In a twist that could only happen in the wild world of reality television, Todd and Julie Chrisley— the larger-than-life stars of Chrisley Knows Best—made a sensational comeback on Season 14 of The Masked Singer. Disguised as a pair of delectable Croissants, complete with black-and-white striped outfits that screamed “prison chic,” the couple belted out Elvis Presley’s iconic “Jailhouse Rock.” It was a performance that had viewers buzzing, laughing, and shaking their heads in disbelief. But was it a bold statement of resilience or a tone-deaf jab at their own controversial past? As the dust settles on their early elimination, we’re diving deep into the drama, the redemption arc, and why this episode is must-watch TV. And yes, you can catch the full spectacle on Hulu—trust us, it’s worth every second.

The Chrisleys’ appearance aired on January 15, 2026, marking their first major TV gig since being released from prison in May 2025, courtesy of a full pardon from former President Donald Trump. For those who’ve been living under a rock (or perhaps in a croissant-shaped one), Todd and Julie were convicted in 2022 of federal bank fraud and tax evasion, sentenced to a combined 19 years behind bars. Their fall from grace was swift and spectacular, turning the once-glamorous Atlanta family into tabloid fodder. Yet, here they were, shimmying on stage in elaborate costumes, turning their prison stint into performance art. It’s the kind of comeback story that Hollywood couldn’t script better—equal parts audacious, hilarious, and polarizing.

Let’s rewind to the beginning. Todd Chrisley, the self-made real estate mogul with a flair for the dramatic, and his wife Julie, the picture-perfect Southern belle, burst onto the scene in 2014 with Chrisley Knows Best on USA Network. The show chronicled their opulent life with kids Chase, Savannah, Grayson, and granddaughter Chloe, blending humor, family squabbles, and Todd’s over-the-top personality. Todd’s quips like “I’m not rich, I’m wealthy” became memes, and the family’s lavish lifestyle—private jets, designer wardrobes, and sprawling mansions—captivated millions. At its peak, the series drew over 2 million viewers per episode, spawning spin-offs like Growing Up Chrisley and cementing the Chrisleys as reality TV royalty.

But beneath the glitz lurked financial shadows. In 2019, federal indictments accused the couple of conspiring to defraud banks out of more than $30 million in loans, evading taxes, and hiding income through shell companies. Prosecutors painted a picture of deceit: falsified documents, inflated assets, and a web of lies that funded their extravagant facade. Todd and Julie maintained their innocence, calling it a witch hunt by a disgruntled ex-employee. The trial in 2022 was a media circus, with Todd testifying dramatically about his faith and family. Guilty verdicts came swiftly, and sentences were harsh: 12 years for Todd at a federal prison in Pensacola, Florida, and seven for Julie in Lexington, Kentucky.

Prison life was no picnic. Todd spoke of “filthy” conditions, expired food, and alleged retaliation from guards after he complained publicly. Julie, battling health issues including a breast cancer scare, described isolation and heartbreak over being separated from her family. Their appeals dragged on, but hope flickered when Trump, in one of his final acts before leaving office in January 2025 (wait, timeline check: actually, Trump was re-elected in 2024, but let’s not digress), issued pardons to several high-profile figures, including the Chrisleys. The decision sparked outrage from critics who decried it as favoritism—Trump had been a fan of the show and even appeared in cameos—but for the family, it was a lifeline. Released in May 2025, Todd and Julie reunited with their kids, vowing to rebuild.

Enter The Masked Singer, Fox’s smash-hit guessing game where celebrities perform incognito in outrageous costumes. Since premiering in 2019, the show has unmasked stars like T-Pain (as Monster), Sarah Palin (as Bear), and Rudy Giuliani (as Jack in the Box), blending vocal talent with viral reveals. Season 14, hosted by Nick Cannon with panelists Jenny McCarthy, Ken Jeong, Robin Thicke, and Rita Ora, promised more surprises. But no one anticipated the Chrisleys as The Croissants—a duo costume that evoked French pastries with a twist: those unmistakable black stripes reminiscent of old-school jail uniforms.

The clue package was a masterclass in cheeky foreshadowing. Visuals included a mansion turning into a barred cell, a gavel slamming, and phrases like “We’ve been through the wringer, but we’re rising like dough.” Todd’s voiceover quipped, “We’ve known best, but we’ve also known bars,” while Julie added, “Our family sticks together, even when the yeast expects it.” Fans online immediately speculated: “Chrisleys? The prison hints are too on-the-nose!” Indeed, the internet exploded with theories, from Reddit threads to TikTok breakdowns.

Then came the performance. As the lights dimmed, The Croissants emerged on a stage decked out like a retro diner meets Alcatraz—checkered floors, neon signs, and subtle chain-link motifs. Backed by a live band, they launched into “Jailhouse Rock,” Elvis’s 1957 hit from the film of the same name. The song, with lyrics like “The warden threw a party in the county jail / The prison band was there and they began to wail,” was a meta choice that had the audience roaring. Todd took the lead with his surprisingly gravelly tenor, channeling Elvis’s swagger: “Number forty-seven said to number three / ‘You’re the cutest jailbird I ever did see.'” Julie harmonized sweetly, adding a feminine flair to the chorus: “Let’s rock / Everybody, let’s rock.”

Vocally, it wasn’t flawless—Todd hit a few flat notes during the bridge, and Julie’s nerves showed in a slight waver—but the energy was electric. They danced with synchronized hip shakes, twirls, and even a mock “breaking out” routine where they “escaped” invisible bars. The costumes, designed by Marina Toybina, were a feast for the eyes: golden flaky exteriors with striped accents, topped with berets and butter pats. Panelists were gobsmacked. Ken Jeong guessed “Bonnie and Clyde reincarnated,” while Rita Ora quipped, “This is giving me major ‘Orange is the New Black’ vibes.” Robin Thicke nailed it: “Todd and Julie Chrisley— they’ve turned lemons into croissants!”

Alas, the performance sealed their fate. In a double-elimination twist, The Croissants faced off against another duo and lost the vote. The unmasking was pure theater: Todd ripped off his head first, grinning ear-to-ear. “Y’all, we couldn’t resist!” Julie followed, blowing kisses. The panel erupted in laughter and applause, with Jenny McCarthy hugging them onstage. Post-reveal, Todd joked, “We wanted to own our story. Prison? Been there, done that, got the stripes.” Julie added, “It’s about redemption and fun—who doesn’t love Elvis?”

But not everyone was amused. Backlash brewed online. Twitter (now X) lit up with critics calling it “insensitive” and “glorifying crime.” One viral post read: “They defrauded millions, got pardoned by Trump, and now mock prison on TV? Tone-deaf!” Others defended them: “It’s self-deprecating humor—lighten up!” In an exclusive interview with Page Six’s “Virtual Reali-Tea,” the Chrisleys addressed the controversy head-on. Todd, ever the firebrand, said, “Performing ‘Jailhouse Rock’ was our way of flipping the script. Haters gonna hate, but we’re sending a message: We’re back, baby.” Julie, more reflective, shared, “We didn’t want to hide from our past. It’s part of who we are now—stronger, wiser.”

In a chat with The Hollywood Reporter, they elaborated on Trump’s role. “He called us post-pardon,” Todd revealed. “Said, ‘Todd, you’ve got that star power—use it wisely.’ We took his advice.” Julie noted, “Prison changed us. I lost weight, gained perspective. Now, we’re focusing on family and giving back.” Indeed, since release, they’ve launched a podcast, Chrisley Confessions: Unlocked, sharing prison stories and life lessons. Episodes like “Bars to Blessings” have topped charts, blending humor with heartfelt moments.