The Chrisleys stole money. Then Trump pardoned them. That’s not a witch hunt.

Donald Trump has been called a “reality television president” so many times by his detractors (or the detractors of reality television), it no longer feels clever. Or even much of an insult. Still he appears to be doubling down on that reputation after pardoning Todd and Julie Chrisley, the stars of the long-running and shockingly popular USA Network reality show “Chrisley Knows Best.” (USA Network is owned by NBCUniversal, MSNBC’s parent company.)

The couple’s lawyer, Alex Little, in material he prepared for the Justice Department asking for a pardon, said their conviction “exemplifies the weaponization of justice against conservatives and public figures, eroding basic constitutional protections.”

While Little would disagree, I don’t think we’re looking at a witch hunt here. Indeed, as any scholar of the reality television arts and sciences will tell you, the Chrisleys are actually late to a well-established trend.

“Chrisley Knows Best” centered around Todd Chrisley, a “flamboyant” Southern real-estate mogul who was always hounding his children and freaking out when things didn’t go his way. The producers were clearly working to create a sitcomlike vibe, but less in the mold of “Friends” and more like the old three-camera series starring men such as Jim Belushi or Kevin James as underappreciated, breadwinning heroes with inexplicably hot wives.

The show ran from 2014 to 2023 and also included a separate spinoff on E! (E! is also owned by NBCUniversal.) It only ceased production because the principal characters became indisposed, and by “indisposed” I mean that they were sent to prison.

The Chrisleys, unlike their sitcom counterparts, were conspicuously wealthy rather than working class. The proud owner of a very American McMansion, they made most of their money buying, selling and flipping similar homes in suburban environments in Southern states. The lavish lifestyle, however, was not entirely legitimate. In 2022, Todd was sentenced to 12 years in prison and Julie to seven for their involvement in a tax and mortgage fraud scheme that predates the premiere of their show in 2014. The show itself made them plenty of money, and the couple was also convicted of trying to hide that income from the IRS and skipping out on nearly $500,000 in back taxes. (Julie’s conviction was vacated on appeal in 2024 after a judge decided prosecutors did not tie her specifically to the very first year of the bank-fraud scheme.)

Prosecutors proved the couple had bilked Atlanta-area banks out of $36 million by applying for mortgages with fake documents, not repaying loans, and taking out false loans just to repay the old false loans. They used that money on a classic reality TV smorgasbord — designer clothes, exotic cars and flashy trips. But the self-made element of their wealth was always an important part of their brand.

The other part of Todd’s brand is flamboyance. His love of fashion and Botox has long made him the subject of rumors about his sexual orientation — rumors that he always shut down. His affect is sort of like if Snagglepuss and Charles Nelson Riley had a gay child through surrogacy.

It was always a weird conceit that seemed to contrast with the show’s more traditional “family values” themes and fan base. Indeed, leveraging that conservative base and deploying the Trumpian language of victimhood that may have helped secure the Chrisleys their pardon. It’s no coincidence that Savannah Chrisley, the couple’s daughter who is featured prominently in the show, argued in prime time last summer at the Republican National Convention that her family was targeted by “rogue prosecutors.”

In reality TV fashion, the truth is less exciting. Reality television attracts extreme personalities because that is what pops on camera and connects with fans. Extreme personalities do extreme things — and that sometimes means breaking the law.

The television age we’re currently experiencing was arguably ushered in by the runaway success of “Survivor” in the summer of 2000. Richard Hatch, who is gay, took home the inaugural $1 million prize. In 2006, Hatch was sentenced to 51 months in prison for not declaring his winnings to the IRS. Post prison, he appeared on “Celebrity Apprentice.”

“Real Housewives of New Jersey” star Teresa Giudice was also on “Celebrity Apprentice” in 2012 — only to be fired by Trump himself. Like the Chrisleys, she and her husband, Joe, were known for spending money freely, including dropping $120,000 on furniture in the show’s pilot episode. Teresa paid in cash. In 2013, she and Joe pled guilty to mail, wire and bank fraud for taking out loans with fraudulent documents, also much like the Chrisleys. Teresa got 15 months in prison (but only served 11) and Joe served 41 months.

Since the Italian-born Joe never became a naturalized citizen, he was scheduled to be deported in 2019 during Trump’s first term. Teresa and Joe said they never formally asked for a pardon from the then-president, the couple’s eldest daughter, Gia Giudice, set up a Change.org petition to “request that our President, Donald J Trump review our petition and pardon my father.” The pardon never came. While Trump might have some sympathy for people who commit loan fraud, after all, a New York judge did find Trump and the Trump Organization had committed civil fraud. But he shows very little leniency for illegal immigrants.

In 2022, “Real Housewives of Salt Lake City” star Jen Shah pleaded guilty to wire fraud and is serving out a 6½ year sentence, though it’s been repeatedly shortened. The estranged husband of “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” star Erika Jayne was convicted of fraud last summer. (She has not been accused of any involvement in the fraud and denies all wrongdoing.) Peter Thomas, who was on “Real Housewives of Atlanta” when he was married to star Cynthia Bailey, just pleaded guilty to not paying his taxes.

But Trump likely guessed he could use the Chrisleys and their story unlike, say, Jen Shah’s tale of woe. This pardon sends a message to MAGA world: Yes, the deep state is out to get you and other hard-working, God-fearing Americans. Or at least it was under President Joe Biden. And the only person who can stop the injustice is President Donald J. Trump. With a swipe of his overworked pen, Trump not only freed Todd and Julie — he might have also gotten their show back on the air.

This narrative, like so many of the canned storylines on “Chrisley Knows Best“ is an illusion. Not that it matters to Trump’s fans. There’s no nefarious plot here; that would be more interesting. Law enforcement agents aren’t targeting reality TV stars, they’re just following the evidence. And sometimes that evidence is beamed directly into millions of homes across America.