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Old September 22nd, 2006 #1
lawrence dennis
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Default Hot shot wealthy nigger 'pastor' revealed as hot rod rapist drug user

Folks, this is a classic case demonstrating that Xianity is forever above and beyond the Negro race ... this man described below simply "Lived the Dream," just like Martin Luther King, Jr.

"The World, The Flesh, and The Devil," indeed.

Images of 'Pastor Penis'

The Reverend Freak

Inside the Terry Hornbuckle case


Quote:
Friday, September 22, 2006 -- On judgment day, the bishop's women have all come together in one exquisitely cold place: the 372nd District Court in Fort Worth, where a jury has just agreed on a sentence for the Reverend Terry Hornbuckle. The 44-year-old pastor has been convicted of drugging and raping three women, two of them former members of his Arlington megachurch. And while a hyperactive air conditioner generates a frigid breeze in the courtroom, a capacity crowd awaits the jury's decision.

The bishop's women are arrayed in various places in state District Judge Scott Wisch's courtroom. There is the wife, Renee Hornbuckle, cocoa-skinned and immaculately finished in a brown pantsuit, who stares an empty stare at her husband, a man known to many of his congregants simply as Bishop.

The bishop wears a tailored suit with a thigh-length jacket, the sort he'd choose for any occasion in the spotlight. For 20 years, he sat beside his wife on a church stage, enthroned like a king with his queen. She was the delicate ornament on display, he was the dark-skinned, street-talking black preacher of humble southern Dallas origins whose charisma landed him in a world of money, minor celebrity and access to the occasional Dallas Cowboy.

To this world he later added the ingredients of sex--with scores of women, judging by the accounts of former church members--and drugs. Today it is about to come crashing down.

Renee sits literally at the bishop's right hand, two rows back. She brings a little purple pillow to cushion her on the wooden bench reserved for the defendant's family. She has sat in precisely the same spot every day through the five-week trial, expressionless behind mirrored glasses. In her hands is a small, green leather-bound Bible with an inscription in tiny gold italics: "Pastor Renee Hornbuckle." She makes no statements to the gathered media; all she's been heard to say is an occasional under-the-breath comment--"I'm gonna need some No-Doz to stay awake through this thing." Mirrored glasses and the Word: These are her shields against an outside world that desperately wants to know why she continues to stand by her man.

Beside her are her "armor-bearers." In black church tradition, these are the men and women who faithfully attend to a minister's personal needs.
They include her bodyguard, a man who never takes out his Bluetooth earpiece, and two plus-sized fashion plates who've spent every day of this trial at her side.

Then there is the girlfriend. There is no guaranteed seat for her behind the bishop; she sits in the back row of the courtroom, with her own posse of fashion-conscious female friends standing by in support. With coffee-colored skin and a voluminous head of spiral curls, the girlfriend is not welcome on the family bench. She exchanges the occasional icy look with Renee.

Then there are the women Hornbuckle raped. The little red "Reserved" sign on the victims' bench doesn't specify who's supposed to sit there, but it is easy to see that Kate Jones--her pseudonym for this trial--sees not a man of God at the defense table, but a devil. The dishwater blonde, a former drug user, wears a plain, cream-colored sweater and carries a cheap purse. She stares intently at the back of Hornbuckle's head as if she is trying to force this man to bear her rage. She is the only one of the three rape victims at this trial who was not a member of Agape Christian Fellowship, Hornbuckle's church. The preacher picked her up at a gym in the Mid-Cities, smoked meth with her, drugged her and then raped her. Hornbuckle's defense attorney derided her as a "meth ho."

The defense can't come up with any such label for Krystal Buchanan, who never knew Hornbuckle as anything but her pastor. Sitting next to Kate Jones in a smart black jacket, Buchanan's mother, Loretta Sheppard, takes her daughter's place on the victims' bench while Krystal is away coaching a community college basketball team.

Hornbuckle lured Krystal to a Euless apartment in the summer of 2003 with the promise of a birthday present. He gave her $120. He also drugged and raped her. Before that night, she told the court, she was a virgin. Why did she accompany him in the first place? Her plaintive answer: "He was my bishop."

Last, there are current and former Agape parishioners, mostly women, both supporters and detractors of the bishop, who've scrambled for open seats every day in this courtroom.

The loyal wife, the sexy girlfriend, the meth user, the former virgin and the divided congregation were never meant to come together in one place. It is a surreal tableau on sentencing day in the Terry Hornbuckle case, August 28. Newspapers and television have covered each day of this seamy trial, though a significant chunk of the material presented to the jury is not fit to print in a family newspaper. What is missing from the blanket coverage is any sense of why: Why Bishop Terry Hornbuckle made this descent from man of God to meth-smoking rapist. [I'll take a shot in the dark and guess that the reason is ... that he's a nigger! --L.D.] Why many of his congregation members stood by him. Why his wife put up with him when his indiscretions were widely known within the church.

And just what kind of church was this? Who went there and why?
The Dallas Observer set out to find answers to those questions, but after interviewing several church members, attorneys and members of the victims' families, as well as hearing and reading the testimony of Hornbuckle's accusers in the criminal and civil cases against him, the answers proved elusive.

What the Observer did find is that the Hornbuckle case was even more sordid than many outsiders thought:
  • On Sunday mornings in the last few years, Hornbuckle was increasingly given to making bizarre statements from the pulpit. One time--in an incident remembered by every church member the Dallas Observer interviewed at length--Hornbuckle preached about bathing his adolescent daughter. "You men need to bathe your daughters," he exhorted his members. "Clean 'em up good."
  • One married church member, after a sexual encounter with Hornbuckle, began to complain of severe abdominal pain. A trip to the doctor revealed the problem: A metal cock ring--a sexual device used to prolong an erection--had been rammed deep into her abdominal cavity.
  • One young woman who testified during Hornbuckle's sentencing claimed he performed oral sex on her in the back of a church van during a trip to San Antonio. She'd come along on the trip as a nanny, and Hornbuckle told her he wanted to teach her how to have an orgasm.
In the end, jury members and the public were left with pieces of a puzzle: a self-appointed bishop who'd so finely tuned the mechanics of seduction that he was able to get away with it for more than a decade right under the noses of his wife and his elders--leaders who apparently looked the other way as the lives and faith of several of their fellow church members were shattered. The young women whose attentions the bishop cultivated during lengthy, exuberant church services fueled by the power of suggestion and incessant talk about money and success. The brazen defense strategy employed by Hornbuckle's attorneys--sure, he was an awful husband and pastor and man of God, but he wasn't a rapist. In the end, none of the puzzle pieces quite fit together. But each offered a glimpse into the bishop's bizarre world of religion, money, sex and drugs. [Just like MLK, but his time was before drugs, so he made due with alcohol. --L.D.]

In the Beginning

Before Terry Hornbuckle was the bishop, exerting power and influence over thousands, he was a lowly Bible study leader, teaching 15 congregants in Irving. That was in 1986. The next year, he housed the group in an old Grand Prairie Dairy Queen. The congregation grew, and he moved his small flock to a strip shopping center on Division Street in Arlington, a stretch of road known best for bail bond offices, used car lots and strip clubs. It was here, in 1992, that Agape Christian Fellowship first took shape--a nondenominational church with big dreams and a Pentecostal flavor.
People came to hear the charismatic man who'd started calling himself "Bishop." Attendance grew; people were captivated by his image of success, his message of prosperity. The Lord wanted his people to prosper and be blessed with "increase," an appealing message to his predominantly black congregation. Here, they found hope.

By 1999, Hornbuckle found himself preaching each Sunday to more than 2,500 people in a warehouse-sized megachurch. The bishop rose to see the kind of power and wealth he'd always dreamed of. He and his wife drove Mercedes-Benzes and Cadillacs. They lived in expensive homes and wore the best clothes. At the same time, week after week, he was imploring his members to give their all to the church, especially their finances.

That in itself wasn't unusual for a black congregation that had many of the trappings of Pentecostalism--prophetic messages, exuberant worship, exhortations to take steps of faith. In black churches, the leader often embodies the aspirations of his followers. If he looks bedraggled and drives a hoopty, it is a reflection on himself as well as his flock--and not a flattering one. Agape was full of young men and women who looked to their bishop to provide them the keys to prosperity. To reach down from his perch of success and pull them up too.

The bishop encouraged their ambitions and cultivated their attentions. He would sometimes call up groups of single moms and bathe them in compliments and words of encouragement. He probably didn't fail to notice that many of them were beautiful, vulnerable and looking for a man to provide love and stability in their lives.

In recent years, the calls for offerings reportedly intensified. On Sundays, Hornbuckle would often ask everyone who hadn't given their tithe--a donation of 10 percent of one's income, a common practice in Pentecostal churches--to raise their hands. Many were embarrassed but took it as inspiration to work harder and give more to their bishop. Pay your rent last, he said, and give Agape your tithe, the "firstfruits." God will provide.

Gradually he became a figurehead in the black church world. Bishop T.D. Jakes wrote a laudatory blurb for one of Hornbuckle's self-published books. The bishop hung out with Michael Irvin and Deion Sanders, he'd brag from the pulpit. He knew Quincy Carter. Emmitt Smith even wrote a letter to Tarrant County prosecutors extolling the virtues of Hornbuckle and his marriage to Renee. The couple had counseled Smith and his wife, he wrote, and he looked up to them. In his eyes, they had the perfect marriage.

And there were a lot of good things going on at Agape under the Hornbuckles. Church leaders helped people buy homes and build better job skills. Maybe they could live in a $742,000 house, just like the Hornbuckles. He'd tell them how they could save up and drive expensive cars, such as his Cadillac Escalade. All blessings from God--though ones that came from exercising responsibility as well as faith, he was careful to note. But behind the bishop was the man. A man addicted to women, power and, in the end, drugs. It would ultimately cost him his church and his freedom.

It's hard to say when drug addiction entered his life. Hornbuckle had a bad back and had been taking painkillers for a long time. But methamphetamine--which he had in his possession when he was first arrested for sexual assault in March 2005--is a step beyond painkillers. Since Hornbuckle, his wife and the church elders aren't talking to the media, it's anyone's guess when hard drugs became a part of the bishop's lifestyle.

Sure, he'd give what he called "muscle relaxers" to his then-girlfriend and executive assistant, Lisa Mikals, back in 2003, she testified. Sometimes, he'd act a little crazy or paranoid. But meth? The bishop? Once, Mikals said, she'd even found a glass pipe in that little black bag he always carried with him. He told her it belonged to his "knucklehead" nephew. She wanted to believe him, she said. And she did.

But it became obvious after the arrest that Bishop Hornbuckle, not a wayward relative, was the one taking drugs. In addition to the meth that police confiscated from Hornbuckle's Escalade, they found Valtrex, a drug used to control the symptoms of herpes; Viagra; and a variety of prescription drugs. Some were valid prescriptions. Others appeared to have been prescribed to one of his elders. The bishop, it seemed, needed a lot of chemicals and had a hard time living without them--a condition of his bail.

Over the next year, Hornbuckle would have his bond revoked twice, fail two drug tests and refuse to take another. Police would book him in and out of jail four times for bail violations. Finally, after posting a $3.62 million bond in March 2006, Hornbuckle left the Tarrant County courthouse before the paperwork was finished. He was rearrested and would spend the rest of his time awaiting trial in a jail cell.

From tailored suits to jail garb, it was a long fall for Terry Hornbuckle. Terry and Renee had been at the top of the world, leading more than 2,000 people to the promised land from their 30,000-square-foot sanctuary. They were beloved, some said. Others described the congregation's dedication to Bishop Hornbuckle as something much darker.

Five women would publicly accuse Terry Hornbuckle of sexually assaulting them. The prosecutor and plaintiffs' attorney would allude to other victims,
but only these five chose to subject their allegations to legal scrutiny. The accusations of three women--one of whom was also an accuser in the criminal case--are detailed in the pending civil case against Hornbuckle, the church and several of its elders. Joycelyn was an adolescent on the brink of womanhood whose sexuality had been called into question. Rosita was a grown woman expecting one of the bishop's blessings. Buchanan, the virgin, was the first to testify in the criminal trial. According to court documents, Terry Hornbuckle used his position as their bishop to lure each of them to him. After all, Agape was their church home.

----- SNIP -----

Judgment Day

After eight hours of deliberations, the jury had agreed on a sentence. Now everyone crammed into the courtroom one last time to hear whether Terry Hornbuckle would be blessed with probation or condemned to jail.

Days earlier, the jury of nine women and three men--all white except for one black man--took 37 hours to arrive at a verdict: No one could say they'd rushed to judgment. Hornbuckle had been found guilty of the rapes of Krystal Buchanan, "Jane Doe" and "Kate Jones"--the latter two legal pseudonyms. Hornbuckle had pleaded not guilty, and his defense team rested without calling any witnesses, saying only that the prosecution had not met its burden to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

One could easily speculate that the names of the bishop's women--Krystal, Jane, Kate, Rachel, Joycelyn, Rosita, Alisa, Mary, Lisa--were swimming around in Renee Hornbuckle's head that final day of court. Anything could be possible behind those silver-tinted lenses and that stoic expression. Here was a woman whose faith was on trial every day her husband had been seated at the defense table.

On the other side of the room, two other women clasped hands in the most unlikely of circumstances. A black woman--Loretta Sheppard, Buchanan's mom--and a white woman, Kate Jones: The loving mother and the former drug addict, both praying for the same thing: jail, and many years of it.
Just before 5 p.m., Judge Wisch read the sentences slowly and deliberately. Fourteen years for the sexual assault of Krystal Buchanan; 10 years for the sexual assault of "Jane Doe"; 15 years for the sexual assault of "Kate Jones."

Sheppard squeezed Jones' hand. They held each other, shaking and sobbing. The man who ruined so many days of their lives would now have many days of his own taken away.

Renee Hornbuckle couldn't leave the courtroom fast enough. As soon as the judge finished reading the sentences, she was up and out of her reserved bench seat. She didn't stay to hear the victims' impact statements read by Sheppard and Jones. Her husband would be called a devil, unfit to be kept alive.

She dashed past the cameras waiting outside, armor-bearers in tow, and vanished.

But inside, as Bishop Terry Hornbuckle looked down in defeat, Sheppard and Jones bowed their heads as if in prayer.

"We did it," Jones whispered. Sheppard nodded, tears falling from her eyes. "We did it."

Postscript


Hornbuckle will serve his sentence terms concurrently, potentially putting the bishop behind bars for the next 15 years, though he will be eligible for parole after serving half that time. The jury fined Hornbuckle a total of $30,000--the maximum allowed--for the three criminal cases.

Soon after the sentencing, Hornbuckle was fired as pastor of Agape Christian Fellowship. Renee, who'd been filling in as pastor while the bishop was in jail, has been given four months to prove whether she can lead the church on a permanent basis. After years of preaching prosperity, assuring his congregation that they could achieve material wealth through faithful giving, Terry Hornbuckle is now broke.

Last week, Hornbuckle said he is too poor to hire an appeals lawyer, even though his wife still owns a $742,000 home in Colleyville, and another $202,000 property is registered to his name in Dallas County. The Agape church property in Arlington is valued at around $4 million
, and when he was arrested in 2005, Hornbuckle was driving an Escalade. But the bishop also has the civil lawsuit pending against him, and if he loses that, he may owe millions more to the other women who claim he raped them.
__________________

How is the faithful city become an harlot! It was full of judgment: righteousness lodged in it, but now murderers. Thy silver is become dross, thy wine mixed with water. Thy princes are rebellious, and companions of thieves: every one loveth gifts, and followeth after rewards.

Xian WN!

"The Jew can only be understood if it is known what he strives for: ... the destruction of the world.... [it is] the tragedy of Lucifer."

Holy-Hoax Exposed, Hollow-Cost Examined, How Low Cost? (toons)
 
Old September 22nd, 2006 #2
lawrence dennis
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Default White actress, star of "The World, the Flesh, and the Devil," a nigger-lover suicide

This beautiful white woman , who starred in "The World, The Flesh, and The Devil," an early race-mixing, kumbaya film, was probably "turned-out" at some point in her desperate life.

Inger Stevens

Quote:
Inger Stevens (October 18, 1934 – April 30, 1970) was an American movie and TV actress.

Stevens, born Inger Stensland, in Stockholm, Sweden, was an insecure and often ill child. Her parents divorced while living in Sweden and she moved with her father to the United States. She attended high school in Manhattan, Kansas. At 16 she left home and started to work in New York City as a showgirl in low-budget performances. At the same time she took lessons at the Actors Studio.

Later she made appearances in commercials, plays and TV until she finally got her big chance in the movie Man on Fire, with Bing Crosby. She was also romantically linked to Crosby.

Several roles in major films followed, but she had the greatest success with her leading role in the television series The Farmer's Daughter, and also with roles in TV episodes of series like Bonanza, The Alfred Hitchcock Hour and The Twilight Zone. Ironically, in both of her Twilight Zone performances, she portrays protagonists who believe they are living women but discover they aren't alive after all: in one episode, she is an unwitting ghost; in the other, she is a robot programmed to believe she is human.

Inger Stevens committed suicide in Los Angeles, California with an overdosesleeping pills. It then became known that from 1961 to her death she had been married to Ike Jones, a black American actor. of Her first husband was Anthony Soglio, with whom she was married from 1955 to 1957.

She dated Burt Reynolds shortly before her suicide. To this day Reynolds politely refuses to discuss any aspect of his relationship with Stevens.
__________________

How is the faithful city become an harlot! It was full of judgment: righteousness lodged in it, but now murderers. Thy silver is become dross, thy wine mixed with water. Thy princes are rebellious, and companions of thieves: every one loveth gifts, and followeth after rewards.

Xian WN!

"The Jew can only be understood if it is known what he strives for: ... the destruction of the world.... [it is] the tragedy of Lucifer."

Holy-Hoax Exposed, Hollow-Cost Examined, How Low Cost? (toons)
 
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