MAGA Logic: If Trump Did It, It Wasn’t a Crime

Trump reduced an Epstein trafficking survivor to stolen property, and Republicans responded with the only thing they have left: silence.

By now, most of us know there’s no bottom for Congressional Republicans—or Senate Republicans for that matter. There’s not even a basement. “Grab ’em by the pussy” didn’t do it. January 6 didn’t do it. Hell, the “One Big Beautiful Bill” — a legislative fever dream that gutted Medicaid and gift‑wrapped the country for corporations—didn’t even get a side‑eye.

And now, after years of performative outrage, floor speeches, and hashtag fury about Epstein and child trafficking, they’ve suddenly gone full mime the second Trump’s name slips into the picture. For a party that claimed it would “burn it all down” to protect children, they’re now acting like David Blaine made the Epstein files disappear mid‑exorcism, then asked them to pick a card and forget the victim’s name.

The hypocrisy isn’t new — but the cowardice? That’s hit a new low.

And the irony here is nuclear. This was their chance. With the MAGA base fracturing — evangelical drift, independent fatigue, suburban disgust — this moment could’ve been the break. They could’ve turned the tables. They could’ve said: “Enough.” They could’ve cut Trump loose and walked back toward relevance.

But they won’t.

Because for years, Trump has been like a video game cheat code for them. Racism? Type in M-A-G-A and suddenly it’s “economic anxiety.” Sexism? Just chant “But Hillary’s emails” three times and poof — grabbin’ ‘em by the pussy is locker-room charm. Climate change? Who needs science when Trump tells you clean coal is coming back and windmills cause cancer. Public health? No need for actual doctors—he’s got RFK Jr. as the backup character with the worst side quest in human history.

Trump lets them skip the hard parts. He’s the up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right of avoiding responsibility. And they’re out here jamming the controller, hoping no one notices they’ve been trying to Konami Code their way out of another scandal that should’ve ended the game.

Because they’re not fighting to gain power. They’re fighting to protect what little performative relevance they still have—power they already gave up when they handed Trump the keys to the kingdom and let him drive the GOP into a loyalty test with no exit ramp.

They don’t lead anymore. They orbit. And when Trump redefines trafficking as “stealing,” they treat it like a gaffe instead of what it is: a sociopathic tell wrapped in brand-friendly syntax.

I don’t fancy myself a believer — but I grew up around evangelicals. I’ve seen how fast Scripture turns into camouflage. And I’ve watched, over and over, how the very people who preach about protecting the innocent will suddenly treat survivors like roadkill when the wrong man is behind the wheel.

Even Christianity Today — the buttoned-up, center-right evangelical institution — has shown more backbone than most of Congress. They’ve demanded the Epstein files be released. They’ve called out Pam Bondi’s disinformation campaign. They’re out here sounding like Watergate-era whistleblowers while the actual GOP leadership is hiding in the basement trying to figure out how to redact their fingerprints.

Nancy Mace? Please. On March 10, 2024, she went on This Week and turned a legitimate question about Trump’s sexual assault verdict into a one-woman gaslight festival. When George Stephanopoulos pressed her on Trump being found liable for sexual abuse in the E. Jean Carroll case, she accused him of shaming her as a rape survivor—because in the modern GOP, any criticism of Trump is now a form of victim-blaming. It was disingenuous, manipulative, and frankly dangerous. Her job is to protect survivors, not weaponize her trauma to shield a predator.

If Mace cared about survivors, she’d be front and center demanding the Epstein files be released in full. But she isn’t. Because this isn’t about morality. It’s about political survival.

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Megyn Kelly isn’t much better. She’s tossed some half-hearted criticism Trump’s way— called the Epstein mess “self-inflicted,” criticized Bondi, and warned that a Diddy pardon would crater Republican credibility. But the minute Trump’s own hands are shown hovering near the Epstein narrative, her voice drops from “truthteller” to “I’m just asking questions.”

This is the same Megyn Kelly who had an entire movie made about her—with Charlize Theron playing her as a symbol of fearless resistance to male power in Bombshell. A woman who leveraged her own mistreatment at Fox News into a redemption arc in the public imagination. But when it’s Trump — the ultimate patron saint of right-wing misogyny — she clams up like the facts might mess with her followers.

For someone who spent years framing herself as a fearless warrior against institutional misogyny, she sure gets shy when the misogynist in question is her guy.

Evangelicals? They’re still flipping through the Bible like it’s got a promo code for absolution. They haven’t yet found the scripture that lets them explain away Trump saying Epstein “stole” a trafficking victim — but they will. They always do.

They’ll dust off Cyrus, the Persian king who wasn’t one of God’s people but still helped Israel rebuild the temple. That’s the go-to when Trump does something monstrous — “God can use imperfect men.” In this version, Trump isn’t corrupt — he’s just spiritually outsourced.

They’ll grab David, the adulterer who sent a man to his death to cover his sins. That one’s for when Trump’s hush money or sexual assault cases come up. The message: Yeah, he messed up — but he’s still chosen.

They’ll reach for Moses, whose anger issues got him banned from the Promised Land. But because he led people through the desert, evangelicals use him to excuse Trump’s tantrums, Twitter rants, and incoherent rage. He’s rough around the edges, sure — but he’s a leader.

And for the truly shameless, they’ll start to lean into Jesus. That’s when Trump becomes the victim — persecuted by the government, betrayed by insiders, unfairly attacked for telling “hard truths.” The indictments aren’t legal consequences — they’re crucifixions. The trials? Gethsemane in a red tie.

But notice what you never hear quoted: the verses about protecting the vulnerable. The ones that condemn those who exploit the weak. The ones about justice, fairness, and not showing favoritism to the rich.

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Because for these folks, theology isn’t about truth. It’s about permission. Permission to worship power. Permission to ignore victims. Permission to call evil “flawed leadership” if the man doing it waves the right flag.

Pam Bondi? She practically auditioned for this scandal. First, she claimed she had the Epstein list on her desk. Then she claimed there was no list — just “case files.” Then she botched the redactions. Then she refused to testify. Her own base turned on her, while Trump stood behind her. Christianity Today rightfully called her out. But the GOP in Congress? They poured another round of silence and looked the other way.

And while they played dumb, Virginia Giuffre’s family showed more courage than any of them. Her brother Sky Roberts said it plainly: “She’s not an object. She’s a person.” They’ve demanded the files. They’ve begged for transparency. They’ve asked that Ghislaine Maxwell not be pardoned. They’ve done everything a moral society claims to reward — and been ignored by the people elected to do just that.

Meanwhile, Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act — introduced May 20, passed July 1, signed July 4 — slashed safety nets, padded corporate pockets, and drove a stake through anything resembling shared responsibility. And still, Senate Republicans fell in line. Trump trashed them publicly — mocked Chuck Grassley, insulted Josh Hawley — and they responded by kissing the ring and raising funds. Washington Week said it best: “Retaliation is real.” They’re not legislating. They’re surviving.

And whenever Epstein comes up? They reach for their trusty bag of logical fallacies like it’s a survival kit in a collapsing bunker.

First up: tu quoque, aka the classic “What about Bill Clinton?” defense. As if the second you mention Trump’s connections to Epstein, someone yells, “WELL, CLINTON WAS ON THE PLANE TOO!!” Great. If Clinton was in on it, drag his ass to hell, too. Seriously. Start the trial at 9, I’ll pack snacks. But trying to excuse Trump’s behavior by pointing at Clinton is like showing up to court for arson and saying, “Well, my neighbor lit a trash can on fire once.” That’s not a defense. That’s a confession that you think accountability is optional if your team has a mascot.

Then there’s the ad hominem approach. Don’t engage the facts — just attack the people delivering them. Journalists asking tough questions? “Fake news.” Survivors sharing their stories? “They just want fame.” Whistleblowers? “Deep State.” In MAGA world, if the messenger makes you uncomfortable, shoot the messenger, then accuse them of having Epstein’s name tattooed on their inner thigh.

Next, the false equivalence circus. That’s when someone tries to convince you that billionaires flying underage girls to private islands for “massages” is basically the same thing as a drag queen reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar at a library. One is a criminal enterprise fueled by blackmail, grooming, and elite corruption. The other is a dude in makeup saying “be kind” to third graders. But if you ask MAGA world, both are “child exploitation” and one is somehow worse because it doesn’t vote Republican.

And finally, the appeal to hypocrisy — the fallback move of every bad-faith actor in Congress. “Well, Democrats do it, too.” Yeah? And? What does that prove? That both parties have predators and you’re just more loyal to yours? That’s not a mic drop. That’s a moral faceplant. If you know it’s wrong and you still defend it because your side is the one doing it, congratulations — you’ve officially made hypocrisy a platform plank.

These aren’t arguments. They’re escape hatches. They’re the kind of rhetorical sludge you use when you know you’ve got no real defense but still want to sound smart on Fox News before the ad break for survival seeds and male vitality gummies.

Even the podcast bros are wobbling. To be fair: Rogan, Schulz, and Theo Von have spoken up. Rogan’s called the Epstein coverup a “global blackmail op.” Schulz blasted the White House. Theo’s done viral clips asking for truth. But this is the moment. Turn the mic up. Say it louder. Say Trump’s name. Say trafficking. Say victim. Don’t just talk around it while pretending the audience can’t read between the lines.

The files matter. They contain names, details, accountability. And they’re being slow-walked while survivors wait. Speaker Johnson still refuses to release the full documents. Some members — like Ro Khanna and even Thomas Massie — want full redacted disclosure. Most of Congress? Still playing hide and seek.

And why? Because they’re not afraid of policy — they’re afraid of Trump. They gave him their spine years ago. They still treat him like a king, even as the kingdom burns. They sold their souls for power. Then they let him take that power. And now they’re sitting in the ashes, clinging to their committee assignments while pretending they still run the show.

The Epstein files aren’t just evidence. They’re a test. And Republicans keep failing.

There is no bottom.

And they keep digging.

Kristoffer Ealy is a political science professor who teaches at California State University Fullerton, Ventura College, Los Angeles Harbor College, and Oxnard College. He is the author of the upcoming book, Political Illiteracy: Learning the Wrong Lessons. Read the original column here.