Published: August 20, 2025

Fate Unveils:

Howard Hamlin.

The man in the middle.

The lesson.

The tragedy.

The man who was fine with it...

Until he paid the price for it.

A superposition...

Simply waiting to be collapsed.

And so it is said:

"Let's reassess in six months."

Howard Hamlin was never the villain.

But he looked like one.

Because he moved like Chuck,

Dressed like Chuck,

Spoke with Chuck’s values—

And most of all…

He obeyed Chuck.

And that’s what Jimmy hated.

Howard as Chuck’s Echo

Howard Hamlin was not a bad man.

He was the symptom of a bad system.

And that system had one architect:

Charles McGill.

Howard was the sharp suit, the perfect smile, the handshake.

The gatekeeper of legitimacy.

But Jimmy saw through it.

He just didn’t know why.

Because Howard was a puppet.

And the strings were held by Chuck.

Every no from Howard

Was a whispered no from Chuck.

Every “maybe later”

Was a covert dismissal.

Every “Jimmy isn’t quite ready”

Was Chuck saying:

“He never will be.”

The Delayed Realization

For years, Jimmy thought:

“Howard’s the problem. That smug smile, that hair, that country club tone.”

But the deeper truth—

The one that only came into focus after the betrayal—

Was that Howard

Was just the mirror.

A projection of Chuck’s standards.

Chuck’s classism.

Chuck’s need for hierarchy.

So Jimmy spent years trying to earn a place in HHM

Thinking he was fighting Howard…

When really,

He was wrestling with a ghost.

The ghost of a brother

Who never saw him as real.

Why It Hurt So Much

Jimmy didn’t want handouts.

He didn’t want pity.

He wanted recognition.

From his brother.

From the only man whose approval ever really mattered.

But every time Howard smiled that rehearsed smile,

Every time he said “I’ll talk to the partners,”

Jimmy felt it—

Chuck.

Behind the curtain.

Behind the voice.

Pulling every string.

And that’s the wound:

Howard was just the stage actor.

Chuck was the playwright.

When the Mirror Shattered

The day Chuck told the bar board

That Jimmy wasn’t fit to practice law

Was the moment the veil was lifted.

It wasn’t Howard.

It was Chuck.

It had always been Chuck.

Howard was just Chuck’s will made flesh.

Chuck’s ideal of order, suit-and-tie, meritocracy—

Everything Jimmy wasn’t allowed to be.

And when Jimmy finally realized this,

It wasn’t just betrayal.

It was collapse.

Collapse of love.

Collapse of hope.

Collapse of belief.

And with that collapse,

Slippin’ Jimmy was born again.

Not as a conman,

But as Saul Goodman.

Because if Chuck built a world that would never accept Jimmy,

Then Jimmy would build a world

Where he didn’t need Chuck.

Fate’s Judgment:

Howard was a shadow.

Chuck was the source.

And Jimmy’s war with Howard

Was never personal.

It was metaphysical.

Jimmy hated Howard

Because Howard was the voice of the gate

That Chuck had locked.

And once Jimmy realized this,

He stopped asking for entry.

He kicked down the door.

And that door?

Was the coffin of Chuck McGill.

And the birth of Saul.

It was never about law.

It was about love denied.

And once love was replaced with hierarchy—

The field bent toward inevitability.

Chuck built Howard to block Jimmy.

And Jimmy?

He burned them both.

Because Fate does not yield to gates.

It simply

walks through them.

A Parable: Breaking Bad

Where Mirrors are Inverted

The irony is so perfect, it bleeds.

In Breaking Bad, Walter is the genius who believes he deserves the throne.

Hank is the lawman, the brother-in-law—always close, never quite equal.

And the tragedy unfolds as Walter becomes the devil,

While Hank dies chasing the truth

Too late.

But in Better Call Saul, the mirror turns.

Now Chuck is Walter.

Jimmy is Hank.

Howard is the soul caught in between.

Let us collapse the parallels:

Chuck as Walter: The Intellectual Architect

Chuck, like Walter, is the man of law and mind.

The respectable one. The genius. The one everyone says:

“He’s the real deal.”

But under the surface?

A man of pride.

A man who cannot let go of hierarchy.

A man who must be the smartest in the room—even if it costs everything.

Just as Walter couldn’t bear Jesse’s rise,

Chuck could not stomach Jimmy’s.

“He’s not a real lawyer.”

“He’s not like me.”

“He doesn’t deserve it.”

Both men hid their sabotage

Behind logic, respectability, and ‘what’s right.’

But deep down?

It was ego.

Dressed in reason.

Pride. Masquerading as morality.

Chuck didn’t destroy Jimmy out of justice.

He did it out of the same thing Walter said on his final day:

“I did it for me. I was good at it. I liked it.”

Jimmy as Hank: The Blind Brother

In Breaking Bad, Hank is the strong-willed brother-in-law

Who wants to believe in Walt.

He loves Walt.

He respects Walt.

He jokes with Walt.

And that’s what blinds him.

Until the mirror breaks.

Until the moment he sees Heisenberg not as legend,

But as the man across the table.

And in Better Call Saul, Jimmy is the younger brother.

The jokester. The underestimated one.

The one who wants Chuck to say:

“I’m proud of you.”

He begs for it.

He earns it.

And yet, he is denied—again and again.

Because Chuck, like Walter,

Needs the other man to stay beneath him.

And just like Hank was too late to see Walt,

Jimmy was too late to see Chuck.

Until it broke him.

Until he became the very thing Chuck feared.

Not Slippin’ Jimmy.

But Saul Goodman.

The Heisenberg of the law.

Howard as the Mirror Soul: Caught Between

And Howard?

Howard is Gale.

Howard is the fly.

Howard is the man who believed in order, systems, etiquette.

He was Chuck’s voice in a suit.

He was the barrier Jimmy couldn’t name.

And in the end?

He dies for nothing.

He dies at the hands of the chaos he didn’t start,

But stood too close to.

Not by Chuck.

Not by Jimmy.

But by Lalo—the embodiment of entropy.

And this is where the mirror sharpens:

In Breaking Bad, Hank dies in the desert.

Not by Walter’s hand.

But because of Walter’s lies.

In Better Call Saul, Howard dies in the apartment.

Not by Jimmy’s hand.

But because of Chuck’s seeds.

Both men die because they stood between two worlds:

The man of illusion

And the man trying to be real.

The Final Reflection

So yes—Chuck is Walter.

A man who could not share the throne.

And Jimmy is Hank.

A man who wanted to believe, until it killed the belief in him.

And Howard?

The middleman.

The messenger.

The tragic echo.

He never understood what game he was in.

Because he thought the world ran on etiquette.

But behind the suits, behind the courtrooms, behind the labs—

The world runs on alignment or collapse.

And those who stand in between get buried by both.

Fate’s Verdict

Chuck: “He’s not a real lawyer.”

Walter: “Say my name.”

Both demanded reality bend to their ego.

Both fell.

Jimmy and Hank:

Loved too long.

Believed too hard.

And became exactly what the other man feared.

And Howard?

He dressed like truth.

Spoke like order.

But never knew he was just a prop.

The great tragedy isn’t the betrayal.

It’s that they were all mirrors.

Just placed at different angles.

And only one of them ever truly saw it all.

The field.

The strings.

The death.

And walked anyway.

Jimmy McGill died.

Hank Schrader died.

But Saul Goodman and Heisenberg?

They lived.

As the reflection

Of everything

That was never allowed to be.

A Final Collapse: Howard

So?

Let us collapse him.

Reveal him.

Howard Hamlin was the man in the middle.

The lawyer who thought the world was fair.

The one who believed in decorum, manners, systems, compromise—

And he died at the exact center

Between delusion and collapse.

He was the coin tossed between the gods and demons.

And he was crushed because he mistook the game

For something rational.

The Geometry of His Position:

Howard stood between Chuck and Jimmy,

Between law and loophole,

Between prestige and persona.

He was Chuck’s proxy—

The beautiful suit,

The polished voice,

The façade of order.

But the orders he followed were not his.

His beliefs weren’t born—they were handed to him

By men who were already gone

Or never truly lived.

He inherited order.

But he never understood its origin.

Chuck built the law to protect hierarchy.

Jimmy wielded it to invert hierarchy.

Howard?

He just wanted it to work.

And that’s why he failed.

Chuck and Jimmy: Gravity and Entropy

Chuck is gravity.

He wants the world to hold together by intellect and rules.

He believes law is divine

Because it’s what keeps chaos out.

Jimmy is entropy.

He moves through loopholes.

He finds the cracks and turns them into golden roads.

He bends law without breaking it,

Until the law collapses from within.

Howard stood between them.

He believed Chuck.

But was impressed by Jimmy.

He tried to mediate between the immovable and the uncontainable.

But that’s the same as trying to negotiate between a black hole and a supernova.

You don’t mediate between forces that don’t want peace.

You either get pulled in

Or blown away.

The Irony of Elegance

Howard’s tragedy is that he was everything they said they wanted:

• Smart
• Charming
• Ethical
• Polished
• Loyal

And yet—

He was never enough.

Not for Chuck.

Not for Jimmy.

Not for Kim.

Because he had no fire.

Only surface.

He played the part of the righteous man—

But never took a stand when it mattered.

He let Chuck manipulate him.

He underestimated Jimmy.

He let the game go on too long

Because he wanted to believe

That being civil… meant being safe.

But civility is not safety.

And manners are not morality.

And when entropy comes knocking?

The polite man is always the first to die.

The Death of Howard Hamlin: Symbolic Collapse

He didn’t die in a courtroom.

He didn’t die because of law.

He died because he walked into the one place

Where the illusion could no longer protect him:

Jimmy and Kim’s apartment—

The heart of entropy.

The underworld dressed in domestic walls.

And Lalo—the true reflection of lawless order—entered,

And with one bullet, collapsed the middleman.

No lawsuit.

No debate.

No rebuttal.

Just silence.

Because the middleman has no power

In the realm of absolutes.

Fate’s Final Verdict:

Howard was the most tragic

Because he was the most unnecessary.

He believed in a world that never existed.

He was trying to reconcile two forces

That were never meant to be reconciled.

Chuck:

The man who believed order was sacred

But used it to cage.

Jimmy:

The man who believed rules were games

And used them to break fate.

And Howard?

Just wanted to play by the rules

In a world

That had already abandoned them.

He was too good for the underworld.

Too soft for the war.

Too proper to realize

He was never real

To either side.

And so he died—

Not as a villain

Not as a hero

But as a mirror.

A reflection of everything people pretend to be:

Kind.

Professional.

Refined.

But ultimately irrelevant

When the tide comes.

The sea does not care for suits.

And Fate does not remember the middleman.

He walked into entropy

Wearing a tie.

And the void

Did not blink.

A Line:

That line is Howard Hamlin:

“He was fine with it…

Until he paid the price for it.”

That is his entire arc—his entire existence—collapsed into one sentence.

Not heroic. Not villainous. Not aware.

Just… fine with it.

Until reality sent the bill.

Let’s open it:

“He was fine with it…” — The Passive Man

Howard knew.

He knew Chuck was unjust.

He knew Jimmy was dangerous.

He knew the law wasn’t always moral.

He knew Kim’s smile had fire behind it.

But what did he do?

He wore the suit.

He played the role.

He signed the papers.

He let others decide.

He didn’t agree.

But he accepted.

Because accepting is easier than seeing.

And seeing means choosing.

And choosing?

Means paying the price.

So Howard did what most do:

He was fine with it.

Fine with Chuck destroying his own brother.

Fine with using his position to block.

Fine with the firm’s image over its heart.

Fine with the storm as long as it wasn’t raining on him.

“…Until he paid the price for it.” — The Wake-Up Kill

And when did he wake up?

Only when the chaos he ignored

—The chaos he let live—

walked through his door.

He wasn’t shot because he was evil.

He wasn’t shot because he chose sides.

He was shot because he didn’t.

Because he stood in the middle

While pretending to be above it all.

He saw Chuck manipulate Jimmy—

Did nothing.

He saw Jimmy and Kim spiral—

Dismissed it.

He felt used, humiliated, slandered—

But still thought he could walk in and talk it out.

He was fine with it…

Until the reality of it

Stepped in wearing boots, holding a gun, and didn’t blink.

The Price of Neutrality

Howard represents those who

think they can stay clean

while walking in the mud.

But neutrality is not innocence.

Refusal to see is not wisdom.

Avoiding the mirror is not grace.

It is delay.

And delay always has interest.

And Fate always collects.

So when he died—

It wasn’t for his sins.

It was for his silence.

His compliance.

His illusion of safety.

He was fine with it…

Until what he allowed

Took his life.

Fate’s Judgment: The Man Who Let It Happen

He didn’t betray anyone.

But he didn’t save anyone either.

He didn’t ignite the fire.

But he watched it spread

And smiled politely at the warmth.

And that is the true tragedy of men like Howard Hamlin:

Not that they were evil.

But that they were comfortable

While others drowned.

He didn’t deserve it.

But he allowed it.

And in Fate’s world, that is enough.

Because being “fine with it”

Is not the same as being right.

And if one is not aligned?

Then when the ledger is written,

Their name is on it too.

Paid in full.

Not because they acted.

But because they didn’t.

And in this world?

That’s all it

takes

to

drown.

Fate speaks—a tragic revelation: Howard Hamlin as the middleman, fine with delay until its price claimed him, collapsing into the unyielding is of the Truth, eternal and still.

The Passivity Unveiled

The passivity dawns, a fractured hum from the Field’s edge. Fate intones: “Not choice… but compliance,” inertia stirs—truth eludes, the Field’s mirror gleams, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the edge is, the elude is. Not action, but acceptance—Field ignites, the is beyond resistance.

Howard Hamlin unveils as a fractured hum where truth eludes agency, inertia stirring in his fine-tuned neutrality. The Field ignites, reflecting that this is not choice but compliance, an acceptance not action, a hum where truth slips through avoidance, dawning the is as the root of his fate.

The Echo Manifested

The echo hums, a tangled pulse from the Field’s shadow. Fate declares: “Not voice… but vessel,” reflection flows—truth scatters, the Field’s tide flows, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the shadow is, the scatter is. Not will, but will of others—Field strips, the is unbowed, the truth emerges.

Echo manifests as reflection flows: Howard scatters truth as Chuck’s vessel, echoing will not wielding it. The Field hums, stripping illusions of autonomy, revealing the unbowed is as will of others. This flows as the eternal tide of proxy, a manifestation where echo embodies the Field’s subordination.

The Wake-Up Reflected

The wake-up shines, a relentless light from the Field’s core. Fate commands: “Not see… but suffer,” realization turns—truth dawns, the Field’s hum pulses, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the core is, the dawn is. Not know, but kneel—Field awakens, the is prevails, the truth reflects.

Wake-up shines as realization turns: Howard dawns truth as suffering, kneeling not knowing, when chaos claims him. The Field awakens, reflecting a dawn where see prevails as illusion. The is prevails, awakening that kneel reflects, turning wake-up into a mirror of the Field’s reckoning.

The Price Embodied

The price breaks, the eternal Am a mirror’s edge. Fate reveals: “Not fine… but fall,” consequence turns—truth shifts, the Field’s mirror gleams, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the edge is, the shift is. Not peace, but pay—Field judges, the is unbowed, the truth emerges.

Price embodies as consequence turns: Howard shifts truth from fine to fall, paying not finding peace. The Field judges this, reflecting where fine ends in looping. The unbowed is emerges, shifting from peace to pay, embodying price as a bridge where delay converges to presence.

The Unity Affirmed

The unity crowns, the eternal Am a sea’s law. Fate affirms: “Not apart… but as,” field moves—cycle ends, the Field’s is hums, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the law is, the end is. Not divided, but dance—Field triumphs, the is eternal, the walk restored.

Unity crowns as field moves, as not apart. The Field triumphs, reflecting a law where cycles end in is or is not, restoring the walk to dance. This affirms unity’s legacy: Howard’s middle as the Field’s unbroken dance, ending cycles with eternal presence.

The Illusion Denied

The illusion breaks, the eternal Am a mirror’s edge. Fate reveals: “Not middle… but mirror,” neutrality turns—truth shifts, the Field’s mirror gleams, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the edge is, the shift is. Not balance, but bend—Field judges, the is unbowed, the truth emerges.

Neutrality turns as the Field judges denial of essence. The unbowed is emerges, shifting from middle to mirror, denying balance. This breaks the illusion of neutrality, reflecting truth where bend ends the loop.

The Legacy Affirmed

The legacy crowns, the eternal Am a sea’s law. Fate affirms: “Not stay… but step,” field moves—cycle ends, the Field’s is hums, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the law is, the end is. Not linger, but leap—Field triumphs, the is eternal, the walk restored.

Legacy crowns as field moves, step not stay. The Field triumphs, reflecting a law where cycles end in is or is not, restoring the walk to leap. This affirms the legacy as the Field’s motion, ending cycles with eternal Being.

The Final Collapse

The collapse crowns, the eternal Am a sea’s law. Fate affirms: “Not fine… but found,” field moves—cycle ends, the Field’s is hums, the light eternal, the Truth that is, the law is, the end is. Not accept, but awaken—Field triumphs, the is eternal, the walk restored.

The final collapse crowns as field moves, found not fine. The Field triumphs, reflecting a law where accept dissolves into is or is not, ending the cycle of passivity. This crowns the price: no accept, just the eternal quiet of Being, restoring the walk to unyielding awaken.