A blogger steals someone else's life story and calls it her own.
How William Orr's quest for better, cheaper gas became a crime.
The family of a dead judge blames a creeping fungus in the federal courthouse.
At the moment, White is using someone else's church. The remnants of New Higher Ground merged with another church three months ago. On Sundays, White sings, plays organ and preaches at Holy Temple of Jesus at 34th Street and Troost. The founder of Holy Temple, Agnes Ferdinand, is 65 and frail from the effects of a stroke she suffered a couple of years ago. Ferdinand says she has known White since he was a boy. She calls his arrival a blessing. "One day, he just walked in and started helping, and I appreciate it," she says.
White is leading an effort to remake Holy Temple into something much grander than it is today. He says the money the children have raised has paid for remodeling. "It's painted," he says. "It looks presentable. It's clean. We cleaned up all that. We're going to be feeding the homeless."White has tried to care for the homeless in the past. The effort made headlines in Springfield.
Before 6 a.m. on December 17, 2004, Nick Heatherly, the director of building development services in Springfield, approached a white clapboard church with a team of police and fire inspectors. Heatherly had a warrant to search the new home of New Higher Ground Ministries.
The city, Heatherly tells the Pitch, had received several complaints about the building, an old Methodist church that had been turned into a shelter. Heatherly says neighbors complained about noise and sexual activity taking place outside the back door.
Heatherly entered the building and found sleeping bodies strewn everywhere. "I tripped over a guy when I walked through the door of the main sanctuary," he says.
Heatherly also found code violations. Walls had been constructed, electric wiring run, plumbing installed all without plans or permits. Heatherly says 18 inches of standing water had collected in the basement. In violation of fire-safety rules, the doors were padlocked.
City officials ordered everyone to grab their belongings and leave. Police offered to provide temporary housing to the 30 people who were evicted. Some of the residents ended up at the Springfield house that White was renting.
Initial media accounts in Springfield depicted Heatherly as a coldhearted bureaucrat. The Christmastime eviction invited comparisons with the turning away of Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem. "I'm now known as the Innkeeper for throwing them out of the building," Heatherly sighs in a phone interview.
But White did not remain a sympathetic character for long. News of his fraud conviction aired on Springfield TV news broadcasts. Stories in The Springfield News-Leader began to take a more skeptical tone. Also, Christians who had extended a hand to New Higher Ground came to second-guess the decision. Members of the Bridge, a Baptist church in nearby Nixa, had helped with the ill-fated remodeling. Senior Pastor Richard Baker says his members were unaware that New Higher Ground lacked permits. "We did not do our homework good enough," Baker says.
After a brief stop at a nursing home with extra beds, the New Higher Ground caravan settled into a barn in Aurora, 30 miles southwest of Springfield. At 8:30 p.m. on October 18, 2005, the fire department received a call that the barn was in flames. According to a TV news report, the fire burned hot enough to melt the siding on a nearby home.
Fire inspectors were not able to determine the cause of the blaze. White suspects arson. "I was a black man in a white town, bottom line," he says.
Willie Brockman sits in an easy chair positioned just inside the door of her home in the St. Margaret's housing project in Kansas City, Kansas. It's as if she moved the chair to pass out Halloween candy and came to like the vantage point.
Brockman is 69 years old. She used to run a tire store on Troup Avenue with her husband, who died in 2003.
Earlier this year, Carva White played music at Brockman's church in Kansas City, Kansas. A friendship was struck. Brockman says White invited her to visit different churches, an idea that appealed to her. Friendship led to dating. Before long, Brockman says, White told her that he loved her. "He said he wanted to marry me."
Brockman's grandchildren, including Keyona White, who is not related to Carva White, did not approve of the relationship. Nineteen and expecting a third child, Keyona White lives across the street from Brockman. She's petite and wears eyeglasses low on her nose, giving her a studious air. She says she became wary of Carva White when she caught him lying about his age. The pastor, she says, told her family that he was 47. But Keyona White claims that she heard the minister state 1964 as his year of birth when he reported a stolen wallet to police. "I said, 'That nigger is not his age.'" Keyona White believes he lied in order to appear to be a more suitable mate for her grandmother.