Key Witness in Flowers case is accused of three murders


That’s Odell Hallmon telling a jury in Winona, Mississippi, that Curtis Flowers confessed to killing four people in a local furniture store in 1996.  Now it’s Hallmon who stands accused of killing three people in a town 20 miles south of Winona.

The difference is that Doug Evans, the DA who prosecuted Curtis Flowers 6 times before getting a final conviction, won’t have to create a case out of thin air to convict Hallmon–there is actual evidence.  You can find more about Hallmon’s role in convicting Flowers here.

But it gets worse.

In the first of the six Curtis Flowers trials (no capital case has been re-tried six times) Hallmon testified that Flowers had confessed to the murders when the two men were cellmates in the state penitentiary in Parchman, Mississippi.

In the second trial, Hallmon reversed himself.  He and his sister Patricia had learned that a reward of $30,000 was being offered to anyone giving evidence leading to a conviction in the case and they wanted to cash in.  So, when Hallmon and Flowers were locked up together, Patricia told Odell what to say and how to say it.

Then Odell, by his own account, got out of prison and was forced to live with a mother and a sister who were angry with him for turning on the family.  So Odell recanted his recantation and hasn’t budged since.

But it gets worse.

The state’s case against Flowers is entirely dependent on the testimony of Patricia Hallmon (she goes by several names, but we don’t want to further complicated this Byzantine story).   This isn’t obvious on first blush because the state put up several witnesses who testified to seeing Flowers on the fateful morning when four innocent people died at the Tardy furniture store.  But Patricia gave Doug Evans and his associates precisely the story they were looking for.  Her testimony established the template on which everything else rests.

A janitor at a clothing factory testified that his gun was stolen out of his glove compartment the morning of the murders and ballistics tests suggested that the bullets fired at the furniture store could have come from the make of gun the janitor described.  But since the authorities figured Flowers as the gunman long before they had a shred of evidence associating him with the crime, they needed to tell a jury how he pulled it off.  And that’s where Patricia comes in.

Patricia Hallmon told investigators that she had seen Curtis Flowers leave his house early, early in the morning, return an hour or so later, then head out in the direction of the furniture store shortly before the killings went down.

The state’s “investigation” of what came to be known as “the Tardy murders” was based entirely on Patricia’s timeline.  Police officers went door-to-door along the route Patricia’s testimony required, first from Flowers’ home to the clothing factory, then from Flowers’ home to the furniture store.  Testimony makes clear that potential witnesses were shown a picture of Curtis Flowers and a handbill advertising the $30,000 reward.

Most of the folks who lived along these routes were exceedingly poor.  For them, $30,000 was a princely sum–more money than they had ever earned in a single year or, in most cases, any given two or three year stretch.  Still, it took a full year to find enough witnesses to make the case.  True, they all disagreed on what Curtis was wearing (as in, there is no overlap in their descriptions whatsoever), and none of these people (Patricia Hallmon excepted) came forward of their own volition.  But they were willing to say what the state needed them to say: “I saw Curtis Flowers on his way to the factory.”  “I saw Curtis Flowers in the vicinity of the furniture store.”

I could elaborate on the credibility issues dogging the various witnesses, but this post isn’t about them.  (If you want more, you can find my voluminous blogging on this case here.)

Now you see why the case against Flowers stands or falls with the credibility of Odell and Patricia Hallmon.

Did this delightful brother-sister act spill the beans on Curtis Flowers as good-hearted citizens eager to do the right thing; or did they create their stories out of whole cloth because there was $30,000 on the table and they knew what the authorities wanted to hear?

Subsequent events don’t merely tilt in the direction of the second option–it is now obvious that Patricia and Odell are psychopathic liars whose testimony at trial can’t be taken seriously.

Still not convinced?  Consider this . . .

Short months after Curtis Flowers was sentenced to die, Patricia Hallmon was indicted in federal court for filing fourteen fraudulent income tax returns claiming $481,798 in bogus deductions.  She was subsequently found guilty and sentenced to three years in federal prison.

The link above may be the only public record of Patricia’s legal problems and, even when the story was briefly noted in the Jackson Clarion-Ledger no questions were raised about Patricia’s credibility as a witness in the Flowers case.

And little brother Odell is charged with committing three brutal murders (and attempting a fourth).  Since the suspect has turned himself in, a surviving victim may live to tell her tale, and Hallmon possessed a simple motive (he got out of prison in August and after nine months, his girlfriend sent him packing) Doug Evans and friends won’t need to summon more testimony from the ether.

Meanwhile, Curtis Flowers remains in Parchman prison awaiting his date with the executioner as his attorneys take his appeal to the federal level.

Will the Mississippi press connect the dots connecting Odell and Patricia?  Will reporters reexamine their blase assumption that Flowers must be guilty?  Will the court system consider any of this to be legally relevant?  (Don’t laugh, there’s a good chance they won’t).

This story from the Clarion-Ledger is a good start.


In Praise of Political Preaching


A few weeks ago, Donald Trump signed an executive order designed to make it easier for churches to participate in the political process. It was little more than a good will gesture to the white evangelicals who supported him by an 80 to 16 margin, but it gave moderate white Baptists a chance to advocate for church-state separation.

“Partisan politics have no place in our pulpits,” Suzii Paynter, executive coordinator of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship announced. “In fact, it’s the absence of that very thing — partisan politics — that gives us the power to speak with moral authority on issues of the day.”

Is the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship speaking with moral authority on issues of the day? Click on the advocacy link on the CBF website and you will learn that the CBF’s approach to advocacy is “individual and systemic, global and national, state and local, relational and non-partisan.” And because it must be non-partisan it can’t have anything to do with politics. Which is why the next sections of the page explains why the CBF isn’t in the business of dictating morality to its constituency.

In an editorial in the Baptist Standard, Marv Knox asserted that Trump’s order “set back the cause of true religious liberty at least 63 years” and “will further polarize our nation — ripping many Christian congregations apart and severing them from meaningful connection to their communities, while continuing to disenfranchise minority faiths from society at-large.”

There’s a lot of meat in that paragraph; so let’s break it down.

First, Knox suggests that Trump’s order set the cause of religious liberty back to 1954, the year Congress passed “the Johnson Amendment.” Lyndon Johnson’s opponent that year was backed by a free-spending, tax-exempt nonprofit organization. In response, Johnson had language inserted into a tax bill stipulating that tax-exempt 501(c)3 organizations could neither support nor oppose political candidates. The Texas senator didn’t have churches in mind, but the IRS applied the rule to all tax-exempt organizations.

When President Trump rails against “the Johnson amendment” he is arguing that preachers should be free to endorse or oppose political candidates. This possibility fills moderate white Baptists with dread.

Editor Knox cuts to the heart of the matter when he argues that preachers of partisan politics will rip their congregations apart.

Is this true? Preachers associated with the Religious Right have hardly been coy about their commitment to the Republican Party. It’s been good for business and the IRS never seems to mind. It isn’t unusual for black pastors to lay hands on political candidates as an act of worship, and this partisan performance rarely roils the faithful.

Political partisanship in the pulpit only divides a congregation if the congregation is already divided. White evangelical churches give 80 percent of their votes to Republicans while 90 percent of African-American evangelicals support Democrats. Pastors can signal their support for a party or a candidate because these religious constituencies share a common political-religious ideology. Partisan political preaching, I would argue, can actually enhance congregational unity.

Partisan political preaching is only verboten in white mainstream congregations like the United Methodist Church and the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship in which congregations blend roughly equal numbers of Republicans and Democrats. If a pastor makes a political remark in these churches there will inevitably be backlash. This explains why the CBF’s advocacy page says nothing of substance.

On the same day that President Trump issued his executive order on “religious freedom,” House Republicans passed the American Health Care Act, legislation that abolishes Obamacare without providing a serious alternative. If this bill becomes law, thousands of people who can no longer afford health insurance will die before their time. Did the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship take a bold stand against the AHCA?  Nope, that would have been perceived as partisan.

I’m glad the CBF has taken a public stand against predatory lending. They can safely do so because the issue (for the time being) hasn’t been branded as a partisan issue dividing liberals and conservatives. But campaigning for compassionate immigration reform would violate the CBF’s refusal to “select  issues from the top down and force them upon churches and pastors.”

The CBF inveighs against partisan politics in the pulpit because, in a fellowship of moderates, everyone views the church as a safe zone where political opinions are checked at the door.

In the churches Marv Knox knows best, sermons that take a stand on the hot button issues of the day are divisive because they expose the divisions among us. But we are making a virtue out of a grim necessity.

Prophetic speech has always come with a high price tag. The night I arrived at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in 1975, an eloquent professor told us to avoid “getting crucified on a toothpick.” If you’re going down, he suggested, make sure it’s about something important. A couple of years later, that same professor suggested to my wife, Nancy, that she should transfer from the master of divinity to the master of religious education program because “our churches don’t ordain women.” When Nancy politely declined, the professor called her back for a second chat.

The ordination of women was a cross worthy of a crucifixion. Immigration, gay rights and health care fall into the same category. If we refuse to wrestle with our differences we surrender our prophetic voice.

Finally, Knox asserts that partisan political preaching severs churches “from meaningful connection to their communities.” He is thinking, I suspect, of the conservative white preachers who, in recent years, have made words like “Christian” and “evangelical” toxic.

But the problem here isn’t political partisanship; it’s the embarrassing disconnect between Jesus and those who speak in his name. We fix that problem by speaking out, not clamming up.

The phrase “partisan politics” is redundant; politics is always partisan. And messy. And undignified. And riddled with compromise. Watching the sausage being made can be revolting, but when the end product saves God’s most vulnerable children it’s all worth it. If we run from these public fights we will continue to be ineffectual.

My wife, Nancy, (the one with the M.Div. from Southern Seminary hanging on her office wall) is currently running for office. Nancy says that politics is how we translate our values into public policy. And when our values flow from the kingdom vision of Jesus the translation process happens in worship or it doesn’t happen at all.

Kingdom values cry out for a political agenda. No established political party will embrace the whole kingdom enchilada, but if we fight hard and argue effectively we can have precisely the sort of leavening influence Jesus talked about.

A “kingdom vision” that floats, high and beautiful, above the squalid compromise of politics is a pious fiction. Kingdom preaching is dangerous, and it has always been divisive, but the price of our safe silence has been staggering. We need more political preaching, not less.

Criticizing Trump is easy; creating a spiritual alternative is really hard.


Last year I spent 250 hours driving around the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex for my job as a hospice chaplain. As I drive I listen to sermons and lectures from cutting edge biblical scholars, theologians and preachers, and podcasts and YouTube videos produced by post-evangelical hipsters. One simple declarative sentence keeps rising to the surface: “God looks like Jesus.”

A second oft-repeated phrase flows inevitably from belief in a Jesus-like God: “Jesus is Lord; and Caesar isn’t.”

These religious sentiments may sound commonplace but, growing up, nobody told me that God looks like Jesus, and nobody asked me to choose between Jesus and Caesar. People just didn’t talk that way when I was a kid.

But when the preachers, pundits and professors announce that God looks like Jesus they are tentative, almost apologetic. The affirmation normally comes at the end of a long monologue about growing up in a semi-fundamentalist religious culture and being forced to swallow religious dogma on the sole authority of Mother Church. Then comes college and the complete collapse of a religious worldview quickly followed by the rejection of a once-nurturing faith community. And the part about God looking like Jesus is tacked on at the end of this lament, almost as an afterthought.

This three-fold pilgrimage from naïve certainty, through critical deconstruction, to a reconstructed faith pops up everywhere. Paul Ricœur speaks of a “second naiveté” that sometimes rises, Phoenix-like, from the ashes of childlike faith. Walter Brueggemann, the Old Testament scholar, speaks of Psalms of equilibrium, Psalms of disequilibrium and Psalms celebrating the manna of “new equilibrium” that Yahweh provides in the midst of our despair.

But I’m going with the analogy suggested by Richard Rohr, the Roman Catholic mystic who describes a journey from First-Box innocence, through Second-Box deconstruction to (hopefully) mature Third-Box spirituality.

Rohr says that Third-Box faith is relatively rare because most people are content to pitch their tents in the Second-Box wilderness and make the most of it.

Why are we Second-Box pilgrims so reluctant to pull up stakes?

We’ve all heard the story about the guy who bashes his head against a wall because it feels so good when he stops. Losing your religion can be excruciating. When you finally let go of the old certainties a wave of relief comes crashing in. We are happy to talk about our release from the old certainties and the joys of “living the questions,” but don’t ask us what comes next.

Our willingness to live among the ruins of Second-Box existence is encouraged by the growing rift (in America at least) between conservative Christians and the scientific community. We sure don’t want to be associated with anti-science panic, but the science camp regards our God-talk with a suspicious sneer. So we whisper our hallelujahs and we mumble about metaphors and poetry and the perils of foundationalism.

Do we really think our questions about the Bible, the existence of God and life after death will be resolved if we just read another book? Scientific inquiry generates just as many unanswerable questions as the quest of faith. If your answers are certain your questions don’t matter. Sometimes you go with you’ve got, and what we’ve got is the Jesus of the Gospels. God is like that Jesus, and that’s good news.

Finally, there is the fearsome radicality of the God who looks like Jesus. Even as a metaphor this God is startling. As a living, breathing reality, he’s scary as hell! If God looks like Jesus then Jesus is Lord and Caesar isn’t. You can’t say yes to the upside-down kingdom of Jesus without saying no to Caesar’s militaristic consumer culture. Jesus plainly said so, and that too is good news. Hard news, without a doubt, but very, very good.

It takes a tight community of resistance to stand up to Caesar. What if the current crop of churches isn’t built for that kind of mission? We may console ourselves in the knowledge that we, and a handful of on-line chums, harbor anti-Caesarian sentiments,but Caesar isn’t worried in the least. Caesar fears the God who looks like Jesus.

Noting the cartoonish disconnect between Donald Trump and the ethics of Jesus is child’s play. If you want plenty of likes on Facebook just insult the Donald. But building a church around the Jesus-God is hard. Small wonder that we’re happier dissecting our ideological opposites than building a credible alternative.

A culture addicted to trinkets and redemptive violence is flirting with despair, and science can’t save us. As the Nazis effectively demonstrated, the scientific method is morally neutral. Scientists can give us computers, warheads and robotized factories, but a simple moral compass is beyond their powers.

It’s us or the silence. Prophets preach their best sermons when no one is listening.

Why we ignore most of the Bible most of the time.

too much drama

We come to the Bible seeking a little relief from the drama in our lives and what do we find? A text cracking and sizzling with fear, rage, resentment and wonder. If you want an escape from the drama, the Bible is the last place to look. Wherever you look in holy writ, the dramatic tension is palpable. Snap! Crackle! Pop!

The fireworks are an inevitable outgrowth of the Bible’s big story. Working through the children of blessing, God aims to bless the world. Simple enough. But what if the children of blessing don’t want to bless the world? What if they squander their holy inheritance in the service of strange gods like money, sex and power? What is God supposed to do then?

The God of the philosophers dwells in passionless certainty. The God of the Bible lives in the tension between grace and justice and, as a direct consequence, suffers wild mood swings. This God has no Plan B. It’s us or nothing. The dice are tumbling and the stakes are high. If you don’t get that, the Bible will always be a bizarre jumble. That’s why most of the book never gets read. That continual snap, crackle and pop can be unnerving.

We don’t avoid the biblical backwaters because they are weird or nasty; we avoid them because we fear we will be sucked into the drama. At least, that’s my hypothesis. To test it out, I plopped my finger into the text at six random intervals and here’s what I found.

My finger first fell on Leviticus 19:33:

When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself.

The relevance to this text is embarrassingly obvious. If we are instruments of universal blessing, the embrace of strangers, refugees, aliens and immigrants goes without saying. But can a preacher say that and stay employed?

The second place my finger fell was Psalm 79:1-2:

O God, the nations have come into your inheritance;
they have defiled your holy temple;
they have laid Jerusalem in ruins.
They have given the bodies of your servants to the birds of the air for food,
the flesh of your faithful to the wild animals of the earth.

The psalmist feels betrayed, and who can blame the guy? Didn’t God promise to bless and protect the heirs of David and Solomon? So why, circa 586 B.C., are Nebuchadnezzar’s soldiers trashing David’s city and Solomon’s temple? Has God revoked his blessing? High voltage drama. Snap! Crackle! Pop!

My finger fell next on Ezekiel 2:8-9:

Like the hardest stone, harder than flint, I have made your forehead; do not fear them or be dismayed at their looks, for they are a rebellious house.

Marvin Tate, my Old Testament professor, called Ezekiel “the weirdo of the Old Testament.” But Ezekiel was weird for a reason. He was forced to journey into the heart of God and, if we follow, some of that weirdness will rub off on us.

As the armies of Nebuchadnezzar advance on the holy city, Ezekiel sees the whirling wheels of Yahweh’s chariot lift off from Solomon’s temple and soar off into the wilderness, never to return. Is the story over? Have we lost our God? Snap! Crackle! Pop!

Then my finger fell on Luke 13:4-5:

Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them — do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.

Over 600 years have elapsed since the time of Ezekiel, but bad things are still happening to good people. “You will perish” isn’t a reference to hell. If God stepped aside for Nebuchadnezzar, Jesus says, why will he not do the same for Caesar? On the cross, the brutal tension between grace and justice unleashed a bolt of lightning that sliced through the heart of God and rolled away a tomb stone.

But the old world of Nebuchadnezzar lived on. In A.D. 70, 500 children of Abraham were crucified outside the walls of Jerusalem on a daily basis. This went on, month after month, until the walls were breached, Herod’s temple was burned to the ground, over one million children of Abraham were dead and 100,000 more were forced into slavery.

Has Pharaoh prevailed at last? The voltage has been cranked up so high the wires of revelation are ready to snap.

My finger fell for a fifth time, this time on Philippians 3: 2-3:

Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of those who mutilate the flesh! For it is we who are the circumcision, who worship in the Spirit of God and boast in Christ Jesus and have no confidence in the flesh.

The Apostle Paul wrote these words from a Roman prison cell. He wouldn’t leave that cell until the guards led him to the place of execution. Paul writes with a passion the world hadn’t seen since the days of Ezekiel and Jeremiah. The Apostle knew his time was short, but his thoughts were fixed on the new creation communities he had established in Caesar’s back yard. If we are blessed to be a blessing, Paul asks, how can circumcision be forced on Gentile Christians? Are we new creations or are we not?

And what will happen when Paul follows his Savior in death while the dogs of Philippi live on? Snap! Crackle! Pop!

Finally, my finger fell on obscure verses from the strangest book in the Bible, Revelation 11:1-3:

Then I was given a measuring rod like a staff, and I was told, ‘Come and measure the temple of God and the altar and those who worship there, but do not measure the court outside the temple; leave that out, for it is given over to the nations, and they will trample over the holy city for forty-two months. And I will grant my two witnesses authority to prophesy for one thousand two hundred and sixty days, wearing sackcloth.’

Almost every word in John’s Revelation echoes the Old Testament. Back when Solomon’s temple lay in ruins, Ezekiel was commanded to take a measure the dimensions of the New Jerusalem God had prepared for the wedding of heaven and earth. And now, with a second temple laid to waste by a second Babylon, John is told to measure the temple, even while its outer courts were overrun by the very “nations” Abraham’s children had been called to bless.

Into this ugly scene “two witnesses” appear: Moses (who butted heads with Pharaoh) and Elijah (who waged spiritual warfare against Ahab, Jezebel and the priests of Baal). Things always look bleak for God’s prophets, John is saying, and nothing has changed. But the cross broke the devil’s back and, appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, “the kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our God and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever.”

If you repeat my experiment, your random finger will fall on six very different passages, but you can bet that the dramatic tension will be just as severe. Bible reading isn’t supposed to be easy, pleasant or nice. Frail children of dust are called to live like new creations, an undertaking so audacious it literally killed God to pull it off. This biblical snap, crackle and pop may be unnerving, but it’s our only hope.

Murder and memory: why honest witnesses get it terribly wrong

“It isn’t so astonishing, the number of things that I can
remember, as the number of things I can remember that aren’t so.”
Mark Twain

The Reid Technique has influenced nearly every aspect of modern police interrogations.

On July 16th, 1996, the bodies of four innocent people were discovered in a furniture store in Winona, Mississippi.  Each victim had been murdered execution style—one or two bullets to the back of the head.  The presence of live ammunition on the floor suggested that one of the killers was using a 380 pistol that jammed repeatedly.

Nine days later, July 25, 1996, the bodies of two innocent people were discovered in a pawn shop in Birmingham, Alabama.  Each victim had been murdered execution style—one or two bullets to the back of the head.  A surveillance camera revealed that the killer was wielding a 380 pistol that jammed repeatedly.

Winona, Mississippi lies three hours west of Birmingham on Highway 82.  Steven McKenzie, the driver of the getaway car in the pawn shop murders, was arrested on August 1 in his hometown of Boston, Massachusetts.  The killer, Marcus Presley (16) and his accomplice, Lasamuel Gamble (18) were arrested in Norfolk, Virginia on August 9, 1996 after two weeks on the run.  That same day, Horace Wayne Miller, a lieutenant with the Mississippi Highway patrol, asked Norfolk officials to keep him apprised of their investigation.

Two weeks later, a picture of Marcus Presley, the shooter in the Birmingham murders, was included in a photo array shown to a witness in the Winona, Mississippi case.

On November 16, 2015, Marcus Presley signed an affidavit claiming that Lasamuel Gamble and Steven McKenzie (the driver of the getaway car) had been in Mississippi the day of the Winona murders and had returned with several hundred dollars in their pockets after claiming to have “hit a lick” (committed a crime).

A shoeprint in a pool of blood found in the Winona furniture store was found to be from a Grant Hill Fila shoe—the footwear Gamble, McKenzie (and just about every other young man in America) was wearing while in Mississippi.

Can Marcus Presley’s affidavit be trusted?  Yes and no.

Courtroom testimony shows that Presley was the shooter in the pawn shop murders in Birmingham even though, prior to being shown video of the crime, he insisted that Gamble had been the gunman.  If Gamble and McKenzie were in Mississippi the day of the Winona murders it’s likely that Presley was with them.

Between June 19th, 1996 and June 30th of that year, Presley was involved in five robberies at gunpoint.  In the course of these crimes, one employee was shot in the leg and another in the back (both survived) and Presley was the shooter in both cases.  Presley and Gamble did four of the June heists together and one crime was perpetrated by Presley alone.  Although Presley was only sixteen, he seems to have been the driving force behind these crimes.  Gamble never discharged his weapon.

Presley and Gamble had developed a simple modus operandi.  Store employees were threatened with death and forced to lie on the floor.  While Presley drove the action, Gamble kept his gun trained on the scene in case anyone tried to flee.  After the second stick up, the two men argued about whether they should have killed the witness.

Evidence suggests that Marcus Presley was a psychopath who enjoyed random violence for its own sake.

Presley and Gamble made three runs to Boston during the summer of 1996: once after their June crime spree, once after the pawn shop murders and once immediately after the furniture store murders in Winona.  Their pattern was to spend a week or so lying low before going on another rampage.  The two men had family in both Boston and Norfolk.

If you are have been following the quadruple homicide in Winona, Mississippi, the Presley-Gamble connection may surprise you.  In June of 2010, Curtis Flowers was sentenced to death for the murder of Bertha Tardy (the owner of the furniture store) Carmen Rigby (the business manager) and Bobo Stewart and Robert Golden (two recent hires).  Flowers had worked three days at the Tardy furniture store but failed to return to work after the July 4th holiday.

District Attorney Doug Evans argues that Flowers, enraged with losing his job, stole a gun out of a parked car at the Angelica garment factory, cooled his heels at home for an hour or so, then marched to the furniture store with murder in his eye, did the foul deed, and raced home.

But how could a single person (especially a man like Curtis Flowers) dispatch four victims with a bullet to the back of the head?  The crime had a random and senseless quality to it.  It takes no imagination at all to imagine Marcus Presley committing a crime like that–we have the video from the pawn shop.

Curtis Flowers was raised in a loving home by a gospel-singing father and a mother known for her culinary and entrepreneurial abilities.  Marcus Presley and Lasamuel Gamble weren’t raised at all.  Both men bounced from one traumatic living arrangement to another with no respite.  Whoever killed the four victims in Winona was beset by demons.  Curtis Flowers, as any prison guard who has ever worked with him can tell you, has no demons.

So why didn’t DA Doug Evans even consider the Presley-Gamble connection?

By the time Presley and Gamble were arrested, Evans wasn’t interested in alternative scenarios; he knew Curtis was the killer.

Then why haven’t the defense attorneys who have represented Mr. Flowers through six trials present Presley and Gamble as an alternative theory of the crime?

Because Mr. Evans didn’t tell them about the Alabama connection.  It was his legal obligation, but it’s easy to see why he didn’t.  Evans didn’t want jurors comparing his tortured theory with a simple and sensible alternative.

But here’s the thing people can’t get past: if Curtis Flowers didn’t do it, why are so many eye witnesses convinced that they saw him around the Angelica parking lot and the scene of the crime?

Patricia Sullivan-Odom claims she saw Flowers leaving his home at around 7:50 heading, so she thought, in the direction of the Angelica furniture factory.  Patricia’s brother, Odell, has testified that Curtis confessed to the crime while the two men were locked up together.

James Edward Kennedy insists that he saw Curtis walking towards the Angelica Clothing Factory at 7:15 that morning.

Katherine Snow testifies that she saw Flowers leaning up against Doyle Simpson’s car at about 7:15 a.m.

Edward Lee McChristian says he saw Curtis on Academy Street, heading home, between 7:30 and 8:00 that morning.

Mary Jeannette Flemming insists she saw Curtis Flowers walking in the general direction of the Tardy furniture store at about 9:05 am.

Beneva Henry saw Flowers walking in the direction of downtown Winona somewhere between 9:00 and 9:30 that morning.

Porky Collins says he saw Curtis Flowers and another black men having an intense argument in front of the Tardy furniture store at about 10:00 that morning.

Finally, Clemmie Flemming has testified that she saw Petitioner fleeing the crime scene shortly after 10:00 a.m.

And this wealth of eye witness testimony explains why jurors have been willing, even eager to convict Curtis Flowers in four of the six trials that have flowed from the awful events of July 16, 1996.  One or two of them might be wrong, and some of them might even be lying, but the cumulative effect of so much testimony has been decisive.  Even the Mississippi Supreme Court is impressed.

Of course, the gross discrepancies between the various witness statements have been frequently mentioned.  Witnesses have Curtis wearing a jogging outfit, Sunday-go-to-meeting finery and everything in between.  But jurors know memory isn’t perfect.  All the witnesses say they saw Curtis Flowers, and that’s all that matters.

The state’s stable of witnesses has been able to overcome another gaping hole in the state’s evidence.  According to the state’s theory of the crime, the suspect stole a gun locked in the glove compartment of Doyle Simpson’s brown Buick.  This quirky detail entered the picture because, the very morning of the crime, the gun’s owner was telling anyone who wanted to hear that his gun was missing.

But the state’s witnesses insist the gun was stolen between 7:30 and 8:00 o’clock.  Simpson has repeatedly testified that when he checked on his car at 10:30 the glove compartment was still closed.  Half an hour later, at 11:00 am, Doyle saw the glove box hanging open and his gun was gone.

Doyle Simpson is the only source of the stolen gun theory.  If his testimony is credible, the gun wasn’t stolen until after 10:30 which renders the testimony of the four witnesses who saw Curtis hanging around between 7:15 and 7:30 irrelevant.  At 10:30, the time Simpson says his gun was still locked up safe and sound, the murders had already been committed.

I have previously  argued that most of the state’s witnesses in the Flowers case are lying.  A combination of fuzzy memory (witnesses were first interviewed between a month and nine months after the crime), promises of a $30,000 reward and intimidation tactics produced witness testimony.   Threats of punishment have kept witnesses repeating the same story for two decades.

I was half right.

The credibility of the state’s two star witnesses has evaporated since the last trial in 2010.  Patricia Sullivan-Odom, the woman who says she saw Curtis leaving his home at suspicious times, was under federal indictment for tax fraud when she last testified and Doug Evans knew it.  Patricia Hallmon lied to her customers and to the IRS in order to line her own pockets.  If there is a seventh trial, she won’t be testifying.

Then Patricia’s brother, Odell (the jailhouse snitch who says Curtis confessed to him) eventually got out of prison, fell out with his girlfriend and his drug dealing friends, and gunned down three people in cold blood.  A fourth victims of Odell’s rampage will live out his days in a wheelchair.

Odell’s days as a state’s witness are over.

But I am no longer convinced that the remaining witnesses are lying, but most of what they remember didn’t happen.

The prosecution of criminals is largely dependent on eye witness testimony.  Few crimes generate meaningful physical evidence proving that a particular suspect is guilty.  One study found that only 10% of criminal cases involved meaningful forensic evidence and, even in these cases, that evidence was submitted for expert analysis only half the time.

The prosecution of Curtis Flowers is typical in this respect.  No meaningful fingerprint or DNA evidence was recovered from the crime scene and the murder weapon was never found.  Doug Evans and associates did their best to wring apparent meaning out of the few scraps of physical evidence at their disposal, but the case against Mr. Flowers stands or falls on eye witness testimony.

Because witnesses are critical to gaining convictions, the Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled that, in the process of interviewing suspects and potential witnesses, investigators can lie about the basic facts of the case, make false promises, pretend they have an airtight case when they don’t, or even deprive interviewees of sleep and food for long periods of time.  These tactics would be considered reprehensible in most settings, but if suspects don’t sign confessions and witnesses don’t cooperate perpetrators walk free.

The fact that the eye witnesses didn’t finger Curtis Flowers until between a month and nine months after the crime isn’t considered problematic because, in the criminal justice system, memory is generally conceived as a series of photographs, or as a video.  With sufficient reflection, it is believed, essentially accurate memories can be uploaded from the brain’s memory banks.

No one expects witness memory to be perfect, of course.  The fact that the various witnesses in the Flowers case remember him wearing entirely different outfits is what we would expect.  Memory’s video may be a bit grainy, but it’s good enough.

But memory doesn’t work that way.  Elizabeth Loftus, the world’s leading authority on the human memory, says that memory has more in common with imagination than photography. “Memory is constructed and reconstructed,” she says.  “It’s more like a Wikipedia page — you can go change it, but so can other people.”  (Her terrific TED talk on the subject that will quickly bring you up to speed.)

“When we recall our own memories,” Christopher Chabris and Daniel Simons wrote in a 2014 NYT op-ed, “we are not extracting a perfect record of our experiences and playing it back verbatim . . . We are effectively whispering a message from our past to our present, reconstructing it on the fly each time.”

In The Memory Illusion: Remembering, Forgetting and the Science of False Memory, Julia Shaw describes a 2015 study conducted as part of her doctoral dissertation at the University of British Columbia, Okanagan.  First, Shaw and her associates called up the parents of several dozen ordinary university students and asked them to recall a real event from their child’s adolescent years.  Subjects were asked if they remembered the event and almost all of them did.  Then things got interesting.

Subjects were told (falsely) that their parents had also described an upsetting incident involving behavior so troubling that the police were involved.  Initially, none of the study participants could recall anything of that sort, but they were assured that painful memories could be retrieved with sufficient reflection.  Subjects were asked to go home and give the matter more thought.

In the second interview, participants were told that if they imagine what the painful incident from our past might have been like, genuine memories may be triggered.

Shaw based her experiment on the Reid technique, a method for obtaining eye witness testimony and confessions that is employed almost universally in the United States and Canada.  This new approach was developed in the late 1950s and early 1960s by John Reid, a former Chicago cop, as a humane alternative to old “third degree”, a polite synonym for torture. Prior to Reid, suspects were routinely beaten, scalded and electrocuted into compliance.

Reid thought he could do better.  During an initial interview with a suspect, Reid looked for non-verbal indications of guilt.  Nervous suspects were considered guilty, especially if they picked at invisible lint on their clothes, looked down or shifted their eyes to the left.  There was no scientific basis for these supposed guilt-indicators, it was all based on Reid’s “professional experience”.

If this initial interview indicated guilt, the gloves came off.  The investigator re-entered the room, standing over the suspect to project dominance and waving a case file supposedly brimming with air tight proof of guilt.  Protestations of innocence, attempted explanations, and requests to look at the file are batted away as the interrogator lays out his theory of the crime as revealed truth.  “You’re time to talk will come later,” suspects are told, “now you’re going to listen.”

Once the suspect stops asserting innocence, the investigator’s voice softens and the “minimization” process begins.  The legal consequences of the alleged crime are set to one side while the moral implications are minimized.  The 1962 edition of Reid’s textbook featured thousands of proposed minimizations, including this gem:

Joe, no woman should be on the street alone at night looking as sexy as she did. Even here today, she’s got on a low-cut dress that makes visible damn near all of her breasts. That’s wrong! It’s too much temptation for any normal man. If she hadn’t gone around dressed like that you wouldn’t be in this room now.

None of this stands up to scientific scrutiny.

Saul Kassin, Distinguished Professor of Psychology at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City, conducted a series of experiments in which randomly selected college students and trained police investigators were shown videos of actual inmates telling stories–half true, half false.  Participants were asked to detect who was lying.  Kassin found the officers, who focused on non-verbal clues, did less well than the students, but were far more confident in their conclusions.

There may be no scientific support for the Reid technique, but whether used on suspects or potential witnesses, it gets results.

Julia Shaw’s 2015 experiment employed procedures suggested by the Reid technique.   Stephen Porter, Shaw’s Ph.D. supervisor, says they were expecting a modest (though statistically significant) results from their manipulations and were appalled by the actual results.  By the conclusion of the third session, 70% of subjects were recalling hideous, self-incriminating events complete with smells, emotional reactions and detailed physical descriptions.  Once these false memories had taken hold, moreover, it was often difficult to convince test subjects that they had been duped.

False memories feel just as real as true memories.  That’s why the confidence of the witness is a meaningless measure of veracity.  Here’s Julia Shaw’s takeaway:

It is crucial that the justice system becomes aware of overconfidence factors, memory illusions and the problems we have with identification, since these can lead to atrocious situations where we sometimes build cases based on nothing but air.

The Innocence Project reported in 2015 that, of the 325 cases in which defendants were exonerated by incontrovertible DNA evidence, 235 involved mistaken eyewitness testimony and a full 25% involved false confessions.

In his book Searching for Memory, Daniel Schacter recounts a well-known story about Ronald Reagan:

In the 1980 presidential campaign, Ronald Reagan repeatedly told a heartbreaking story of a World War II bomber pilot who ordered his crew to bail out after his plane had been seriously damaged by an enemy hit. His young belly gunner was wounded so seriously that he was unable to evacuate the bomber. Reagan could barely hold back his tears as he uttered the pilot’s heroic response: “Never mind. We’ll ride it down together.” The press soon realized that this story was an almost exact duplicate of a scene in the 1944 film A Wing and a Prayer. Reagan had apparently retained the facts but forgotten their source.

When Hillary Clinton or Brian Williams “remember” being under enemy fire, they aren’t necessarily fibbing to make themselves look good; in all likelihood they remember the bullets whirring past their ears.

Although we are constantly remembering things that didn’t happen, the consequences are usually harmless. But when a low-status individual is hauled down to the police station and subjected to a variation on the Reid technique, memory can easily be contaminated.  Witnesses who initially have nothing to offer eventually “remember” exactly what investigators are looking for.

Consider the case of Katherine Snow, a key witness in the Curtis Flowers case.  Unlike most of the state’s witnesses, Snow was questioned shortly after the yellow tape went up around the Tardy furniture store.  She told investigators that, when she arrived at work around 7:15 am, she saw a man leaning up against Doyle Simpson’s car.  He was chubby, short (around five-foot-six) and wearing a cap.

Once investigators (following the Reid technique) had established that Curtis Flowers was guilty, they no longer had to worry about Curtis Presley and LaSamuel Gamble.  They also knew the man Snow claimed to have seen had to be at least four inches taller and slim, not fat.  That is, the man had to be Curtis Flowers.  On the witness stand, Snow says that police officers carried her down to the station repeatedly until she “remembered” that the man she saw was Curtis, a man she knew well from their joint participation in gospel singing concerts.

At the most recent trial in 2015, Katherine Snow admitted that her encounters with the police unnerved her.  Julia Shaw emphasizes that memory is easily contaminated when there is a significant status imbalance between the person asking the questions and the person providing the answers.

I have always assumed, therefore that Snow, driven to distraction by these repeated inquisitions, eventually broke down and told investigators what they wanted to hear.  But if leading authorities like Loftus, Shaw and Kassian are right, it is more likely that when Katherine Snow “remembers” the morning of July 16, 1996, she actually sees Curtis Flowers leaning up against Doyle Simpson’s car.  Every time she remembered the event, the man looked a little more like Curtis.

Another group of state witnesses wasn’t approached by police until the murders at the furniture store were distant memory.  Seven months after the crime, for instance, Mary Jeannette Flemming was picked up at her job at McDonalds and whisked away to the police station.  Records showed she had visited the body shop across the alley from the Tardy furniture store on the morning of the crime.

Flemming says that Flowers (moments away from committing the most heinous crime in Winona history) grinned and said, “Hi, good looking.”

What are the chances that Flemming actually saw Flowers on the morning in question?  By February, 1997, everyone on the poor side of Winona knew about the $30,000 reward being offered.  It was one of those legal lies the authorities are allowed to tell—no one has received a dime for their testimony in this case—but Mary Jeannette likely believed the promise.

Has Mary Jeannette Flemming been lying on the witness stand?  Probably not.  She likely remembered seeing someone on the street that morning and, as police officers plied her with questions, the face of that person took on the aspect of Curtis Flowers.  That’s the way false memory works.

In their groundbreaking The Science of False Memory, Charles Brainerd and Valerie Reyna show that when we process a past event we store and retrieve ‘verbatim’ memory (what the scene looked like) and ‘gist’ memory (the meaning we assign to the event) separately.  For instance, we can sometimes remember a person’s name without remembering what they look like, or vice versa.  Gist memory (what the event means to us) is usually stronger than verbatim memory (what it looked like).

In all likelihood, Curtis Flowers once had an encounter with Mary Jeannette Flemming in which he complimented her on her appearance.  If you know Curtis, “hi, good looking” is exactly the sort of thing he would say to a woman.  Within thirty seconds of such an encounter, a gist memory will either be “stamped” in the memory or forever forgotten.  We forget the vast majority of our experiences because they carry no significance and we have bigger fish to fry.  But even if Ms. Flemming remembered the gist of her encounter with Curtis (the good feeling that accompanies a compliment) the verbatim memory trace (the street outside the body shop) could either be lost or the gist memory trace could, especially at a remove of seven months, be attached to a different verbatim trace.

This is why we often remember what was said (because we attach significance to it) but attach it erroneously to a separate verbatim trace.  You might remember a conversation over a few beers (gist memory) but recall that it happened at the wrong bar (verbatim memory).  False memories are created when gist memory is associated with the wrong verbatim memory.  This is why memory is so easily distorted.  We are always confusing gist and verbatim memory traces without realizing we are doing it.

Forgetting is an important brain function.  If we didn’t slough off the inconsequential events of the average day we wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the task at hand.  What are the chances, therefore, that Mary Jeannette Flemming was able to recall her encounter with Curtis Flowers seven months after the event?  Asked repeatedly if she was sure it wasn’t Curtis Flowers she saw that morning, Ms. Flemming was being asked to re-imagine the event, which is precisely how Julia Shaw got college students to conjure false memories.

And yet, when the justices of the Mississippi Supreme Court read court documents from the Flowers case they take her testimony at face value.  A huge and widening gap exists between researchers on the cutting edge of memory science (who see memory as infinitely vulnerable to distortion) and functionaries within the criminal justice system (who think of memories as retrieved photographs).

Porky Collins, the man who says he saw Curtis Flowers arguing with another black man twenty feet from the crime scene, is a unique case.  Collins presented himself to investigators the day of the crime and was confident from the drop that, at approximately 10 am the morning of the crime, he saw a man sitting inside a car in front of Tardy furniture arguing with another man who was standing at the front of the car.  When he made the block and passed the car on the other side of the Boulevard, the two men were walking toward the crime scene.

But Collins wasn’t asked to identify these two men until over a month had elapsed.

As Breynard and Reyna remind us in The Science of False Memory,

When a substantial period of time elapses between the occurrence of a crime and suspect identifications, there are opportunities for witnesses to be exposed to additional information that points to specific suspects but that is not part of their original experience.  Examples include conversations with other witnesses, media reports of the crime, and conversations with investigators.

Over a month after the crime, Collins (after speaking informally with investigators on several occasions) was shown a photo array including pictures of Marcus Presley (the shooter in the Birmingham pawn shop murders), Doyle Simpson and Curtis Flowers (the rest of the faces were fillers).  Since the head of Curtis Flowers was half again as big as the heads in the other pictures, his photo naturally attracted Porky’s attention.  As the witness’s finger lingered over the suspect’s photo, and helpful officer asked, “Do you know Curtis Flowers?”

In The Science of False Memory, Brainerd and Reyna demonstrate that verbatim face memory (the ability to identify a specific suspect) falls to near zero after eight days while gist facial memory (it was a black guy) often remains relatively strong.

When an eye witness is confronted with an identification test after a few days, innocent suspects who share salient categories of appearance with culprits will seem familiar (which supports false identification), but verbatim traces of incidental features that differentiate culprits from such suspects are no longer readily accessible.

A month after an event, the authors say, verbatim memory is normally gone and gist memory is getting weak.  Porky Collins admits that he was driving past the scene and only caught a split-second glimpse of the man standing at the hood of the car.  Moreover, cross-racial identifications (Collins was white) are notoriously problematic.

But there has never been any reason to doubt that Collins saw two black men arguing in front of the furniture store thirty minutes (at the very least) after the murders took place.  These details were reported the day of the crime.

If Curtis Flowers walked to the furniture store and fled the crime scene on foot, why was he arguing with a man in a car?  What were they arguing about?  And why was Curtis walking toward the Tardy furniture store with this man?  Where were they going?   Neither the state nor defense counsel have ever asked these questions.  Porky Collins’ testimony is entirely consistent with the Presley-Gamble hypothesis but can’t be squared with the state’s theory of the crime.

Finally, we come to Clemmie Flemming, a young woman who says she saw Curtis Flowers fleeing the scene of the crime at about the same time Porky Collins saw him walking toward the store with another man.  Clemmie is clearly mistaken.  The man who drove her that morning says they never saw Curtis Flowers and several members of her family insist that Clemmie was with them on that fateful morning.  Finally, nine months elapsed between the crime and Clemmie’s statement.

Again, I have always assumed that Clemmie was lying.  Witnesses have testified that she was offered a carrot (the forgiveness of her debt to Tardy furniture) and threatened with a stick (the threat that CPS would take her children is she refused to cooperate).  Perhaps so, but that doesn’t mean that when Clemmie “remembers” the morning of the crime she doesn’t see Curtis Flowers sprinting from the scene like a track star.  After telling the same story six times to six different juries, a false memory, as clear and detailed as a photograph, could easily have taken up residence in her mind.

Given what we know about memory, how hard would it have been to find seven or eight people who remembered seeing Curtis Flowers (or any other familiar face in the community) the morning of the crime?  All they had to remember was seeing him pass by a certain place at a certain time.  Think about it long enough (especially if the authorities are pressuring you and you actually believe there may be $30,000 in it for you) and the required memory will appear.  This won’t happen to everybody the police talk to, but in the course of a year-long investigation, witnesses will emerge. If Judy Shaw can create self-incriminating memories in college students using the Reid technique, how easy would it be to infect the memories of low-status black witnesses on the poor side of town?

The crime makes a twisted kind of sense if we pin it on a couple of Birmingham psychopaths with a lust for drama, especially when we know they were in Mississippi at the time.  But prosecutor Doug Evans never explored that option.  In fact, he prevented defense counsel from investigating the Birmingham connection by illegally burying the Presley-Gamble evidence.  Then he and his investigator, John Johnson, spent a year fabricating “evidence” that would convict an innocent man.

We aren’t dealing with a shocking anomaly here—this is business as usual for the criminal justice system.  Most prosecutors wouldn’t lie and cheat as brazenly as Doug Evans, but simply by following best practices, investigators routinely plant and manipulate false testimony and even false confessions.  That isn’t necessarily their intention, but that’s what they do.

Sp here’s the question.  If the memory experts cited in this essay were asked to examine the Flowers case, how much confidence would they have in the state’s witnesses?  To ask the question is to answer it.  Unfortunately, most prosecutors and judges view memory science with grave suspicion and few defense attorneys use memory scientists as expert witnesses.  If Curtis Flowers is ever going to get the justice he deserves, that will have to change

Why White Christians Silence Jesus

By Alan Bean

So what’s your religion?” the young man wanted to know. “My ancestors were Anabaptists,” I said, “and I find myself identifying with that tradition.”

“So, what’s an Anabaptist?”

“Well, they are sometimes called the radical wing of the Protestant Reformation,” I replied, choosing my words with care. “They went back to the teaching of Jesus, so they believed in radical forgiveness, loving their enemies, caring for the poor and they were committed to peace and non-violence.”

“Oh, so Anabaptists are kinda like Democrats.”

In contemporary America people are far more likely to take their moral cues from politics than from religion. When we want to get at the essence of a person we look for political clues. If you know a person is a Democrat or a Republican you can make educated guesses about where they stand on a variety of issues; knowing their religious affiliation won’t tell you much.

Mainline Protestant and Roman Catholic preachers shy away from partisan-sounding sermons because their parishioners divide evenly along political lines. Because politics is about the business of the people, the polis, almost every subject is too political for the pulpit.

White and black evangelicals are the two groups most inclined to mix politics and religion, but they draw dramatically different conclusions. Over 80 percent of white evangelicals voted for Donald Trump and 90 percent of black evangelicals pulled the lever for Hillary Clinton in November.

My wife, Nancy, recently ran for the Texas State House and I spent a lot of time block walking. One Saturday morning I saw a 5-year-old girl furiously riding her bicycle down the block. As I rounded the corner I saw the girl’s mother sitting on her front porch with a watch in her hand. “You did it in only 29 seconds this time,” the mother announced cheerfully. I didn’t know if the woman was on my list, but I decided to pull out a brochure and approach her anyway.

I quickly learned that the woman was home schooling her daughter and that she was a registered Republican who couldn’t bring herself to vote for Donald Trump in November. She couldn’t vote for Hillary Clinton either, she assured me, because “the sanctity of life is a deal breaker for me.”

Nationally, blacks, whites and Hispanics show little variance on abortion, but the issue rarely keeps blacks and Hispanics from voting Democrat. Between 1980 and 2010 the abortion rate in America dropped by half, largely due to growing public awareness of birth control. Not surprisingly, three-quarters of the women having abortions these days are either low-income or live in abject poverty. The further down the wealth scale you go the greater the chances become that a woman will have an abortion. And the further down the wealth scale you go the less likely you are to encounter white folks.

In other words, most white evangelicals are insulated from the hardscrabble life experience that makes abortion a live option even for women who oppose the practice on moral grounds. White evangelicals home school and send their children to private schools so they won’t have to rub shoulders with low-income black and Hispanic children. Black and Hispanic religious leaders typically condemn abortion, but they see it as a symptom of deprivation and vote for the party that talks about addressing poverty.

White American evangelicals think of morality in strictly individual terms. Evangelical Christianity is about working hard, staying faithful to the spouse of your youth, raising children in the fear and admonition of the Lord, and living within the law.

White mainline Protestants avoid political references on Sunday morning because that’s what feels safe for them. Mainline Christianity is all about being kind, staying positive, celebrating diversity and refraining from judgment. Morality, whether personal or corporate, is a touchy subject.

Because the Bible is a lively debate featuring dozens of conflicting voices, both conservative and liberal Christians can mount a biblical defense for their way of being church.

White evangelicals are so intent on harmonizing the radical Jesus with the rest of their inerrant Bible that the distinctive features of his message are effectively silenced.  Jesus must be made to agree with Joshua, Ezra and Nehemiah.

Mainline Protestants are so put off by all that violence in the Old Testament and all that retrograde teaching on women and gays in the New Testament that they keep the good book at arm’s length.

Jesus can teach us to read the Bibles his way, but we aren’t listening.

Religious options that work for millions of Americans can be expected to persist. But what about the growing multitude that checks out American Christianity in both its liberal and conservative disguises and walks away in disgust? In a free country, that’s their choice, of course. But a lot of these people are driven by an intense spiritual hunger. Moreover, they are intensely drawn to the person of Jesus but can’t see much connection between American organized religion and the Jesus who blessed the poor, counseled radical forgiveness, infinite generosity, open hospitality and enemy love.

Is there any evidence that the prominent expressions of white American Christianity are migrating in the direction of Jesus-centered religion? Lots of people would like to see it happen but, despite some positive movement on the fringes, the teaching of Jesus has been shunted to the sidelines.

Maybe we should just be thankful for all the good these churches do. Maybe they’re doing the best they can. If so, millions of potential Jesus followers will continue to drift away from an American church that can’t address their passions, problems and perplexities.

So here’s my question: if it isn’t realistic to expect the stressed-out churches of white America to change their ways, might it be possible to found new churches dedicated to the unique vision of Jesus?