This story reminds me of an ocurrance in our own small town when I was growing up. My mom was on the city council doing what she thought was right in the midst of the big fish in the little pond of our dinky Arkansas town, and was eventually defeated by a "deacon of the Baptist church" (whatever that actually means) who lobbied the churches crowing that he was moral and mom wasn't.
Of course, it was only after he was elected that he was caught in a different small town in a different state boinking the Veteranarian's wife. Caught by the Veterenarian. Mom got the ... amusing ... news on Sunday morning and called her mom. My grandmother was quite shocked, but mentioned that she did think it quite odd that the preacher that day seemed to be extra emotional and picked a surprise sermon on, not surprisingly, fidelity.
Ah, the vagarities of small town southern life. I am so very, very glad I do not have to deal with it anymore.
And this story's headline? An exact quote from my pillar-of-the-Baptist-church grandmother when I asked whether or not gambling really was a sin. My grandmother had a weakness for the ponies, you see.