Don't Feed the Preacher

Other incriminating evidence arrived in the mail. Brockman has received hospital bills addressed to Carva White at her house, even though she says he never spent a night there. She also received two charge cards (one in her name, one in his) from Home Depot. A statement from the store shows an outstanding balance of $2,473.

Carva White says he opened the account at Home Depot with Brockman's consent. The materials purchased, he says, were used to fix up the church. White also confirms that Brockman co-signed on the car loan, but he says he doesn't understand why the bill went to her house. "The bill comes to the church," he says.

White says he stopped seeing Brockman because of the "hateful things" her children and grandchildren were doing to him. "If I've cheated her, God help me, because I've done nothing but help Willie," he says.

Brockman has spoken to police about the car sale. (A spokeswoman for the Kansas City, Kansas, Police Department says Brockman was advised to contact police in Kansas City, Missouri, where the sale took place.) Now she'd like to see him suffer. "He's a crook. He's a liar. If I see him now, I'll whoop his ass," she says.

Bare light bulbs drop from the ceiling of the storefront church on Troost. Mismatched choir robes hang on a coat rack. The clock next to the faded rendering of the Last Supper tells the incorrect time.

With Carva White now running the service, Holy Temple of Jesus is a humble church that makes a joyful noise come 11 a.m. Sunday. A three-piece band of piano, organ and drums accompanies the singing of soul-stirring gospel songs. A woman sitting in the back of the church appears to have come just for the music. "That was cool," she whispers to a stranger after one rousing number.

At the front of the church, White bangs a tambourine and takes the occasional turn on organ. His dramatically cut black-and-white suit is coordinated with his two-tone shoes. He wears rings on four fingers.

"If God has been good to you, shout, Yes!" White asks the crowd of 35 worshippers.

"Yes!"

"Oh, yes, he's been good to us!"

White dedicates the sermon to redemption. He describes alcohol abuse in his 20s, the sentence in Leavenworth. "I done it. All of it. And God has changed my life," he says. The sermon seems to have been tailored in part for the Pitch reporter who is present. There's a lot of talk of judgment and character assassination. "The devil is alive!" White says. He then quotes from the Book of Matthew, in which Jesus says foxes have holes but the son of God has no place to rest his head.

Cymbal crashes and organ runs punctuate many of White's sentences. He uses a washcloth to wipe sweat from his face.

There's even a costume change. At one point in the sermon, White moves behind a closed door. Concealed from the congregation, he utters praise into a microphone. He emerges wearing a bright-red robe emblazed with a white crown and a gold cross. The organs and drums intensify upon the metamorphosis.

At the offering, White makes a small show of putting $68 in the collection plate. He says the goal is to raise $1,000 a week to continue the renovations. White asks for prayers for the new sanctuary being prepared on the other side of the wall that cuts through the building. "We're going to beautify God's house," he announces.

The service ends after the mothers and grandmothers in attendance receive a blessing. At the front of the church, White removes his robe. He seems pleased to prove that he does preach in a church, contrary to what some have suggested. As he said during the sermon: "I can't stand a liar, especially when you lyin' on me."

When the two-hour service lets out, children dash for the convenience store across the street. Adults exchange goodbyes on the sidewalk outside the church.

Finally, Carva White gets behind the wheel of his champagne-colored Cadillac and drives away.