OPINION: This article may contain commentary which reflects the author's opinion.
The computer repairman at the center of the Hunter Biden laptop scandal is speaking out and fighting back, while describing a disastrous meeting with the president’s son.
“It was a Friday night, 10 minutes before the shop’s closing time. I was checking out a website about CNC machines and woodworking. I had no intention of working late; I was ready to go out after a long and busy week. But then bright, cool LED headlights bounced off the counter from the front window. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. My vision of leaving the shop quickly faded as the door chime sounded. As was usual for this time of day, I thought: ‘What kind of person expects quality service right before closing time?’” the repairman, John Paul Mac Isaac, said in an excerpt from his coming book “American Injustice,” published by The New York Post.
“I struggled not to roll my eyes when in stumbled a man clutching three MacBook Pros. He was about my height, six feet tall, but a little heavier. He wore casual clothing — dark blue and gray. Alcohol fumes preceded him. He slid the three laptops onto the bar counter as he fumbled for a seat,” he said.
The repairman went on to, to the best of his recollection, recount the conversation with the president’s son.
“I’m glad you’re still open,” Hunter said, Isaac alleged. “I just came from the cigar bar, and they told me about your shop, but I had to hurry because you close at seven.”
“I need the data recovered off these, but they all have liquid damage and won’t turn on,” he remembered Hunter saying.
The repairman went on to say how he was astounded by the sheer amount of pornography on Hunter’s computer before coming across a file of interest.
I continued copying files until I got to one titled “income.pdf.” I likely wouldn’t even have noticed it if it hadn’t been tagged with a purple dot. On a Mac, you can apply tags, or color codes, to files as an organizational aid. It seemed odd that someone who clearly had zero organizational skills would bother tagging this one file purple. It was begging to be clicked open. So I did.
It was an email from January 16, 2017, saved as a PDF. At the top were the years 2013, 2014, and 2015. Next to each year was the amount of taxable income earned: $833,000+ in 2013, $847,000+ amended to $1,247,000+ in 2014, $2,478,000+ in 2015. I was blown away. All that money and this asshole couldn’t spring for a backup drive!
I read on. Amounts that I could never even have imagined earning were broken down by the year. Then I read, “Since you couldn’t have lived on $550,000 a year, you ‘borrowed’ some money from RSB in advance of payments.” I was speechless. This guy couldn’t live on more than ten times what I earned every year?
The whole document seemed shady. I saw that a lot of money had exchanged hands, and it didn’t seem like it had been recorded lawfully. But what did I know? Plus, it was none of my business. It wasn’t my job to judge — just to transfer and verify. So I kept transferring data until I hit a rather large file. The file was about half transferred when the screen went blank. Dammit, the battery had run out.
I decided to call it a night and go home to rest my eyes. About a hundred gigabytes were left to go, and I felt confident that I could knock it out the next day. I let the MacBook charge overnight and went home — but not before thoroughly washing my hands.
