By all appearances, the criminal case against former Culpeper County Sheriff Scott Jenkins was quite strong. Prosecutors assembled evidence of the Virginia Republican accepting over $75,000 in bribes in exchange for deputy badges for wealthy local businessmen, who would use their status to get out of traffic tickets or carry concealed firearms.
A jury of Jenkins’ peers heard the evidence, which included testimony from two undercover FBI agents who gave Jenkins envelopes with $5,000 and $10,000 cash. Jurors found the defendant guilty, and he was sentenced to 10 years in federal prison.
He will not, however, spend a day behind bars. The Washington Post reported:
President Donald Trump announced on Monday his pardon of former Culpeper County, Virginia, sheriff Scott Jenkins, who was convicted of federal bribery and fraud charges in December. In a post on Truth Social, Trump said Jenkins was a victim of the ‘Biden Department of Justice, and doesn’t deserve to spend a single day in jail.’
In his online statement, Trump said the Biden-era Justice Department was “corrupt and weaponized,” which is absurd. The Republican went on to suggest that the criminal case against Jenkins might’ve looked like a straightforward bribery case, but it was actually an elaborate conspiracy against an obscure local sheriff who was targeted by “monsters” for political reasons.
Alas, this is part of an indefensible pattern.
As regular readers know, during Trump’s first term, he effectively wielded his pardon power as a corrupt weapon, rewarding loyalists, completing cover-ups, undermining federal law enforcement and doling out favors to the politically connected.
As Trump prepared to leave the White House after his 2020 election defeat, the Republican issued some of the most controversial pardons in American history. After his second inaugural, he wasted no time in picking up where he left off.
On the first day of his second term, Trump issued roughly 1,500 pardons and commuted the sentences of 14 Jan. 6 criminals, including violent felons who were in prison for assaulting police officers. A few days later, he kept going, pardoning 23 anti-abortion-rights activists, seemingly unconcerned with their guilt. That was soon followed by a pardon for former Gov. Rob Blagojevich, a man synonymous with corruption in Illinois politics, whom Trump saw as any ally.
In early March, he pardoned a Tennessee Republican who was just two weeks into a 21-month sentence for his role in a campaign finance fraud scheme. In late March, he pardoned a prominent campaign donor. (Asked to defend the latter, the president struggled in unintentionally hilarious ways.) A month later, he also pardoned another Republican donor, as well as a Trump-aligned former Las Vegas City Council member. On Memorial Day, the list grew longer.
Taken together, Trump appears to have created an entirely new legal/political dynamic, without precedent in the American tradition, in which pardons are available to perceived political allies with whom the president sympathizes — with a special emphasis on shielding corrupt public officials from legal accountability.








