Just when you thought the alleged chaos in late-night television couldn’t get any more dramatic, a new, even more explosive chapter has just been written. According to a story igniting across social media, the legendary and fiercely outspoken actress Jamie Lee Curtis has entered the fray. The claim? That in the wake of Stephen Colbert’s supposed “exit” from The Late Show, CBS actively tried to silence her, presumably to stop her from speaking out about it.

It’s a bombshell allegation that adds a revered Hollywood A-lister to an already volatile mix. The narrative paints Curtis as a warrior for truth, risking her career to blow the lid off a conspiracy of censorship at one of the world’s biggest media conglomerates. It suggests the crisis isn’t just about one host, but about a systemic effort to control the narrative. The story feels urgent, important, and profoundly shocking.

It is also completely false. The story of Jamie Lee Curtis being silenced by CBS is a fabrication, a work of fiction. But it’s a special kind of fiction. It’s a sequel. And understanding how it functions is one of the most critical media literacy skills you can have in the modern age.

To see the full picture, you must recognize that this new “bombshell” is built on a foundation of sand. Its entire premise rests on the initial lie that The Late Show with Stephen Colbert was canceled and that its host had made a sudden “exit.” As has been thoroughly debunked, that never happened. Colbert’s show remains on the air, a successful and prominent fixture of the late-night schedule. You cannot, after all, be silenced for speaking out about an event that never occurred.

So, what we are witnessing is not a news story, but a tactic. It’s the second act in a deliberately crafted misinformation saga. Think of it like a television series. The first episode, “The Shocking Cancellation,” was released to test the waters and hook an audience. It used a compelling but false premise to generate outrage and shares. Now, the creators of this hoax have released episode two: “The Celebrity Ally.”

This tactic is deceptively brilliant. First, it breathes new life into a dying narrative. Just as interest in the original fake story begins to wane, a new twist pulls people back in. Second, and more insidiously, it uses the credibility of a trusted public figure to legitimize the initial lie. Jamie Lee Curtis was chosen for a reason. She is not just a beloved actress; she has cultivated a public persona of authenticity, strength, and unapologetic truth-telling. She is exactly the kind of person you would believe would stand up to a network. By attaching her name to their fiction, the creators are borrowing her hard-earned trust and using it to give their lie an air of plausibility.

This is a psychological masterstroke. For those who saw and believed the first story about Colbert, the Jamie Lee Curtis sequel serves as powerful confirmation bias. It reinforces their belief that something is terribly wrong at CBS. For those who were skeptical, the addition of a second, respected public figure might be enough to make them reconsider. The lie gains weight and momentum with each new “character” added to the cast.

This strategy also preys on our narrative expectations. We are conditioned by movies and television to expect stories to unfold in this way. The lone hero faces a crisis, and just when all seems lost, a powerful ally emerges to help fight the battle. The fake news about Curtis perfectly fits this heroic storytelling mold, making it emotionally resonant and satisfyingly simple. The real world of network television, contracts, and public relations is messy and complex; the world of the hoax is a clean, compelling drama of good versus evil.

The ultimate cruelty of this tactic is the disservice it does to everyone it touches. It exploits the real Stephen Colbert, whose actual legacy includes bravely navigating a very real corporate scandal surrounding former CEO Les Moonves with wit and integrity. The hoax erases that real courage and replaces it with a fictional, simplistic martyrdom.

And it exploits the real Jamie Lee Curtis, weaponizing her reputation for honesty to spread a lie. It takes her public spirit—her advocacy for causes she believes in, her candidness about her life and career—and twists it into a puppet for a narrative she has no part in.

The real crisis in late-night television isn’t the one described in these viral posts. The crisis is the ease with which these elaborate, multi-part fictions can be constructed and disseminated, poisoning public discourse and eroding trust not just in media institutions, but in the very public figures we admire.

So the next time you see a follow-up to a shocking story—a new source emerging, another celebrity getting involved, a “deeper” layer of the conspiracy being revealed—take a breath and apply a new level of scrutiny. Ask yourself: Is this a genuine development, reported by credible sources? Or is this just the next episode in a show you never signed up to watch? The real drama, it turns out, isn’t happening in a television studio in New York. It’s happening right here, in our own feeds, every single day.