On a recent evening of live television, the familiar rhythms of late-night comedy gave way to something more prosecutorial.

In a rare split-screen special, the hosts of Jimmy Kimmel Live! and The Late Show with Stephen Colbert — Jimmy Kimmel and Stephen Colbert — appeared together for a coordinated segment examining the public statements of former President Donald Trump.

The format initially resembled a novelty crossover: two desks, two studio audiences and a shared broadcast clock. But Mr. Kimmel dispensed with the customary monologue and signaled a different tone. “Tonight isn’t about insulting him,” he said. “It’s about showing him.”

What followed was less a roast than a curated montage. Mr. Colbert produced a folder labeled “Trump — In His Own Words,” and the hosts began playing a sequence of archival clips. In one, Mr. Trump denied familiarity with an individual; in another, recorded earlier, he praised the same person at a public event. A subsequent clip showed him urging others to release records, juxtaposed with footage of him declining to release his own. Several iterations of a promised policy plan — often pledged to arrive “in two weeks” — were stitched together in rapid succession.

The audience responded with laughter, though it was tempered by recognition. The hosts avoided overt editorializing, instead allowing the contradictions to accumulate. Mr. Colbert described a recurring pattern: “Claim, denial, distraction, insult.” Mr. Kimmel displayed a graphic labeled “The Dodge Wheel,” which cycled through phrases Mr. Trump has frequently used in response to criticism — “witch hunt,” “fake news,” and other familiar refrains.

The segment’s tone shifted further when a studio phone line lit up. Mr. Kimmel, glancing toward the camera, remarked that Mr. Trump was likely watching. Moments later, the former president joined by phone.

Mr. Trump began by accusing the hosts of deceptive editing and demanded an on-air apology. Rather than rebutting point by point, Mr. Colbert posed a single question: “Which clip was fake?” The line of inquiry was repeated several times, with Mr. Kimmel asking Mr. Trump to identify any specific segment that had been manipulated or taken out of context.

Mr. Trump responded with broader complaints about media bias, television ratings and political opponents, but he did not single out a particular clip as fabricated. The hosts maintained a steady tone, returning to the same request. “Name one,” Mr. Kimmel said at one point.

In a move that underscored the segment’s structure, a timer appeared on screen labeled “Seconds Without an Answer.” As the count rose, Mr. Trump continued speaking over the line. The visual device transformed the exchange into something measurable — not a clash of personalities, but a test of specificity.

When the timer passed the one-minute mark, Mr. Kimmel concluded the call with a restrained observation: “If you were innocent of your own words, you’d just answer.” The line was delivered without raised voice. The call ended shortly thereafter.

Neither host celebrated the moment. Mr. Colbert turned to the camera and said the exercise was not intended as humiliation, but as an illustration of what he characterized as corrosive habits in political discourse — shifting explanations, personal attacks and resistance to verification. Mr. Kimmel added that outrage often serves as a shield, redirecting attention away from underlying questions.

Media scholars have long noted Mr. Trump’s ability to dominate attention cycles, frequently reframing criticism as persecution and converting confrontation into rallying energy for supporters. By narrowing the focus to specific, verifiable statements, the hosts appeared to test whether that dynamic could be disrupted.

The exchange did not produce a confession or concession. Mr. Trump has consistently argued that media outlets distort his words and that selective editing misrepresents his intent. Supporters of the former president quickly criticized the segment online, calling it partisan theater. Others praised the hosts for centering documentation rather than invective.

Late-night television has increasingly evolved into a venue for political commentary, particularly during the Trump era. Programs that once relied primarily on cultural satire now regularly incorporate archival footage and fact-checking segments. Critics argue that such shows risk deepening polarization by preaching to like-minded audiences. Defenders contend they provide a form of media literacy, encouraging viewers to compare rhetoric with record.

What distinguished this segment was its restraint. There were no elaborate sketches or exaggerated impersonations. Instead, the hosts constructed a feedback loop: a claim, a clip, a question. The simplicity of the format placed the burden on Mr. Trump to contest the evidence directly.

In the studio, the most striking moments were not the bursts of laughter but the pauses — the silence after the repeated question, the ticking timer, the absence of a specific rebuttal. For a political figure who has often thrived on volume and momentum, the stillness proved notable.

By the following morning, clips of the exchange circulated widely on social media, not for a punchline but for the unanswered question at its center. Whether the segment will alter public opinion is uncertain. Mr. Trump’s political resilience has endured through investigations, impeachments and electoral defeat.

Yet the episode illustrated a strategic shift in how some media figures are choosing to engage him: not by amplifying confrontation, but by isolating and replaying his own words. In a media landscape saturated with noise, the most pointed critique may be the simplest one — an invitation to clarify.