Глава 1
When Truth Meets Power: A Former FBI Director's Journey
In the gilded Oval Office, I sat across from Donald Trump as he casually mentioned Vladimir Putin's comment about Russian prostitutes. As FBI Director in my fourth year, I was tasked with protecting America from adversaries like Russia-the very nation that had worked to elect the man now sitting before me. This surreal moment encapsulated the unprecedented challenges facing America's justice system during the Trump administration. James Comey's "Saving Justice" offers a rare insider's perspective on the systematic undermining of the Department of Justice through what he calls "death-by-a-thousand-lies." The book has resonated deeply with legal scholars and government ethics experts, becoming required reading in many law schools. Beyond academic circles, it gained cultural significance during the 2020 election cycle as Americans grappled with questions about the independence of justice institutions. Through Comey's eyes, we witness how fragile our systems can be when truth itself becomes negotiable.
Глава 2
The Sacred Trust of Justice
As a junior federal prosecutor in Manhattan, I discovered the core values that would guide my career: always tell the truth-all of it; insist witnesses do the same; never make arguments or take cases you don't believe in; and treasure the constraints on your power. But these principles boil down to one fundamental question: who is your client? The answer isn't an investigator, a witness, your bosses, or even yourself. Your client is justice itself.
This realization came through hard-earned experience. When I prosecuted a five-defendant drug case involving attempted murder of federal agents, our paid informant-a recovering addict we called "The Fly"-wandered into my unattended office and stole heat-sealed evidence bags containing crack cocaine. He disappeared to get high at a LaGuardia Airport motel.
When I discovered the missing evidence, panic set in. I knew another prosecutor had recently been arrested for stealing drug evidence-Rudy Giuliani, the ambitious U.S. Attorney, had him handcuffed in the public lobby before he received a three-year sentence. Now Giuliani wanted to see me in his office and demanded a sworn affidavit that I hadn't stolen the drugs from my own case.
Though we salvaged the case by dropping those specific charges and proceeding with testimony from other witnesses, another crisis emerged during jury deliberations. The lead agent confessed he'd temporarily "borrowed" money from the evidence to pay an informant in a kidnapping case. Despite my desire to ignore this detail, my supervisor insisted we tell the judge, who ordered full disclosure to the defense and jury. They still convicted the defendants, teaching me that the Justice Department's obligation to truth is absolute-even when inconvenient.
These early experiences shaped my understanding that in the Department of Justice, winning isn't everything. We serve the law with a twofold aim: ensuring guilt doesn't escape and innocence doesn't suffer.
Глава 3
Truth as Non-Negotiable Currency
Everyone lies occasionally in daily life-from polite social interactions like complimenting a friend's unflattering haircut to political candidates who "tack to the middle" after primaries. But Donald Trump took lying to a dangerous new level by attacking the very idea that truth exists. Unlike previous presidents who made false statements but still acknowledged truth as a touchstone, Trump promoted the idea that truth is whatever he declared it to be, famously telling supporters "what you're seeing and what you're reading is not what's happening."
Our founders created systems of government and justice specifically designed to find truth by allowing competing interests to clash in structured ways. The Constitution established checks and balances, an independent judiciary, and protection for a free press precisely because they understood that truth emerges from rigorous testing of claims. The justice system particularly depends on our shared belief that truth can be determined with enough confidence to deprive people of liberty. Without this fundamental commitment to factual reality beyond mere perspective, justice collapses entirely into might-makes-right power politics.
This principle was tested during a complex trial involving West African heroin traffickers operating across multiple countries. The defendant's wife testified with apparent authenticity that it couldn't be her husband on the damaging wiretap recordings because the speakers were using the Ashanti dialect from Ghana, while she and her husband were Ga people who couldn't speak Ashanti. She claimed their neighbor occasionally used their phone and must be the one on the recordings, providing detailed backstory about the neighbor's connections to Ashanti regions.
Her testimony seemed thoroughly convincing until she casually mentioned their six-year-old son's nickname was "Yaw." The DEA interpreter whispered to me that "Yaw" is specifically an Ashanti name given to boys born on Thursday, and Ga people don't follow this naming tradition at all. When I asked what day her son was born, her eyes widened as she realized her critical mistake. Despite her increasingly desperate evasions and attempts to change the subject, I confirmed through birth records that January 21, 1982, was indeed a Thursday. The carefully constructed deception unraveled, and the drug dealer went to jail.
This case powerfully reinforced my belief that pursuing truth-even when it's uncomfortable, inconvenient, or politically charged-is the Justice Department's most sacred obligation. This unwavering commitment to factual reality would later guide difficult and controversial decisions regarding Michael Brown's killing in Ferguson, Hillary Clinton's email investigation, and ultimately a special prosecutor's investigation of a sitting president. In each instance, the mandate remained the same: follow the facts wherever they lead, regardless of political pressure or public sentiment.
Глава 4
The Delicate Balance of Surveillance
Electronic surveillance represents one of the most powerful yet potentially dangerous tools in law enforcement's arsenal. Getting wiretap permission is deliberately difficult, requiring prosecutors to establish probable cause, demonstrate that targets are committing serious federal crimes using specific phones or locations, and prove that less intrusive methods have been exhausted.
For a jewelry district case targeting mobsters who fenced stolen goods, we'd tried informants, physical surveillance, and subpoenaed records for three years without getting the evidence needed. The application process was rigorous-drafting lengthy affidavits, getting supervisory approval, Washington's authorization, and finally a judge's approval for thirty days of listening. Even then, agents had to follow strict "minimization" rules, only monitoring criminal conversations and filing regular reports to the court.
This careful balance between investigative necessity and constitutional rights reflects Alexander Hamilton's recognition that human passions don't naturally conform to reason and justice without constraint. As FBI Director, I kept J. Edgar Hoover's October 1963 memo requesting authorization to surveil Martin Luther King Jr. under the glass on my desk. The five-sentence document, bearing Robert Kennedy's signature granting unlimited surveillance authority, served as a reminder of the vital importance of oversight and constraints.
I explained to FBI employees that we must confront our past mistakes to improve our future. Hoover and Kennedy lacked meaningful testing of their assumptions and checks on their power. This lesson became even more relevant in my later work with national security wiretaps, where stakes are higher and oversight more crucial.
The principle of careful constraint extends beyond surveillance to all aspects of justice work. When I let emotions cloud my judgment during cross-examination of "Joey Diamonds," a mobster who spent five hours spinning elaborate lies, I asked improperly: "Sir, can you give me some idea of how many hours it took you to think up this story?" Though the jury silently cheered this breach of protocol, I knew I had momentarily failed in my obligation to represent the United States with integrity.
Глава 5
The Reservoir of Trust
After six years as a federal prosecutor, I gained deeper understanding of how adherence to Department of Justice values created something vital: public trust. As I moved into leadership roles, both outside government as a defense lawyer and later as a supervisor within the DOJ, I recognized the fragility of this "reservoir of trust and credibility" that allowed law enforcement to be believed even in difficult circumstances.
This reservoir makes justice work possible, as people believe DOJ representatives when they speak not as Republicans or Democrats, but as people trying to do the right thing. Protecting this reservoir requires vigilance and an unerring commitment to truth, as it takes tremendous time to fill but one hole can drain it quickly.
I experienced the importance of this trust firsthand in Richmond during the 1990s, when federal prosecutors worked to reduce gun violence by aggressively prosecuting felons with firearms. This effort succeeded because law enforcement leaders prioritized transparency and community engagement, particularly in predominantly Black neighborhoods. Rather than simply arresting people, they explained their strategy through churches, town halls, and media, enlisting community support toward the shared goal of reducing violence.
Years later as FBI Director, this principle guided our response to the Ferguson crisis. When Michael Brown was killed by police officer Darren Wilson in 2014, the community and country erupted in anger. Despite widespread claims that Brown had surrendered with his hands up before being shot, our comprehensive investigation found these accounts were false. FBI agents knocked on hundreds of doors in Ferguson, and remarkably, people trusted and spoke to them despite distrusting local police.
By issuing detailed reports explaining our findings and methodology, we maintained transparency and trust, even while delivering conclusions many didn't want to hear. The reservoir of trust made a difference in Ferguson, contributing to change in police leadership and community relations.
Глава 6
The Political-Apolitical Tightrope
The Justice Department exists in a unique space-its leaders are politically appointed but its work must remain apolitical. I visualize this as standing between turbulent ocean waters and a placid sound, where leaders must find their footing or risk drowning the department's independent role. This delicate balance requires constant vigilance and an unwavering commitment to institutional independence, even when political pressures mount to unprecedented levels.
The key distinction is remembering a single letter: "s." Presidents should discuss cases (plural) as policy priorities, but never a case (singular) against a specific person. This seemingly simple rule forms the bedrock of prosecutorial independence. George W. Bush understood this distinction perfectly. Even during daily post-9/11 briefings in the Oval Office, when tensions were at their highest and the pressure for results was immense, he never pressed us on individual prosecutions or expressed views on specific cases. This restraint was particularly noteworthy given the heightened national security environment and the natural inclination to want details about terrorism investigations.
Barack Obama similarly understood the importance of maintaining distance from FBI investigations, demonstrating this through both words and actions. When I became FBI director, Obama explicitly warned we would never speak casually again and kept that commitment with remarkable discipline. Even when he played basketball in the FBI headquarters gym, I never went down despite my love for the game. This physical separation symbolized a deeper institutional principle - that the FBI's work must remain free from even the appearance of presidential influence.
This separation between presidents and specific cases is essential for maintaining the Justice Department's independence and public trust. The Valerie Plame case exemplified this challenge in stark terms. When columnist Robert Novak revealed the identity of a covert CIA employee-a federal crime with serious national security implications-it appeared that as many as six Bush administration officials had spoken to reporters about her. The investigation threatened to reach into the highest levels of the White House, testing the institution's commitment to independence.
With evidence pointing to high-ranking officials including Karl Rove, President Bush's chief political adviser, and Scooter Libby, Vice President Cheney's chief of staff, we faced an unprecedented situation. The department couldn't credibly close an investigation against administration colleagues without appearing compromised. To protect our reputation for fairness, Attorney General Ashcroft took the extraordinary step of recusing himself, and I appointed Patrick Fitzgerald as special counsel. This decision provoked intense anger from Vice President Cheney, who saw it as a betrayal. Yet President Bush maintained his distance, never mentioning the case to me, even during a tight reelection campaign when Democrats were using the investigation as a political weapon against him.
This tradition of presidential restraint, maintained through administrations of both parties and during times of intense political pressure, would be completely shattered during the Trump administration, marking a profound break with decades of established norms and practices.
Глава 7
The Impossible Choice
The FBI wanted no part of the 2016 presidential election, a battle between the two least-trusted candidates in modern polling history - Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. The bureau was unwillingly thrust into this political maelstrom by a criminal referral regarding Hillary Clinton's mishandling of classified information on her private email server system, which she had used during her tenure as Secretary of State. The polarization was immediate and intense: Clinton supporters dismissed it as a routine "security review" that would reveal no wrongdoing, while Trump supporters filled rally venues with thunderous chants of "lock her up," convinced they were witnessing a grave national security breach. As my wife Patrice astutely observed, calling it "a shit show," we found ourselves attempting to uncover truth in an environment where political operatives on both sides cared only about electoral victory, not factual accuracy.
By early 2016, after thousands of hours of investigative work and hundreds of interviews, it was becoming apparent we likely didn't have a prosecutable case against Clinton. The critical element was proving intent: Did she knowingly and willfully break established protocols by discussing classified information on an unapproved email system, or was it merely careless handling of sensitive information? Without clear evidence of criminal intent, there was no viable case under existing statutes. Previous cases that had led to prosecution involved either intentional mishandling of classified information or evidence of disloyalty to the United States - neither of which we found here.
President Obama inadvertently complicated our work by publicly prejudging the case in multiple media appearances, characterizing Clinton's email use as "a mistake" that hadn't endangered national security. His comments, though perhaps well-intentioned, made it significantly harder to convince the American public that the investigation was truly independent and nonpolitical. Attorney General Loretta Lynch then dealt another blow to the investigation's credibility by meeting privately with Bill Clinton on her government airplane on the Phoenix tarmac, just days before our investigation was set to conclude. This created an appearance of impropriety that forced Lynch to announce she would accept whatever recommendations the FBI made.
Given the unprecedented nature of the case and thinking deeply about transparency's crucial role in maintaining public trust, I made the extraordinary decision to publicly announce the FBI's recommendation against prosecution, explaining our reasoning in detail. Just three weeks later, we began investigating whether Trump campaign associates were coordinating with Russian election interference efforts - an investigation we kept completely confidential, following standard protocol for ongoing cases.
The situation reached another crisis point days before the election when FBI investigators discovered thousands of previously unknown Clinton emails on Anthony Weiner's laptop during an unrelated investigation. I faced what seemed an impossible choice: inform Congress that we had reopened the investigation, effectively breaking my promise to update them on significant developments, or conceal this potentially significant new information. After agonizing deliberation, I chose transparency over concealment, informing Congress via a carefully worded letter. This decision ignited a political firestorm that raged until we completed our review of the new emails just three days before the election, finding nothing that changed our original conclusions.
Глава 8
When Loyalty Trumps Truth
The unexpected one-on-one dinner with President Trump in the White House residence's Green Room was deeply unsettling. What I assumed would be a group dinner turned into something far more troubling-the president seeking my personal loyalty. "I need loyalty. I expect loyalty," he demanded. I responded with silence, then tried to explain the critical importance of Justice Department independence, but he wasn't interested in institutional principles.
On February 14, after a counterterrorism briefing, Trump asked me to stay behind alone in the Oval Office. He wanted to discuss Michael Flynn, his national security adviser who had resigned the previous day after lying about his conversations with the Russian ambassador. "He is a good guy. I hope you can let this go," Trump said about the FBI investigation into Flynn. I only acknowledged Flynn seemed like a good guy but did not agree to drop the investigation. I would never abandon a criminal investigation at a president's request-that would undermine everything the Department of Justice represented.
For three months after the Valentine's Day meeting, I tried to avoid the president-the "Eye of Sauron" as I called him to my staff. I urged Sessions and Rosenstein to buffer me from Trump while I focused on improving FBI leadership culture and diversity. Trump fired me on May 9, 2017, while I was in Los Angeles for a diversity recruiting event. I learned about it on television. Though officially blamed on my handling of the Clinton investigation, Trump admitted to Russian leaders the next day that he fired me because of the Russia investigation.
Part of me felt relief at being fired, away from Trump's web of lies and demands for compromise. But this was accompanied by guilt at leaving the FBI unprotected, with no leaders strong enough to shield it from an unethical president. The emotion was compounded by touching gestures from FBI employees-cards, letters, gifts, even a picture book of our rescue dog Benji's greatest escapes captured by surveillance cameras.
Глава 9
The Web of Compromise
My relationship with Donald Trump was doomed from the start because our approaches to truth were fundamentally incompatible. While I was learning painful lessons about the necessity of full disclosure in the Justice Department, Trump was embracing what his ghostwriter called "truthful hyperbole" in The Art of the Deal: "a little hyperbole never hurts... It's an innocent form of exaggeration, and a very effective form of promotion." In the Department of Justice, however, such "hyperbole" isn't innocent promotion-it's a firing offense.
Trump finally found his man in William Barr, who despite his prior Justice Department service, had never prosecuted a case and had auditioned by criticizing Mueller's obstruction investigation. Barr quickly showed loyalty by using phrases like "no collusion" and "FBI spying," misleading the public about Mueller's report, intervening in Stone's case, and abandoning Flynn's prosecution after guilty pleas.
In November 2017, Flynn had pleaded guilty to lying to the FBI about his Russian contacts and agreed to cooperate with Mueller. Over two years, he repeatedly admitted his guilt before federal judges. Yet in May 2020, during the pandemic, Barr's Justice Department moved to dismiss Flynn's case, claiming his false statements weren't "material"-a move so irregular that career prosecutors refused to sign it and withdrew from the case.
Similarly, when Trump publicly demanded a reduced sentence for his associate Roger Stone, who was convicted of lying during the Russia investigation, Barr intervened again. After installing his own staffer as acting U.S. Attorney in D.C., Barr slashed Stone's recommended sentence-another unprecedented move that caused career prosecutors to withdraw in protest. Though Stone was ultimately sentenced to three years, Trump commuted his sentence before he served a day.
With the Stone and Flynn cases, Trump and Barr had fundamentally altered justice. As I put it, "The traditional blindfold on Lady Justice was gone. It had been replaced with a MAGA hat."
Глава 10
Rebuilding What Was Lost
Though the path to restoring trust in the Department of Justice will be difficult, we know the way because we've traveled it before. The solution is simple but powerful: honesty and openness with the American people. Truth and transparency lead to trust, and this has been proven repeatedly throughout the department's history during times of crisis.
Edward Levi's transformation of the Justice Department forty-five years ago serves as the blueprint for institutional renewal. Following Nixon's resignation, Levi inherited a department in shambles, with public confidence at historic lows and internal morale devastated by Watergate's revelations. His approach was comprehensive and methodical: implementing strict new guidelines limiting contact between the White House and DOJ, establishing clear rules about political investigations, and creating oversight mechanisms that remain in place today. Most crucially, Levi changed the culture by personally embodying the values of integrity and independence in every meeting, memo, and public appearance. He insisted on detailed documentation of decision-making processes and regular public explanations of departmental policies. In just two years, he achieved what many thought impossible - restoring both public trust and internal pride in the institution.
The department's resilience through the Trump era demonstrates that its core values remain strong. Career prosecutors, FBI agents, and civil servants across the DOJ ecosystem continued to pursue justice independently, often in the face of unprecedented political pressure. They maintained the department's traditional practices of fact-based investigation and blind application of the law. This institutional backbone, built on decades of shared professional culture and ethical standards, proved stronger than any individual president's attempts to weaponize it.
The road ahead requires specific actions from leadership. The next attorney general must establish clear boundaries between political appointees and career prosecutors, implement transparent processes for sensitive investigations, and communicate regularly with the public about the department's work. This includes difficult decisions about investigating former officials, where process and precedent must be clearly explained. U.S. Attorneys in all 94 districts must be selected based on professional merit rather than political connections, as these regional leaders shape the department's daily work and public image.
At the FBI, Director Wray's completion of his ten-year term would help restore stability and traditional independence. The Bureau should increase transparency about its internal oversight mechanisms, acknowledge past mistakes openly, and explain its evolving approaches to domestic terrorism, cybercrime, and other critical challenges.
Trust is rebuilt through consistent demonstration of values, not just declarations of intent. Every decision, from major policy changes to routine prosecutorial choices, must reflect unwavering commitment to truth and equal justice. By systematically showing Americans their work - through detailed court filings, regular press briefings, and clear explanations of decision-making - Justice can gradually refill its reservoir of public confidence. While the path requires patience and persistence, the principle remains unchanged: truth is non-negotiable and transparency is essential for justice to prevail.
