[StMark]

I took no more pictures (the ones I had taken I had taken in the empty, darkened balcony so as not to
disturb anyone), but continued to silently worship and pray while the speakers continued to hold forth
on various aspects of their enterprise. A few moments later, two more goons, one apparently a deputy
sheriff and the other a nerd with a jacket which said “SECURITY” on the back marched down the aisle to
where I was seated, about 30 feet from the platform, turned and confronted me, ordering me to
accompany them. Shocked, but being a sworn officer myself, as well as an attorney who understood the
processes of detention, arrest and my civil liberties, I decided not to leap to my feet and give a loud and
convincing “message in tongues.” I didn’t wish to disturb the proceedings any more than they were
already being disturbed by these two gentlemen.
I was escorted to the foyer and there loudly interrogated as to who I was, what was I doing there, what
was my business, why was I video-taping the proceedings, etc. I denied that I was video-taping
anything, but I only took a few pictures to send to my dear brother-in-law, who I mentioned by name.
The sheriff demanded, “Who the h--- is Ray Brown?” “I don’t know,” I whimpered, “did I say something
wrong.” Just kidding! The officer then demanded to see my camera. I declined, asking, “Am I under
arrest?” “You will be,” he promised, “if you don’t cooperate.”
In response to “who I was,” I identified myself as an interested attendee of this history-making event,
that I was formerly UPCI, and I mentioned a little bit about my pedigree. The officer wasn’t the least bit
impressed, but Floyd Odom’s son-in-the-gospel whirled around and snarled, “This is going to be on the
internet.” I asked again if I was under arrest and, if not, if I could put my camera in my rented car and
return. By this time more goons arrived and the deputy began his prepared, memorized, familiar list of
legal statements leading up to an arrest. He didn’t advise me of my Miranda Rights, but he asked me if I
understood that I was “trespassing”? That I was subject to arrest. That I had to go directly to my auto
and drive off the property. That if I stepped foot back on the property I would be arrested for
trespassing and taken to jail. He asked me again for my camera. I declined, asking, “Do you actually
want to tamper with evidence?” To that he backed off.
As I was escorted to the door, away from the religious goons who had initiated all this, the deputy began
to apologize and say that he didn’t understand what their problem was, but that he was hired for
security. I asked if he was connected with any of the churches, pastors, or members of the churches
(like, was his wife a member of a local Pentecostal church), he declined to say. As I proceeded out the
door, I asked for a private conversation with him. He agreed and we went to his vehicle. There I proved
to him that I was not video-taping anything. I also revealed myself as an attorney and sworn officer
myself. He suddenly became very kind, saying again, he didn’t know what the problem of the religious
goons was, but that he was only doing his job. We shook hands, shared a couple of jokes, and I walked
to my car, went to my hotel, and there pondered my options.


My first call was to my brother-in-law, whose response was, “Oh, my GOD! Now you know why I didn’t
come. I knew something stupid would happen there.” I also called a few of my other ministerial friends
around the country and gave them a blow-by-blow report of what had just happened. The response
was 100% shock. This sort of thing was even worse than the organization this group had come out of,


controlling, mean, nasty. I had no thought of putting anything on the internet. But the seed was
planted by Floyd Odom’s son-in-the-gospel. Hmmmmm.


Well, I got a good night’s sleep and rose early. I was determined to return to the event which had been
billed publically on the internet with their website, and with an invitation for one and all to attend. I
was determined that if, need be, I should be arrested and make a federal case out of this “hospitality
issue.” After all, I had missed out on the meal that was served the night before and had gone to bed
hungry.
I arrived quite early and chose as seat near where I had been seated the night before and drew a lot of
attention from all those who arrived after me for two reasons: #1) most had seen me unceremoniously
escorted out the night before, plus #2) I think I was the only minister with facial hair (a neatly trimmed
white goatee), other than the official photographer, who had a nice moustache. I sat quietly, reading a
book I’d brought along, “The Promise of Mediation.”
I’ll admit that I was tense for quite a while, waiting to be accosted, but as time passed, the crowd grew,
and the meeting started, I became more and more comfortable, because, after all, these people are all
part of my spiritual heritage and whatever anyone else thinks, I still love and appreciate all of them,
whether or not we agree with each other about issues.
Friday was quite a tedious day. Crawford Coon read the Articles of Faith verbatim, and anyone who has
ever seen these kind of documents knows how boring these can be. Occasionally he paused and
commented in his deep southern, Jena, LA, drawl, that if you couldn’t understand these Articles, he
couldn’t help you. After all, they were written by their resident genius, Nate Wilson. He then bent over
backward in personality worship to discuss at length at what a high intellectual plateau Bro. Wilson
operated, and that he, as a simple, humble, southern pastor had to have it broken down for him. Nate
gleamed.



CONTINUED....................


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