In the Phoenix suburb of Queen Creek, the property seemed far from the city’s sprawl and roaring traffic. Its windmill, cow pastures and rustic brick farmhouse evoked earlier times — the front doors were even made of wood from the Revolutionary era.
James Ray Epps and his wife, Robyn, had made the affectionately named Knotty Barn the center of their wedding venue business. Set on five pastoral acres, with a courtyard featuring a red brick walkway, wooden arch and three-tiered Italian fountain, Knotty Barn was an ideal place to get married.
Ray and Robyn, in their late 50s and retired from careers in roofing and sales, were living on the bucolic property and helping young people begin new chapters together when, in 2021, their peace was shattered. Threatening voicemails and text messages began flooding their business phone and email accounts. People drove past the ranch brandishing weapons. One day, Ray found bullet casings littered across the property.
“We’re coming Ray!!!!!!” read one email. “Hopefully you are filled with holes soon.”
A churchgoing Republican who served four years in the United States Marine Corps and twice voted for Donald Trump, Epps was an unlikely target of death threats. Yet Epps had become something of a paradox: He believed in one conspiracy theory, only to find himself in the red-hot center of another — a theory that would place him in the crosshairs of a former president, turn him into a punching bag on Fox News, and lead to the complete collapse of the life he and his wife had built, sending them into hiding.
Conspiracy theories have never played a more prominent role in a presidential campaign, embraced by certain candidates on the left and right. The case of Ray Epps, now the subject of a lawsuit against Fox News, stands as a cautionary tale. And it began, like all conspiracy theories do, with one tiny grain of doubt.
Read the story in the July, 2024 issue of Deseret Magazine.
