The Macabre Church of Stone County

In the harsh winter of 1934, the Ozark Mountains of Stone County, Missouri, lay buried under relentless snowdrifts, isolating homesteads along narrow gravel roads. The county seat of Galina, a modest town of weathered buildings and struggling farms, felt cut off from the world. It was amid this enforced solitude that a man named Silas Blackthornne arrived, carrying only a worn leather valise and claiming divine instructions to build a new congregation. His piercing dark eyes and prematurely silver hair gave him an air of authority, and his voice resonated like a preacher’s call. Blackthornne purchased land from widowed farmer Cornelius Whitmore for $500 in cash—a fortune in those Depression-era days—and erected the “Sanctuary of Eternal Peace,” a stark wooden structure on Mil Creek Road.

Blackthornne’s charisma drew followers quickly. Ezekiel Morant, a grieving tobacco farmer in his 30s who had lost his wife to consumption, was among the first. Struggling alone on his hillside property, Morant found Blackthornne’s promises of prosperity and spiritual guidance irresistible. “He helped me find new buyers in Springfield who paid better prices,” Morant wrote to his brother-in-law in Kansas City. “My crop is thriving despite the poor soil.” Matias Thornfield, a 42-year-old widower running a failing sawmill, joined too, lured by Blackthornne’s practical aid and promises of fulfillment. “He provided what seemed like genuine spiritual counsel,” Thornfield later testified.

By mid-1933, the congregation swelled to over 60 members from scattered homesteads in Stone, Christian, and Taney counties. Blackthornne’s teachings evolved from traditional sermons to sessions of public confession and surrender of will. Nehemiah Blackwood, a neighboring farmer, testified that members were isolated, fasting in the church basement during “purification” rituals. Dr. Obadiah Whitfield, Galina’s physician, treated several for malnutrition and exhaustion. “They speak of spiritual discipline,” he noted in his journal. “I have attempted to counsel them about proper nutrition, but they insist their condition is a temporary sacrifice.”

As winter deepened, neighbors noticed changes. Zebulon Crawford, the crossroads store owner, saw members stop shopping, appearing listless and whispering. Lemuel Ashcroft, the postmaster, noted dried-up mail patterns. Sheriff Augustus Grim, a part-time lawman, hesitated to intervene, citing religious freedom. But in February 1934, Franklin Kesler arrived from Kansas City, alarmed by Morant’s silence. He found Morant emaciated, his farm neglected, livestock starving. “He insisted that such comforts were obstacles to spiritual advancement,” Franklin reported.

The crisis escalated in March when Jeremiah Ashford collapsed on the road to Galina. Dr. Whitfield examined him, revealing malnutrition and distress. Ashford muttered about “souls and vessels” and “underground chambers” where dissenters were disciplined. Whitfield alerted state police. Detective Lieutenant Barnabas Morrison investigated, uncovering Blackthornne’s false identity—no records existed before Stone County. Financial probes revealed nine members had deeded properties to the church, controlled by Blackthornne.

Morrison’s surveillance from nearby hills revealed nighttime fires, group gatherings, and an excavation behind the church. Guards denied access, claiming a 50-day retreat. On March 30, 1934, authorities raided. Inside, over 40 members were malnourished, psychologically broken—unable to decide even basic actions. The basement revealed an extensive underground complex: chambers with scratch marks, soiled bedding, and a calendar marking two months of confinement. A tunnel connected to the excavation, where personal items—jewelry, photos, letters—were cataloged in Blackthornne’s handwriting.

Missing members, including Morant, were found at a hidden site four miles away, confined in primitive structures, weakened by deprivation. Blackthornne sat calmly at a desk, writing in ledgers profiling members’ vulnerabilities. “E. Morant continues to show attachment to worldly concerns,” one entry read. “Recommend extended isolation.”

Blackthornne’s background emerged: similar schemes in Arkansas and Kansas under aliases like Reverend Malachi Thornfield and Ezra Blackwood, where he amassed assets before vanishing. FBI agent Cornelius Vance led the federal probe, describing a sophisticated fraud exploiting rural isolation.

The trial in Springfield on November 5, 1934, drew national attention. Survivors testified: Morant described isolation from family; Ashford detailed discipline sessions. Dr. Whitfield explained “induced dependency syndrome.” Prosecutor Morai Whitmore proved fraud—assets transferred to Blackthornne personally. Defense attorney Nehemiah Fleming argued religious freedom, but evidence of deception prevailed. Blackthornne was convicted of mail fraud, theft, and conspiracy, sentenced to 30 years.

In 1943, Blackthornne died in prison of tuberculosis, buried unmarked. Survivors struggled: Morant became a reclusive laborer; Thornfield never remarried. The church was demolished in 1938, chambers filled with concrete. The site, now in Mark Twain National Forest, holds no markers, but the echoes of manipulation linger—a warning of faith’s dark potential.