Longtime Pentecostal Preacher Accused Of Child Sexual Abuse

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As the nation continues to reckon with the disturbing legacy of the Jeffrey Epstein case — where power, influence, and fear kept abuse hidden for years — a newly emergent story out of Missouri and Oklahoma reveals that the problem of predatory abuse hidden behind religious authority is deeply systemic and far broader than most Americans realize.

Over the past year, major investigative reporting has spotlighted veteran Pentecostal preacher Joseph Lyle “Joe” Campbell, a once-beloved children’s pastor with decades of ministry across the South and Midwest. For more than 40 years, Campbell built a reputation as a charismatic faith leader, ministering to thousands of children in Assemblies of God congregations and, more recently, at Jim Bakker’s Morningside Church in Blue Eye, Missouri — a ministry broadcast on national Christian television networks. 

Despite repeated allegations dating back to the 1970s and 1980s that he sexually abused young girls under his spiritual care, Campbell continued preaching for decades without criminal consequences. Multiple women have come forward publicly, including in major NBC News reporting, saying they were abused as children or teens by Campbell while he held youth and children’s ministry positions. Many said they told church leaders and even civil authorities at the time, only to be dismissed, ignored, or told nothing could be done — a chilling echo of the fear and silence surrounding Epstein’s victims. 

The turning point arrived in December 2025 when a multi-county grand jury in Oklahoma returned an indictment against Campbell, now 68 years old, on serious criminal charges: one count of first-degree rape and one count of lewd or indecent acts with a child under 16. These allegations stem from events tied to his ministry in Tulsa, Oklahoma in 1984, where prosecutors say he raped a girl believed to have been between 11 and 12 years old and sexually abused another 14-year-old while serving as a youth pastor. 

On December 17, 2025, U.S. Marshals arrested Campbell at a location in Elkland, Missouri and lodged him in the Greene County Jail in Springfield, Missouri, before his expected transfer to Oklahoma where the charges were filed.  While the state’s legal system has not yet publicly announced an official trial date as of now, the indictment makes clear that prosecutors intend to move forward — and if convicted, Campbell faces up to life in prison. 

What makes this case especially disturbing is that the alleged abuse was first reported decades ago but was never prosecuted at the time. According to survivors and investigative reporting, church officials and some local authorities repeatedly failed to act on those early reports, allowing Campbell not only to stay in ministry but to grow his influence. This mirrors one of the central outrages in the Epstein saga — that powerful or charismatic figures could evade accountability for years while their victims suffered in silence. 

One victim, Phaedra Creed, who appeared on NBC-affiliated segments discussing the case, said she and others were too afraid to come forward earlier because they feared not being believed or being physically harmed — the same kinds of fears Epstein’s accusers long described. 

Now, as Campbell awaits his day in court, the larger questions hang over this case just as they did with Epstein: How many knew? Who enabled him? And why did it take so long for justice to begin? It is far too easy for prosecutors, church leaders, and law enforcement to treat Campbell’s arrest as the end of an ugly chapter. But unless there is a transparent investigation into what church authorities, denominational leaders, and civil officials knew — and when they knew it — this will be another example of systemic betrayal rather than genuine accountability.

Campbell may be facing the possibility of a life sentence, but without uncovering the broader network of complicity that allowed him to evade consequences for decades, the real lesson of this case — and its painful parallels with Epstein — will be lost.

Is Trump’s Beef With Venezuela Just A Distraction From Epstein Files?

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On the December 3, 2025 edition of MSNOW’s Last Word, host Lawrence O’Donnell made a striking allegation: that President Trump’s recent moves toward a potential conflict with Venezuela are part of a deliberate effort to divert public attention from what has become the most politically explosive vulnerability of his administration—the Epstein files. As dramatic as that claim sounds, the idea that a president might reach for military action to overshadow damaging domestic troubles is far from unprecedented in American politics.

History offers several examples of presidents facing crises at home while initiating or escalating military operations abroad. In 1999, as the Monica Lewinsky scandal and impeachment fight threatened his presidency, Bill Clinton authorized U.S. and NATO airstrikes in Kosovo. While the Kosovo intervention had legitimate humanitarian and geopolitical motivations, critics at the time argued that its timing conveniently shifted the national focus away from the turmoil engulfing Clinton in Washington. Similarly, George W. Bush’s 2003 invasion of Iraq—authorized with congressional approval and publicly justified as a necessary step to eliminate weapons of mass destruction—has long been viewed by some political observers as a campaign that also helped neutralize criticism of the administration’s intelligence failures surrounding 9/11 and other mounting domestic issues. In both cases, military action absorbed media bandwidth, elevated presidential authority, and stirred a sense of national unity that could blunt domestic scrutiny.

The pattern, then, is an old one: foreign conflict can serve as a political reset button, even if the strategic and humanitarian stakes are genuinely complex. It is also a risky gamble, because wars rarely unfold according to plan. setbacks can deepen public dissatisfaction instead of alleviating it, and the use of military force for political cover remains one of the most controversial charges that can be leveled against any commander in chief.

Against this backdrop, if President Trump were to sidestep Congress and launch a military operation in Venezuela under the banner of fighting “narco-terrorists,” it would not emerge in a historical vacuum. It would more closely resemble a familiar—and troubling—pattern in presidential behavior. Yet recognizing a pattern does not mean the public should accept it as inevitable. Trump campaigned in 2024 on promises of “no more foreign wars” and “no more regime change,” commitments that resonated deeply with voters weary of costly, open-ended U.S. interventions. Many of his supporters viewed him as the candidate who would finally break the cycle of manufactured or opportunistic foreign entanglements that so often coincide with moments of domestic political stress.

That alone should give the president pause. If he truly intends to differentiate himself from past administrations, he must resist the temptation to use military force as a political distraction. The public—and especially the voters who backed him on the promise of a different foreign-policy era—deserve a leader who resists the cynical logic of war as domestic cover, not one who repeats it.