Controversial minister vows to keep children's home open

The Baton Rouge Advocate/AP

JACKSON, Miss. -- The Rev. Herman Fountain is down, but he says he's far from out.

His Bethel Children's Home in Lucedale is staying open, despite director Fountain's financial and legal troubles, "no ifs, ands or buts about it," he said. Fountain also said last week that he is housing children now, which would defy court orders.

"We're not ever gonna close. We will be open until the Lord Jesus Christ comes back," Fountain, 41, said in a telephone interview.

"The state of Mississippi didn't call me here, the Lord did," he said.

But the state of Mississippi believes it does have an interest in Fountain's operation because law requires children housed at unlicensed homes to be registered with the state Department of Health.

Fountain has faced criminal charges, jail, fines and allegations because he refuses to register children boarded at his fundamentalist church-run home for troubled children. He says the state is trying to take control of his church.

For Fountain to house children, he is required to register them, report any new children who come in and update registrations monthly.

"He's never done anything," said Stephanie Ganucheau, special assistant attorney general.

And, if Fountain is indeed keeping children now and state Department of Health officials can prove it, they will take him back to court, Ganucheau said.

After finding eyewitnesses who said children were boarded at the home, the health department in May took Fountain to court on a contempt order of a January injunction that he not house unregistered children.

Bethel was raided the day of the hearing, but no children were found and officials assumed Fountain had moved the children.

Health department officials fear the same thing would happen again because Fountain would have to be notified of a hearing to get an order to search the home, Ganucheau said.

Fountain says the state is persecuting him and his church.

But Ganucheau says state officials just want the children -- many from out of state -- registered so they will know where they are. "This is simply a notification act."

Ganucheau said the law does not allow the state to regulate the curriculum of church-run programs.

"If he would follow the law, he could probably have a good program," she said.

But Fountain says because of the state's involvement, parents are reluctant to place their children with him.

"Parents are afraid to put kids here, afraid to fight the state," he said.

Fountain said last week he would rather not say how many youths he is lodging, but enrollment apparently has dropped. He has housed more than 1,000 children since he opened the home in 1978.

The declines have left Fountain in financial straits.

"We went from quite a bit of money to almost nothing. It's hard to feed people," Fountain said.

Fountain lives at Bethel with his wife, Carol, and their nine children, ranging in age from 22 to 1 year. Seven or eight other families also live there, he said. They are children who grew up at the home and returned to raise their families.

Those living at Bethel are living rough.

The water has been disconnected; they're using well water. The phone has been disconnected, the gas is off, the electricity is on the verge of being disconnected and one dorm is ready to be repossessed, Fountain said. "We're buying food one meal at a time."

But, he said, he's not giving up. "If we lose everything we got, we'll get tents," he said.

Fountain says he has lost support from pastors around the state because they don't want to become involved in his legal troubles.

"Hundreds of preachers in the state of Mississippi stuck behind me at one time, but they weaseled out because it was too hot," he said.

"I really believe people understand, people are behind us, but it is a hot issue. Most pastors are so set back, so pantywaist that they don't want to step out because it's too hot. But one day, it'll be their church."

Fountain says his real concern, though, lies not with the state or with other churches. He is concerned about the troubled children he sheltered until the state removed them, including 72 youths in a 1988 raid and 13 in January.

"Where are the kids now? Who knows? Some are dead, some are back on the streets, in ghettos and some are in jail. The home was the only hope they had," he said.

"These judges and politicians -- someday they will stand before God and account for the souls they scattered in the streets."

Fountain admits that his home may have had troubles; authorities have alleged that children were held against their will, were beaten and were forced to do work that violated child labor laws.

"I'm not trying to portray us as a bunch of angels," said Fountain, a reformed heroin addict.

Fountain was convicted of assaulting a police officer during the 1988 raid on his home and faces a year in prison if he loses an appeal now pending in the state Supreme Court.

"If I do wrong, take care of me. Don't go after the church, the church did nothing wrong," he said. "If I did wrong, I did not go out to do it, it was an accident.

"I don't see anything wrong with breaking the law when the law is not lawful."

Fountain says the next move will be by the state, that he's not doing anything else. "I'm just waiting on the Lord now...

"The only way they'll stop me is to kill me, and they don't have the guts to do that."