Hunter Biden has been indicted in Los Angeles on nine counts of tax charges and faces prison terms of up to 17 years. These are in addition to gun charges filed earlier in Delaware. It is interesting to contrast his situation with that of John Dean, both being “bad boys” at the very center of America’s greatest political scandals.

Dean was President Richard Nixon’s lawyer who, according to lead FBI agent Angelo Lano, was responsible for 90–95 percent of the cover-up efforts. Dean had initially assured Nixon and his top aides that no one on the White House staff had any advance knowledge of the Watergate break-in, and they built their entire defense around this assurance. The folks at Nixon’s reelection committee were the ones actually at risk. In the course of his cover-up, however, Dean managed to infect Nixon and his people such that he escaped going to prison by becoming the lead prosecution witness against his former White House colleagues. 

Hunter, along with President Joe Biden’s younger brother James, is at the center of a decades-long effort to sell access to the “Biden Brand.” Unfortunately for Hunter, he does not appear to be in a position to save himself by turning states’ evidence and selling out his family members. 

Blood really is thicker than water. 

Perhaps that doesn’t really matter, since both scandals feature extensive written records that are tough to refute: Nixon was done in by his secret taping system; Hunter, by his “laptop from hell” that he negligently left in a local repair shop.

The respective backgrounds of these two junior players, while clearly different, have some eerily similar parallels. Both graduated from law school in their early 20s: Dean from Georgetown in 1965; Hunter from Yale in 1996, but only after transferring from Georgetown after completing his first year. 

Their first job experiences were startlingly different. Dean was fired from Welch & Morgan, a boutique communications law firm, after only six months, for unethical conduct. Hunter started working for MBNA, a large bank holding company in his home state of Delaware. There he became an executive vice president before leaving in 1998 and soon forming his own lobbying firm.

Dean quickly landed on his feet, experiencing an extraordinarily rapid rise in GOP politics. He landed a position on the staff of the House Judiciary Committee within a month of his law firm firing, where he rose to become minority counsel. From there, he went to Nixon’s Department of Justice as associate deputy attorney general, before being named counsel to the president in July of 1970. (READ MORE: Hunter Biden Has an Identity Crisis)

Hunter’s path through lobbying and investment firms was not nearly as impressive, even if, perhaps, it was more lucrative. It’s wonderfully detailed in a well-researched article by Ben Schreckinger, published in 2019 in Politico Magazine.

Of course, Hunter’s path may have been clouded by his six efforts at rehabilitation for drug and alcohol abuse.

Dean burst onto the public scandal scene on March 13, 1973, when he was 35 years old. In confirmation hearings before the Senate Judiciary Committee, acting FBI Director Patrick Gary admitted sharing some 82 internal FBI documents with Dean — following which the committee voted unanimously to require Dean’s testimony before proceeding further with Gray’s confirmation. One week later, on March 21, Dean first shared the specifics of the ongoing cover-up with Nixon. Nixon asked him to reduce his report to writing, which the president stated he would use as the basis for calling for a renewed investigation into the Watergate matter. Dean quickly concluded that anything he wrote would amount to a confession of his own obstruction of justice. So, on April 2, he sought out prosecutors in pursuit of personal immunity.

The detailed account of Dean’s changing story, from originally offering to testify against Nixon’s reelection committee officials to alleging a conspiracy involving Nixon and his top White House aides, is detailed in an internal memo never shared with defense counsel, as so clearly required by law (the Brady Rule).

For his part, Hunter’s new-found prominence came as a result of a New York Post article dated Oct. 14, 2020, describing the contents of his laptop diaries. Even the combined suppression efforts of federal agencies and social media giants have not been able to keep its contents from public disclosure — at least once Republicans gained control of the House of Representatives. 

Here, again, their stories diverge. Dean was unable to convince federal prosecutors to grant him the immunity he so desperately sought, but he was able to get it from the newly formed Senate Ervin Committee, eager to feature witnesses to testify against Nixon and his people. They treated Dean with kid gloves during his televised appearances, which cemented his reputation as an innocent whistleblower who somehow got taken advantage of by his former colleagues. His criminal defense lawyer told a BBC audience in 1994 how they had arranged for Dean to sit alone at the witness table, wearing a conservative suit and tortoise shell glasses, instead of the mod suits and contact lenses so clearly remembered by his colleagues. Dean was flanked by the lovely Maureen in the row behind him. His testimony had been drafted in conjunction with Majority Counsel Sam Dash, who described pleasant afternoons as they worked in Dean’s townhouse in Old Town Alexandria, enjoying iced tea served by his spouse. Unlike other committee witnesses, Dean did not submit advance copies. Starting his testimony at 2 p.m., Dean was allowed to read its entire 240 pages, without interruption, ending just as the committee adjourned, so that there was no opportunity for questioning. Evening news broadcasts, of course, reflected this carefully produced performance.

For his part, Hunter cannot expect to appear before a friendly committee, hence his offer to appear, but only in a public hearing. One has only to remember how that was handled by Lois Lerner, the IRS official who so conveniently held up charitable organization approvals for conservative groups. Sitting alone at the witness table, fresh shaven and dressed in a somber-colored suit with a muted tie, Hunter will proudly proclaim his innocence, before announcing that he is claiming his constitutional protections under the Fifth Amendment — and striding purposefully out of the hearing room, flanked by his Secret Service detail. As with Dean’s committee appearance, it will make great television for the evening’s news.

Dean’s sweetheart plea bargain — pleading to a single felony count — was formalized in court on Oct. 19, 1973. Hunter’s equally outrageous agreement, in contrast, fell apart on June 20, 2023, under astute judicial questioning.

Following an unexpected acquittal in a New York prosecution keying off Dean’s testimony, Judge Sirica decided to enhance his witness credibility by sentencing Dean to a prison term of one to four years. Special prosecutors bragged in their book about how astute it was, to show jurors that Dean was being punished too. One week following the cover-up convictions, Dean was set completely free, without probation or parole. He’d been confined only for the four months of the trial’s duration — and, even then, in a nearby witness holding facility. Dean, in point of fact, never spent a single night in jail for his many Watergate crimes. 

The only indication of the extent of his wrongdoing comes from his Virginia disbarment hearing, where the bar association accused him of being guilty of encouraging perjury by other witnesses, destroying evidence retrieved from one burglar’s White House safe, embezzling $4,000 of campaign funds to pay for his honeymoon, and authorizing payment of hundreds of thousands of dollars of “hush money” to Watergate burglars. 

Today, Dean appears frequently as a political commentator on liberal media networks, with nary a mention that he hasn’t been licensed to practice law for almost 50 years. 

Hunter’s fate remains unknown at this point, but he does not appear eligible for heroic whistleblower status. It also may take decades for internal records to emerge that explain the five-year delay in bringing any charges at all. That said, Hunter holds one powerful ace in the hole: His dad is president and can pardon him at any time. Forget the bland assurances to the contrary from his Press Office. I can picture it in vivid color: “I love my son, who has been unfairly singled out by folks who were really after me. This is not right, so I’m granting him a full and unconditional pardon.”

Geoff Shepard came to Washington in 1969 as a White House fellow after graduating from Harvard Law School. He served on President Richard Nixon’s White House staff for five years, including a year as deputy counsel on the president’s Watergate defense team. He has written three books about the internal prosecutorial documents he’s uncovered, many of which are posted on his website, www.shepardonwatergate.com.