TULSA, Okla. — A decades-old shadow loomed over a Tulsa County courtroom as Pastor Joe Campbell, 68, faced a judge on charges of sexual abuse from the 1980s.

On Monday, Jan. 12, 2026, Campbell appeared for a procedural hearing in an Oklahoma district court to address the terms of his release while awaiting trial. He faces serious charges, including first-degree rape and lewd acts, tied to allegations from two women, Kerri Jackson and Lisa Ball, who claim abuse as children. Four accusers, now grown women, attended the hearing, watching as Campbell sat quietly in a gray suit before Judge Shannon Taylor, who modified his release conditions to allow a return to his Missouri home.

The case, sparked by an NBC News investigation last year, has drawn attention to claims of abuse spanning the 1970s and 1980s when Campbell led a children’s ministry at Eastland Assembly of God in Tulsa. After years of complaints to church leaders and authorities that went unresolved, U.S. marshals arrested him last month at a Christian youth camp he founded in Missouri. Prosecutors secured an indictment in December through a multicounty grand jury, leading to his transfer to Tulsa last week after posting a $150,000 bond.

Decades of Allegations Resurface in Court

The issue has sparked intense debate over accountability in religious institutions and how past wrongs are addressed in today’s legal system, as NBC News reports. While the women who accuse Campbell describe this as a moment of long-delayed justice, the broader question looms: why did it take so long for these claims to gain traction?

Campbell’s accusers, including Jackson and Ball, allege repeated abuse when they were vulnerable children under his pastoral care. Their stories, alongside those of nine others who reported inappropriate behavior, paint a troubling picture of unchecked authority in a bygone era. It’s hard to ignore how cultural shifts prioritizing victim voices might finally be piercing through decades of institutional silence.

Kerri Jackson, now 53, recalled a chilling encounter from 1988 during a church disciplinary process. “The last time I saw him, he was pointing his finger in my face with an evil look, saying, ‘You’re a liar,’” she said. That memory, contrasted with seeing him in court under an ankle monitor, suggests a reversal of power dynamics that many feel is long overdue.

Church Response and Campbell’s Continued Influence

The Assemblies of God expelled Campbell in the year following Jackson’s testimony after another girl reported abuse, yet he continued working with children, founding a nondenominational church and a camp in Missouri. Even a decade ago, he joined the PTL Television Network, only stepping down last year after NBC inquiries. This persistence raises eyebrows about how easily someone accused of such acts could rebuild influence without consequence.

Kim Williams, another accuser, didn’t mince words outside the courthouse. “He can’t hide behind the pulpit or behind people who believe in him anymore,” she stated. Her comment cuts to the core of a frustration many share: sacred spaces shouldn’t shield predators, no matter how charismatic or connected they are.

Campbell’s release terms were adjusted by Judge Taylor to let him return to Blue Eye, Missouri, with stipulations like staying away from certain public places unless tied to approved religious services. He has not entered a plea, and neither he nor his attorney commented when approached by reporters. If convicted, he faces life in prison—a steep price for alleged sins of the past.

Women Stand United Outside Courthouse

After the hearing, the four women—Jackson, Ball, Williams, and Cheryl Almond—gathered outside the Tulsa County Courthouse, embracing and speaking to the press. They described the moment as both painful and affirming, a step toward closure after decades of waiting. Almond, 62, spoke of praying for this day for over 40 years.

Their resolve to attend every future hearing signals a refusal to let this fade into obscurity. In an age where progressive narratives often dominate discussions of abuse, their persistence reminds us that justice isn’t a partisan issue—it’s a human one. Still, the slow grind of accountability in cases tied to powerful figures remains a sticking point for many.

Campbell’s history with the Assemblies of God, which issued a statement praising the women’s bravery and praying for justice, shows a denomination grappling with its past decisions. Allowing him to remain in ministry after early complaints, as accusers allege, may have enabled further harm. It’s a cautionary tale about prioritizing image over integrity.

Broader Implications for Religious Oversight

The case also spotlights how legal and cultural landscapes have shifted since the 1980s. Back then, allegations like these often vanished into a void of disbelief or deference to authority. Now, with media investigations and public pressure, the scales seem to tip toward the accusers—a change some welcome, others question for its timing.

PTL’s response, emphasizing due process and trust in the justice system, reflects a careful balance in a polarized era. Yet, their decision to remove Campbell’s content and place him on leave only after external scrutiny suggests reactive, not proactive, accountability. It’s a pattern that fuels skepticism about institutional motives.

As this case unfolds, it’s clear the past isn’t buried—it’s a living force shaping how we view trust, faith, and justice. Campbell’s trial will test whether legal consequences can match the weight of decades-old pain. For now, these women stand as a reminder that silence isn’t eternal, and accountability, though delayed, can still arrive.