Mississippi Today
WWE wrestler fights new federal indictment in welfare scandal, which his attorney calls ‘armchair quarterbacking’
WWE wrestler fights new federal indictment in welfare scandal, which his attorney calls ‘armchair quarterbacking’
Former WWE wrestler Ted “Teddy” DiBiase Jr. was sitting on the front row behind former Mississippi welfare director John Davis while the now disgraced government bureaucrat testified before Congress in 2019.
Davis, who was at the time admittedly orchestrating a stunning welfare fraud scheme, was telling members of the U.S. House of Representatives Committee on Agriculture about the supposedly life changing work his department was conducting instead of making food assistance available to more Mississippians.
“We know that it takes investment in our staff through things like Law of 16,” Davis told congress members, “which is our personal and professional development programs for our staff members, to then replicate that over with our clients to make sure that they are empowered to be whom they have been called to be.”

Law of 16 was DiBiase Jr.’s nebulous motivational speaking series, one of the projects for which he received roughly $3 million in federal welfare funds from Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) and The Emergency Food Assistance Program.
Today, nearly four years after the director spoke openly in the nation’s capital about his work, DiBiase Jr. is facing criminal charges for the first time within the larger unfolding welfare scandal, in which officials stole or misspent tens of millions of federal public assistance funds.
He pleaded not guilty and if convicted on all counts in the indictment unsealed Thursday, DiBiase Jr. faces a maximum penalty of up to 175 years in prison.
“It was the government that chose to run this program this way. And it was not a secret. This was done in front of everybody. It was done in front of the United States Congress. This was not a secret. This was not, as the federal law would say, a scheme or artifice to defraud,” Scott Gilbert, DiBiase Jr.’s criminal defense attorney, told Mississippi Today two weeks ago. “So what we’re doing now, for the most part, is second guessing and armchair quarterbacking the way government was run. And that’s not what the criminal law is for.”
This indictment, handed down by a federal grand jury, is the first that the U.S. Attorney’s Office has secured in the welfare case. Each of the other five federal defendants pleaded guilty to bills of information, which are used when a defendant chooses to plead guilty without the case going to a grand jury.
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DiBiase Jr. joins his younger brother Brett DiBiase, who also received hundreds of thousands in welfare funds, to become the eighth person to be charged criminally within the scandal, including those only charged in state court. DiBiase Jr., his brother and their father, former WWE star Ted “The Million Dollar Man” DiBiase, are all facing civil charges in a parallel lawsuit Mississippi Department of Human Services has filed against nearly four dozen people or organizations. DiBiase Sr. has not faced criminal charges.
Under the new indictment, DiBiase Jr. faces 13 criminal counts under Title 18 of the U.S. Code, the main criminal code of the federal government, ranging from conspiracy, wire fraud, theft of federal funds and money laundering.
“It’s ironic that he was involved with the Law of 16, a questionable program at best, because he’s now going to get familiar with the Law of 18, which is Title 18 of the U.S. Code,” quipped current Mississippi Department of Human Services Director Bob Anderson, a former prosecutor tapped by Gov. Tate Reeves to lead the welfare agency after the scandal broke in 2020.
Anderson has said he is cooperating with the federal authorities in their ongoing investigation for his entire tenure at MDHS.
“I believe they will do everything to bring all additional charges they think are appropriate in this case,” he added after DiBiase Jr.’s arraignment Thursday.
Prosecutors say DiBiase Jr. secured at least five “sham contracts” in 2017 and 2018 with two nonprofits, Mississippi Community Education Center and Family Resource Center of North Mississippi, who were receiving tens of millions of federal welfare funds to run a statewide anti-poverty initiative called Families First for Mississippi. The directors of those nonprofits, Nancy New and Christie Webb, have both pleaded guilty within the scheme.
Davis and DiBiase Jr. met after the director initially hired his younger brother, Brett DiBiase, in an executive level position at MDHS in 2017, despite him lacking qualifications for the job. Davis became close with the DiBiase brothers, first Brett and then Teddy. Their communication reflects a familial relationship in which they discussed their faith, hardships, and told each other, “I love you.”
Davis retired from office in mid-2019, shortly after the D.C. trip, after his deputy, Jacob Black, who is facing his own charges in the parallel civil suit, brought a tip of suspected fraud to former Gov. Phil Bryant. In the months leading up to his ousting, Davis expressed concern that his relationship with DiBiase Jr. had weakened.
“I hate that you feel that way,” DiBiase Jr. wrote to Davis in a March 2019 text message. “… You definitely don’t have to ‘chase’ after me … Just want you to know I love you dearly, and I’m so grateful for your friendship.”
In its civil suit, MDHS alleges DiBiase Jr. “exploited his close relationship with John Davis to further enrich his family and friends.”
Under Davis’ direction, the nonprofits made up front payments to DiBiase Jr. “regardless of whether any work had been performed and knowing that no work likely ever would be performed,” the new indictment alleges.
The nonprofits hired DiBiase Jr. to perform vague services — such as leadership outreach, addressing the needs of inner city youth and assessing the need for emergency food assistance — with little requirement of outcomes.
But according to audit reports, interviews and a review of communication, Davis frequently required DiBiase Jr. to accompany him in his day-to-day executive meetings and tasks, interrupting DiBiase Jr.’s duties under the contract.

“It’s just sort of bizarre to think of the executive director of the Department of Human Services actually conducting himself on a regular basis in ways that thwart and interfere with the ability of the contractor to do the work. But that’s exactly what went on, on a regular basis,” Gilbert said.
“You’ve got a guy who’s here that’s trying to perform and do what he’s supposed to do, and to a large extent he does,” Gilbert said. “And then you’ve got this person running MDHS that for whatever reason feels like the best use of Teddy’s time is not to perform his contracts, but to follow him around to meetings and to other events and things like that. And it just, it’s nonsensical. … I don’t know of anybody that understands really what that was about other than just, it’s just pure absurdity.”
The indictment alleges that the money that went to DiBiase Jr. “were diverted from needy families and low-income individuals in Mississippi.”
However, states have long legally diverted funds from the national Temporary Assistance for Needy Families program away from families in need. Since welfare reform in the 90’s, when TANF was created, states have used the lax guidelines in federal statute to shrink the side of the program that provides monthly cash assistance, known as the welfare check, and put the money instead into other programs or pet projects.
Even today, Mississippi’s welfare agency uses only about 5% of its TANF block grant on the welfare check.
While the other TANF programs are supposed to serve one of three other goals — promoting job preparation and marriage, preventing out-of-wedlock pregnancies and encouraging two-parent families — the federal government provides virtually no oversight to ensure that the programs supported by these funds actually correspond with these goals.
In the case of the Mississippi welfare scandal, which involves officials using $5 million in TANF funds to build a volleyball stadium at University of Southern Mississippi, the spending had become especially egregious.
The indictment alleges DiBiase Jr. used the federal funds he received to buy himself a vehicle and a boat and to put a down payment on a roughly $1.5 million lakeside home in the Madison community of Reunion, which the federal government has since seized.
Gilbert is confident the federal government doesn’t have a viable case against his client. He says there are several problems with the prosecution’s legal theory. In the welfare fraud case, prosecutors have used a specific theft or bribery statute, 18 U.S. Code § 666, which applies to agents of an organization or agency that receives federal funds obtaining funding by fraud. Two of DiBiase Jr.’s 13 counts fall under this statute. Gilbert said his client cannot be charged with this crime since he was not an agent of an organization that received federal funds. He makes the distinction that because DiBiase Jr. was a contractor under the nonprofit, not the state agency, he was never an agent of the federal funds.
Gilbert also contests the government’s claim that DiBiase Jr.’s contracts were a “sham.” DiBiase Jr. did conduct work under the contracts, Gilbert said, and any work he did not conduct was as a result of Davis’ interference.
“The big issue from a criminal defense perspective is: Did someone obtain money or property from the government by being dishonest? And what I can tell you in this case is, these contracts, the work that was done, I’ve yet to see a single shred of evidence that would show that Teddy DiBiase was dishonest with anybody about anything in order to get these contracts. These contracts were awarded to him. They came to him. He didn’t solicit anything from MDHS. He undertook these contracts and attempted to perform the work.”
“So what this boils down to is do people feel like this was an appropriate use of TANF money or other money to carry out the function of government?” Gilbert continued. “That’s a fair question, and that’s a question that reasonable people absolutely can disagree about. But it’s not a crime. You resolve your dissatisfaction with the way the government functions at the polling place.”
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.
Mississippi Today
New Stage’s ‘Little Women’ musical opens aptly in Women’s History Month
Ties that bind, not lines that divide, at the heart of “Little Women” are what make Louisa May Alcott’s beloved novel such an enduring classic. More than a century and a half since its 1868 publication, the March sisters’ coming-of-age tale continues to resonate in fresh approaches, say cast and crew in a musical version opening this week at New Stage Theatre in Jackson, Mississippi.
“Little Women, The Broadway Musical” adds songs to Alcott’s story of the four distinct March sisters — traditional, lovely Meg, spirited tomboy and writer Jo, quiet and gentle Beth, and artistic, pampered Amy. They are growing into young women under the watchful eye of mother Marmee as their father serves as an Army chaplain in the Civil War. “Little Women, The Broadway Musical” performances run March 25 through April 6 at New Stage Theatre.
In a serendipitous move, the production coincides with Women’s History Month in March, and has a female director at the helm — Malaika Quarterman, in her New Stage Theatre directing debut. Logistics and scheduling preferences landed the musical in March, to catch school matinees with the American classic.
The novel has inspired myriad adaptations in film, TV, stage and opera, plus literary retellings by other authors. This musical version debuted on Broadway in 2005, with music by Jason Howland, lyrics by Mindi Dickstein and book (script) by Allan Knee.
“The music in this show brings out the heart of the characters in a way that a movie or a straight play, or even the book, can’t do,” said Cameron Vipperman, whose play-within-a-play role helps illustrate the writer Jo’s growth in the story. She read the book at age 10, and now embraces how the musical dramatizes, speeds up and reconstructs the timeline for more interest and engagement.
“What a great way to introduce kids that haven’t read the book,” director Quarterman said, hitting the highlights and sending them to the pages for a deeper dive on characters they fell in love with over the two-and-a-half-hour run time.

Joy, familial warmth, love, courage, loss, grief and resilience are all threads in a story that has captivated generations and continues to find new audiences and fresh acclaim (the 2019 film adaptation by Greta Gerwig earned six Academy Award nominations).
In current contentious times, when diversity, equity and inclusion programs are being ripped out or rolled back, the poignant, women-centered narrative maintains a power to reach deep and unite.
“Stories where females support each other, instead of rip each other apart to get to the finish line — which would be the goal of getting the man or something — are very few and far between sometimes,” Quarterman said. “It’s so special because it was written so long ago, with the writer being such a strong dreamer, and dreaming big for women.
“For us to actualize it, where a female artistic producer chooses this show and believes in a brand new female director and then this person gets to empower these great, local, awesome artists — It’s just really been special to see this story and its impact ripple through generations of dreamers.” For Quarterman, a 14-year drama teacher with Jackson Public Schools active in community theater and professional regional theater, “To be able to tell this story here, for New Stage, is pretty epic for me.”
Alcott’s story is often a touchstone for young girls, and this cast of grown women finds much in the source material that they still hold dear, and that resonates in new ways.

“I relate to Jo more than any other fictional character that exists,” Kristina Swearingen said of her character, the central figure Jo March. “At different parts of my life, I have related to her in different parts of hers.”
The Alabama native, more recently of New York, recalled her “energetic, crazy, running-around-having-a-grand-old-time” youth in high school and college, then a career-driven purpose that led her, like Jo, to move to New York.
Swearingen first did this show in college, before the loss of grandparents and a major move. Now, “I know what it’s like to grieve the loss of a loved one, and to live so far away from home, and wanting to go home and be with your family but also wanting to be in a place where your career can take off. .. It hits a lot closer to home.”
As one of four sisters in real life, Frannie Dean of Flora draws on a wealth of memories in playing Beth — including her own family position as next to the youngest of the girls. She and siblings read the story together in their homeschooled childhood, assigning each other roles.

“Omigosh, this is my life,” she said, chuckling. “We would play pretend all day. … ‘Little Women’ is really sweet in that aspect, to really be able to carry my own experience with my family and bring it into the show. … It’s timeless in its nature, its warmth and what it brings to people.”
Jennifer Smith of Clinton, as March family matriarch Marmee, found her way in through a song. First introduced to Marmee’s song “Here Alone” a decade ago when starting voice lessons as an adult, she made it her own. “It became an audition piece for me. It became a dream role for me. It’s been pivotal in opening up doors for me.”
She relishes aging into this role, countering a common fear of women in the entertainment field that they may “age out” of desirable parts. “It’s just a full-circle moment for me, and I’m grateful for it.”

Quarterman fell in love with the 1969 film version she watched with her sister when they were little, adoring the family’s playfulness and stability. Amid teenage angst, she identified with the inevitable growth and change that came with siblings growing up and moving on. Being a mom brings a whole different lens.
“Seeing these little people in your life just growing up, being their own unique versions, all going through their own arc — it’s just fun, and I think that’s why you can stay connected” to the story at any life juncture, she said.
Cast member Slade Haney pointed out the rarity of a story set on a Northeastern homestead during the Civil War.
“You’re getting to see what it was like for the women whose husbands were away at war — how moms struggled, how sisters struggled. You had to make your own means. … I think both men and women can see themselves in these characters, in wanting to be independent like Jo, or like Amy wanting to have something of value that belongs to you and not just just feel like you’re passed over all the time, and Meg, to be valuable to someone else, and in Beth, for everyone to be happy and content and love each other,” Haney said.
New Stage Theatre Artistic Director Francine Reynolds drew attention, too, to the rarity of an American classic for the stage offering an abundance of women’s roles that can showcase Jackson metro’s talent pool. “We just always have so many great women,” she said, and classics — “To Kill a Mockingbird” and “Death of a Salesman,” for instance — often offer fewer parts for them, though contemporary dramas are more balanced.
Reynolds sees value in the musical’s timing and storyline. “Of course, we need to celebrate the contributions of women. This was a woman who was trying to be a writer in 1865, ’66, ’67. That’s, to me, a real trailblazing thing.
“It is important to show, this was a real person — Louisa May Alcott, personified as Jo. It’s important to hold these people up as role models for other young girls, to show that you can do this, too. You can dream your dream. You can strive to break boundaries.”
It is a key reminder of advancements that may be threatened. “We’ve made such strides,” Reynolds said, “and had so many great programs to open doors for people, that I feel like those doors are going to start closing, just because of things you are allowed to say and things you aren’t allowed.”
For tickets, $50 (discounts for seniors, students, military), visit www.newstagetheatre.com or the New Stage Theatre box office, or call 601-948-3533.
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.
Mississippi Today
Rolling Fork – 2 Years Later

Tracy Harden stood outside her Chuck’s Dairy Bar in Rolling Fork, teary eyed, remembering not the EF-4 tornado that nearly wiped the town off the map two years before. Instead, she became emotional, “even after all this time,” she said, thinking of the overwhelming help people who’d come from all over selflessly offered.
“We’re back now, she said, smiling. “People have been so kind.”


“I stepped out of that cooler two years ago and saw everything, and I mean, everything was just… gone,” she said, her voice trailing off. “My God, I thought. What are we going to do now? But people came and were so giving. It’s remarkable, and such a blessing.”

“And to have another one come on almost the exact date the first came,” she said, shaking her head. “I got word from these young storm chasers I’d met. He told me they were tracking this one, and it looked like it was coming straight for us in Rolling Fork.”
“I got up and went outside.”
“And there it was!”
“I cannot tell you what went through me seeing that tornado form in the sky.”
The tornado that touched down in Rolling Fork last Sunday did minimal damage and claimed no lives.
Horns honk as people travel along U.S. 61. Harden smiles and waves.
She heads back into her restaurant after chatting with friends to resume grill duties as people, some local, some just passing through town, line up for burgers and ice cream treats.


Rolling Fork is mending, slowly. Although there is evidence of some rebuilding such as new homes under construction, many buildings like the library and post office remain boarded up and closed. A brutal reminder of that fateful evening two years ago.


















This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.
Mississippi Today
Remembering Big George Foreman and a poor guy named Pedro
George Foreman, surely one of the world’s most intriguing and transformative sports figures of the 20th century, died over the weekend at the age of 76. Please indulge me a few memories.
This was back when professional boxing was in its heyday. Muhammad Ali was heavyweight champion of the world for a second time. The lower weight divisions featured such skilled champions and future champs as Alex Arugello, Roberto “Hands of Stone” Duran, Tommy “Hit Man” Hearns and Sugar Ray Leonard.
Boxing was front page news all over the globe. Indeed, Ali was said to be the most famous person in the world and had stunned the boxing world by stopping the previously undefeated Foreman in an eighth round knockout in Kinshasa, Zaire, in October of 1974. Foreman, once an Olympic gold medalist at age 19, had won his previous 40 professional fights and few had lasted past the second round. Big George, as he was known, packed a fearsome punch.
My dealings with Foreman began in January of 1977, roughly 27 months after his Ali debacle with Foreman in the middle of a boxing comeback. At the time, I was the sports editor of my hometown newspaper in Hattiesburg when the news came that Foreman was going to fight a Puerto Rican professional named Pedro Agosto in Pensacola, just three hours away.
Right away, I applied for press credentials and was rewarded with a ringside seats at the Pensacola Civic Center. I thought I was going to cover a boxing match. It turned out more like an execution.
The mismatch was evident from the pre-fight introductions. Foreman towered over the 5-foot, 11-inch Agosto. Foreman had muscles on top of muscles, Agosto not so much. When they announced Agosto weighed 205 pounds, the New York sports writer next to me wise-cracked, “Yeah, well what is he going to weigh without his head?”
It looked entirely possible we might learn.
Foreman toyed with the smaller man for three rounds, almost like a full-grown German shepherd dealing with a tiny, yapping Shih Tzu. By the fourth round, Big George had tired of the yapping. With punches that landed like claps of thunder, Foreman knocked Agosto down three times. Twice, Agosto struggled to his feet after the referee counted to nine. Nearly half a century later I have no idea why Agosto got up. Nobody present– or the national TV audience – would have blamed him for playing possum. But, no, he got up the second time and stumbled over into the corner of the ring right in front of me. And that’s where he was when Foreman hit him with an evil right uppercut to the jaw that lifted the smaller man a foot off the canvas and sprayed me and everyone in the vicinity with Agosto’s blood, sweat and snot – thankfully, no brains. That’s when the ref ended it.
It remains the only time in my sports writing career I had to buy a T-shirt at the event to wear home.
So, now, let’s move ahead 18 years to July of 1995. Foreman had long since completed his comeback by winning back the heavyweight championship. He had become a preacher. He also had become a pitch man for a an indoor grill that bore his name and would sell more than 100 million units. He was a millionaire many times over. He made far more for hawking that grill than he ever made as a fighter. He had become a beloved figure, known for his warm smile and his soothing voice. And now he was coming to Jackson to sign his biography. His publishing company called my office to ask if I’d like an interview. I said I surely would.
One day at the office, I answered my phone and the familiar voice on the other end said, “This is George Foreman and I heard you wanted to talk to me.”
I told him I wanted to talk to him about his book but first I wanted to tell him he owed me a shirt.
“A shirt?” he said. “How’s that?”
I asked him if remembered a guy named Pedro Agosto. He said he did. “Man, I really hit that poor guy,” he said.
I thought you had killed him, I said, and I then told him about all the blood and snot that ruined my shirt.
“Man, I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I’d never hit a guy like that now. I was an angry, angry man back then.”
We had a nice conversation. He told me about finding his Lord. He told me about his 12 children, including five boys, all of whom he named George.
I asked him why he would give five boys the same name.
“I never met my father until late in his life,” Big George told me. “My father never gave me nothing. So I decided I was going to give all my boys something to remember me by. I gave them all my name.”
Yes, and he named one of his girls Georgette.
We did get around to talking about his book, and you will not be surprised by its title: “By George.”
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.
://mississippitoday.org”>Mississippi Today.
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