A Sheriff Targeted by a Partisan DOJ
Sheriff Scott Jenkins, a Virginia lawman who dedicated years to serving his community, faced a decade-long sentence for bribery and fraud over selling deputy badges. President Trump’s pardon in May 2025 freed him, sparking fierce debate. This bold move exposes a deeper truth: Jenkins wasn’t just a sheriff caught in a scandal; he was a target of a Biden-era Department of Justice bent on punishing those who didn’t align with its priorities.
Jenkins earned respect for upholding law and order, yet the DOJ painted him as a corrupt official in a case that smelled of political motives. Why single him out? The answer lies in a broader pattern of selective enforcement, where federal prosecutors went after individuals who didn’t fit the establishment’s narrative. This case wasn’t about rooting out corruption; it was about flexing power.
Trump’s pardon of Jenkins challenges that system head-on. Critics, mainly left-leaning legal scholars, argue it excuses corruption and undermines accountability. Their outrage, though, sidesteps the real issue: a DOJ that pursued Jenkins with zeal while ignoring misconduct by politically connected figures. This pardon signals that such double standards won’t stand.
For everyday Americans, this matters. If a respected sheriff can be targeted for political reasons, anyone could be next—a small-business owner, a local official, or an ordinary citizen. Trump’s action isn’t just about one man; it’s about protecting the principle that justice should be blind, not a weapon for bureaucrats to wield against their opponents.
Why does this resonate? Because Americans are tired of a system that seems rigged, where the powerful escape scrutiny while the rest face the full weight of federal power.
Unmasking DOJ’s Selective Justice
Jenkins’ case fits into a disturbing trend. A 2025 congressional report by House Judiciary Republicans revealed how the DOJ and FBI inflated domestic extremism statistics to justify targeting certain groups, while downplaying allegations against politically favored figures. This isn’t conjecture; it’s fact, backed by documented evidence of partisan enforcement.
The numbers tell a stark story: federal corruption convictions rose by 2.5 percent in FY2023, with 24 percent involving local officials like Jenkins. The FBI led 60 percent of these probes, often under the pretext of fighting corruption. Yet, when charges are inflated or cases cherry-picked to make headlines, justice takes a backseat to politics. Jenkins’ prosecution reeks of this bias.
Compare this to the treatment of figures like former New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, now facing a criminal inquiry in 2025, or Mayor Eric Adams, whose charges were conveniently dropped. The inconsistency is glaring. The DOJ, under previous leadership, played favorites, shielding allies while hammering those who didn’t conform.
Trump’s eight pardons for corruption-related cases by May 2025, including Jenkins, aim to correct this imbalance. Federalist Society speakers and former Trump counsel have long argued that clemency serves as a check on prosecutorial overreach. When the system targets people for their beliefs or affiliations, pardons restore fairness.
Public trust in the federal judiciary reflects this crisis. Confidence has fallen from 75 percent in 2000 to under 50 percent in 2022. Americans see a system that’s less about justice and more about politics. Pardons like Jenkins’ are a step toward rebuilding faith in a system that serves the people, not the elite.
What happens if we ignore this? The DOJ’s unchecked power grows, threatening anyone who dares to challenge the status quo.
Debunking the Critics’ Narrative
Left-leaning scholars and advocacy groups claim Trump’s pardon undermines accountability, pointing to the U.S.’s 65-out-of-100 score on Transparency International’s 2024 Corruption Perceptions Index as proof that clemency fuels distrust. Their argument, however, crumbles under scrutiny. The real damage to trust comes from a DOJ that targets political foes while letting insiders off the hook.
History supports the use of pardons to correct injustices. From Washington’s 1795 Whiskey Rebellion amnesty to Johnson’s Civil War clemencies, executive power has long served as a tool to fix a flawed system. Hamilton, in Federalist No. 74, championed clemency as a merciful check. Yet, when Trump uses it to protect Jenkins from what many see as a politically driven prosecution, critics cry foul. Why the inconsistency?
Their push for a bipartisan clemency board or statutory guidelines sounds appealing but misses the mark. Such reforms would hand more power to the same bureaucratic elites who weaponized the DOJ. The pardon power exists to allow decisive action, free from the influence of entrenched interests, to ensure justice prevails.
A Fight for a Fairer System
Trump’s pardon of Jenkins is a stand for every American who believes in a justice system that doesn’t pick winners and losers based on politics. Attorney General Pam Bondi’s commitment to ending DOJ weaponization, backed by her task force on restoring integrity, aligns with this vision. These actions speak to citizens who demand accountability for actual crimes, not political dissent.
The risks of inaction are clear. If unelected bureaucrats can target individuals like Jenkins without consequence, no one is safe—not sheriffs, not small-business owners, not everyday citizens. This pardon is a step toward dismantling that threat, ensuring the rule of law protects everyone equally.
Americans want a system that upholds fairness, not favoritism. Trump’s use of clemency, grounded in constitutional authority and supported by legal scholars, charts a path forward. It’s time to rally behind leaders who fight for justice, not those who enable a politicized DOJ to run unchecked.