USA TODAY International Edition
JAMES COMEY TAKES THE STAND
The man I know is a giant with an even bigger heart The question is how far he’ll go if he’s asked whether Trump tried to obstruct justice
I wonder what her story is,” FBI Director James Comey said to no one in particular as our motorcade rolled through Lower Manhattan, past an elderly woman on a bench embracing a swaddled child.
“Everyone has a story and I bet her story is incredible.”
This was not an unusual musing from our now departed leader — a giant of a man with an even bigger heart, whose focus was always on trying to understand and improve the lives of others.
This particular visit centered on a meeting with counterterrorism officials. Afterward, rather than head back to the airport, Comey asked to be taken to the local FBI office so he could visit “the troops.” He walked the building floor by floor, meeting colleagues at their desks, extending his hand and offering a simple thank you for their service. ANGER AT FIRING To say his firing jarred much of the FBI family would understate the sadness, anger and confusion following the sudden dismissal of a man held in such high regard throughout American law enforcement. With the election and its aftermath consuming the national psyche, it may be hard to see past current headlines to reflect upon the incredible impact he had on our organization — but his legacy is a story worth telling.
Let’s start by doing something Comey shunned: highlighting his success. Like his predecessor, who faced and tackled challenges unique to his era, Comey took on growing problems within the organization in key areas such as leadership, agility and diversity. It might seem strange to call a respected leader a maniac, but Comey was nothing short of maniacal in driving change throughout the organization in order to right an off- axis leadership selection process, make the FBI more agile, and correct a major diversity problem.
Comey’s servant leadership principles were contagious. He populated our senior ranks with leaders who were kind but tough, confident yet humble. He cultivated a cadre of team- oriented field commanders who were not threatened by the notion that their subordinates might know more than they did.
Realizing he himself could never stop improving, he fought to ensure he would not get trapped in a bubble devoid of varying perspectives, or become comfortable with the trappings of power. He got his own lunch, placed his own calls, and had zero patience for ego or arrogance. Any of our 36,000 employees could email him directly and he’d respond.
His servant leadership style was reflected in those who surrounded him: senior staff who shared his passion for the rule of law; junior staff like myself who never once felt hesitant to speak up to challenge him with a differing point of view; and, as would prove his most important picks, an accomplished deputy director and senior executives who are now successfully navigating us through transformational waters. ‘ MAKE US BETTER’ Concerned the bureau was not as agile as it could be in addressing emerging threats, Comey worked tirelessly to ensure that new ideas and inventive ways of doing business were embraced. As he would passionately admonish new recruits during regular visits to the FBI Academy: “Do not let the grumpy old people crush your spirits! I’m a grumpy old person, and I can’t see us as freshly as you do. Study us and make us better.”
Comey looked at the organization and realized our agent population had become increasingly white. Change was needed. As he would say, not only was focusing on diversity the right thing to do, it was also an issue of effectiveness. If we do not accurately reflect the communities we serve, we risk being less effective. He as- sembled personnel and resources dedicated to attracting diverse talent. His commitment to diversity was personal. We flew 2,000 miles to Los Angeles on the day he was fired so he could attend a diversity recruitment event to pitch talented young people on joining the FBI.
When asked how he wanted to be remembered, Comey would quip that he wanted to be forgotten. He imagined finally getting us to a place where the solutions to our leadership, agility and diversity challenges were so ingrained in our culture, we would no longer remember even having a problem.
Those of us shaped by him will tirelessly work to ensure his goals are achieved — although he will not soon be forgotten.
It’s strange writing about Comey in the past tense, because it feels like writing an obituary. In a way I am doing just that, because despite curious observations from outsiders regarding Comey’s standing among our FBI family, we are very much an organization in mourning. Fortunately for the FBI, his legacy of leadership and service will permeate our great institution for generations to come.
Although we must eventually move on — the security of the American people demands our focus on mission — many of us will never stop celebrating the legacy of our seventh director. Like the woman on the bench we passed that day in Manhattan, Director Comey has a story, and it’s incredible.
Joshua Campbell is an FBI special agent who served as special assistant to Comey. The opinions expressed are his own.
James Comey’s testimony before the Senate Intelligence Committee is a drama within a drama — unfolding both inside and outside the hearing room.
The former FBI director will answer questions from senators about his account of nine meetings and conversations with President Trump in a relationship that quickly soured and ended with his firing. The committee may also attempt to question Comey about the investigation into Russia interference in the 2016 election.
Trump’s reaction to the man he called a “nut job” and to the Russian probe he has scorned as “made up” could add more detail to the emerging picture of how this president understands and values the rule of law — or simply doesn’t.
Comey has now given a written statement that recounts meeting by meeting, call by call, his contacts with the president. But it will be difficult for his testimony to meet fevered expectations. In March, he appeared before a House committee and stressed the limits on what he could say publicly about the Russia investigation. He acknowledged its existence but told the House, “I cannot say more about what we are doing and whose conduct we are examining.”
Even so, Comey will feel comparatively greater freedom in addressing his personal experience with Trump and perhaps also his view of why he was fired. It is now Comey’s turn to give his version of the dismissal, and it is an ap- propriate subject for congressional oversight.
The key question is whether Comey’s testimony will lend support to concerns about whether the president attempted to obstruct justice. The firing is the last of a series of steps that have given life to that charge.
Comey’s statement to the committee confirms that Trump asked him to declare his “loyalty,” to end the investigation of former national security adviser Michael Flynn ( conveying to Comey his hope that “you can let this go”), and to “get out” information about Trump’s own legal status.
Lawmakers may ask Comey to elaborate on why, as he said in his statement, he felt compelled to resort to the highly unusual practice of creating written records of each of these contacts. Comey will almost certainly refrain from expressly judging the legal question of obstruction. He will, however, supply the material for others to form their own judgments.
Viewers hoping for a striking new revelation in Comey’s public testimony might or might not be disappointed. There will be strong pressures to read as much as possible into the former director’s words. But whatever Comey says, this hearing is part of a story that is already extraordinary. It is about the faithful execution of the law in this administration, which depends on respect for legal processes and institutions.
It is, so far, a sad story.
Bob Bauer, a professor at the New York University School of Law, was White House counsel in the Obama administration from January 2010 to June 2011.