I am the Crown. I am one thousand years old. I own six percent of the Earth's land surface. I have a diamond I took from a ten-year-old in 1849. I have never given it back. Nobody has made me. I cost the British taxpayer £132 million this year. They call it the Sovereign Grant. I call it the arrangement. In 1936, I removed a king for marrying a divorcée. I have standards. They are specific. In 1992, three of my marriages collapsed in a single year. I called it my annus horribilis. The phrase is Latin. The feeling was English. In 1995, my daughter-in-law went on television and said there were three people in her marriage. She was correct. I did not deny it. I made it clear she would no longer be called Her Royal Highness. Two years later she died in a tunnel in Paris. I flew the flag at half-mast. Eventually. My son married his mistress. She is now Queen. The transition required thirty years and one funeral. I mention this because I want you to understand how I handle things. In 1999, my second son met Jeffrey Epstein. I did not object. In 2006, two months after an American arrest warrant was issued for Epstein on charges involving children, my son invited him to Royal Lodge. He also invited Ghislaine Maxwell. He also invited Harvey Weinstein. It was a social occasion. I made my son Britain's trade envoy. He shared confidential trade reports with Epstein. I called this networking. In 2011, a photograph was published. My son, his arm around a seventeen-year-old girl, standing beside a convicted sex offender. I asked my son to step down as trade envoy. He had held the role for ten years. I considered this prompt. His ex-wife borrowed £15,000 from Epstein. When it became public, she called him a paedophile. In private, she emailed him to say he was an "extraordinary friend" and apologised for the public statement. She then went on American television and called his victim a "salacious liar." I did not intervene. Intervention is not what I do. I adjust. In 2015, allegations named my son directly. I observed. In 2019, he went on television. He said he could not have assaulted the girl because on the night in question he was at a Pizza Express in Woking. A family man. He said he could not have sweated on her because he had lost the ability to sweat in the Falklands. He said he did not regret the friendship. He said Epstein's home was "a convenient place to stay." He described it as "like a railway station." Two hundred million people watched this. My mother approved his statement stepping back from public duties. She approved the wording. She did not approve any investigation. In 2022, he settled. The amount was £12 million. My mother paid £7 million. My late husband's estate paid £3 million. My husband was dead. My eldest son contributed £1.5 million. He now says he did not. The settlement included no admission of guilt. No requirement to apologise. A charitable donation to a cause the accuser supported. He has not repaid any of it. He planned to sell a Swiss chalet. The chalet had a mortgage larger than the sale price. I considered this resolved. He sent Christmas cards to Epstein in 2011 and 2012. He had told the public he had no contact after 2010. The cards were discovered in 2025. They were Christmas cards. In October 2025, he met with a Chinese figure connected to a spy case. At the Palace. I was not informed. I am frequently not informed. I have found this useful. In November, I stripped his titles. All of them. Prince. His Royal Highness. Duke of York. I moved him from Royal Lodge to Wood Farm. Wood Farm is on the Sandringham Estate. The Sandringham Estate is mine. I moved him from my house to my other house. I called this accountability. Today is February 19, 2026. His sixty-sixth birthday. At 8am, police arrived at Wood Farm. The charge is misconduct in public office. The evidence is 3 million pages of American documents. I did not produce the evidence. I do not produce evidence. I produce statements. The Americans produced it. It took them twenty years. I had the man in my house the entire time. A poll found 51 percent of the British public believes I should have condemned him more strongly. 32 percent approves of my approach. I find both numbers acceptable. I have survived worse arithmetic. I am one thousand years old. I have outlasted plagues, revolutions, abdications, two world wars, one tunnel in Paris, and a Pizza Express in Woking. I am the Crown. He was mine the entire time. That is the problem. That is also the design.