Judge Robert Kensington, a notoriously stern federal judge with zero tolerance for corruption, took his seat. He adjusted his reading glasses and looked down at the massive stack of sentencing documents.
"Be seated," Judge Kensington commanded.
He did not waste time with pleasantries. He looked directly at Jenkins.
"Mr. Jenkins, stand up."
Jenkins slowly rose, the chains clinking loudly in the dead, silent courtroom. His defense attorney, a weary-looking public defender, stood beside him.
"I have spent the last three days reading the presentence investigation report," Judge Kensington began, his voice echoing powerfully through the room.
"I have read the victim impact statements from the citizens you unlawfully detained, harassed, and assaulted over your ten-year career. I have read the transcripts of your text messages in which you openly bragged about terrorizing marginalized communities because you knew they lacked the resources to fight back."
Jenkins kept his eyes glued to the floor. He couldn't look at the judge. He couldn't look at Jonathan and Sam.
"You were given a badge, a gun, and the sacred trust of the public," Kensington continued, his tone dripping with contempt.
"You weaponized that trust. You operated a violent criminal enterprise from the front seat of a taxpayer-funded police cruiser. And when confronted by federal agents attempting to dismantle a major cartel operation, your blinding prejudice and fragile ego led you to assault those very agents."
Judge Kensington paused, taking off his glasses.
"The irony is not lost on this court that your profound ignorance inadvertently handed the FBI the keys to the Navarro cartel's local infrastructure. But that was an accident of your own greed, not a mitigating factor of your character. A police officer who uses his badge to commit crimes is the most dangerous kind of criminal there is. You erode the very foundation of justice. You make the jobs of every honest, hardworking officer infinitely more dangerous."
The judge picked up his wooden gavel.
"Brian Jenkins, on the charges of deprivation of rights under color of law, assault on a federal officer, armed robbery, and racketeering, I sentence you to a total of 420 months—35 years in the custody of the Federal Bureau of Prisons. As these are federal convictions, there is no parole. You are remanded to the supermax facility in Florence, Colorado, effective immediately."
Bang! The sound of the gavel striking the sounding block was like a gunshot. Jenkins's knees buckled. His public defender had to grab him by the arm to keep him from collapsing onto the floor.
Thirty-five years. No early release. He would be nearly 75 years old by the time he saw the outside world again. If he survived federal prison as a disgraced, corrupt ex-cop. Two massive U.S. marshals stepped forward, grabbing Jenkins roughly by the biceps as they turned him around to march him down the center aisle of the courtroom.