Flying Blind: Larry Visoski and the Art of Not Seeing

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Hi, this is Alex Cantrowitz.

I'm the host of Big Technology Podcast,

a longtime reporter and an on-air contributor to CNBC.

And if you're like me, you're trying to figure out

how artificial intelligence is changing

the business world and our lives.

So each week on Big Technology,

I bring on key actors from companies building AI tech

and outsiders trying to influence it,

asking where this is all going.

They come from places like Nvidia, Microsoft, Amazon,

and plenty more.

So if you want to be smart with your wallet,

your career choices, and meetings with your colleagues

and at dinner parties, listen to Big Technology Podcast

or ever you get your podcasts.

What's up everyone and welcome to another episode

of the Epstein Chronicles.

Have you noticed that the people who did the dirtiest work

in Epstein's operation somehow walked away clean?

Like cleaner than a whistle that's never been blown?

I mean, think about it.

You've got Larry Freakin Vesosky,

the man who show for Epstein circuses in

through the clouds for 30 damn years.

And he's out here living his best life.

Flying high, mowing his Epstein bought lawn in New Mexico,

probably sleeping like a baby,

because apparently in America, if you fly the plane,

you're just doing your job.

Yeah, okay, sure.

And if I drive the getaway car,

I'm just helping with the commute, right?

Yeah, it's wild, man.

If you dig through those flight logs,

the depositions, the testimonies,

it's like reading a script written by clowns

for the end of civilization.

Larry's in there grinning,

saying he's never saw anything inappropriate.

Sure, champ.

You just spent three decades flying a billionaire pervert,

a bunch of shady politicians,

and the whole last financial sector

to a private island called Little St. James,

but you didn't see squat.

What did you do, keep your eyes closed

from takeoff to landing?

Now they'll call him a pilot, but let's be honest.

He wasn't just flying planes.

He's flying cover.

He was the logistics department

for one of the darkest operations in modern history,

and he managed to pull it off with a straight face.

You almost have to admire that kind of nerve,

or stupidity, maybe both.

He's like the guy in every mob movie who says,

I just deliver the packages boss.

I don't know what's in him.

The justice system looked at him.

The guy who literally piloted

the entire trafficking network and said,

you know what, he seems trustworthy.

The man got land out of the deal, land.

You and me bust our asses for a mortgage.

This guy keeps quiet for 30 years

and gets a piece of Zoro Ranch as a souvenir.

You might call that shit a bonus,

but I'm calling it a payoff with the sunset view.

But sure, Larry was just a pilot.

Nothing to see here, folks, move along.

And the craziest part, nobody even talks about him,

not the press, not the talking heads, not the feds.

It's like the guy turned into a ghost,

made a plausible deniability.

Meanwhile, the survivors are still out here

fighting for scraps of justice

and Larry sip and coffee in peace

like he wasn't the one fueling Epstein's flight plan to hell.

And that might be the absurdity of it all, the real joke.

The guys who made the monster possible

are the ones who got away clean.

They built the runway, they fueled the jet,

they plotted the course, and somehow, when it all went down,

they managed to parachute out right before the crash.

But I guess that's the world for you.

If you're rich enough, powerful enough,

or useful enough, accountability's just turbulence.

You hold tight, you wait it out, and you land safely

while everyone else burns.

And Larry Vesosky, he's proof of it.

Proof that if you keep your head down,

smile for the cameras and say I just flew the plane,

the system will patch you on the back

and call a professionalism.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are left watching the wreckage,

wondering how the hell we ended up living in a country

where flying the plane for a predator gets you land,

but telling the truth gets you buried.

So let's just cut the crap right off the bat.

Larry Vesosky's 2009 deposition

was one of those you gotta be kidding me moments.

You could practically smell the nervous sweat

through the transcript.

Here's a guy who spent decades, decades,

flying Jeffrey Epstein around the world

like his own personal chauffeur in the sky.

And suddenly he's got amnesia about everything.

The man could recall tale numbers,

flight altitudes and weather patterns from 97,

but when it came to underage girls, shady guests,

and where'd behavior?

Poof, total memory wipe.

A pilot so blind and deaf, you think he was flying

with a bag over his head.

From the second that the deposition started,

it had the rhythm of a high school kid lying

to the principal about a broken window.

Ah, I just flew the plane.

Yeah, okay, Larry, you just flew the plane.

You just happened to fly the most notorious

sex trafficker on Earth around the globe

to his private island, to his Paris apartment,

to his ranch in New Mexico, and you just flew.

The same way the bartender just pours the drinks

when the mafia's running money through the till, spare me.

And let's talk about this whole,

I didn't see anything suspicious routine.

That's the part that gets me.

The man was on those flights with Bill Clinton,

Prince Andrew, Kevin Spacey,

who'd Brock, the kind of guest list

that would make the Vatican blush.

And somehow, nothing looked off, nothing strange,

just another day in the friendly skies.

Yeah, sure thing, Larry.

Just a normal 17 year old massage therapist,

hopping on the jet with billionaires,

happens every day in coach, right?

Then we get to the part that really gives the game away,

the Zorro Ranch Land deal, Epstein gave a Saskey land,

a Christmas bonus, and even a car, and land.

Like a king tossing a plot of earth to his favorite night,

you really think Epstein was handing out

New Mexico real estate because Larry remembered

to refill the jet fuel, please.

This was not a reward, it was hush money.

It's like giving your getaway driver a lake house

and saying, thanks for not snitching, buddy.

And the whole thing about the promotion, man,

Dave Rogers gets demoted because he kept a logbook, come on.

Rogers actually documented who flew where and when.

Epstein finds out about that,

and suddenly Larry's the chief pilot.

Rogers had receipts, Larry had silence.

One gets demoted, one gets rewarded, real subtle Jeff

might as well have handed him a pilot's cap

with Will Lie for Land stitched on the front.

Reading that that position, you can tell Larry

was walking a tightrope over a pit of crocodiles.

Every word he said, had that my lawyer told me to say this flavor,

I don't recall, I wasn't aware, I never saw that.

It's a legal equivalent of covering your ears

and humming loudly.

He didn't want to lie under oath,

but he also didn't want to tell the truth.

So we found the sweet spot, say nothing, admit nothing,

pretend you're too stupid to notice,

the circuit's going on 10 feet behind you.

And the eye just flew the plain schtick,

would almost be funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

Larry flew the Lolita Express for 30 years, 30 years.

And we're supposed to believe he never once asked, hey boss,

why do we keep flying all these random teenage girls

around the world?

Not Larry.

Larry's too focused on his instrument panel

to notice the 15 year old British girl in the back

talking about modeling gigs.

What a coincidence.

He even claimed that he never looked in the back of the plane.

Yeah, sure thing, private jets are in jumbo liners.

You can see straight from the cockpit

to the champagne glasses.

That's like saying you worked in a strip club for 20 years

but never saw anyone dancing.

What'd you do, keep your eyes glued to the altimeter

and hum hymns to yourself every time a young girl

walked on board?

Give me a break.

And those massages don't even get me started.

Epstein had massage tables on the planes in the houses

at the ranch.

This six luck would have tables

in the middle of the jungle if he could.

The guy who packed the luggage and stocked the plane

didn't notice a fold out massage table

or oil bottles clinking around.

Come on man, even Stevie Wonder would have picked up on that.

What's wild is how close he was to Epstein personally.

This guy wasn't just a pilot, he was part of the furniture.

He flew Epstein's family, his friends, his guests,

his girlfriends, Glaine Maxwell's groceries, probably.

He handled all the logistics, kept the jet spotless,

arranged every trip.

And through it all, we're supposed to just

buy that he was an innocent bystander with a pilot's license.

He was the logistics department of a trafficking empire

whether he admits it or not.

You can almost imagine him sitting there

in that deposition room knowing full well

that if he opened his mouth, the whole rotten structure

could come crashing down.

So he played it safe, shrugged, smiled, deflected,

the perfect company man.

You could almost hear the gear is turning in his head.

Say less Larry, say less.

What should have been him testifying was more about performing.

And the audience was a team of lawyers praying he didn't slip.

Tyler Reddick here from 2311 Racing.

Victory Lane?

Yeah, it's even better with Chamba by my side.

Race to ChambaCasino.com, let's Chamba.

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sponsored by ChambaCasino.

Hi, this is Alex Cantrowitz.

I'm the host of Big Technology podcast,

a long time reporter and an on-air contributor to CNBC.

And if you're like me, you're trying to figure out

how artificial intelligence is changing

the business world and our lives.

So each week on Big Technology, I bring on key actors

from companies building AI tech and outsiders

trying to influence it, asking where this is all going.

They come from places like Nvidia, Microsoft, Amazon,

and plenty more.

So if you want to be smart with your wallet,

your career choices, and meetings with your colleagues

and at dinner parties, listen to Big Technology podcast

wherever you get your podcasts.

This is Mike Voilo of Lexicon Valley.

And I'm Bob Garfield.

Are you one of those people who sometimes uses words?

Do you communicate or acquire information with, you know, language?

Hey, us too.

So join us on Lexicon Valley to true over the history, culture,

and many mysteries of English.

Plus some ice cracks.

Find us on one of those apps where people listen to podcasts.

And look, it's not like Epstein, some benevolent boss

handing out stock options.

Every single gift that that man gave had strings,

thicker than an anchor chain.

You didn't just get a piece of land.

You got an understanding.

You got loyalty or silence, depending on what you prefer to call it.

Vesosky didn't get rewarded for his flying.

He got rewarded for keeping his damn mouth shut.

His description of Epstein during the deposition

is straight up propaganda.

He was a good employer, treated his staff well.

Yeah, sure.

The same way a mob boss takes care of his guys.

You do what you're told, you get paid.

You cross the line.

You disappear.

It's amazing how many people who love working for Epstein

all somehow forgot what went on around them.

Funny how memory loss seems to be contagious

among rich men's employees.

And that land on Zoro Ranch, that wasn't just any dirt,

that was ground zero for some of the creepiest stuff

Epstein was up to.

That's where he built his so-called science compound

where the rumors about genetic experiments

and breeding projects come from.

So when Epstein handed Vesosky a slice of that property,

it wasn't generosity, it was a contract, an unspoken deal.

You're a part of this now, your name's on the map,

just like mine, congratulations, you're complicit.

And when you zoom out, the pattern's obvious.

Epstein had an operation and every operation needs logistics.

That's where good old Larry came in.

He wasn't just a pilot, he was the delivery system.

He made sure the right people got to the right places

without a paper trail, every flight, every time zone,

every cover story, and all went through him.

And when the fed started knocking on doors,

Larry kept his cool, didn't flip, didn't panic,

didn't drop names.

You think after 30 years the guy might have had a conscience,

but no, he stayed loyal to the end.

That kind of loyalty doesn't come from respect.

It comes from self-preservation.

He knew that telling the truth might land him right next to Epstein

in a cell or worse, on the wrong end

of whatever made Epstein disappear.

And what gets me is how Larry managed to keep

this all-shocks just the pilot image for so long,

like he's some working stiff who just happened to get caught up

in billionaire nonsense.

Regular working guys don't get free land,

million-dollar perks, and lifetime protection

for just doing their job.

If a mechanic gets a free garage from his boss,

everyone starts asking questions.

But Epstein's pilot gets a ranch plot and nobody bats an eye.

Yeah, that checks out.

And look, there's no doubt that the deposition

reads like bad improv.

You can almost see the smirk.

The golly G, I don't know anything about that look.

He's trying to act simple while playing a very sophisticated game.

Keep the life small, the answers vague, and the truth buried.

It's not that he didn't know, it's that he knew too much,

and knowing too much in Epstein's world is a dangerous hobby.

Now look, in the end,

Epstein didn't surround himself with idiots.

He surrounded himself with enablers,

people who could smile, play dumb,

and keep the machine running.

And Larry Vesosky was the perfect cog,

the pilot who saw everything and said nothing.

He didn't need to be told to keep quiet,

the gifts told him plenty.

So yeah, Larry's deposition, one for the ages.

Every answer was like a wink to the audience.

I know you know, but let's pretend I don't.

The performance was flawless.

And when you realize what he got in return,

land, money, and a lifetime pass at a real accountability,

it all falls right into place.

The man wasn't a bystander, he was part of the act.

And in Epstein's twisted little empire,

silence wasn't golden, it was currency.

All of the information that goes with this episode

can be found in the description box.

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