Trump, Epstein, And The Conspiracies That Just Won’t Die
A popular joke making the rounds recently tells of a conspiracy theorist who dies and ascends to heaven. There, he asks God the ultimate question: “Who killed JFK?” God responds: “That’s easy—Lee Harvey Oswald.” The man gasps, “This goes higher than I thought!”
It’s a fitting metaphor for the situation Donald Trump now finds himself in. The more he tries to deflect attention from his past association with Jeffrey Epstein, the deeper suspicions grow — especially among those drawn to the conspiracy-laced political culture he helped shape.
A recent Reuters/Ipsos poll found that 69% of Americans — including 62% of Republicans — believe the government is hiding Epstein’s client list. And who can blame them? The Epstein saga is riddled with unanswered questions: the origins of his fortune, the contents of the vast trove of computer files seized from his homes, and how he was able to attempt suicide in custody without proper monitoring.
Trump’s problem isn’t just Epstein. It’s the fact that he has long weaponized distrust. From his promotion of the birther conspiracy against Barack Obama to endless claims of a “deep state,” Trump rode a wave of paranoia straight into power. But now, he is the state — with access to its secrets. So why, his supporters wonder, won’t he come clean?
Conspiracy theories have always had a foothold in American political culture. Historian Richard Hofstadter coined the term “the paranoid style” in 1964, noting how Americans — historically governed from afar — often saw themselves as victims of sinister plots. Over the years, fears of Freemasons, Catholics, communists, and bankers have fueled political movements and moral panics.
But in recent decades, conspiracy thinking has gone mainstream. As journalist Anna Merlan documented in her 2019 book Republic of Lies, conspiracy theorists are no longer fringe outsiders. They’re now embedded in the core of American politics — and Trump is their central figure.
Trump’s promotion of lies about election fraud, secret child sex rings, and supposed government coups has elevated figures like Alex Jones, Michael Flynn, and Kash Patel. These voices have echoed and amplified the wildest theories, often without consequence. Flynn, for example, was one of the earliest to falsely claim Hillary Clinton was involved in a child sex trafficking ring.
Now, Trump faces the consequences of this strategy. Having pushed so many to distrust the system, he now struggles to convince even his own supporters when the system offers answers that don’t align with the narratives he helped build. His administration has released thousands of previously classified documents related to the assassinations of JFK, RFK, and MLK — none of which point to grand conspiracies. But acknowledging that would mean admitting that perhaps the system wasn't always lying.
Trump’s response to the Epstein scrutiny has been to deflect. When questions about his ties to Epstein began rising again this July, he flooded his Truth Social feed with distractions: rants about the Washington Commanders’ name, old accusations against Obama, and AI-generated images of Obama being arrested.
Meanwhile, Kash Patel, now head of the FBI under Trump, claimed on Joe Rogan’s podcast that a “secret vault” full of classified horrors had been discovered at the Bureau — the kind of claim tailor-made to feed the conspiracy machine.
But in doing so, Trump may be overplaying his hand. His efforts to redirect public attention may no longer satisfy a base that increasingly demands proof, not performance. The more he scrambles to stir up new distractions, the more people start asking: what is he trying to hide?
In the end, Trump’s attempts to manage the fallout of the Epstein affair — and the conspiracies surrounding it — may not destroy him. But unlike in the past, this time the flames he’s fanning might burn him too.
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