Jesus Christ, Brandon!

Jesus Christ, Brandon!

Bran­don Van­win­kle was feel­ing pretty happy with him­self. The judge had just sen­tenced him to another three years inside Ken­newick prison for spit­ting at his Cor­rec­tions Offi­cer, that and the eight other felony con­vic­tions that caught up with him. “It don’t make no dif­fer­ence to me,” Bran­don said, “I’m watch­ing you; six­teen years under­cover using metham­phet­a­mine just to watch how you all work.”

Mr Van­win­kle?” the judge said.

Bran­don Van Win­kle. You go say­ing my name as my father, Rip Van Win­kle, gave to me. Maybe then I’ll go easy on you when I sen­tence you in Jesus Christ’s court.”

By Vin­cent Holland

Inspired by the case of Bran­don Van­winkel — http://​azcen​tral​.com

Brandon Vanwinkle was feeling pretty happy with himself. The judge had just sentenced him to another three years inside Kennewick prison for spitting at his Corrections Officer, that and the eight other felony convictions that caught up with him. “It don’t make no difference to me,” Brandon said, “I’m watching you; sixteen years undercover using methamphetamine just to watch how you all work.”

“Mr Vanwinkle?” the judge said.

“Brandon Van Winkle. You go saying my name as my father, Rip Van Winkle, gave to me. Maybe then I’ll go easy on you when I sentence you in Jesus Christ’s court.”

By Vincent Holland

Inspired by the case of Brandon Vanwinkel – http://azcentral.com