1960: My Uncle is the Director of the FBI

Full Hundreds chapter done guys, YES!!

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The detectives weren't simply asking Theodore about the case, it was more like confirmation of rumors already circulating through the precinct grapevine.

A police officer seeking revenge for his former partner's assault. That was the story making rounds through the bullpen, passed along with coffee refills and cigarette breaks.

Something felt off about the narrative, yet Theodore couldn't pinpoint exactly what. The broad strokes were correct, but the psychological nuances had been stripped away, reduced to simple vengeance.

He found himself curious about who had shaped this particular version of events.

After a moment's consideration, Theodore nodded, confirming what the detectives had heard. Yes, it was an officer seeking retribution over his partner's case.

Satisfied, the small crowd dispersed back to their desks. The East District case held little relevance for most West District personnel; they were just rubbernecking at someone else's disaster.

Their most pressing concern had shifted from football to politics. The election had consumed the nation's attention like nothing Theodore had witnessed in his previous life.

Over 88.4 million Americans had participated, shattering historical turnout records. Election night coverage had swung back and forth like a pendulum, with Jack and Charlie alternately claiming leads as vote tallies trickled in from crucial battleground states.

Yesterday had been Election Day, but disputes in several states delayed the final count until this morning. Jack had prevailed with 303 electoral votes, though his popular vote margin was razor-thin—only 112,827 votes ahead of Charlie, representing just 0.17% of total ballots cast.

At three o'clock this morning, Jack had delivered his victory speech live on television and radio, making history as the first president-elect to address the nation in the pre-dawn hours. The speech had been brief, powerful, and filled with the kind of soaring rhetoric that would define his administration.

But the real drama was just beginning.

At noon today, Republican Party officials had accused Chicago's Mayor Daley of ballot manipulation. Within hours, election results in Missouri, New Jersey, and other swing states faced challenges.

Some Mississippi and Alabama electors had refused to support Jack outright, casting protest votes for a conservative Democratic senator to oppose Jack's civil rights platform.

Texas presented its own complications. Media reports suggested Jack's vote totals in certain precincts exceeded the number of registered voters. Republican organizations publicly accused the Kennedy campaign of fraud, citing ghost votes and voter intimidation.

The West District bullpen had buzzed with election talk all day, voices rising and falling in animated debate. Theodore had been too consumed with the case to follow the unfolding controversy closely.

Now, with George Morrison behind bars, he watched a replay of Jack's victory speech on the communal television.

The young senator radiated vitality and confidence, every gesture conveying the energy of a new generation assuming power. Theodore found himself wondering how this charismatic figure would navigate the turbulent years ahead.

The next morning brought a fresh wave of election disputes. Almost everyone Theodore encountered was discussing the controversy, whether Jack had committed fraud, whether Charlie would challenge the results, and whether a recount was warranted.

The detectives were distracted from routine work, but fascinated by discussions of ballot stuffing and vote manipulation. A detective from rural Texas swore he'd spoken with family members who reported Democratic ballot boxes overflowing while Republican containers were mysteriously sealed.

A local Felton officer claimed his neighbors had all voted for Charlie, yet the precinct had gone for Jack.

"What is that if not fraud?" the officer demanded to nods in agreement.

Theodore drove to East District, where the speculation ran even wilder than at West District. Ricky led him into the conference room to organize case files and prepare their final report.

During their work, the medical examiner appeared with the delayed autopsy report. Spotting Theodore through the doorway, he didn't even enter, just leaned in, dropped the folder on the table with a muttered "autopsy report," and vanished like smoke.

Their efficiency impressed even themselves. Within two days, they'd submitted a complete case report to Chief Garcia's office, where it was quickly approved and filed. The Morrison case was officially closed.

Theodore borrowed copies of all relevant files and reports from Ricky. This case represented a textbook example of a mission-oriented serial killer, and he planned to include a detailed analysis in his notes.

One day later, the Felton Police Department's Football Game Day arrived, temporarily shifting attention from Washington politics to local athletics.

West District's opponent was Headquarters, a matchup that should have generated significant excitement. The game was held on the West District's home field, with both Chief Widdek and Director Adams attending personally.

Bernie's team crushed the Headquarters squad, leading by fourteen points entering the third quarter. But the atmosphere felt subdued compared to previous games.

Director Adams's presence cast a pall over the usual revelry. Crude cheering slogans were muted, and even the normally boisterous Cahill kept his voice down. Chief Widdek didn't pace the sidelines as before, instead spending the entire game in conversation with Director Adams, barely glancing at the field.

The match became tedious. After the final whistle, the crowd dispersed quickly without the traditional celebration at the Old Gun Bar. They'd won, but it felt hollow, as if Headquarters had thrown the game rather than suffer embarrassment in front of Director Adams.

Nobody wanted to discuss the victory, so the conversation returned to election controversies the next day.

At noon, a television news report brought the dispute to a crescendo. Charlie's campaign team was reportedly considering challenges in Illinois and Texas, believing fraud might have affected electoral vote allocation. But Charlie himself seemed inclined to accept the results.

According to inside sources, the vice president had privately stated that "the country needs stability."

The bullpen erupted in debate. Many detectives felt Charlie should challenge suspicious results.

Texans didn't appreciate conceding what was rightfully theirs. But others viewed Charlie's restraint as genuine leadership, making difficult choices for the nation's benefit.

The argument split along unpredictable lines, with even Bernie's football team members taking sides. Theodore remained focused on organizing his case notes, particularly his analysis of George Morrison's psychological profile.

Mission-oriented killers like George represented a fascinating subset of serial murderers, men who convinced themselves they were instruments of justice rather than common criminals.

He was considering requesting an interview with George while the case remained fresh in the man's memory.

Several days later, Charlie conceded defeat in a nationally televised address, stating he "would not demand a recount" and emphasizing that "national interests supersede partisan disputes."

His declaration that "if every suspicious district were challenged, the country's political life would be plunged into months of chaos" earned widespread praise for putting country above party.

The election controversy concluded with Charlie's gracious concession. Discussion shifted from fraud allegations to speculation about Jack's cabinet appointments, then gradually faded as people returned to local concerns.

The third round of football arrived, matching West District against South District. The game was held at a South District school rather than on familiar turf.

An unexpected spectator appeared on the sidelines before kickoff.

His Honor, the Mayor, had arrived to watch the proceedings. He approached Chief Widdek, apparently seeking a private conversation.

But Widdek showed no interest in extended dialogue with the mayor. After perfunctory pleasantries, the chief stood and loudly cheered for West District, leaving His Honor sitting awkwardly alone.

The mayor's gaze fell on the South District chief, who was also cheering enthusiastically for his team. The two chiefs seemed to be competing in volume and intensity, shouting encouragement while stealing glances at each other's performance.

Driven by this rivalry, the game's atmosphere crackled with energy. The battle on the field was matched by competition in the stands, with both departments' personnel cheering with renewed passion.

The day after the exciting match, Councilman Howard held a press conference at City Hall. Speaking for the City Council, he announced the official launch of an investigation and impeachment proceedings against His Honor, the Mayor.

The West District Homicide bullpen hummed with analysis. The detectives agreed that November had brought a new controversy every single day, creating an unprecedented run of excitement.

The discussion quickly reached a consensus.

Most believed these were proposals pushed through the City Council by Councilor Santos. Many had witnessed yesterday's scene, the mayor attending the game only to be rebuffed by Chief Widdek.

This was Santos's retaliation for the mayor's failed overture.

The detectives felt no sympathy for the mayor, a man so lacking in presence that many couldn't recall his name. Most had met Councilor Santos, however, and found him appealing, sincere, straightforward, with an oil worker background that resonated with working-class cops.

Bernie agreed with his colleagues' assessment but wore a strange expression when Santos was praised. He quietly told Theodore that Santos was essentially no different from Councilmen Howard and Miller, just another politician with his own agenda.

...

4132 Q Street Apartment, Washington, D.C.

J. Edgar Hoover drummed his fingers against the mahogany table as his longtime companion Clyde Tolson arranged a chair and sat down. Hoover adjusted his reading glasses and tore open the manila file folder he'd brought home from the office.

The Felton reports had arrived just before closing time, too late for proper review at the Bureau. He'd been preoccupied lately with more pressing concerns than small-city police matters.

The election might provide conversation fodder for Felton residents, but for Hoover, it represented an existential threat. Yesterday, word had brought that Jack intended to appoint his brother Robert as Attorney General to spearhead government reforms.

The FBI sat squarely in the crosshairs.

Reform what? Hoover fumed silently. What needed reforming? The Bureau functioned perfectly under his leadership.

His already low opinion of Jack Kennedy had curdled into something approaching open hostility.

Tolson adjusted his glasses and helped spread the documents across the table. The reports maintained their usual high standard, categorized, comprehensive, covering everything from social dynamics to political machinations.

Hoover frowned when he didn't immediately spot Theodore's photograph on the cover page. Tolson located a case report and slid it across the table.

Hoover scanned it twice, then pushed it back dismissively. They worked through all the reports quickly, Hoover's jaw tightening as he processed the information.

His finger stabbed at Theodore's case summary. "Look at this, he's being used as a political pawn again."

The FBI Director was incensed that the Felton Police Department had initially removed Theodore from the investigation, then equally annoyed that Councilor Santos had maneuvered his return.

"Should I suggest Santos stop interfering?" Tolson asked carefully.

Hoover's drumming stopped. "Theodore can provide Santos with dirt on Chief Garcia, so why would he back off? Ha." He located the City Council press conference report and shoved it toward Tolson. "The man's impatient to reach the top."

Felton's political landscape was transparent to the two FBI veterans. Santos was maneuvering for greater influence, seeking control over police department appointments. He wanted at least one district chief position, but the department was resisting.

The East District scandal provided perfect leverage, which Santos had immediately exploited.

The police department's attempt to cover up the investigation by sidelining Theodore had only made Santos's position stronger.

Tolson didn't pursue this analysis further. "Theodore's returning to Washington soon. Which department are you considering?"

Hoover snorted. "It's not certain he'll come back at all."

After a moment's silence, Tolson said, "I'm going to have Personnel directly request his transfer."

FBI recruitment traditionally relied on internal recommendations and government networks rather than public advertising. Most agents were recommended by high-level officials, participated in Bureau selection training, and were chosen based on merit.

For exceptional talents, the FBI bypassed normal procedures and directly recruited candidates.

Most local departments viewed the Bureau as either a superior agency or a valuable partner, willingly sending personnel in exchange for federal resources, case collaboration, and technical assistance.

A few departments, however, regarded the FBI with disdain, typically those located far from Washington or Bureau field offices, like Felton.

Tolson worried that Theodore's exceptional abilities might prompt the Felton Police Department to refuse cooperation. Some departments rejected FBI recruitment due to staffing shortages or reluctance to lose elite personnel, either refusing outright or sending mediocre candidates as token cooperation.

The previous reports indicated Felton intended to cultivate Theodore as their public face.

"How about Public Affairs?" Hoover asked after consideration.

On Theodore's career path, Hoover was willing to be slightly more democratic in his approach.

The Public Affairs Department operated directly under the Director's office, handling media relations and archival management, demanding work, but vitally important.

Hoover hadn't abandoned his plans to develop Theodore's political instincts. Jack Kennedy's victory had created a new urgency about retrieving Theodore from Texas. He worried that the young president might interfere with Theodore again, as had happened previously.

Tolson shook his head. "The Investigation Department might suit him better."

"Director also suits him," Hoover declared with characteristic bluntness. "Let him be the Director."

Tolson glanced at his old friend, reminding him not to overwhelm Theodore and risk driving him away again.

Hoover began humming tunelessly, his signal that the conversation was over. He stood and walked toward the bedroom, tossing a final comment over his shoulder: "He might not even come back."

[End of Chapter]