Although both were born in New York less than two years apart, very few prominent men linked together in American politics today differ more than Robert Mueller and Donald Trump.
Mueller died Saturday at age 81. A former Marine, FBI director and prosecutor, he personified the values of honor and service.
Trump avoided military duty with questionable claims of bone spurs, insulted slain soldiers as “suckers” and “losers” and has generally spent his career promoting his personal interests and his own name every chance he gets.
Despite their differences, the men will be forever connected by the investigation into Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election. As special counsel, Mueller found that the Trump campaign had numerous contacts with Russia and welcomed its assistance, but also concluded that the evidence was insufficient to establish a conspiracy to commit any crimes. Despite claiming that Mueller’s report was a “total exoneration,” Trump has disparaged Mueller ever since.
True to form, Trump noted Mueller’s passing by immediately vilifying him on social media. “Robert Mueller just died,” Trump wrote on Truth Social as soon as the news started to circulate. “Good, I’m glad he’s dead. He can no longer hurt innocent people!” These are particularly ugly words, even for Trump. But undermining the Russia probe — and Mueller himself — has been part of Trump’s unrelenting and very personal campaign to rewrite history.
The two men graduated from Ivy League schools in the late 1960s, and from there their lives went in different directions. Mueller left Princeton University and joined the Marine Corps, fighting in Vietnam and earning a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart. Upon his return, he went to law school and worked as a lawyer in the private and public sectors before rising through the ranks of the Justice Department in the administration of George H.W. Bush. Mueller became FBI director just days before the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. He transformed the bureau from a law enforcement organization into an intelligence agency to meet the demands of evolving threats. But even while he enforced the new surveillance provisions of the Patriot Act, Mueller remained a man of principle, standing firm against torture at CIA “black sites” and threatening to pressure President George W. Bush to back down on warrantless surveillance.
Meanwhile, Trump graduated from the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School and went to work at his father’s real estate firm, which the Department of Justice alleged discriminated against tenants on the basis of race in violation of the Fair Housing Act. The case ended in a settlement with the assistance of attorney Roy Cohn, the former counsel for Sen. Joseph McCarthy during the Red Scare. Trump built a real estate empire, ran a casino business, declared bankruptcy multip times, starred in a reality television show and slapped his name on everything from skyscrapers to vodka bottles. Where Mueller’s career was marked by sacrifice and service, Trump sought profit and celebrity.
But their paths were destined to cross. Mueller had left the DOJ and was working as a lawyer in private practice again in 2017 when Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein appointed him special counsel to investigate the Russia matter. No name was more respected in law enforcement circles than Mueller’s. Indeed, he conducted his investigation with his trademark silence, speaking publicly only upon the conclusion of his investigation in 2019.
Even then, Mueller said every little, allowing his written work to “speak for itself.” His focus was on the role of Russia; he noted that “the Russian military launched a concerted attack on our political system.” He detailed the two indictments he had obtained against 38 Russian defendants. In one alleged scheme, Russia used “sophisticated cyber techniques to hack into computers” used by Hillary Clinton’s campaign, stole private information and released it through WikiLeaks “to interfere with our election and to damage a presidential candidate.” In the other case, “a private Russian entity engaged in a social media operation where Russian citizens posed as Americans in order to influence an election.” Far from clearing Trump, Mueller said that his office did not make a determination as to whether the president committed obstruction of justice. Because DOJ policy prohibits prosecuting a sitting president, however, “charging the president with a crime was therefore not an option we could consider.” A man of Mueller’s integrity and fidelity to the law must have bristled at the very thought of a huckster and con man like Trump in the Oval Office. But Mueller dutifully followed the policies of the department and declined even to accuse Trump of a crime. The narcissistic Trump could never let go of Mueller’s findings, and he has continued to refer to the investigation as a “witch hunt” and the “Russia hoax.” Mueller’s 448-page report, documenting Russia’s efforts to help Trump’s electoral efforts and his campaign’s eagerness to accept it, says otherwise. On Saturday, we once again were reminded of both the promise and the peril of the American experiment. Mueller’s lifelong commitment to service represents an America of integrity, sacrifice and respect. Trump’s disdain for all that Mueller stood for symbolizes our society’s current obsession with money and self-promotion. And Trump’s shameless efforts to blame Mueller — even in death — for his own shortcomings offer just one more brutal reminder of who he truly is.
Barbara McQuade is a former Michigan U.S. attorney and legal analyst. 
