🚨 “HE GRABBED ME IN THE ELEVATOR WHILE WEARING HIS ROBE!” – Second Woman DESTROYS Dead Kentucky Judge’s “Saint” Image with Sickening New Groping Claims… and the Sheriff Who Executed Him? He Knew EVERY Twisted Secret! 😱🔥

Another day, another brave Kentucky woman rips the lid off the courthouse from hell. Gemma Bentley just went nuclear: Judge Kevin Mullins didn’t stop at forcing ONE victim into sex-for-freedom deals… he allegedly hunted her down for YEARS – hands everywhere, whispering threats in the hallways of “justice,” laughing while she froze in terror. Same story as Tia Adams, same tears, same nightmare. But now THREE women are talking, hidden cameras, wild “parties,” deputies shuttling girls on ankle monitors like it was takeout.

And here’s the part that’ll make your skin crawl: the sheriff who walked into Mullins’ chambers and unloaded eight bullets? Mickey Stines wasn’t “snapping”… insiders say he was drowning in the judge’s filth and finally chose blood over silence. Right before he pulled the trigger, he frantically called his own daughter. What did he scream down that line that made him decide a man had to die that day?

Kentucky is BURNING. The town is split: half calling the sheriff a hero, half screaming murder. More women are lawyering up as you read this. Click if you want the unfiltered timeline, the leaked texts, the affidavit lines that’ll make you sick. Share if you’re done letting robes hide monsters. This ends NOW. 👇

In the misty hollers of eastern Kentucky, where coal dust lingers on faded American flags and the scales of justice are meant to tip toward fairness, a fresh torrent of accusations has crashed over Letcher County like a flash flood. Just over a year after District Judge Kevin R. Mullins was gunned down in his own chambers by a longtime colleague, another woman has come forward with explosive claims of repeated groping and harassment at the hands of the slain jurist. Gemma Bentley, a 32-year-old local mother and former courthouse regular, alleges Mullins used his robe as a shield for predatory advances, cornering her in hallways and elevators with unwanted touches and leering demands that left her “frozen in fear.” Her story, echoing the harrowing testimony of Tia “Tya” Adams – who accused Mullins of coercing her into sexual acts to evade jail time – has ignited fears that the Letcher County Courthouse was less a temple of law and more a den of intimidation and exploitation.

The revelations, detailed in a sworn affidavit filed this week in federal court, come amid a swelling chorus of voices painting a picture of systemic abuse. At least three women have now publicly implicated Mullins in a sex-for-favors scheme that allegedly turned his chambers into a revolving door of vulnerability, with women on house arrest or facing charges allegedly pressured into “parties” or private encounters in exchange for leniency. Attorneys for the accusers liken it to “running a brothel out of the bench,” a phrase that’s stuck like kudzu in the local lexicon, fueling protests outside the very building where Mullins once presided. And at the epicenter of the chaos? Former Letcher County Sheriff Shawn “Mickey” Stines, the man who fatally shot Mullins on September 19, 2024, and who, according to newly unsealed court documents, may have been unraveling under the weight of the judge’s “darkest secrets.”

Whitesburg, a speck of a town with fewer than 2,000 souls nestled in the Appalachian foothills about 140 miles southeast of Lexington, has long prided itself on tight-knit resilience. But the shooting – captured in stark surveillance footage showing Stines, 44, rising from a chair in Mullins’ office, drawing his service weapon, and firing multiple rounds at point-blank range – shattered that facade. Mullins, 54, slumped dead at his desk, his black robe askew, as Stines stood over him, gun smoking. The sheriff surrendered without resistance, his face a mask of what witnesses later described as “psychotic detachment.” Charged with murder of a public official, Stines has pleaded not guilty and remains jailed in Leslie County, denied bond until a hearing scheduled for next month where his defense team vows to unveil a “compelling” mental health evaluation – sealed for now, but hinting at pressures that could rewrite the narrative.

Bentley’s allegations, shared exclusively with Fox News affiliates in a tearful interview aired Wednesday, add a visceral layer to the unfolding scandal. “It wasn’t one time – it was every time I had to go in for a hearing,” she recounted, her voice cracking as she described encounters spanning 2022 and 2023. Bentley, then navigating misdemeanor charges related to a custody dispute, claims Mullins would summon her to his chambers under the guise of “discussing options,” only to escalate with physical advances: a hand on her thigh during a sidebar conference, a brush against her back in the dimly lit courthouse elevator that lingered too long. “He’d whisper things like, ‘We could make this go away if you’re nice,’” she said, her words hanging heavy in the interview studio. “I was a single mom with kids depending on me. Who was I gonna tell? The system he ran?”

Her claims dovetail with Adams’, the 28-year-old who first broke the dam in August 2025 with a bombshell NewsNation interview. Adams alleged Mullins, whom she knew from his days as an assistant commonwealth’s attorney, coerced her into sexual encounters – including in his chambers – to secure reduced sentences for herself and friends entangled in drug possession cases. “It was a given,” Adams said flatly. “The whole town was doing it. Nobody cares. They’re all swingers. It’s all a big party to them.” She described “wild sex parties” at off-site locations, attended by Mullins and unnamed “higher-ups,” where women on ankle monitors were shuttled in for “entertainment” in exchange for cash or case dismissals. Audio recordings, obtained by investigators and leaked to media outlets, purportedly capture a female witness describing hidden video tapes showing Mullins engaged in acts with defendants, corroborating the “brothel” claims.

A third woman, whose identity remains shielded by a protective order, has corroborated elements of both stories in a deposition unsealed last month, telling Kentucky State Police she witnessed deputies – including one later fired – participating in the scheme as far back as 2021. Sarah Davis, a former Letcher County jail deputy who resigned in 2023, called the rumors “nasty and sickening” but insisted she never saw overt acts, only the whispers that permeated the station house. “It was protected by power,” Davis told reporters. “The judge, the sheriff – they were untouchable.”

Enter Stines, whose role in this tableau grows murkier with each document drop. Court filings from his ongoing case reveal that in the frantic minutes before the shooting, Stines used both his and Mullins’ cellphones to call his adult daughter – a detail that has defense attorneys arguing he was in the throes of a breakdown. Witnesses, including a fellow deputy, told investigators Stines had been “losing it” for weeks, ranting about a 2022 civil lawsuit accusing one of his subordinates, Ben Fields, of trading sex for favors in Mullins’ very office. Stines was deposed in that suit just days before the shooting, grilled on his department’s oversight. “He couldn’t take the pressure,” one friend quoted him as saying, referencing “some crack whore wanting money” – crude words now scrutinized as evidence of unraveling sanity or suppressed fury.

Did Stines, a former court security officer turned sheriff in 2018, fear for his life because he “knew the judge’s darkest secrets,” as community whispers suggest? Or was the shooting a vigilante’s purge of corruption? His attorney, Ned Pillersdorf, has hinted at both in pretrial motions, claiming Stines was “protecting the innocent” from a system rotten to the core. Prosecutors, led by special counsel from the Kentucky Attorney General’s office, counter that it’s premeditated murder, plain and simple – no cameras in the chambers meant no witnesses, but the footage outside tells a damning tale. Stines and Mullins had shared lunch hours earlier at a Main Street grill, laughing like old pals, per security cams from the eatery.

The fallout has rippled far beyond Whitesburg’s hollows. Mullins’ widow, Lisa Mullins, filed a wrongful death suit last week against Stines and three deputies, alleging negligence in failing to warn the judge of escalating threats – a claim defense filings dismiss as baseless under Kentucky law. Chief Justice Laurance B. VanMeter called the shooting a quake that “shook the state court system,” while colleagues eulogized Mullins as a “passion for people” advocate, his 2009 appointment by Gov. Steve Beshear hailed for bringing fresh energy to the 47th Judicial District. Yet protests now dot the courthouse steps, pink-clad demonstrators – echoing national movements – demanding audits and body cams in judicial spaces.

Experts see echoes of broader ills. Dr. Elena Ramirez, a forensic psychologist at the University of Kentucky, notes that rural courts often breed isolation, where power imbalances fester unchecked. “In small towns, the judge isn’t just a figure – he’s the king,” she told the Associated Press. “Add economic desperation – opioid cases clogging dockets – and you have a powder keg for exploitation.” The CDC reports intimate partner and workplace harassment rates spike 15% in Appalachia, compounded by underfunded victim services. A GoFundMe for Bentley and Adams has topped $50,000, annotated with notes like “Finally, someone’s listening” from donors nationwide.

As Stines’ bond hearing looms, the community braces. Vigils blend prayer with pitchforks: one for Mullins’ memory, another for the women’s voices. Bentley, clutching a photo of her kids, vows, “This ends with us – no more silence.” In Letcher County, where justice once whispered, it’s now roaring. But as the secrets spill, one question lingers like fog over the mountains: How deep does this rot go? And who will wield the shovel?