The first time I met Hunter Biden: Mac Shop owner John Mac Isaac tells the story in an excerpt.
This happened on a fateful night in April 2019. John Paul Mac Isaac was working at his store The Mac Shop when a customer came in who would change his life for ever. In his new book, "American Injustice: My Battle to Tell the Truth," Isaac will tell his story. In this first look, he talks about the first time he met Hunter Biden.
Friday night was about 10 minutes before the shop closed, so it was on Friday night. My friend and I went to a website about CNC machines and woodworking. I didn't want to work late after a long and busy week. I was ready to go out after a long and busy week. But then, bright, cool LED lights from the front window bounced off the counter. I sat back and closed my eyes. Before I knew it, my vision of leaving the shop was gone. During this time of day, I thought: "What kind of person wants to get good service right before closing time?"
I tried not to roll my eyes when I saw a man with three MacBook Pros. In terms of height, he was about the same as me. His clothes were simple: dark blue and gray. He was surrounded by alcohol fumes. He put the three laptops on the bar counter as he looked for a place to sit.
As long as you're still open, he said, "I'm glad." My friends told me about your shop while I was at the cigar bar. I had to hurry because you close at seven.
He looked older than me, but he had a voice that was very high-pitched for someone his age. He had an air of entitlement about him.
"Wow," I thought. One more person who thinks that the world is all about them.
I said to him, "You did it just in time."
"I need to get the data off of these, but they all have water damage and won't work."
So, let's check you in and see what's going on. One of the computers had a sticker from the Beau Biden Foundation covering the Apple logo. I didn't know who I was talking to at first, so I tried to figure out who it was. My customer relationship management software (CRM) was open, so I asked him to give me his first name.
"Hunter," the man said.
I asked him for his last name after that. He looked at me weird, like I was from another country and how could I not know who he was?
In a sarcastic tone, he said, "Ah, Biden," and then laughed.
He gave me his phone number and email address. I put them in the system. Because this man had lost his brother Beau about two or three years before this, I felt bad for him. The paperwork had already begun. The Mac with the sticker might have belonged to his brother, who has now died, and it would be a good thing to be able to get to the memories that are inside.
A lot of single people would have taken the machines the next day and looked at them. On any other night, especially on a Friday, I would have taken the machines and looked at them the next day. Then, for some reason, maybe because I was feeling sorry for them, I went to check them out right away. One at a time, I looked at the machines quickly. Because it was so big, the 15-inch laptop had to be thrown away. It had a lot of liquid damage, and because the drive was soldered to the logic board, I couldn't get the data back. Apple: If a Mac doesn't work, you can't get into the drive and find your files.
The 13-inch 2015 MacBook Pro was in a little better shape than the MacBook Air. It was able to start up, but the keyboard didn't work well. To log in, I took out a separate keyboard.
Hunter started to laugh.
In other words, "My password has been changed." It was "analf–k69" or something like that, he said. His alcoholism made it hard for people to understand what he was saying. When he asked me if he could try to log in on his own, I said that might be a good idea.
"Hey, you fixed it!" he said, slurring his words a little. In response to my question, he looked at me blankly and didn't say anything.
"Here, you can borrow this one so that you can do the recovery yourself," I said to him. So I don't have to check it in and bill you." When you're done, just bring it back.
Another time, I felt bad about this guy.
In order to avoid any more interruptions, I closed the blinds and locked the door. I then grabbed an Amstel Light from the fridge and sat down in front of the recovery Mac.
Here, things start to get interesting.
This is how it looked: The previous window was open. I was waiting for hundreds of files from the original to show up in a new window over on the right. There were files that didn't line up as I scrolled down. My first step was to drag and drop each file into the recovery folder. It only took a few files before I saw pornography in the right column.
This is a risk of the job. I'd gotten used to it and didn't give it a second thought. Because there were so many of them, I was a little surprised. I also thought it was a little bold to leave porn files on your desktop. Again, there was nothing new I hadn't seen before, so I kept dragging and dropping and dragging and dropping. As a general rule, it is known what people do on and with their computers. Everyone in the industry wants to forget about it. It's gross. That's not the point. I was hired to do a job, and I was going to do it.
"Oh my God," I thought, then paused. Preview: The customer was clearly shown in the right column of the picture He was covered in a red scarf and had what looked like a jock strap around his waist. I couldn't help but laugh.
"Wow, how embarrassing!" I thought that. People: "Who on God's earth would be comfortable with this sitting on their desk?
But I brushed it off and kept going down the list of files. I didn't stop. Second and then third came quickly. Hunter, with his salt-and-pepper stubble, tried to look cool while taking a picture of himself without clothes. Gross.
Many of these does this person have? I was curious. It wasn't just him. There were also photos of him with women, even though it looked like he was in love with himself. When I'd had enough, I decided not to look at the data any more. Go by the file name and hope for the best. When he came back, I tried to figure out how to keep a straight face.
I kept copying files until I reached one called "income.pdf." A purple dot would probably have made me not even notice it if it hadn't been marked with one. On a Mac, you can add tags, or color codes, to files as a way to keep them in order. It seemed weird that someone who didn't know how to keep things organized would bother to make this one file purple. When you looked at it, it was begging to be opened by you. So I did that.
PDF: It was an email from January 16, 2017. The years 2013 through 2015 were at the top. Taxable income for each year was shown next to it: $833,000+ in 2013, $847,000+ in 2014, and $2,478,000+ in 2015. I was amazed. In the face of all that money, this scumbag couldn't even buy a backup drive.
There was more to read. Many amounts that I couldn't even have dreamed of making were broken down by the year. You "borrowed" money from RSB because you couldn't have lived on $550,000 a year. I couldn't speak. This person couldn't live on more than ten times what I make each year.
The whole thing looked shady. I saw that a lot of money had changed hands, but it didn't look like it had been properly recorded. I don't know. Plus, it wasn't my business. Not my job to judge. I was only there to move and check. So I kept transferring data until I came across a file that was a little big. In about half of the process, the screen went dark. Oh, my gosh, I forgot to charge the battery again.
I decided to call it a night and go home to get some rest for my eyes. The next day, I was sure I could finish it. There were still about 100 gigabytes to go, though. It took all night for the MacBook to charge, so I went home and washed my hands.
As soon as Hunter Biden didn't come back to get the computers after more than a year, Isaac gave them to the FBI. Afterward, the New York Post got a copy. "American Injustice," a new book from Liberatio Protocol, will be out in November. This is an excerpt from the book.