Beyond DOGE and Drama: Former FBI Forensic Examiner Speaks Out to Musk

Do you want to know what real FBI work looks like? Here’s just a glimpse of what they did last week: Pulled a baby out of the hands of traffickers before they could sell her to the highest bidder; rescued captives chained in a basement, left to rot by the monsters who took them; prevented a mass shooting that could have left dozens dead; hauled a predator out of his home, where he hoarded thousands of images of stolen innocence; and—stopped a terrorist before they could turn a parade into a graveyard. We fought these battles while bureaucrats sat in offices, passing judgment from their comfortable distance. You think you know? Try it for a day—just one. Then maybe—maybe—you can have an opinion. Until then, sit down and shut up.

When most people hear “FBI,” they think of thrilling action movies, high-stakes arrests, and elite agents chasing criminals in dark alleyways. They don’t think about the grinding bureaucracy, relentless stress, or sheer emotional weight of investigating crimes that would haunt most people for a lifetime.

I know because I lived it. And so did my friends.

For years, we worked cases that the average person couldn't even stomach reading about—terrorism, child exploitation, crimes so horrific that they change the way you see the world forever. We did it because we believed in something bigger than ourselves. We did it knowing that without people like us, the worst of humanity would go unchecked. And we did it even though we were treated like disposable assets by the institution claiming to value us.

The FBI doesn’t reward sacrifice; it expects it. Long hours, low pay, and exposure to trauma that no amount of training can truly prepare you for—it’s all just part of the job. And if you break under its weight, if the images, the stories, the sheer evil you’ve confronted become too much? You’re cast aside, another burned-out agent replaced by the next idealistic recruit who hasn’t yet learned how much they’ll have to give up.

I’ve cried countless times in the bathroom after a case broke me. I’ve vomited during search warrants because of what I saw. I know because it happened to me, and I kept going for as long as possible, just like my friends did, because we knew the alternative was letting the monsters win.

We weren’t asking for medals. We weren’t asking for special treatment. We were asking for fair pay, actual mental health support (more on this another time) , and a system that didn’t treat us like cogs in a machine. Instead, what we got was lip service. We were told to be grateful. We were reminded that our roles were prestigious. Prestige doesn’t pay the bills. Prestige doesn’t erase the nightmares. Prestige doesn’t help when you realize the agency that demands your loyalty will never give you the same in return.

And now? Now, there’s a new wave of stressors—DOGE, Musk, and the circus of distractions that make a mockery of the serious work that is done every day to keep YOU safe. It’s infuriating. It’s a betrayal. And it’s precisely why so many of us walk away. I did. So did many of my friends. We took our skills, experience, and relentless drive and built something on our own terms. We refused to be used up and discarded. And we’re not the only ones.

But what about those who stayed? What about the brave men and women still grinding away and fighting the battles no one wants to face? They keep people safe and protect the children society claims to care so much about. Who will do that if these employees are fired or quit? The answer is no one.

Do you know how many predators live on your street? I do. I know because I’ve been in their house, taken their computers, and seen the horrors they hide. And they know precisely how many kindergartners are at your bus stop. Wake up, people. The threats are real, and the ones standing between you and them are being driven away.

The system doesn’t have to be this way. It’s failing because the people running it let it fail. But until they fix it, the best and brightest will continue to walk. And honestly? Who can blame them?