Posted by Sia on February 13, 2026, 10:46 am ADMIN
The Big Picture : Pam Bondi and John Mitchell
by Rick Wilson 2/13/26
There’s a particular hour in Washington, usually well past midnight, when the lights burn too long in offices where they shouldn’t.
It’s the hour when drafts of legal pleadings and press releases are rewritten. Of calls made on burner phones. Of whispers about ongoing investigations, subpoenas, and wiretaps.
There’s a smell to it, as aides quietly lawyer up, start saving hard copies of their emails and documents, and stop talking to anyone about anything beyond the weather and the Commanders.
Pamela Jo Bondi, soon.
And if you’ve read enough history, you recognize it.
In 1973, it drifted down Pennsylvania Avenue in a cloud of cigar smoke and raw political arrogance. It hung in the corridors of power while men in dark suits convinced themselves that loyalty was a higher virtue than law. They were wrong, of course. History was waiting with handcuffs.
Pamela Jo Bondi, Attorney General of the Trump Law Firm and Rub-N-Tug Spa, once known as the Department of Justice, is next.
The Attorney General at the time was John N. Mitchell. He was not a fool. He was not a fringe figure. He was the Attorney General of the United States, the keeper of the law’s flame, sworn to preserve it…and yet he mistook his proximity to Richard Nixon for immunity.
He believed that the Department of Justice could be bent, gently at first, then boldly, toward the preservation of a presidency. He believed obstruction was management. He was up to his ass in the Watergate scandal and tried to use the power of the DOJ to intimidate and silence reporters and witnesses. He believed silence was a strategy and that he (and Nixon) were above the law.
He believed wrong.
John Mitchell went to prison for conspiracy, obstruction of justice, and perjury.
Now we find ourselves staring at the slow, methodical choreography around the Epstein files, and at the center of that macabre dance stands Pam Bondi, offering the country a familiar tune: refusal, delay, denial, defiance, and lies.
Her answer to any question has been a lie, a distraction, followed by a middle finger.
Court orders? Fuck you.
Congressional inquiries? Fuck you.
Public transparency? Fuck you.
Justice for Epstein’s victims? Fuck you.
It’s a masterclass in Trumpian evil, the dialect spoken by people who believe the Department of Justice is nothing but an instrument of protection and revenge for Donald Trump. Bondi, Todd Blanche, Kash Patel and the DOJ are trying to run out the clock.
But time is not always a solvent. Sometimes it’s a microscope.
The Epstein affair is not merely sordid; it is gravitational. It pulls in power, money, celebrity, and political connections across party lines and decades. It is radioactive precisely because it does not respect ideology. And in such a moment, the Attorney General’s role is simple in theory and brutal in practice: let the law operate, sunlight included.
Yet what we see instead is furious defiance and cover-up. A kind of bureaucratic war with Sharpies and redacted PDFs that seems less concerned with justice than with blast containment.
Mitchell told himself something similar. He wasn’t obstructing justice, he thought; he was protecting the presidency. He wasn’t concealing crime; he was preventing hysteria. He wasn’t defying Congress; he was defending executive authority.
The Constitution disagreed.
The courts disagreed.
A jury disagreed.
There is a specific arrogance that afflicts those who have operated for too long in Trump's orbit. It whispers that the system is fragile and if you’re loud and ugly enough, the rules don’t apply. It suggests that rules are for the little people, the proles, and the suckers. It insists that the base will forgive anything done in the name of tribal loyalty.
But federal judges are not cable-news hosts. They do not applaud defiance dressed as principle. They read orders. They expect compliance. They have long memories and a limited sense of humor.
And Congress, even a dysfunctional one, possesses tools sharper than press releases. Contempt citations are not symbolic gestures. Funding battles are not academic exercises. The resurrection of investigatory authorities has a way of becoming bipartisan when scandal ripens. The GOP majority is on the endangered species list, and accountability is coming in hot for Pamela Jo Bondi.
Mitchell once assumed he was the system. That proximity to the President placed him at the center of gravity. What he discovered, too late, was that institutions bend until they don’t. And when they snap back, they do so with force.
There is a dark comedy in watching modern officials treat Watergate as sepia-toned lore rather than a lived warning. The lesson was not subtle: the Attorney General is not the President’s fixer. The Department of Justice is not a panic room for the politically vile. And obstruction is not a victimless crime.
Mitchell didn’t go to prison for breaking into the Watergate complex. He went for conspiracy. For perjury. For obstruction. For believing that process crimes were technicalities rather than felonies. The same kind of crimes Pam, Todd, and Kash are committing today.
He went because he mistook loyalty for legality.
The question hovering over the present moment is not whether the Epstein files are embarrassing. They are. It is not whether powerful people would prefer selective disclosure. They would.
The question is no longer whether the Attorney General of the United States believes that shielding her Master is a defensible exercise of executive authority. She quite evidently does.
But this is a perilous flirtation with history’s judgment in service to a man with no loyalty or honor to his subordinates.
Records are being made.
Emails are being sent.
Instructions are being given.
And someday, someone will read them aloud in an indictment.
History does not always repeat itself, but it does maintain impeccable bookkeeping.
The first Attorney General to go to prison did so because he convinced himself that the ends justified the means and that the law was pliable in his hands. Pam Bondi should take that to heart, if she has a heart.
In Washington’s midnight hour, the lights burn long. The statements are polished. The documents are redacted, shredded, lost, and uncataloged. The lies are sold as legal prerogatives, falsely, but with volume and venom.
But somewhere in the background, the old echo remains, the sound of a prison door closing on a man who thought he was too powerful to ever hear it.
Pam Bondi is so arrogant and so stupid that she will continue to believe that Trump will save her with a blanket pardon if push comes to shove, but he won't.
By the time it becomes clear that she's in deep sneaks, he will either be dead/incapacitated/ or simply uninterested in saving anyone else. Loyalty is a one way street with him. At the end of his first admin when he was going down the toilet, he neglected to save some of his most prolific enablers who'd broken the law for him and all of the January 6th criminals.
on February 13, 2026, 10:46 am
