epilogue The Pope's Wife 
 
 Feb. 21, 2018 
 
 Danny Ray Johnson looks out from the pulpit on an unfamiliar crowd of reporters in his most familiar place. 
 
 It’s a Tuesday afternoon in December and this is no sermon. The normally boisterous Johnson is subdued. The reporters in his sanctuary ask questions, but he offers few answers, aside from denying the sexual assault allegation against him. 
 
 The self-proclaimed Pope from Bullitt County walks down a rear stairwell at the Heart of Fire Church and steps out of sight. 
 
 His wife, Rebecca Johnson, steps forward. 
 
 Journalists with microphones and cameras crowd around her as she picks up where her husband left off. 
 
 The news media doesn’t like conservatives like her family and the people who attend her biker church, she says. Their ideology is under attack. 
 
 “They’re good people and they want a representative to represent their values,” she says, her voice rising to a shout. “I get so mad about this.” 
 
 In the moment, she was talking about her husband, state representative for the 49th District. No one knew that the next time a crowd gathered inside this sanctuary, the purpose would be much different. 
 
 The next time, she would be running for that seat because her husband, the Pope, would be gone. 
 
 Two days before Danny Ray Johnson held that press conference in his sanctuary, our team of reporters and editors settled in for a night of last-minute edits. 
 
 The story we worked to finalize was the result of more than 100 interviews, thousands of documents, a trip inside the Heart of Fire Church and another to Johnson’s hometown in Louisiana. 
 
 After more than seven months, we would share our work with the world. 
 
 The next morning, the facts were out about Danny Ray Johnson, the fast-talking preacher whose life was filled with fabrications and exaggerations. 
 
 We highlighted systemic failures that allowed him to climb from the pulpit to the statehouse, deceiving those he pledged to serve and leaving a trail of crimes, lies and hurt. 
 
 Within hours, television stations and newspapers across the state began to pick up the story. 
 
 Outrage ensued. 
 
 Calls for Johnson’s resignation came from both parties. Republican Gov. Matt Bevin said Johnson’s actions were “an embarrassment.” Louisville Mayor Greg Fischer ordered a review of the police investigation into the sexual assault allegation against Johnson. 
 
 We wondered: How will Johnson respond? 
 
 Will he resign? 
 
 Maranda Richmond (J. Tyler Franklin/WFPL) 
 
 Maranda Richmond watched the story unfold, and she was pleased, at first. 
 
 She’d tried for years to tell her story: that Johnson molested her in the church when she was a teenager, and the police did little to investigate her claim. 
 
 Louisville Metro Police Department detectives had reopened Richmond’s sexual assault case in October 2016, after our inquiries. But still, they’d done little until the story was published. 
 
 The day the story ran, she had a meeting with a detective, she said. 
 
 Richmond was following the news when Johnson held his press conference. She wondered what he’d say. 
 
 But there, from his pulpit, he admitted no wrongdoing. He refused to resign. 
 
 We never expected what would happen the next day. 
 
 On the evening of Dec. 13, Brenda Jackson browsed the Facebook feed on her phone. She froze when she saw a long, rambling message posted by her state representative. 
 
 “It concerned me," she said this month. 
 
 In his post, Johnson professed love for his wife, his children and his grandchildren. He again denied the accusations raised against him and said, “only GOD knows the truth.” 
 
 “AMERICA will not survive this type of judge and jury fake news,” he wrote. “Heaven is my home.” 
 
 Jackson didn’t know Johnson, but she saw him in the news. She called Johnson’s house, then his church. She left messages for his wife and his kids. She got no answer. 
 
 She dialed 911. 
 
 “It does appear like he’s contemplating suicide,” she told the operator. “It’s not a very veiled threat.” 
 
 Salt River bottoms in Bullitt County. (Jacob Ryan/KyCIR) 
 
 Johnson’s body was found shortly after on a rural road in Bullitt County, in an area known as the Salt River bottoms. The coroner’s report shows he shot himself once in the head with a pistol. 
 
 The time of death was 8:20 p.m. 
 
 He died wearing a plaid shirt, black boots and blue jeans -- a tube of Chapstick in his pocket. 
 
 Each year, some 44,000 people in the U.S. die by suicide, according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. 
 
 The rate is the highest it’s been in decades. 
 
 Brenda Jackson lives in Johnson’s district. She voted, but not for him. 
 
 That night, she said, politics didn’t matter. 
 
 “He’s a fellow human being,” she said. 
 
 Johnson's death immediately dominated the news. 
 
 Lawmakers responded with crafted statements of condolences and prayers. 
 
 Rebecca Johnson sent out her own press release the next afternoon. 
 
 “These high-tech lynchings based on lies and half-truths can’t be allowed to win the day,” the statement said. 
 
 Rebecca Johnson also made an announcement: She would run for her late husband’s seat. 
 
 “Dan is gone but the story of his life is far from over,” she said. 
 
 That night, Rebecca Johnson was in the Heart of Fire Church sanctuary talking to reporters from two local television stations. 
 
 She told the reporters she was asleep when her husband posted his final message to Facebook. She awoke to messages alerting her about the post, she said. Frantic, she called him again and again. 
 
 “We didn’t expect it,” she said. “We’re devastated.” 
 
 Danny Ray Johnson’s suicide quickly became national news. On the “Today Show,” Rebecca Johnson’s tone changed when she discussed our story. 
 
 “I am confident, if that little greasy reporter had not done what he did, my husband would be alive right now,” she said. 
 
 A Washington Post columnist lumped the lawmaker’s suicide in with the burgeoning #MeToo movement, and inaccurately described his accuser as anonymous. 
 
 Meanwhile, Maranda Richmond was reeling. 
 
 She broke down when she learned about Johnson’s death. Immediately, she thought about his daughter Sarah, who texted her after the story ran and called her a liar. 
 
 “I’ve always loved and cared for them,” she said. “It just really sucked.” 
 
 Fearing retribution, Richmond installed an alarm system at her home. She didn’t go to work for several days. 
 
 Strangers from across the country messaged her on social media. Some blamed her for his death. Others, though, offered encouragement. 
 
 Richmond fears Johnson’s death might make victims more afraid to speak out. But she still believes any victim should stand up for what’s right, no matter the outcome. 
 
 “I went public because I wanted justice. This is not justice,” she said. 
 
 Though Johnson is dead, police said the department’s investigation is still open. 
 
 Before her legislative run would begin, Rebecca Johnson had to plan a funeral for her husband of nearly 31 years. 
 
 The Heart of Fire Church parking lot quickly filled on the rainy morning. Reporters flocked to the scene, too, but only one crew was allowed inside the sanctuary -- the local Fox affiliate. 
 
 The television station’s coverage showed pews filled with mourners -- congregants, constituents, friends and family. A few lawmakers attended, too. The governor did not. 
 
 Johnson spoke about how she and Danny Ray Johnson were engaged after their first date, and had been inseparable ever since. 
 
 Rebecca Johnson speaks at Danny Ray Johnson's funeral. (Youtube) 
 
 “I will miss him terribly, but I want to thank you for your generosity of love,” she told the crowd. 
 
 Kentucky state Sen. Dan Seum, a Republican from nearby Fairdale, said Danny Ray Johnson “was bigger than life.” 
 
 “That’s my hero laying up there,” he said. 
 
 A man named George Augustus Stallings Jr. offered the most spirited tribute to Johnson. Stallings called himself Johnson’s “twin brother from another mother,” which drew chuckles from the crowd. Stallings, a former Catholic priest, is black. 
 
 “What gave Danny Ray life, what has given each one of us life, is not this body but it is the spirit of God in each one of us,” Stallings said to cheers and raucous applause. “The spirit of God cannot die.” 
 
 The Washington Post first reported allegations in 1989 that Stallings sexually abused two young altar boys. He was excommunicated from the Catholic Church in 1990 after starting an independent church. In later stories, the Post also reported he was accused of misusing parish funds. 
 
 Stallings denied the accusations in media interviews at the time. No criminal charges were ever filed against him. The Archdiocese of Washington in 2009 settled a lawsuit with one of his accusers for $125,000, The Washington Post reported. 
 
 Stallings didn’t return calls for comment. But he said during his eulogy that he and Danny Ray Johnson traveled together often, preaching and evangelizing. 
 
 They also joined the Rev. Sun Myung Moon on speaking tours. Moon, who died in 2012, was a self-proclaimed Messiah and founder of the Unification Church. 
 
 Stallings is currently co-chairman of the American Clergy Leadership Conference, founded by Moon. 
 
 In the midst of her campaign, a few weeks after the funeral, Rebecca Johnson hosted a breakfast at the church with local pastors from the American Clergy Leadership Conference. The flyer she posted on Facebook included a quote from Moon. 
 
 The Heart of Fire advertises a breakfast with the American Clergy Leadership Conference. (Facebook) 
 
 In late December, Bullitt County GOP officials formally nominated Rebecca Johnson for the District 49 seat. Johnson and her representatives have refused repeated interview requests from us in the weeks since. 
 
 The governor set the special election for Feb. 20. The winner would carry out the remaining months of Danny Ray Johnson’s term. 
 
 Rebecca Johnson’s opponent was the same as her husband’s: Democrat Linda Belcher. 
 
 Belcher lost to Danny Ray Johnson by a narrow margin in 2016, and she had already announced before his death that she would challenge him again. 
 
 Belcher attended candidate forums and fielded questions about her platform. Rebecca Johnson never appeared alongside her. 
 
 Instead, Johnson reached out to voters on Facebook, in neighborhoods and through mailers. She promised to follow her husband’s path: anti-abortion and pro-gun. She favored marijuana legalization and pledged to reform the state’s public pension system. 
 
 Like her husband, her social media was also rife with racist postings from before her candidacy. In some posts, she identified proudly as a right-wing extremist. In others, she dismissed Muslims and immigrants and mocked the need for transgender rights. 
 
 Billboard in Shepherdsville, Kentucky. (Eleanor Klibanoff/KyCIR) 
 
 And, like her husband, she embellished the truth. 
 
 She claimed to have managed “hundreds of employees” while working at a Louisville aviation firm in the 1980s. 
 
 But David L. Vaughan, who served as vice president and general manager of the now-defunct company, said Johnson never managed more than two dozen people. The entire company, he said, employed no more than 225 employees. But he noted that Johnson was a quick learner and good employee. 
 
 Records show she also struggled with financial and legal issues over the past three decades -- bankruptcy, bounced checks, unpaid bills and income tax troubles -- some of which were tied to the church. 
 
 Rebecca Johnson has been tied to “every facet” of the Heart of Fire Church, she said on her website. The church was often the site of illegal alcohol sales. 
 
 Rebecca Johnson was never named in the three citations levied against the church, but she could sometimes be found working behind the bar in the church fellowship hall. 
 
 Johnson, as well as her campaign manager and local Bullitt County GOP officials, did not return reporters’ phone calls or respond to emailed requests for interviews. 
 
 But the Associated Press asked Johnson about her financial issues. She said, “There is not enough time in the day to go over all of that.” 
 
 Johnson continued to post campaign yard signs and host meet-and-greet events until the day before the election. 
 
 “The choice is clear,” she wrote on Facebook. “Vote Rebecca Johnson.” 
 
 On the Sunday before Election Day, Rebecca Johnson stands in front of a flickering fireplace at the Heart of Fire Church and offers a spirited sermon. 
 
 Like her husband, she commands the pulpit. She doesn’t break for songs or music. She reads scriptures and she meanders from her political campaign to a truck she’s selling and back to the Bible again. 
 
 Rebecca Johnson preaches at the Heart of Fire Church. (Youtube) 
 
 Danny Ray Johnson’s death has shaken the church, she says in a video posted to YouTube. But the loss did not break it. 
 
 “We’ve been inspired,” Rebecca Johnson says. 
 
 She’s led Sunday worship service since her husband died. Her sermons often focus on keeping faith in the face of spiritual and physical attacks from “the enemy.” 
 
 At times, that enemy is Satan. Other times, it’s the news media. 
 
 “The news, it’s a big, fat lie,” she says. “They’re brainwashing us.” 
 
 She tells the congregation to “stand up for who we are.” 
 
 “If we don’t do that, we’re going to lose it all,” she shouts. 
 
 And occasionally, she updates the congregation on her quest for political office. 
 
 Her opponent, Linda Belcher, has been scheming, Johnson tells the crowd. She says the candidate forum earlier in the month that she didn’t attend was a “fake, imaginary debate,” though she said on Facebook a week before that she had a scheduling conflict. 
 
 She doesn’t like the controversy, she tells them. But she’ll embrace it. 
 
 Before the service ends, Johnson and her congregation join in prayer. She thanks God for breaking every curse, every lie, every plot planned against them by the enemy. 
 
 “I thank you that our enemies fall in the pit that they made for us.” 
 
 Belcher’s supporters gathered at her headquarters in Shepherdsville as the polls closed Tuesday night. Johnson’s backers gathered at the Half Time’s Bar and Grill, a sports bar in Mt. Washington. 
 
 Despite weeks of hype, turnout was light. Though 31,000 registered voters live in the 49th District, fewer than 5,000 voted in the special election. 
 
 Democrat Linda Belcher, left, shakes hands with supporter Steven Hooper at her election night gathering on Feb. 20, 2018. (Eleanor Klibanoff/KyCIR) 
 
 More than two-thirds of them voted for Belcher. 
 
 “There are Republicans, there are Democrats, there are all kinds of people who have said, ‘We want you to run and win,’” Belcher said. “I want to thank all those people.” 
 
 Political watchers across the country scrambled to ascribe meaning to the results. The Democratic National Committee issued a statement praising the red-to-blue flip without noting that before Danny Ray Johnson, Belcher held the seat for six years. Her Democratic husband held it for six years before her. 
 
 Republican Party of Kentucky spokesman Tres Watson noted that the special election “has been anything but normal from the beginning.” He said it’s not a bellwether for what might happen in November, when the seat is up for grabs again. 
 
 In a statement Tuesday evening, Johnson compared Bullitt County’s election to that of a third-world country, saying she heard from people “all day long” who couldn’t vote at their polling place. Her campaign manager David Adams said the story of the night was “voter fraud,” according to the Courier Journal. 
 
 Bullitt County Clerk Kevin Mooney, a Republican, said rumors were rampant about voting problems -- but they were largely rumors. Voters on five streets in the district got wrong information about their polling place, but they were redirected, Mooney said. 
 
 As for whether the problems Tuesday constituted voter fraud, he said, “That’s a pretty strong charge. I don’t believe so.” 
 
 At Half Time’s, a dozen or so people milled about after Belcher’s win was made official. The room was dominated by large round tables of poker players and blaring television sets broadcasting basketball games and Fox News. 
 
 Rebecca Johnson never came. 
 
 Her campaign spokesman Jeff Klusmeier wouldn’t talk to us, but he told WAVE 3 News the election was just “the first round of a three-round fight.” 
 
 Both Belcher and Johnson have already registered for the general election in November. Johnson wants to win. 
 
 Despite the resounding loss, she still wants to finish what her husband started. 
 
 Clarification: This story has been updated to clarify that George Augustus Stallings Jr. was excommunicated by the Catholic Church because he founded an independent church. 
 
 R.G. Dunlop can be reached at rdunlop@kycir.org or (502) 814.6533. Jacob Ryan can be reached at jryan@kycir.org and (502) 814.6559. 
 
 Learn more about how we reported "The Pope's Long Con". 
 
 Reporters/producers: R.G. Dunlop and Jacob Ryan 
 
 Producer: Laura Ellis 
 
 Editing: Brendan McCarthy, Erica Peterson, Kate Howard and Stephen George 
 
 Website: Alexandra Kanik 
 
 Creative direction: Sean Cannon 
 
 Scoring: Kevin Ratterman at La La Land Sound 
 
 Theme song: “Seventh Son” by Willie Dixon; recorded by Ratterman and featuring Louisville’s own Patrick Hallahan, Alex Wrickle, Scott Carney and Otis Jr., with backing vocals from Hannah Sexton and Savannah Ecklar 
 
 Illustrations: Carrie Neumayer 
 
 Legal: Jon Fleischaker and Michael Abate 
 
 A grant from the Fund for Investigative Journalism supported this work. ||||| CORRECTS TO A PROBABLE SUICIDE INSTEAD OF COMMITTED SUICIDE FILE - In this Tuesday, Dec. 12, 2017, file photo, Kentucky State Rep. Republican Dan Johnson addresses the public from his church regarding... (Associated Press) 
 
 CORRECTS TO A PROBABLE SUICIDE INSTEAD OF COMMITTED SUICIDE FILE - In this Tuesday, Dec. 12, 2017, file photo, Kentucky State Rep. Republican Dan Johnson addresses the public from his church regarding sexual assault allegations in Louisville, Ky. Johnson died Wednesday night, Dec. 13, 2017. Bullitt... (Associated Press) 
 
 FRANKFORT, Ky. (AP) — The Kentucky lawmaker's resume included enough material for an award-winning memoir: He was a peacekeeper at the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles, a White House chaplain to three presidents and a 9/11 first responder who gave last rites to hundreds of people at Ground Zero. 
 
 But Republican Dan Johnson's carefully crafted history crumbled this week following an extensively reported story from the Kentucky Center for Investigative Reporting. The story tore down his claims and portrayed him as a con man whose deceptions propped up his ministry of a church of outcasts in Louisville and hid a sinister secret: a sexual assault allegation from a 17-year-old girl. 
 
 Johnson denied it all, declaring his innocence from the pulpit of the church where he was the self-appointed "pope." By Wednesday night, he was dead, his body found on the side of a secluded road with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. 
 
 The death of the 57-year-old jolted Republican leaders, who were already struggling with a sexual harassment scandal that toppled the state's first GOP House speaker in nearly 100 years plus three other Republican committee chairmen. Most in the party had already turned their back on Johnson, calling for his resignation following the sexual assault allegation and his history of posting racist photos on Facebook that depicted President Barack Obama and first lady Michelle Obama as monkeys. 
 
 By Thursday, many were offering messages of sympathy while acknowledging Johnson's complex life. 
 
 "He was passionate about others, I saw it often yet he needed help himself," GOP state Rep. Jim DuPlessis, who sat beside Johnson on the House floor, posted on Twitter. 
 
 Johnson's wife, Rebecca Johnson, said her husband was the victim of a "high-tech lynching" and announced she would run to replace him in the Legislature. 
 
 Elected in 2016, he was part of a wave of Republican victories that gave the GOP a majority in the Kentucky House for the first time in nearly 100 years. But before that, he was the pastor of Heart of Fire Church in Louisville, which prided itself on welcoming "real people." 
 
 "It was a biker church, so there was lots of leather jackets, lots of long hair and people that if you ran into them on the street, you might have a different first impression," said David Adams, a political operative who worked with Johnson on his campaign. 
 
 On the church's website, Johnson claimed to have healed sick people during a visit to South America in 1991, including the incredible story of raising a woman from the dead. The miracles were detailed in a letter from David Fischer, pastor of a church in California. Fischer told the investigative reporting center that he did not witness those events and could not point the agency to anyone who had. 
 
 On his financial disclosure forms, Johnson listed his only source of income as workers compensation from the state of New York. He said that money was from injuries he sustained while working as a chaplain immediately following the 9/11 terrorist attack in New York City. But the reporting center, after a seven-month effort, could find no evidence that Johnson was in New York that day. 
 
 In a Facebook message posted hours before his death, Johnson hinted that he suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder relating to what he witnessed in New York, details that he shared with friends through the years, including Republican state Sen. Dan Seum. 
 
 "He struggled with that. I know he did. The fact it was so horrific that he was involved in praying over these people," Seum said. "I believed him. I had no reason not to." 
 
 The sexual assault allegation came from Maranda Richmond, a former member of Johnson's church. Richmond told the reporting center she was spending the night at Johnson's house on New Year's Eve 2012 when she awoke several hours after midnight to find Johnson standing over her. She said he stuck his tongue in her mouth and put his hands down her pants and into her vagina. She said she begged him to stop and eventually he did. 
 
 The Associated Press does not generally identify victims who report sexual assault but is doing so because Richmond has gone public with her story. 
 
 Richmond's public comments match what she told police two years ago, according to police documents obtained by the reporting center. In 2013, police investigated the matter, including a secretly recorded phone call between Johnson and Richmond's father. But a detective later closed the case, saying Richmond refused to cooperate. Richmond denied that. 
 
 As a result of the center's reporting, the Louisville Metro Police Department re-opened its investigation. 
 
 Johnson held a news conference Tuesday at his church, denying the allegations with his wife by his side. He said he would not resign, calling the accusations part of a strategy to attack conservative Republicans nationwide. He saved his criticism for the media, saying he did not "want to blast this girl. I have compassion for her. I'm very sorrowful she is in this dark place in her life." 
 
 The reporting center interviewed people who were at the Rodney King riots and spoke with an expert on religious faith and the presidency. All of them said Johnson's claims were false. 
 
 He insisted it was all true. 
 
 "This whole piece was so outrageous. It was as though I had never lived or never done anything I had ever done," he told reporters. 
 
 At the end of the news conference, a reporter asked if he had ever raised anyone from the dead. Johnson stopped, turned to face the journalist and said, "God has," before walking out of the pulpit for the final time.
– "Dan is gone, but his story is far from over," says the widow of Dan Johnson, a Kentucky state lawmaker who killed himself Wednesday night after he was accused of sexually assaulting a teenage girl. Rebecca Johnson says she plans to run for the Republican's House seat because "these high-tech lynchings based on lies and half-truths can't be allowed to win the day," the Louisville Courier Journal reports. A special election for the seat is expected in February. Authorities say the 57-year-old lawmaker shot himself in the head at a bridge in a remote area after leaving a Facebook post denying the accusation and saying "HEAVEN IS MY HOME," reports the New York Daily News. Johnson killed himself two days after the release of a Kentucky Center for Investigative Reporting report that exposed the assault allegation, along with what it called a "web of lies" from Johnson, who proclaimed himself "pope" of the Heart of Fire Church, the AP reports. The center said that after a monthslong investigation, it could find no evidence to back up Johnson's claims that he set up a morgue and gave the last rites to hundreds of people at ground zero on 9/11, that he set up "safe zones" during the 1992 LA riots, that he was White House chaplain under three presidents—and that he once raised a woman from the dead. Executive Editor Stephen George says he is "shocked and saddened" by Johnson's death, but he stands by the story.