien abductions. But it's why I do it.
Yet here was a seemingly solvable mystery for which I could not find a solution. I found myself ashamed to discuss my progress with my editor and colleagues, as each additional clue turned out to be a false start.
The piano tuner's account provided the final clue
The episode with the piano tuner gave me one last idea.
Most professional piano tuners are listed in a directory maintained by the Piano Technicians Guild, a group in Kansas City, Kansas, that tests and certifies piano technicians in the United States. This was how I verified and contacted the first piano tuner, who said he never serviced Epstein's piano on Little St. James.
Using the directory, I looked up piano technicians in the Virgin Islands. After all, if Epstein did indeed keep a piano in the blue-and-white building, there was a decent chance he needed someone to occasionally tune it. (For pianos in regular use, the recommended frequency is twice a year.)
The directory returned a single entry: a piano tuner named Patrick Baron. So I sent him an email and left a voicemail asking if he had ever tuned a piano for Epstein. Then I tried to put the whole story out of my mind. If this didn't work, I planned to drop it altogether.
Three days later, my phone rang. It was Baron, and yes, he had tuned Epstein's piano.
A different piano tuner visited the building in 2012
Baron recounted his experience visiting Little St. James over several interviews with Insider. He never met Epstein, and he didn't recall how his staff originally contacted him — maybe through another client, or maybe through the online directory.
According to a calendar he kept at the time, Baron went to the island twice: in August 2012 and October 2012. On each occasion, Baron traveled to a dock in Red Hook, a town on the eastern end of St. Thomas, where he boarded a small boat that took him to Little St. James.
Baron didn't recall much about the boat's captain. But he did remember who greeted him on Little St. James. On the first excursion, he met a woman named Karen, who seemed to serve as the island's project manager. On the second excursion, he spoke with a woman named Monique who filled a similar role, though she never actually greeted him in person while he was on the island.
To support his account, Baron provided three phone numbers, one for Karen and two for Monique, that he used to call them in 2012. The first two numbers appear to have been disconnected, while the third, for Monique, went to a voicemail greeting for Southern Trust, a company that belonged to Epstein. When I called back a day later, I spoke with a woman who denied any knowledge of Southern Trust or anyone named Karen or Monique. Then she hung up.
After briefing Baron about the various projects she was managing, Karen handed him off to another employee, an older man who belonged to the island's maintenance staff. He drove Baron in a golf cart to the building where the piano was. The ride took about five minutes, along a path lined with palm trees.
Baron described the structure as a "relatively small building" near the island's coast, far away from the other structures on the island. It had a large glass door that faced "almost directly south." Atop the roof were statues that resembled "gargoyles." The color of the building — perhaps the most distinctive quality of the temple — was a "dull pewter." He didn't recall seeing any blue and white stripes on the exterior.
When Baron mentioned this, my heart sank. It suddenly occurred to me that he could have tuned a piano in one of the other buildings on Little St. James. But every other detail seemed to match the temple. When I emailed Baron several photographs of the building, taken from different angles and elevations, he called me a few minutes later: "That is definitely the building."
I asked if he was sure. "Absolutely. That's the right location. That's the right shape."
In other words, it seems as if Baron encountered the building before Epstein applied its distinctive striped exterior, including the realistic mural of a large wooden door.
Inside the temple, the piano tuner saw a Wurlitzer grand piano and a portrait of Epstein and the pope
After the golf-cart driver dropped him off, Baron entered the building. Here's what he remembers about the interior:
- The floors appeared to be made of wood and were covered with a large Oriental rug.
- The interior had two levels, with the first four to six feet at ground level and the rest on a slightly raised platform accessed by a single step.
- To the right, against the eastern wall, was a nondescript gray couch or sofa.
- Directly ahead was a desk, about 10 feet long, made of dark wood.
- Behind the desk were several columns of floor-to-ceiling bookcases.
- The bookcases went high enough to require a ladder. But there was no ladder.
- The bookcases were filled with hardcover bestsellers. (Baron said he didn't notice "anything scholarly.")
- To the left, against the western wall, was a small black grand piano. According to Baron's notes, it was manufactured by the Rudolph Wurlitzer Company, whose piano-manufacturing operations were acquired by Baldwin Piano Company in 1988.
- Above the piano hung a portrait of Epstein and the pope. (Baron wasn't certain which specific pope, but when I showed him photos of the most recent three, he said his best guess was John Paul II.)
- The interior consisted of only one large room; there weren't any doors or stairwells that may have led to other rooms.
On both visits, after Baron finished tuning the piano, the same golf-cart driver took him back to the island's dock, where the same boat captain returned him to St. Thomas.
Baron is almost certainly not the only person who stepped inside the blue-and-white building. Nor is he the only person who has publicly claimed to have done so. But he is the only visitor to offer a plausible and chronologically sound account of the building's interior.
I asked Baron what he thought the building was used for. "Even in the condition that I described it in ... it was sort of a temple," he said.
"When you say 'lair,' there is a connotation to that," he continued. "When you say 'study' or 'retreat,' there is a different connotation. I could have accepted it as a study or retreat, until I knew more about the man."
"I went in there knowing absolutely nothing about [Epstein], except that he was wealthy," he said. "And after doing the job and talking to some of my other clients on St. Thomas, and they filled me in on the scandal, my perception of that room changed from a study to a lair."
We now have a much clearer picture of the building's ostensible purpose. Based only on its furnishings, Epstein likely used the building to play piano, read books, work, and maybe relax. The music-room theory, it turns out, was the closest thing to the truth.
That might sound exceedingly mundane — the most boring answer to a tantalizing puzzle. But it also points to yet another mystery, one that may never be answered: What was Jeffrey Epstein doing on the rest of his island, and with whom?
Have a tip about Epstein or his island? Send an email to the author: ktrotter@insider.com.
