James Comey’s indictment for allegedly lying to Congress about leaking sensitive FBI information through his friend Daniel Richman has sent shockwaves through Washington, as Just the News reports. The former FBI director, once a towering figure in law enforcement, now faces a trial that could unravel his legacy. It’s a stark reminder that even the powerful can’t dodge accountability forever.
In September 2025, a grand jury indicted Comey for misleading the Senate Judiciary Committee in 2020 about authorizing leaks concerning FBI investigations into Hillary Clinton. The charges stem from his Sept. 30, 2020, testimony, in which he denied directing anyone to leak information about the Trump-Russia or Clinton probes. Yet, the indictment claims he did just that, using his confidant Daniel Richman as a conduit.
Comey’s troubles trace back to 2013, when President Barack Obama appointed him FBI director. By 2015, he brought on Richman, a former DOJ official and Columbia Law professor, as a Special Government Employee (SGE) with Top Secret clearance. Richman, a close friend, was tasked with sensitive issues like the “Going Dark” encryption debate, giving him access to classified information.
Richman signed an ethics agreement in June 2015, acknowledging that SGEs must not misuse non-public government information for private gain. “Don’t misuse Government information … to further any private interest,” the Office of Government Ethics guideline “To Serve With Honor” warned. Yet, Comey’s critics argue this rule was flouted when Richman leaked the “Comey Memos” to The New York Times in 2017.
Richman’s SGE term expired in June 2016, but he continued advising Comey without formally renewing his status. FBI emails reveal a reappointment was approved in December 2016, but Richman never signed the acknowledgment, raising questions about his legal standing. This bureaucratic fumble didn’t stop him from communicating with FBI officials, including Comey’s chief of staff, James Rybicki.
By January 2017, Richman received renewed ethics guidelines, reinforcing that leaking non-public information was forbidden. Despite this, he resigned as an SGE on Feb. 7, 2017, citing limits on his “extracurricular life.” His resignation didn’t end his role as Comey’s go-between with the press, a move that now fuels the indictment’s fire.
After President Donald Trump fired Comey in May 2017, Richman leaked the “Comey Memos” to the New York Times. The goal? To push for a special counsel in the Trump-Russia investigation, which later collapsed under scrutiny.
Comey’s 2020 testimony claimed he never authorized anyone to be an anonymous source regarding an FBI probe into “Person 1,” identified as Hillary Clinton. “On or about September 30, 2020 … JAMES B. COMEY JR., did willfully and knowingly make a materially false, fictitious, and fraudulent statement,” the indictment charges. This contradiction lies at the heart of the case, with Richman named as the leaker.
Richman’s media contacts weren’t new. In 2016, he defended Comey to Politico’s Riley Roberts against criticism of the Clinton email probe and sought approval before speaking to Time magazine. His cozy relationship with reporters, particularly the New York Times’ Michael Schmidt, raises eyebrows about how much he shaped narratives on Comey’s behalf.
Richman told FBI agents he was “pretty sure” he didn’t leak classified information to Schmidt, adding he was sure “with a discount.” This half-hearted denial, documented in an FBI memo, suggests he knew the line he was toeing. If he misled investigators, he could face his own legal peril.
FBI records paint Richman as a loyal ally, working closely with Comey and General Counsel James Baker. Yet, his failure to complete mandatory training on insider threats and media contact awareness in 2015 and 2016 hints at a cavalier attitude toward protocol. The handwritten note stating he was never officially reappointed after June 2016 only muddies the waters further.
Comey pleaded not guilty this week, with his trial set for January 2026. The Justice Department’s earlier decision not to charge him or his team, citing uncertainty about the leaks, now seems like a missed chance to curb unchecked power. Comey’s defenders might call this a witch hunt, but the paper trail suggests otherwise.
Richman was subpoenaed two weeks before Comey’s indictment, signaling prosecutors are digging deep. His role as Comey’s confidant and leaker could make or break the case. If he knowingly misled the FBI, process crimes could loom, proving no one is above the law.
The conservative case here is simple: rules apply to everyone, especially those entrusted with power. Comey’s alleged lies and Richman’s leaks undermine public trust in institutions already battered by partisan games. The woke crowd might cry foul, but fairness demands consequences, not excuses.
This saga exposes the dangers of insider cronyism in Washington. Comey and Richman’s actions, if proven, show how elites bend rules to shape narratives, leaving ordinary Americans to question who really serves the public. January’s trial will test whether justice can cut through the fog of privilege.
