On Monday, August 18, 2025, the Trump administration made a move that stunned even seasoned Washington watchers: Missouri Attorney General Andrew Bailey was named co-deputy director of the Federal Bureau of Investigations (FBI), joining the controversial and embattled Dan Bongino in a highly unusual power-sharing arrangement. The announcement, reported by The Washington Post and echoed across major outlets, marks a dramatic shift in the leadership of one of America’s most important law enforcement agencies—one that has already sparked fierce debate about competence, loyalty, and the future direction of the Bureau.
Traditionally, the deputy director post is held by a career official with deep federal investigative or prosecutorial experience. Bailey, however, comes to the role with neither. As Public Notice noted, Bailey’s resume is heavy on political loyalty but light on federal law enforcement chops. He was appointed Missouri Attorney General in 2023 by Republican Governor Mike Parsons, following a stint as general counsel in the governor’s office. His tenure as AG was marked more by headline-grabbing stunts than by substantive legal victories or administrative reforms.
Bailey’s record in Missouri reads like a greatest-hits album for the culture wars. He filed a lawsuit against New York for prosecuting Donald Trump on fraud charges, arguing that it violated Missourians’ First Amendment rights to hear from a presidential candidate—a suit the Supreme Court quickly ignored. He also attempted to intimidate the nonprofit Media Matters for America, after Trump ally Stephen Miller called for state attorneys general to prosecute the organization for highlighting that ads for major brands appeared alongside pro-Nazi content. Bailey’s efforts fizzled, blocked by a federal judge who ruled that his actions violated the First Amendment.
Bailey’s office, according to The Missouri Independent, managed to spend only two-thirds of its $43 million budget for fiscal year 2024, as staffers left in droves. One state representative, John Voss, complained, “You’re asking for more personal service (funding), but you’re leaving $2 million on the bottom line. I honestly think the issue isn’t money. It’s something else preventing you from being able to hire attorneys.” Staff attrition was reportedly driven by a reluctance to pursue what many saw as frivolous lawsuits, such as suing Starbucks for not hiring enough white baristas or threatening Target for selling Pride-themed onesies. Bailey argued that the retailer’s actions amounted to “potential interference with parental authority in matters of sex and gender identity, and possible violation of fiduciary duties by the company’s directors and officers.”
Perhaps most troubling, in July 2025, Bailey nearly found himself in contempt of court after instructing prison officials not to release a woman exonerated after serving 43 years for a crime she did not commit. Yet despite—or perhaps because of—this record, Bailey was tapped to help run the FBI. As Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche, Trump’s former personal lawyer, gushed on social media, “Thrilled to welcome Andrew Bailey as our new FBI Co-Deputy Director. As Missouri’s Attorney General, he took on the swamp, fought weaponized government, and defended the Constitution. Now he is bringing that fight to DOJ.”
But what of Dan Bongino, the man Bailey is joining—or, as many see it, babysitting? Bongino, a former right-wing media personality, was already a controversial pick for deputy director. His career has been defined by promoting conspiracy theories, aggressive rhetoric, and a talent for riling up the MAGA base. Yet, as Wonkette and Public Notice both observed, the transition from pundit to public servant has not been smooth. Bongino’s handling of the Jeffrey Epstein case, in particular, proved disastrous. After years of fueling speculation about Epstein’s death, Bongino and FBI Director Kash Patel were forced to admit that Epstein had, in fact, killed himself. They released a doctored video to support their claim, but the move only fueled further outrage among their supporters.
The fallout was swift and severe. Bongino reportedly endured a nearly month-long public meltdown, culminating in an angry confrontation with Attorney General Pam Bondi in July 2025. He threatened to quit and even to “torch” Bondi for damaging his career. Afterward, he was excluded from high-level meetings about the Epstein investigation, and his public appearances became sporadic and cryptic. On Fox News, Bongino lamented, “I gave up everything for this. I stare at these four walls all day in DC, by myself, divorced from my wife—not divorced, but I mean separated, divorced—and it’s hard. I mean, we love each other, and it’s hard to be apart.”
Meanwhile, Bongino’s boss, Kash Patel, faced his own troubles. Patel sued MSNBC commentator Frank Figliuzzi for noting Patel’s rare appearances at FBI headquarters. The agency, under their joint leadership, has been criticized for doing little more than firing a few career civil servants and shuffling the organizational chart. According to Public Notice, the administration is reluctant to fire Bongino outright, fearing it would “undermine the president.” Instead, they have opted to sideline him by assigning Bailey as co-deputy director—a move that insiders say is meant to limit Bongino’s influence and bring some semblance of adult supervision to the Bureau.
Bailey, for his part, is expected to pursue investigations that align closely with Trump’s agenda, targeting corporations, state legislators, and social issues that can generate headlines and rally the base. As the editorial board of the Kansas City Star put it, “We expect that his task in the new job will be to push the legal limits of the FBI’s considerable powers in order to go after the president’s rivals and wage ideological warfare. That is, after all, how he used his platform in Missouri.”
Within the FBI, the mood is tense. Career officials, accustomed to a certain level of professionalism and independence, now find themselves navigating a leadership team more interested in ideological crusades than in the Bureau’s core mission. Some worry that the appointment of Bailey—a man with little federal experience but a proven willingness to defy court orders and pursue partisan investigations—signals a new era in which the FBI becomes a tool for political retribution rather than a bulwark of the rule of law.
Critics from across the political spectrum have raised alarm bells. Supporters of the administration argue that the shake-up is necessary to root out what they see as a weaponized, unaccountable bureaucracy. Detractors warn that the moves threaten to erode public trust in federal law enforcement and undermine the very foundations of American democracy. As the dust settles, one thing is clear: the FBI’s leadership is entering uncharted territory, with two men at the helm who embody the deep divisions—and the high stakes—of this political moment.
Whether Andrew Bailey’s creativity and willingness to “make something happen” will stabilize the Bureau or simply fuel further chaos remains to be seen. For now, the nation watches as the FBI, once the gold standard of American law enforcement, becomes a stage for the latest act in the ongoing drama of Trump-era Washington.
