Reflections on a Sudden Loss of Freedom

There’s something jarring about suddenly finding yourself stripped of your freedom. June 3, 2022, is a date that’s etched in my mind.

When the FBI comes for you, they don’t hold back. They pull your arm behind your back and fasten handcuffs tightly. No matter how gentle they think they’re being, it’s a jolt to the shoulder.

As I found myself surrounded by five armed agents, it struck me—here I was, a 74-year-old man weighing 145 pounds and standing at a mere 5’7″. They certainly seemed more intimidating than necessary.

Once handcuffed, I was led out through the back of Reagan National Airport and up some portable stairs onto the tarmac. It was my first encounter with the process of being taken back to FBI headquarters.

Walt Giardina, one of the agents, oddly resembled a friendly companion—when he wasn’t wielding authority, that is. He put on the facade of a dutiful officer, seemingly devoid of the backbone to confront the heavier machinations of the FBI and the Department of Justice.

However, internal documents later revealed Giardina’s troubling nature—someone ready to compromise integrity for the sake of partisan interests. It felt like a reflection of a long-standing culture of fear and intimidation within the FBI, going all the way back to J. Edgar Hoover’s reign.

Hoover, known for his dubious tactics, had a history of using the FBI to investigate and undermine powerful figures like Martin Luther King Jr. and the Kennedy brothers, always with the aim of gathering useful information to exert control over lawmakers.

It’s often said that power corrupts, and the FBI is no exception; absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Upon arrival at headquarters, I got a taste of what FBI procedures entail. A large, intimidating man gestured for me to obey commands without question. At least I got a chuckle when he sheepishly admitted that he couldn’t figure out how to take my fingerprints properly.

Things took a humorous turn as Walt, my companion, and I proceeded toward district court for my arrest. The irony wasn’t lost on me; had I just walked a few blocks that morning and reported to court, I could have avoided all the commotion. But that wasn’t the Biden administration’s gameplan—it aimed to publicly discipline Trump officials to appear righteous in the eyes of its supporters.

The absurdity continued as the agents got lost searching for the court building, making a few rounds with desperate phone calls until they eventually found the right entrance, a freight elevator hidden behind the structure.

Then came the strip search. First off, they made me remove my tie and belt—not that I was overly concerned at that point. The whole process felt excessive, but I tried to maintain my composure.

To top it all off, they shackled my legs with heavy irons, citing it as standard procedure. I couldn’t help but wonder why I, a former White House advisor, was treated this way while facing misdemeanors. What were they trying to accomplish? Perhaps this was a precursor to what they intended for Trump himself.

My day had its amusing moments—like when I was directed through long, dim hallways by a 6’2″ guard, legs shackled. I was shuffling along, hoping not to pull a muscle while trying to keep up.

This same guard made an off-hand remark about how I was in the same holding area as John Hinckley, the man who attempted to assassinate President Reagan. I found it a strange comparison—contrasting my situation as a former official failing to comply with a subpoena against Hinckley’s bizarre motivations.

In that dark cell, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the stark silence. It was my crash course in prison life: a cold draft, a rigid bench, and a complete lack of comforts. No clock. No food at my fingertips—just a gray, lifeless environment. It felt surreal as I mentally tried to process it.

“If this doesn’t kill you, it might just make you stronger,” I mused to myself. I braced for what was to come. More than 600 days later, I found myself behind bars in federal prison.

It’s a curious experience, one that will shape my perspective forever.