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The Price Of Their Redemption

Tampa Tribune/September 21, 2003
By John W. Allman, Michelle Bearden and Michael Fechter

Tampa -- In a dilapidated neighborhood in Tampa's inner city, in a century-old church, a religious empire is quietly growing. Led by a Pentecostal charismatic, it now spans half the United States, holds millions of dollars in property and possessions, and rakes in millions more in donations.

Its patriarch is Melvin B. Jefferson, who came to Tampa from Texas more than 20 years ago with a tent revival. He moved it to his living room, then to a former adult bookstore. It now is an operation with global aspirations.

Jefferson, 54, calls himself a bishop. He has no theological training, was ordained through the mail and won't identify those who consecrated him as a bishop.

Yet, he seems at home on stage in front of more than 1,000 people at Deeper Life Christian Church.

His flock - which includes hundreds living in shabby housing provided by the church and hundreds more who drive weekly to Sunday and evening services - doesn't question his credentials.

Jefferson is as quick with a quip about his childhood as he is a snippet of Scripture meant to elicit fear of damnation. He takes the stage weekly, picking apart and praising his congregation, drubbing sins and drumming up dollars. It's all part of a master plan he says he had when he started the church.

That plan, he is fond of telling his congregation, involved taking in the city's downtrodden - the homeless, the poor, those who are alcoholics or addled by drugs - and rehabilitating them through Bible teachings and tough love.

But a three-month investigation by The Tampa Tribune in a partnership with WFLA, News Channel 8 has found that Deeper Life houses a deeper purpose - as an elaborate money-making machine that generates revenue three ways.

Jefferson and his wife, Brenda, draw hundreds to services at the mother church, on Nebraska Avenue in a neighborhood rife with crime, drugs and poverty. The congregation is pressured to give heartily or risk eternal damnation.

Members are discouraged from challenging or resisting this message. At a recent Wednesday night prayer service, for example, a visiting evangelist warned that the bishop and his wife are sacred angels. Do not provoke or criticize them, he said.

Satellite churches, established in five states outside Florida and served by pastors hand-picked by Jefferson, send the bulk of their proceeds to the Tampa church, where it is counted and banked by Jefferson's family.

And people seeking shelter and food are put to work, sent across the United States on excursions that can last weeks to solicit donations. They stand at busy intersections for hours at a time asking motorists for money to help the poor.

Claims And Questions

At least three such fundraising trips since 1998 have proved fatal. The most recent occurred in June, when 14-year-old Solomon Bostick was crushed to death beneath a van carrying church members that overturned near Fort Pierce. Bostick's mother has claimed in a paternity suit, later dropped voluntarily, that Bostick was Jefferson's illegitimate son.

Two people died in June 1998 when a van carrying church members flipped over on Interstate 95 near St. Augustine. The tread on a rear tire had separated, throwing the van into a spin, Florida Highway Patrol records show. Another man died a year later when a van carrying church members overturned on Interstate 75 near Ocala.

In addition to church finances, the Tribune has found several other areas where Jefferson himself, through his lifestyle and his methodology, invites question: