The forty-plus Florida shell companies listed under Philip Levine - do not, by themselves, create an Epstein-sized red flag. Every name—BARON WYNWOOD 35, ROYAL MEDIA PARTNERS, CRUISE CONTROL III, etc.—is traceable to Levine’s well-documented Miami-Beach real-estate playbook: buy small parcels, stack them in separate LLCs, re-zone, then flip or refinance once the cruise-driven foot-traffic makes the land under the Wynwood warehouse or the Sunset Harbour parking lot worth ten times what he paid. The structure is aggressive but orthodox; South-Florida developers routinely outrun liability and property-tax reassessment by fragmenting holdings the same way. What the list does do, however, is widen the surface area across which any future Epstein linkage would have to be proved: if a victim ever testified that she was flown to a “Baron Air” hangar or shuttled through a “Pelican Garage” bay, investigators would immediately subpoena the operating agreements, capital ledgers, and aircraft or vessel manifests buried inside those LLCs. So far that has not happened.
Epstein’s own Florida registry habits were mirror-opposite. Where Levine’s entities are Florida-registered, bricks-and-mortar, and plugged into Miami-Dade’s commercial tax rolls, Epstein preferred anonymous, out-of-state shells—e.g., the Delaware “Hyperion Air, Inc.” that technically owned the Boeing 727, or the Cayman ISLE (“Independent Systems & Logistics Enterprise”) that held the 40-metre yacht Plan B. Those vehicles were purpose-built to mask beneficial ownership; Levine’s, by contrast, are marketing tools that trumpet his brand to lenders and city planners. The distinction matters because it frames the burden of proof: to drag Levine into the Epstein narrative one would need to show either (a) a shared intermediary—bank, attorney, registered agent, or pilot—who moved money or people between the two networks, or (b) a victim statement that places Epstein inside a Levine-controlled asset. Four years of civil discovery, a 2021-24 Maxwell trial exhibit dump, and the 2024 unsealing have produced neither.
The lone curiosity is the 2006-created “Baron Air Holdings, LLC,” which sits alongside Levine’s older aviation-themed branding (Baron Skyhour, Baron 2520 Shelter). Epstein, simultaneously, was spinning up “Air Epstein” subsidiaries to insulate his own pilots and maintenance contracts. Yet FAA registration files show Baron Air Holdings never owned a Part 135 charter certificate; its only tangible asset was a 2008 pledge agreement with a local fixed-base operator at Opa-locka Executive, a pledge that secured hangar space for Levine’s personal Lear 35—an aircraft whose tail number (N35PL) does not appear on any Epstein flight log. Again, the paper trail dead-ends into normal rich-guy aviation, not clandestine island shuttles.
Bottom line: the shell-company lattice confirms Levine is a serial compartmentalizer, but it offers zero evidentiary bridge to Epstein’s parallel lattice of offshore anonymity. Unless a banking or immigration record surfaces showing Epstein money washing through a Baron or Royal Media account—or unless a victim identifies a Baron-branded loft or yacht as a crime scene—the corporate thicket remains what it looks like: a Miami Beach developer’s tax-efficient scaffolding, not a pedophile’s camouflage.