I am 220lbs in the am. I was 212lbs on my army paperwork I have not lost a thing or gained a gut lol I am about 5lbs over right now if anything I have grown with the rest. Also I have never once ever claimed to have been Special Forces. You guys said I wasn't infantry due to medical so I mentioned I was actually a Special Forces Recruit and I was clear as day on my military paperwork. That is the first time I ever mentioned it to anyone. I didn't even remember until I was going through my old files unpacking. I really don't dwell on 30 years ago. My life is good now. While you guys are arguing about what I did 30 years ago I am enjoying my life now with my kid. We have a cub scout hike this afternoon.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, today we find ourselves examining the curious case of Brian Hankins, a man whose actions paint a troubling picture of narcissism, deceit, and self-obsession. While others might spend their time building meaningful relationships, Hankins chose to isolate himself, retreating into the digital world of GetBig instead of engaging in the real-life celebration of a party with his peers. He posts, pontificates, and seeks validation—not from those around him, but from strangers online.
He fancies himself an intellectual—believing that a few LSAT prep tests and hours spent skimming research papers across all subjects will somehow guarantee his acceptance into Duke Law School. But this grandiosity doesn’t end there, as Hankins is so insecure in his own identity that he couldn’t resist the need to point out the size of his own arm in a photo, even when standing beside his son.
Perhaps most telling is his claim of being a “special forces recruit,” a title meant to impress, but one that quickly crumbles under scrutiny. As evidence will show, the requirements for such a designation are modest at best, and when pressed to explain why he turned down this so-called opportunity of a lifetime, Hankins offers no explanation. His silence speaks volumes.
We’ll also find a man who repeats, almost compulsively, just how “wonderful” his life is—like a parrot, endlessly squawking the same empty refrain. He seeks to convince everyone, including himself, that his life is picture-perfect. But behind this façade lies a pattern of contradictions and exaggerations, revealing the true depths of his insecurity.
He proudly boasts of his participation in a Cub Scout hike, using it as another badge of honor in his endless quest for validation. Yet, this is the same man who has openly admitted that his knees buckled simply from sitting in a chair—hardly the image of the strong, capable individual he claims to be. This contradiction highlights the gulf between the reality of Brian Hankins' life and the persona he so desperately clings to.
As we proceed, the evidence will reveal a man more interested in crafting a façade than facing the truth. Brian Hankins is not on trial for his ambitions, but for the falsehoods and insecurities he hides behind—a man who seeks recognition and admiration at the expense of authenticity. A man, and we'll use the term loosely, whose grand claims and constant self-praise mask a fragile ego, a man whose words are built on shaky foundations, much like his knees. The question before us today is not just about Brian Hankins' words, but the truth behind them—truth he has gone to great lengths to obscure.
