EXCLUSIVE: Body Language Expert's Analysis Exposes Epstein List Evasion

Dr. John Paul Garrison, a clinical and forensic psychologist with a specialty in body language, dissects official statements about the supposed "Epstein client list" with the cool precision of a seasoned interrogator. At the heart of his analysis lies an uncomfortable truth that mainstream outlets routinely gloss over: there was, in the words of Attorney General Pam Bondi, something "sitting on [her] desk" for review that she acknowledged in a strikingly specific manner. Bondi’s early, unambiguous nod to a “list of Jeffrey Epstein’s clients” contrasts sharply with the Department of Justice’s later insistence that no such list exists, raising serious questions about whether the real story here is bureaucratic confusion, deliberate misdirection, or something darker.

Garrison’s breakdown of Bondi’s initial Fox interview is chilling in its simplicity. When asked if the DOJ might really release the Epstein client list, she confirmed it was on her desk to review, with no hesitation. Garrison notes that Bondi is usually hyper-precise in her language—someone who corrects even minor misstatements in real time. Her flat acceptance of the term "client list" was, he argues, too clear to be accidental. Yet when the questioner pushed on whether it would truly be released, her body language shifted: subtle head shakes, ambiguity, and what he calls an “emphasis move” that might have signaled a rehearsed dodge. It suggests she knew this was a live grenade she wasn't planning to throw.

The gold in Garrison’s method is how he pairs micro-level gesture analysis with the broader political context. He catches Bondi leaning in with apparent authenticity while discussing JFK and MLK files—other politically sensitive materials under review. But he emphasizes that this honesty in one moment doesn't extend to the question everyone actually cares about: will the Epstein client list ever see daylight? Here, Bondi's responses are far less certain. Garrison points out that while she seems honest in saying the file is there, she betrays uncertainty about any commitment to transparency, hinting at a deliberate strategy to manage public expectations.

Shifting focus to White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt, Garrison reveals a textbook study in rhetorical deflection. Rather than directly denying a client list exists, Leavitt pivots aggressively to talking points about crime-fighting prowess and the prior administration’s failings. Garrison, trained to see what most miss, notes the nervous body language: fidgeting, shifting weight, subtle lip-licking—tells that suggest stress, not certainty. She raises her voice when changing topics, an old politician's trick to control the room. And she tries to shame reporters by invoking “inappropriate” content no one asked for, a tactic Garrison calls a classic guilt trip to shut down demands for accountability.

The sharpest moment of Garrison’s analysis lands on President Trump himself. Contrary to theories that Trump fears exposure, Garrison reads his body language as open, even wounded—not guilty but defensive about appearing to have failed. When pressed about the enduring public obsession with Epstein, Trump’s signature deflection emerges: a patriotic pivot to Texas tragedies and violent crime. Garrison argues this is a calculated guilt play—questioners are made to feel unpatriotic for pursuing answers about elite sex trafficking while real Americans suffer. It’s a damning observation about the machinery of narrative control in politics, and a point rarely surfaced by traditional media.

But perhaps the most quietly damning insight comes from watching Bondi’s later attempts to “clarify” her original statement. Garrison catches her closing her eyes as she says “the file,” a subtle tell of discomfort. She now claims she only meant general paperwork, not a list of clients—months after the initial interview. Garrison notes this delay in clarifying feels rehearsed, a move to retrofit a safer narrative. He also points out a shared rhetorical move with Leavitt: both invoke “graphic evidence” that no one asked to see, a manipulative conflation designed to suggest that transparency would somehow be irresponsible. It's a sleight of hand with real moral weight.

In the end, Garrison stops short of accusing anyone of outright lying but paints a picture of studied ambiguity and stage-managed messaging designed to deflect from the single question people want answered: who were Epstein’s clients? He concludes that based on their body language and wording, it is likely there is a list. Yet he warns viewers that this is his opinion only, not a clinical or forensic evaluation in any formal sense—a small-print caveat with outsized meaning in an age where truth is too often the first casualty of power.

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