In a stunning turn of events, South Carolina prosecutor Jimmy Richardson has declared his intent to pursue the death penalty against Brandon Council, a man whose federal death sentence for a brutal 2017 bank robbery and double murder was recently reduced to life in prison by President Joe Biden.
ABC News reported that this case, unfolding in Horry County, centers on Council's 2017 crime at CresCom Bank in Conway, where he killed two employees during a robbery, a federal conviction that was overturned in severity by Biden’s commutation of 37 death sentences, prompting local officials to refile state charges.
Let’s rewind to August 2017, when Council stormed into CresCom Bank, gun in hand, and left with $15,000 after fatally shooting teller Donna Major and manager Katie Skeen in cold blood.
Major, desperately holding papers to shield herself, and Skeen, hiding under her desk, stood no chance against his calculated violence. It’s a chilling reminder of how quickly lives can be shattered by senseless greed.
Council didn’t stop at robbery; he made sure his escape was marked by tragedy, shooting Major as she cowered and Skeen with a shot to the forehead. Days later, he was nabbed in North Carolina, having splurged the stolen cash on a Mercedes, as he later confessed in court. If that’s not a slap in the face to justice, what is?
Fast forward to 2019, when state charges of murder and armed robbery against Council were dropped after a federal jury convicted him and handed down a death sentence. It seemed like closure for the victims’ families, who had endured unimaginable pain. But as we’ve learned, in today’s justice system, closure is often just a mirage.
Then came December, when Biden commuted the death sentences of 37 federal inmates, including Council, citing a push to halt federal executions and block their return under future administrations.
While the intent might sound noble to some, it left families and law enforcement reeling, furious at what they see as a dismissal of accountability. Is this really the “compassion” we’re supposed to applaud?
In the wake of this federal decision, Solicitor Jimmy Richardson didn’t sit idly by; he secured new state indictments against Council in Horry County by August, setting the stage for a potential death penalty trial.
“If there was a bump, we could always come in and try our case,” Richardson told reporters, showing a resolve to keep justice’s powder dry. That’s the kind of backbone many feel has been missing in Washington.
The families of the victims, understandably, are not holding back their grief and anger. Heather Turner, daughter of slain teller Donna Major, wrote on Facebook, “The pain and trauma we have endured over the last 7 years has been indescribable.” Her words cut deep, a raw reminder that policy decisions have real human costs.
Turner didn’t stop there, blasting the system with, “Our judicial system is broken.” It’s hard to argue with her when a convicted double murderer gets a federal pass while families are left to pick up the pieces. This isn’t progress; it’s a punch to the gut.
Across the state and beyond, the ripple effects of Biden’s commutations are being felt, with prosecutors in places like Catahoula Parish, Louisiana, refilling charges in other cases to seek the death penalty.
In Horry County, another inmate, Chadrick Fulks, also saw his federal death sentence reduced, though state charges haven’t been reinstated yet. It’s a patchwork of justice, leaving many to wonder if the system prioritizes optics over victims.
During Council’s federal trial, his attorneys pleaded for mercy, pointing to a rough childhood marked by the loss of his grandmother and claiming he showed remorse by cooperating with investigators. They noted he cried upon learning the women were dead, asking if they were still alive. But does a tear erase the bloodshed of two innocent lives taken in cold calculation?
Council himself seemed to grapple with his actions, reportedly telling police, “I’m an idiot.” That’s one thing we can agree on, but self-awareness after the fact doesn’t bring back Donna Major or Katie Skeen. Remorse, if genuine, must be weighed against the irreversible harm done.
Meanwhile, Biden’s commutation spared most on federal death row, but left three notorious killers—Dylann Roof, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, and Robert Bowers—facing execution for their horrific crimes. It’s a curious line to draw, one that fuels debate over consistency in how justice is applied. Why some and not others, when the pain of victims’ families is equally profound?
As Council awaits his state trial, not even appearing in court when prosecutors announced their death penalty intent, the nation watches a tug-of-war between federal leniency and local resolve.
South Carolina’s push to hold him accountable on the state level sends a message: justice delayed doesn’t mean justice denied. Or at least, that’s the hope.