While Jean-Luc Brunel sat in a grim French jail cell, staring down the end of his life and the wreckage of his modeling empire, Prince Andrew was seen doing what royals do best — pretending none of it applied to him. Photos and reports surfaced of him going for a casual horseback ride on the Windsor grounds, grinning like a man untouched by consequence. The contrast couldn’t have been starker: Brunel, Epstein’s Paris pipeline, locked away in La Santé Prison on charges of trafficking and rape, while Andrew trotted through the countryside in full riding gear, shielded by royal walls and plausible deniability. It was the perfect snapshot of class immunity — one man behind bars, the other galloping freely, both tethered to the same monster.

To the public, it read like a message. Brunel was expendable. Maxwell was disposable. But Andrew? Untouchable. The optics were so brazen they bordered on parody — a royal heir, under the shadow of the same scandal that destroyed his friends, out for a leisurely ride as if nothing had happened. While Brunel stewed in isolation, denied bail, and eventually turned up dead, Andrew stayed insulated in royal privilege, convinced that the sunlight couldn’t reach his side of the wall. It was the same arrogance that had defined his entire approach to Epstein — denial, detachment, and a delusional belief that titles could wash away filth.



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