This book strongly reminded me of the story of the scorpion and the frog. The scorpion stings the frog simply because it’s in its nature. In many ways, the FBI operates the same way—doing what it does because that’s its nature.
While reading, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the book was trying to absolve the FBI of its sins. Because of that, every page pushed me to form counterarguments instead. At some point, I stopped questioning specific actions and started questioning the nature of the FBI itself.
The FBI is essentially a weapon. A necessary one, perhaps—but a weapon nonetheless. A weapon whose casing changes with every administration, one that isn’t dismantled once a problem is solved. And for this weapon to justify its existence, there must always be a threat—natural or manufactured.
The book constantly circles around an identity crisis within the FBI. But the truth is, the FBI doesn’t really have an identity. It’s a weapon that doesn’t know where to aim its barrel. A scorpion that stings, doesn’t fully understand why it stings, and simply says, “It’s in my nature.”