The Shady Finances Behind Mi ke Johnson’s Longtime Pastor

With Roger Sollenberger, Political Reporter

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This week’s Big Dig . . . The Shady Finances Behind Mike Johnson’s Longtime Pastor

House Speaker Mike Johnson has centered his professional, political, and personal life squarely on his Christian faith. Nothing, by his own admission, is more important.

That’s precisely why his relationship with his own church is critical to understanding not just his worldview, but his identity and his character.

As it turns out, Johnson’s “dear friend” and former pastor—ultra-conservative, Christian fundamentalist Brad Jurkovich—is facing allegations of financial mismanagement from members of his own congregation. And a review of Jurkovich’s pastoral history shows this isn’t the first time his flock has turned on him. A previous congregation in Texas also forced him out in the 2000s.

In 2022, congregants filed two lawsuits leveling a number of serious allegations against Jurkovich and First Bossier Baptist Church, in Johnson’s hometown of Bossier City, Louisiana. The plaintiffs claim Jurkovich and other leaders violated the church’s bylaws when he was hired in 2014, alleging that church leaders improperly rewrote the 80-year-old rules in a “power grab” that transformed the congregation into a Jurkovich-led “dictatorship,” giving him essentially absolute control over financial and strategic decisions.

Jurkovich, the plaintiffs allege, engaged in self-dealing and impermissibly steered church funds to another right-wing faith-based organization with a clear ideological and tacitly political agenda—the Conservative Baptist Network—where Jurkovich is a top official. When members raised their concerns to the church, the lawsuit says, Jurkovich and other leaders obstructed attempts at transparency.

One suit—seeking to invalidate the church’s by-laws as rewritten in 2014 when Jurkovich came aboard—was dismissed in June 2022, with the court citing an expired statute of limitations. The financial lawsuit, however, is ongoing.

Last week, the Louisiana Supreme Court issued a writ dismissing the church itself as a defendant, while directing the plaintiffs to instead target individual leaders. In a concurring opinion, two justices emphasized the seriousness and apparent validity of many of the plaintiffs’ claims, ruling that discovery should proceed and the issue “should be adjudicated.”

“One may argue that the acts alleged, rather than the acts of the Church, were acts in furtherance of an unauthorized and perhaps fraudulent coup d’état,” the opinion read, adding, “One would hope that a Higher loyalty would come into play.”

Who’s the boss?

Johnson was a prominent member of First Bossier for years, leaving under cloudy circumstances around the time the lawsuit was filed. Until that time, Johnson exerted a powerful influence within the community. He also tied the church—and Jurkovich specifically—to his political life.

In September 2018, Johnson, then a freshman Representative embarking on his first re-election campaign, invited Jurkovich to the U.S. Capitol, where the pastor delivered a benediction on the House floor as guest chaplain. (A month later, Johnson posted a report featuring Jurkovich to his official congressional website, sharing another article a year later.)

On the House floor, Johnson introduced Jurkovich as his “dear friend and pastor.”

“Pastor Brad,” as Johnson called him, “is a gifted speaker and a leader with a true servant’s heart,” the introduction said. Johnson lauded Jurkovich for his commitment to “share the message of salvation with everyone he meets,” calling it “an honor to have him here today to ask God’s blessings over us, our work, and our nation at this historic time.”

Two years later—and three days before the 2020 election—Jurkovich interviewed Johnson alongside Sen. Bill Cassidy (R-LA) for a politically charged church event.

But by May 2022, the Johnson family had changed its affiliation to Cypress Baptist—without explanation.

Burning Bush

Johnson has honored the role First Bossier has played in his life for decades.

A 2019 report in the Shreveport Times quotes Johnson saying, “This church has a special meaning for my family,” explaining that he and his wife had been married in the “old Faith Chapel” and that “our children have sung on the stages of these buildings.”

At the time, Johnson was speaking at the groundbreaking ceremony for a new $20 million First Bossier campus. That same chapel he’d been married in had just gone up in flames.

On Dec. 10, 2018, about three months after Jurkovich blessed the House, a three-alarm fire destroyed about 75 percent of First Bossier. Local reporting at the time cited a multi-agency investigation, including state and federal officials, as concluding that the fire—which had started around 5:15 a.m. in the church’s accounting office—was most likely caused by a back-up computer battery that was found “melted to the floor,” according to a fire department official. The fire department responded to the alarm, and there were no witnesses.

The actual investigative report, however, includes details that didn’t appear in the numerous local reports or public statements at the time. The official conclusion was not so simple or clean—ultimately classifying the cause of the fire as “undetermined.”

The lead investigator’s findings—which were first obtained and reported by local independent journalists at Bossier Watch and shared with The Daily Beast—say that he “cannot name, with an acceptable amount of certainty, the ignition source,” acknowledging the “possibility of an electrical device malfunction.”

The report also notes that a dog with the K-9 unit had “hit” on accelerant material next to the computer back-up battery, with a forensic analysis citing the presence of several known accelerants.

Other documents obtained by The Daily Beast show that, in the weeks ahead of the fire, the church’s financial records were being sought in a separate legal proceeding. Those records, according to the lawyer in that case, along with other financial documents that had come under scrutiny, were all held in the room where the fire originated.

In the wake of the devastation, First Bossier collected several million dollars in insurance money, which Jurkovich put towards the new $20 million facility—complete with a nine-hole golf course.

On a mission from God

Allison Jones, a Shreveport attorney representing the congregants suing the church, told The Daily Beast that her plaintiffs had been devout and proud members of FBB, saying they “did not make the decision to file litigation lightly.”

“In fact, it saddened them greatly,” Jones said. “I think I speak for all the plaintiffs in the litigation when I say that all they wanted were answers to questions because of concerns that First Baptist Bossier was not being managed properly.”

According to the most recent amended complaint, Jurkovich has treated church funds as if they were his own to manage. Upon his 2014 onboarding, Jurkovich and other church leaders improperly and unilaterally rewrote the 1937 bylaws without requisite member consent, the plaintiffs allege, dissolving the board of trustees and establishing a “dictatorship” where Jurkovich is “accountable to no one.”

The church’s finance committee has not recorded any official activity since 2016, according to the complaint, a vacuum that carries the “appearance of neglect” for an organization with an annual budget of $5 million, along with the $20 million rebuilding fund.

The allegations include self-dealing of church property, unauthorized use of church funds, the personal co-opting of a $100,000 church gift, and cush salary hikes for leadership. The plaintiffs say Jurkovich diverted church donations to his outside organization, CBN, without member consent or meaningful oversight. Those funds had in reality been earmarked to support the Southern Baptist Convention, according to the lawsuit. CBN is a separate group that Jurkovich and other Christian radicals launched in 2020 to compete with and influence the SBC, after the SBC—largely in consideration of its Black congregations—refused to denounce critical race theory with a ferocity befitting Jurkovich’s liking. Jurkovich serves on CBN’s steering council and acts as spokesperson.

The church and Jurkovich have denied the allegations, saying they are “without merit” and an “an attempt by former members of First Baptist Bossier to inappropriately litigate an internal church dispute.”

This is an excerpt. Read additional details in the full investigative report here.

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From Roger’s Notebook...

Rude dudes. Rudy Giuliani’s defense fund filed its first financial disclosure, revealing nearly $750,000 in contributions since its launch in August. The filing—which the group, “Giuliani Defense,” submitted to the Federal Election Commission on Thursday—also shows $540,000 in payments to four different law firms.

The top contributor was Caryn Borland, who gave $300,000 on Sept. 7. Two months later, Borland gave more than three times that amount—a flat $1 million—to Donald Trump’s legal defense fund, The Daily Beast first reported. (Caryn Borland and her husband, Michael, are ardent QAnon fans, and the Trump campaign was forced to cancel an October 2020 fundraiser the couple was holding for then Vice President Mike Pence, the Associated Press reported at the time.)

Roger Ailes’ widow, Elizabeth Ailes, gave the Giuliani fund $100,000, also on Sept. 7. That was the day that Trump hosted a $100,000 per head fundraiser at Mar a Lago to raise funds for his impecunious longtime friend. Four donors total gave $100,000 around that time, in addition to Borland’s $300,000 and a $50,000 gift from New York developer Arnold Gumowitz. The other $100,000 donors were Jimmy John’s founder James Liataud and Checkout Camp payment systems CEO Matthew Martorano.

The biggest recipient—about half the total expenses—was Camara & Sibley LLP, which defended the former Lifelock spokesperson in his Georgia defamation trial last month. The jury found those efforts less than persuasive, awarding election workers Ruby Freeman and Shea Moss a total $148 million for defamation and damages.

The largest single payout, $200,000, went to Aidala, Bertuna, and Kamins PC, which Giuliani tapped to defend him against criminal RICO charges in connection to his attempts to overturn the 2020 election—also in Georgia. That payment came in September, before the firm dropped its representation. The next month, the defense fund clocked a $30,000 disbursement to retain Giuliani’s new lawyer in that case, Allyn Stockton.

The firm handling Giuliani’s bankruptcy case received $60,000 on Dec. 21—when Giuliani declared bankruptcy immediately after the Georgia verdict.

Asymmetrical warfare. The pro-Trump super PAC “MAGA Inc.” has raised $46 million over the last six months of 2023, sources told Politico on Thursday. More than 60 percent of it, however, came from just seven people.

According to Politico, more than a dozen people gave MAGA Inc. at least $1 million, with one donor, Timothy Mellon—heir to the Mellon estate—accounting for $10 million.

The total more than triples what the super PAC raised in the first half of 2023. The group also appears to have plenty of cash to drop on Nikki Haley as the GOP primary enters its final two-person stage—FEC data shows that MAGA Inc. spent $25.6 million on independent expenditures over the same timeframe, plus the first half of this month.

Overstocked. This week, the Mike Flynn-aligned “Fight Like a Flynn PAC” filed its year-end financial report, listing a $1 million contribution from a mysterious entity called Haverford Valley LLC.

Michael Beckel, a researcher with transparency group Issue One, sniffed out the person behind that company—and found it was none other than Patrick Byrne, former CEO of Overstock and election denier extraordinaire.

Fight Like a Flynn PAC hosted a fundraiser at Mar-a-Lago last month, featuring Flynn himself. The Byrne donation accounted for 80 percent of the PAC’s total haul.

Softcore. The FEC’s three Republican commissioners signaled this week that they have little appetite for taking action against a dubious soft money maneuver that became a flashpoint of controversy at the start of Ron DeSantis’ presidential bid.

The moves came after a complaint accused Democratic former Florida congressional candidate Annette Taddeo of impermissibly using an old ad that had been produced by her former state-level gubernatorial committee—a group funded with “soft money” outside of federal regulations.

The FEC’s general counsel found reason to believe the committees had broken the law, because the congressional campaign hadn’t paid fair market value, only paying the state committee $3,000 for the ad, when it had cost around $35,000 to produce.

Two other Florida men—DeSantis, along with Rep. Byron Donalds (R-FL)—have deployed similar moves. The GOP commissioners previously declined to act on a complaint against Donalds, although all three Democratic commissioners voted in favor of investigation.

Hillbilly effigy. Sen. J.D. Vance’s alter-ego super PAC, “Protect Ohio Values,” filed a year-end report on Thursday showing the group is still politically active—at least strategically.

Even though Vance won his election more than a year ago, the Peter Thiel-fueled super PAC shelled out $45,000 over the last six months of 2023, most of it—more than $25,000—to pollster Mike Fabrizio for a survey conducted in late August. In 2022, POV hosted a secret website as a backdoor to communicate polling and messaging information to the Vance campaign, an effort to circumvent laws that otherwise ban such coordination, a move that campaign finance specialist Saurav Ghosh said exemplifies “inequity and corruption in our elections.”

POV also paid $3,000 to Crowned Eagle Consulting for fundraising services, while reporting a total $1,000 raised—from Sherwin-Williams CEO John Morikis.

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