FBI in Crisis: Trump’s Top Picks Deliver Wins Amid Internal Chaos

Paul Riverbank, 12/2/2025FBI scores public victories even as internal strife and leadership doubts simmer beneath the surface.

Let's start with those triumphs. Four major cases—all with real, tangible stakes. Take Kevin Luke. His story reads almost like a cautionary tale you'd hear at a security seminar, except this time the punchline is nearly a decade in prison. A career Army colonel, caught passing military secrets over a casual chat on the internet, now stripped of rank, left with little more than regret. The FBI message couldn’t be clearer: classified isn’t up for negotiation, not for old friends, not for clever questions, not for anybody.

Hardly had the dust settled there when a quieter, more unnerving episode came to light—this time at the border. Yunqing Jian, a visitor from China, carrying a mysterious pathogen nobody could quite identify. He lied about what he brought; the authorities caught it, hustled him out of the country, and left behind a wake of alarm. What exactly was the real risk? The details are scarce. Still, the message—keep watch, even if the threat’s invisible—echoed through every official statement.

Another case—almost cinematic in scope but sobering in reality—involved Chenguang Gong, a dual national with access to thousands of classified files on missile defense technology. He didn’t just look; he took. Four years in prison on the record, and a blaring warning for anyone tempted to siphon off secrets: if you try to undercut U.S. security, the bill comes due, and the courtroom’s waiting.

And then to Britain, where the FBI’s reach crossed the Atlantic. Nathan Gill, once a respectable European Parliament member, was found to have taken Russian cash to shape policy. It sounds like one of those fever-dream debates on partisan cable news—actual Russian collusion—but here it is, with the receipts. Gill got more than a decade in prison, the Bureau pointing to the case as proof of its resolve to safeguard democracies, ours and others.

Yet, while these victories command center stage, turbulence behind closed doors is harder to ignore. A 115-page leak described the FBI’s morale as battered, with anonymous insiders calling it “a rudderless ship.” Director Patel, reportedly stumped by the basics (like tracking down a proper raid jacket before joining a time-sensitive bust), has been painted as both hapless and outmatched. His deputy, Bongino, fares no better if you believe the leaks—one agent called him a “clown,” which would border on farce if not for the singular seriousness of the Bureau’s work.

These internal gripes are familiar but louder than usual. Some staffers point to politics—accusing segments of the workforce of nursing old grudges from the Trump years, or bristling at a hiring spree that favors educators over traditional cops. The term “Trump Derangement Syndrome” gets thrown around, perhaps too glibly, but it reflects deep rifts on the inside. And when former President Trump pardoned certain January 6 figures, worry within the ranks spiked—agents are talking out loud about their own safety, not just the country’s.

Nevertheless, official Washington won’t budge. President Trump isn’t interested in a shake-up; he’s called Director Patel “great,” brushing off the noise as background static. Bongino, for his part, fired back: “Judge the results. I work for you, not the front page.”

The reality? The FBI marks a string of hard-won successes for public consumption, while internally it’s wrestling with its own sense of balance. Agents press ahead, chasing threats at home and abroad, but the echoes of unrest and pride stubbornly coexist. These days, the Bureau is in the business of securing the nation—and, just as urgently, shoring up its own foundation.

If you’ve been tracking headlines on national security lately, the FBI’s been chalking up a string of wins—a flurry of cases closed, plots foiled, culprits behind bars. Glance at the news and you’ll see justice moving fast. Scratch the surface, though, and you’ll find fault lines running through the Bureau itself—grievances, doubts, even comic missteps that you wouldn’t expect from the nation’s flagship law enforcement agency.Let's start with those triumphs. Four major cases—all with real, tangible stakes. Take Kevin Luke. His story reads almost like a cautionary tale you'd hear at a security seminar, except this time the punchline is nearly a decade in prison. A career Army colonel, caught passing military secrets over a casual chat on the internet, now stripped of rank, left with little more than regret. The FBI message couldn’t be clearer: classified isn’t up for negotiation, not for old friends, not for clever questions, not for anybody.Hardly had the dust settled there when a quieter, more unnerving episode came to light—this time at the border. Yunqing Jian, a visitor from China, carrying a mysterious pathogen nobody could quite identify. He lied about what he brought; the authorities caught it, hustled him out of the country, and left behind a wake of alarm. What exactly was the real risk? The details are scarce. Still, the message—keep watch, even if the threat’s invisible—echoed through every official statement.Another case—almost cinematic in scope but sobering in reality—involved Chenguang Gong, a dual national with access to thousands of classified files on missile defense technology. He didn’t just look; he took. Four years in prison on the record, and a blaring warning for anyone tempted to siphon off secrets: if you try to undercut U.S. security, the bill comes due, and the courtroom’s waiting.And then to Britain, where the FBI’s reach crossed the Atlantic. Nathan Gill, once a respectable European Parliament member, was found to have taken Russian cash to shape policy. It sounds like one of those fever-dream debates on partisan cable news—actual Russian collusion—but here it is, with the receipts. Gill got more than a decade in prison, the Bureau pointing to the case as proof of its resolve to safeguard democracies, ours and others.Yet, while these victories command center stage, turbulence behind closed doors is harder to ignore. A 115-page leak described the FBI’s morale as battered, with anonymous insiders calling it “a rudderless ship.” Director Patel, reportedly stumped by the basics (like tracking down a proper raid jacket before joining a time-sensitive bust), has been painted as both hapless and outmatched. His deputy, Bongino, fares no better if you believe the leaks—one agent called him a “clown,” which would border on farce if not for the singular seriousness of the Bureau’s work.These internal gripes are familiar but louder than usual. Some staffers point to politics—accusing segments of the workforce of nursing old grudges from the Trump years, or bristling at a hiring spree that favors educators over traditional cops. The term “Trump Derangement Syndrome” gets thrown around, perhaps too glibly, but it reflects deep rifts on the inside. And when former President Trump pardoned certain January 6 figures, worry within the ranks spiked—agents are talking out loud about their own safety, not just the country’s.Nevertheless, official Washington won’t budge. President Trump isn’t interested in a shake-up; he’s called Director Patel “great,” brushing off the noise as background static. Bongino, for his part, fired back: “Judge the results. I work for you, not the front page.”The reality? The FBI marks a string of hard-won successes for public consumption, while internally it’s wrestling with its own sense of balance. Agents press ahead, chasing threats at home and abroad, but the echoes of unrest and pride stubbornly coexist. These days, the Bureau is in the business of securing the nation—and, just as urgently, shoring up its own foundation.