Is it expected for us to feel compassion for George Mullen? This question is mostly rhetorical since the answer is obviously yes, especially when casting iconic actor Robert De Niro to portray the character as America’s Grandpa. However, it’s not all rhetorical. It’s one thing to sympathize with his challenging situation: his mission to unveil the culprits behind a severe cyberattack, his struggle to navigate the tricky political arena he had previously exited, and his battle against the gradual onset of senile dementia. Yet, it’s a completely different matter to empathize with how he’s handling it all: proceeding blindly in one of the most high-stakes roles in the (fictional) history of America, fully aware that his aging mind is no longer up to the task. If only we had some recent real-life examples demonstrating what a risky endeavor this is.

George’s deteriorating condition is significantly impeding his effectiveness in carrying out his duties. The episode commences with him receiving a phone call from his espionage contact, Natan, which he struggles to hear or comprehend, as reality shifts in and out of focus around him. The camera angles fluctuate between extreme close-ups and unsettling long-distance shots from within his study. The TV transmission glitches with digital disturbances in both audio and visuals. He might be seated behind his desk in one moment and abruptly standing before it in the next, followed by a scene of him seated in a helicopter on the way to work.

He can excuse some of these incidents by attributing them to stress and occasional overreactions when discussing with his aide, Roger. However, when President Mitchell sets a 72-hour deadline for him to provide answers before considering strikes on Russia out of a need for retaliation against anyone, regardless of actual involvement, that incomprehensible phone call and his subsequent inability to recall its contents present a significant issue. He spends three days awaiting information he has already received, concerning details he is supposed to be aware of. (Well, at least to some extent—more on this shortly.)

Meanwhile, Roger reveals himself to be much more than Zero Day’s answer to Brandt from The Big Lebowski. Turns out our boy has not one, not two, but three secret lives going on — that we know of! He’s having a clandestine affair with George’s congresswoman daughter, Alex, who is rather inexplicably made the head of the oversight committee keeping tabs on her dad’s commission by his rival, Speaker Dreyer. (This show was written when “conflicts of interest” were frowned upon by the United States government.) 

Roger’s also got a billionaire benefactor named Bob Lyndon (Clark Gregg) who wants him to keep the investigation focused on Russia. Lyndon’s fellow megarich chud, a Silicon Valley messiah named Monica Kidder (Gaby Hoffman), keeps volunteering her services unasked for; if nothing else it’s a better use of cable news time than the screechingly reactionary talk show hosted by Evan Green (a bespectacled Dan Stevens), who tears so-called “King George” a new one every night in the sneering tone endemic to the right these days.

Finally, Roger in contact with a Russian operative (Stass Klassen) who, with apparent honesty, tells Roger that the Russian government had nothing to do with the attack. That hacker collective that gunned down in the Bronx by GRU agent? He was covering his tracks because of the shit he was involved in with these guys, which didn’t include the takedown of the transpo and communications grid. Roger’s buddy, in turn, takes care of the agent by running him over with a truck.

Somehow, this vehicular murder happens just yards away from where the feds make their first arrest, bringing in an ex-NSA hacker named Patrick O’Keefe (Jasjit Williams). The government finds him in part by hacking literally every phone in Lower Manhattan; you may recall this as the reason Lucius Fox had a falling out with Batman in The Dark Knight. O’Keefe, too, denies Russian involvement; he says the weapon they used was developed by the US government itself, and he’d been told it would only be revealed to the public, not enhanced to be even more dangerous and used against the very same public.

The real culprits, according to Roger’s contact, are a left-wing militia with tons of money to throw around to bankroll the attack — you know, one of those filthy stinking rich left-wing militias, backed by all those famous left-wing billionaires. George sends the intel to Mitchell just in time to avert the strike on Russia and a possible third World War, but it really makes a hash out of the patriotic politics of it all. The idea that the entire American system wouldn’t lose its mind with ecstasy if given the excuse to violently crack down on leftists is almost adorable in its childlike innocence, but there you go.

George delivers the latest news to the American people in a hastily scheduled presser that replaces the president’s previously scheduled “We’re striking Russian oil refineries; on a completely unrelated note, please be aware of the location of the nearest fallout shelter” address from the Oval Office. He names not only the militia, the Reapers, but the cyber-weapon they employed, Proteus, after recalling the name from his half-remembered phone call with Natan. There’s just one problem, according to the CIA director: Proteus exists, but it’s a different kind of secret weapon entirely.

Between George’s, uh, loose command of the facts and his boy Roger’s many extracurriculars, maybe it really is a good idea for his wife Sheila to bring in his former chief of staff, Valerie Whitesell (Connie Britton) to be “a real chief of staff” for George. No one comes right out and says it, but George and Valerie clearly had an affair in the past, which makes Sheila’s gesture a rather magnanimous one for all concerned.

There’s one last complicating detail to note, though. However shady Roger’s dealings with Alex, Bob, and the Russian may look, he diligently pursues George’s seemingly quixotic instruction to look into the death of Anna Sindler, the ghost writer who died when her car was struck by a train near George’s house. When he tells Roger he saw her at the press conference the next day, not even we in the audience believe what he saw was real. But Roger takes a trip to the morgue, and wouldn’t you know it, her body is missing. Her mother quickly hangs up on Roger when he calls her to confirm the death, so he doesn’t get any answers. But would a double agent even bother doing this kind of detective work for his boss? And if he discovered the body was missing, would he report it? There’s more to Roger than meets the eye, which I suppose is why you hire an actor with the talent of a Jesse Plemons to play him. 

Sean T. Collins (@theseantcollins) writes about TV for Rolling Stone, Vulture, The New York Times, and anyplace that will have him, really. He and his family live on Long Island.