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No-excuse in-person absentee voting begins Tuesday in the St. Louis region, allowing voters to cast their ballots early without needing a qualifying reason, ahead of the April 8 election featuring closely watched races such as the St. Louis mayoral contest and Proposition B in St. Louis County.

March 25 is Equal Pay Day, marking how many days the median woman would need to work into 2025 to earn what the median man earned in 2024. This day was designed to draw the public’s attention to the discrepancy in pay between men and women in the United States. It has been recognized annually […]

Daniel Neman writes: You can't scare me. I grew up eating pizzaburgers in the high school lunchroom.

by Jesse Coburn

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up to receive our biggest stories as soon as they’re published.

The findings were stark. In one investigation, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development concluded that a Texas state agency had steered $1 billion in disaster mitigation money away from Houston and nearby communities of color after Hurricane Harvey inundated the region in 2017. In another investigation, HUD found that a homeowners association outside of Dallas had created rules to kick poor Black people out of their neighborhood.

The episodes amounted to egregious violations of civil rights laws, officials at the housing agency believed — enough to warrant litigation against the alleged culprits. That, at least, was the view during the presidency of Joe Biden. After the Trump administration took over, HUD quietly took steps that will likely kill both cases, according to three officials familiar with the matter.

Those steps were extremely unusual. Current and former HUD officials said they could not recall the housing agency ever pulling back cases of this magnitude in which the agency had found evidence of discrimination. That leaves the yearslong, high-profile investigations in a state of limbo, with no likely path for the government to advance them, current and former officials said. As a result, the alleged perpetrators of the discrimination could face no government penalties, and the alleged victims could receive no compensation.

“I just think that’s a doggone shame,” said Doris Brown, a Houston resident and a co-founder of a community group that, together with a housing nonprofit, filed the Harvey complaint. Brown saw 3 feet of water flood her home in a predominantly Black neighborhood that still shows damage from the storm. “We might’ve been able to get some more money to help the people that are still suffering,” she said.

On Jan. 15, HUD referred the Houston case to the Department of Justice, a necessary step to a federal lawsuit after the housing agency finds evidence of discrimination. Less than a month later, on Feb. 13, the agency rescinded its referral without public explanation. HUD did the same with the Dallas case not long after.

The development has alarmed some about a rollback of civil rights enforcement at the agency under President Donald Trump and HUD Secretary Scott Turner, who is from Texas. “The new administration is systematically dismantling the fair housing enforcement and education system,” said Sara Pratt, a former HUD official and an attorney for complainants in both Texas cases. “The message is: The federal government no longer takes housing discrimination seriously.”

HUD spokesperson Kasey Lovett disagreed, saying there was precedent for the rescinded referrals, which were done to gather more facts and scrutinize the investigations. “We’re taking a fresh look at Biden Administration policies, regulations, and cases. These cases are no exception,” Lovett said in a statement. “HUD will uphold the Fair Housing Act and the Civil Rights Act as the department is strongly and wholeheartedly opposed to housing discrimination.”

The Justice Department did not respond to a request for comment.

The Harvey case concerns a portion of a $4.3 billion grant that HUD gave to Texas after the hurricane inundated low-lying coastal areas, killing at least 89 people and causing more than $100 billion in damage. The money was meant to fund better drainage, flood control systems and other storm mitigation measures.

HUD sent the money to a state agency called the Texas General Land Office, which awarded the first $1 billion in funding to communities affected by Harvey through a grant competition. But the state agency excluded Houston and many of the most exposed coastal areas from eligibility for half of that money, according to HUD’s investigation. And, for the other half, it created award criteria that benefited rural areas at the expense of more populous applicants like Houston.

The result: Of that initial $1 billion, Houston — where nearly half of all homes were damaged by the hurricane — received nothing. Neither did Harris County, where Houston is located, or other coastal areas with large minority populations. Instead, the Texas agency, according to HUD, awarded a disproportionate amount of the aid to more rural, white areas that had suffered less damage in the hurricane. After an outcry, GLO asked HUD a few days later to send $750 million to Harris County, but HUD found that allocation still fell far short of the county’s mitigation needs. And none of that money went directly to Houston.

HUD launched an investigation into the competition in 2021, ultimately finding that GLO had discriminated on the basis of race and national origin, thereby violating Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and possibly the Fair Housing Act as well.

“GLO knowingly developed and operated a competition for the purpose of allocating funds to mitigate storm and flood risk that steered money away from urban Black and Hispanic communities that had the highest storm and flood risk into Whiter, more rural areas with less risk,” the agency wrote. “Despite awareness that its course of action would result in disparate harm for Black and Hispanic individuals, GLO still knowingly and disparately denied these communities critical mitigation funding.”

GLO has consistently disputed the allegations. It contends that many people of color benefited from its allocations. The Texas agency has also argued that the evidence in the case was weak, citing the fact that, in 2023, the Justice Department returned the case to HUD. At the time, the DOJ said it wanted HUD to investigate further. The housing agency then spent more than a year digging deeper into the facts and assembling more evidence before making its short-lived referral in January.

Asked about the rescinded referral, GLO spokesperson Brittany Eck told ProPublica: “Liberal political appointees and advocates spent years spinning false narratives without the facts to build a case. Four years of sensationalized, clickbait rhetoric without evidence is long enough.”

The other HUD case involved Providence Village, a largely white community north of Dallas of around 9,000 people. Purported concerns about crime and property values led the Providence Homeowners Association to adopt a rule in 2022 prohibiting property owners from renting to holders of Section 8 Housing Choice Vouchers, through which HUD subsidizes the housing costs of poor, elderly and disabled people. There were at least 157 households in Providence Village supported by vouchers, nearly all of them Black families. After the HOA action, some of them began leaving.

The rule attracted national attention, leading the Texas Legislature to prohibit HOAs from banning Section 8 tenants. Undeterred, the Providence HOA adopted amended rules in 2024 that placed restrictions on rental properties, which HUD found would have a similar effect as the previous ban.

Throughout the HOA’s efforts, people peppered community social media groups with racist vitriol about voucher holders, describing them as “wild animals,” “ghetto poverty crime ridden mentality people” and “lazy entitled leeching TR@SH.” One person wrote that “they might just leave in a coroner’s wagon.”

The discord attracted a white nationalist group, which twice protested just outside Providence Village. “The federal government views safe White communities as a problem,” flyers distributed by the group read. “The Section 8 Housing Voucher is a tool used to bring diversity to these neighborhoods.”

In January, HUD formally accused the HOA, its board president, a property management company and one of its property managers of violating the Fair Housing Act. The respondents have disputed the allegation. The HOA has argued its rules were meant to protect property values, support well-maintained homes and address crime concerns. The property management company, FirstService Residential Texas, said it was not responsible for the actions of the HOA.

The HOA and FirstService did not respond to requests for comment. The property manager declined to comment. Mitch Little, a lawyer for the HOA board president, said: “HUD didn’t pursue this case because there’s nothing to pursue. The claims are baseless and unsubstantiated.”

The Providence Village and Houston cases stretched on for years. All it took was two terse emails to undo them. “HUD’s Office of General Counsel withdrew the referral of the above-captioned case to the Department of Justice,” HUD wrote to Pratt this month regarding one of the cases. “We have no further information at this time.” That was the entirety of the message; neither email explained the reasoning behind the decisions.

The cases may have fallen victim to a broader roll-back of civil rights enforcement at the Justice Department, where memos circulated in January ordering a freeze of civil rights cases and investigations.

The development is the latest sign that the Trump administration may dramatically curtail HUD’s housing discrimination work. The agency canceled 78 grants to local fair housing groups last month, sparking a lawsuit by some of them. HUD justified the cancellations by saying each grant “no longer effectuates the program goals or agency priorities.” (Pratt’s firm, Relman Colfax, is representing the plaintiffs in that suit.) And projections circulating within HUD last month indicated the agency’s Office of Fair Housing and Equal Opportunity could see its staff cut by 76% under the new administration.

If HUD does not pursue the cases, the complainants could file their own lawsuits. But they may not soon forget the government’s about-face on the issue. “If there is a major flood in Houston, which there almost certainly will be, and people die, and homes get destroyed, the people who made this decision are in large part responsible,” said Ben Hirsch, a member of one of the groups that brought the Harvey complaint. “People will die because of this.”

Update, March 26, 2025: The day after this article was published, FirstService Residential Texas emailed ProPublica a statement saying the company denies the allegations in the case involving the Providence Village homeowners association and “remains committed to operating with fairness, integrity, and compliance with the law.”

School safety legislation that requires school districts create a policy governing cell phone use by students won initial approval Monday afternoon in the Missouri House. The bill’s sponsor, Republican state Rep. Brenda Shields of St. Joseph, called the bill a “comprehensive approach to school safety.” It includes provisions to equip schools with bleeding-control kits, require […]

Anheuser-Busch will end its sponsorship of PrideFest after 30 years, leaving a $150,000 funding shortfall for the LGBTQIA festival in St. Louis, but PrideFest is launching a fundraising campaign called #45 for 45 to ensure the festival can still take place.

A new trail is coming to Mark Twain State Park in Monroe County near Hannibal this summer. As Harshawn Ratanpal reports, volunteers came together recently to clear the trail and remember a friend.

ST. LOUIS - After some light rain overnight, skies are clearing in the pre-dawn Tuesday hours. Mostly sunny to partly cloudy and mild Tuesday, with highs in the low to mid 60s. There may be a spot shower east of I-57 in Illinois in the afternoon. Tuesday night, a few clouds roll through the area [...]

Police said a man was hospitalized with life-threatening injuries after a shooting early Tuesday morning on Weber Road.

by Vernal Coleman

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up to receive our biggest stories as soon as they’re published.

The Gregorio brothers had just begun their daybreak commute to work assembling wooden pallets in late January when federal officers in SUVs pulled them over in a Chicago suburb. Jhony and Bayron were in one car. A third brother, Marco, was traveling separately, in another car behind them.

After Jhony Gregorio handed over his identification, an officer with Immigration and Customs Enforcement opened his door and pulled him out. Before long, more than a dozen other officers had arrived. Gregorio could see they had also stopped his brother Marco.

All three had been living and working in the United States without authorization after arriving from Guatemala. None had criminal records. But Bayron Gregorio had received a deportation order. Instead of detaining only him, authorities took all three brothers into custody.

Attempting to fulfill a campaign pledge to deport millions of people, the Trump administration has turned to tactics that have prompted a flurry of court challenges across the country and created an atmosphere of fear. Each week has brought a new example, as agents have detained immigrants and shuttled them out of the country to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba; Panama; and, most recently, a dangerous prison in El Salvador without hearings, much less opportunities to communicate with lawyers and relatives.

But in Chicago and other cities, there are quieter operations underway that raise similar legal questions as federal agents pick up people in ones, twos and threes.

Lawyers for Jhony and Marco Gregorio are arguing that their arrests were among at least 22 that violated a court settlement prohibiting authorities from detaining undocumented people they coincidentally encounter while serving warrants for others. So-called collateral detentions were the subject of a 2022 class-action settlement that set out stricter parameters for how agents should handle these situations, including new restrictions on warrantless arrests.

Attorneys for the Trump administration have denied allegations that the arrests occurred in violation of that agreement, called Nava, after one of the original plaintiffs. Specifically, administration lawyers argued the arrests were not warrantless, according to court records.

Under the Nava settlement, ICE agents are required to adhere to strict guidelines to make warrantless arrests, including establishing that someone will attempt to flee instead of participating in court proceedings.

“The administration’s approach to immigration enforcement and how it has responded to court orders was bound to be the canary in the coal mine of this administration’s overall approach to our democracy and the rule of law,” said Mark Fleming, associate director of litigation at the National Immigrant Justice Center, which is representing Jhony and Marco Gregorio and other detainees as the center goes to court alleging Nava settlement violations.

Observers and advocates say they don’t expect the White House to let up on its crackdown or adjust its tactics because of any legal pushback.

“I don’t think they back down,” said Kathleen Arnold, DePaul University professor of refugee and forced migration studies. “They assumed that there weren’t due process roadblocks that could prevent ICE from doing exactly what they want.”

Neither ICE nor the Department of Homeland Security responded to requests for comment.

During the initial roundups in January, the administration made it clear that collateral arrests were part of a strategy for enforcement in Chicago and other sanctuary cities where local law enforcement declines to assist in migrant arrests. “There’s going to be more collateral arrests in sanctuary cities because they forced us to go into the community and find the guy we’re looking for,” White House border czar Tom Homan told reporters in a televised interview.

The stricter arrest guidelines from Nava were adopted as national policy under the Biden administration, attorneys for the plaintiffs said, but were rescinded after Trump entered office in January. The agreement remains in effect in Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Missouri and Wisconsin, all states covered by the Chicago ICE office, the attorneys said. It’s set to expire in May.

Attorneys for National Immigrant Justice Center and ACLU of Illinois this month went to court in Chicago citing the Nava settlement and seeking an order that the federal government stop creating warrants in the field, reimburse their clients for bond costs and provide weekly reports of any warrantless arrests. They also are asking for the release of the two clients identified in the suit who are still being held.

In making the argument that ICE and Homeland Security are violating the Nava settlement, attorneys for the two Gregorio brothers said Jhony and Marco clearly were not flight risks. They both have been living in the U.S. for over a decade and have ties to the Chicago area and suburban Maywood, where they live. Jhony Gregorio is married and has a child who was born in the U.S.

The only warrants for them, the attorneys said, were written up after they were detained.

“The creation of a warrant after the fact does not cure the warrantless nature of these incidents,” attorneys for the plaintiffs wrote, “and the Settlement’s training material specifically forbid reliance on post hoc administrative warrants to avoid warrantless arrest requirements.”

In the end, the two brothers and most of the other migrants cited in the lawsuit were released and able to remain in the United States, at least for now. Two of the 22 still are in ICE custody, and one has been deported, lawyers for the two advocacy groups said.

Jhony and Marco Gregorio now face an immigration case that could see them removed from the United States. Attorneys for the pair are not claiming that ICE’s arrest of their brother, Bayron, was unwarranted, and he is not a party in the lawsuit. It is unclear if he’s been deported.

Among those released is Julio Noriega, a 54-year-old Chicago man. He was handing out resumes to local businesses in search of work when he was approached by ICE officers in January, according to his witness declaration in the latest Nava filings.

Before he had a chance to explain, Noriega said, the officers placed him in handcuffs and moved him into a van. It wasn’t until after he’d already been taken to an ICE processing center and waited several hours that officers checked his wallet and realized he is a U.S. citizen.

Abel Orozco-Ortega, 47, who is also named in the new Nava filings, was arrested in January, too. He’d just returned home from buying breakfast for his family when officers detained him outside his house in Lyons, a suburb of Chicago where he’s lived with his family for the last 15 years.

Federal agents were looking for Orozco-Ortega’s son. They didn’t find him but took Orozco-Ortega into custody. Orozco-Ortega said in his statement that he has no criminal history. Filings in his case do not detail why agents were looking for his son. Orozco-Ortega has been residing in the U.S. without authorization.

His wife, Yolanda, said he is no criminal and pleaded for his release. “He doesn’t have any vices, he doesn’t do drugs, he goes to church,” she said speaking through an interpreter at a recent press conference. “Is it a crime to get up early every day for work to support your family? I just don’t know.”

Fleming said the center is continuing to compile examples of arrests that the firm believes show warrantless arrests.

Heart revealed back in 2020 that a biopic on the group was in the works, and now Nancy Wilson is giving fans an update.Nancy tells ABC Audio that Amazon Films…

Source

Bobby Bostic developed a curriculum he's hoping to get into schools, detention centers and group homes to make sure kids know there's always another way.

An AI bubble threatens Silicon Valley, and all of us.

Businesses are preparing for the boost the return of baseball usually brings. Many fans hold on to hope the team can live up to high expectations.

The unholy alliance between history’s antisemites, Netanyahu, and Trump

A handful of rich guys will burn human society to the ground rather than pay a dime in tax.

by James Bandler, ProPublica, A.C. Thompson, ProPublica and FRONTLINE, and Max Maldonado, FRONTLINE

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up to receive our biggest stories as soon as they’re published.

Early last year, Matthew Allison could be found at the Space Banana dance club, awkwardly swaying to his own beat. Clutching the cheapest house beer, he’d greet people with a bear hug, a broad grin and his familiar, “Yo, bro!” salutations.

Allison, then a 37-year-old convenience store worker and Saturday-night DJ, seemed to like everyone he met in Boise, Idaho’s small electronic dance music scene. And most people seemed to like him back.

He was so gentle, former friends remember, that for a time he eschewed honey so as not to cause harm to bees.

He was “a little goofy,” a former friend, Tyler Whitt, recalled. “But bro goofy.”

But that lovable persona hid a more sinister core. When he was behind his computer screen, Allison used the handle BTC, short for BanThisChannel, he told ProPublica and FRONTLINE. On the social media and messaging platform Telegram, authorities say, Allison was a key figure in a network of white supremacist and neo-Nazi chat groups and channels known as Terrorgram.

There, Allison held court, promoting himself as “the most infamous and prolific propagandist of our time.”

Hyperbole aside, BTC was infamous. Extremism researchers in the U.S. and in Europe studied his posts but did not know who he was. Leftist activists sought to expose him. And law enforcement authorities tried to identify and jail him.

Last September, he was finally arrested.

Prosecutors allege that Allison was one of the leaders in the Terrorgram Collective, a secretive group that produced propaganda and instructions for terrorists, and disseminated that information through the Terrorgram ecosystem.

They say Allison used the Telegram platform to solicit “attacks on government infrastructure, such as government buildings and energy facilities,” to encourage the assassination of “‘high-value targets’ — like politicians and government officials” with a “hit list,” and to help produce and distribute a Terrorgram Collective publication that featured instructions for making “Napalm, thermite, chlorine gas, pipe bombs, and dirty bombs.”

About This Partnership

This story is part of a collaborative investigation from ProPublica and FRONTLINE that includes an upcoming documentary, “The Rise and Fall of Terrorgram,” which premieres March 25 at 10 p.m. EDT/9 p.m. CDT on PBS stations (check local listings) and will be available to stream on YouTube, the PBS App and FRONTLINE’s website.

Authorities also contend in court filings that Allison had fantasies about committing gruesome violence and sexual assault, and that he may have been planning to act on them.

Allison has pleaded not guilty.

For about five years, the Terrorgram network operated largely unchallenged on Telegram, which has nearly one billion users. The Dubai-based company did little to prevent influencers like Allison from circulating their propaganda and encouraging isolated young men to kill, a ProPublica and FRONTLINE investigation found.

The news organizations obtained a trove of now-deleted Telegram chats and channel logs and used them to trace Allison’s activity and influence in the Terrorgram network.

Telegram has declined repeated requests to make its executives available for interviews but said in a statement, “When the Terrorgram name first surfaced years ago, we began removing groups and channels that used variations on the Terrorgram name. Calls for violence from any group are not tolerated on our platform.”

In the annals of white supremacist content online, Allison’s work stood out. “It was some of the most inflammatory propaganda that I had seen,” said Jennefer Harper, a researcher who has amassed a large archive of neo-Nazi materials from Telegram. Allison was also prolific. “This propaganda was being posted 24/7! The account wasn’t taking a break, it was like, ‘Don’t you have anything else to do in your life?’”

He specialized in what he called documentaries, and over more than five years, he said, he made and posted around 120 videos. There were images of riots, burning cities and Black people brutalizing white people. There was GoPro footage of massacres filmed by white killers as they murdered people of color.

Allison and the other Terrorgram leaders found a receptive audience for their propaganda. Some of their fans got off their phones and took action: scoping out high-profile targets and even killing people. ProPublica and FRONTLINE used the chat logs, court records and other sources to connect 35 criminal cases to the Terrorgram network. Each case involved an individual who posted in Terrorgram chats, followed Terrorgram accounts or was a member of an organized group whose leaders participated in the Terrorgram community.

Prosecutors have linked Allison and his co-defendant, Dallas Humber, to a trio of mass shootings that killed a total of six people and wounded a dozen others, and to a stabbing incident that injured five, according to the indictment and a subsequent brief.

In early 2024, Allison’s work caught the attention of a young man from New Jersey named Andrew Takhistov.

Takhistov was in a Terrorgram group chat in which someone had posted several Allison videos, including a 51-second clip showing how to disable overhead electrical lines, according to court records. In another post, Takhistov indicated that he’d seen one of Allison’s most infamous propaganda videos.

By that summer, Takhistov, then 18, was planning his own infrastructure attacks, scheming to disable two electrical substations in New Jersey using the technique featured in Allison’s video, according to prosecutors. In court records, they say Takhistov was a fan of one of the Terrorgram Collective’s terrorism how-to guides, which Allison allegedly helped produce.

On Sept. 9, 2024, the Biden administration’s Justice Department announced the arrests and indictments of Allison and Humber, his alleged co-conspirator.

“Today’s arrests are a warning that committing hate-fueled crimes in the darkest corners of the internet will not hide you, and soliciting terrorist attacks from behind a screen will not protect you,” declared then-Attorney General Merrick Garland in a statement. “The United States Department of Justice will find you, and we will hold you accountable.”

Allison and Humber were each charged with 15 felony counts, including soliciting hate crimes, soliciting the murder of federal officials and conspiring to provide material support to terrorists.

Arrested in Boise, Allison was extradited to California, where Humber is also facing trial. They both pleaded not guilty.

Humber, visited in jail by a ProPublica and FRONTLINE reporter, said she would not talk to journalists. Her lawyer declined to comment.

Allison, against the advice of his own lawyer, granted two interviews. Looking pale and gaunt and dressed in jailhouse orange, Allison proudly acknowledged being BTC but denied he was a terrorist or that he had incited others to violence.

He called the indictment “bullshit,” claimed to be a video “artist” and indicated that he intended to fight the case on First Amendment grounds.

Allison said the alleged hit list of targets for assassination was merely a doxing list, a response to efforts by anti-fascist groups “to dox me” and anyone who claimed “to be pro-white.” He insisted he didn’t hate anyone.

His lawyers, in a bail motion, said the indictment was misleading. They argued that there was no evidence that Allison was a leader of a transnational terrorist organization. He was, they wrote, just a participant in chats that “‘are mostly a chaotic mix of hyperbole and posts without any recognized leader.”

Matthew Allison DJed in Boise, Idaho, before being arrested and charged with supporting terrorism. (Excerpt from “The Rise and Fall of Terrorgram”)

Watch video ➜

After Allison’s arrest, an FBI agent made his way to rural Perry, Missouri, to see Matthew’s father, John Allison, who lives in the basement of a rambling and drafty decommissioned church he’s renovating.

“Matthew was a perfect child,” John Allison remembers saying before closing the door on the agent. The father said the agent seemed interested only in incriminating information, so he refused to cooperate.

The first of four children, Matthew had sandy blond hair and blue eyes. Early on, he showed musical promise. Like Mozart in the movie “Amadeus,” John Allison recalls, Matthew could play the piano upside down.

The boy wasn’t raised to hate, his father told ProPublica and FRONTLINE in an interview.

But from the time he was 10 years old, the younger Allison took an interest in gruesome violence, prosecutors say. Matthew’s brother told federal agents that the boy enjoyed watching “graphic violent material,” including videos and images of “beheadings,” according to a prosecution brief. His legal team declined to comment on the allegation.

After high school in Perris, California, Matthew got an offer to attend a local college. He decided instead to follow his best friend to Idaho.

Allison’s lawyers said in a court filing that he spent 17 of the last 19 years in Boise, a relatively liberal city in a state that has become a haven for antigovernment and white supremacist activists.

He worked a variety of low-wage service jobs and did a lot of couch surfing, his friends say.

In 2013, Allison got a job working the night shift at a downtown coffee shop and bakery. His boss and co-worker remember him as quiet, polite and professional. He was in a long-term romance with a male co-worker and seemed very much in love.

“I always thought it was a very cohesive relationship,” said Tyler Armstrong, who worked at the bakery with both men. “They were together all the time. We’d all get together, smoke weed and just hang out.”

In Boise’s electronic dance music scene, Allison found a welcoming, inclusive community. He hosted parties where he would DJ, playing progressive house music.

He lived in a Spartan apartment. He didn’t have a car, or even a driver’s license. He told friends he wanted to stay under the radar.

Over the years, he lived in several upscale buildings, including The Fowler, a midrise that boasts a well-appointed fitness center and stunning views of the downtown.

While some acquaintances wondered how he afforded the rent on low-wage service jobs, four friends say that Allison had an illicit side hustle. As Tyler Whitt, one of his friends, put it, “He was an excellent plug” — a drug dealer.

Allison sold cocaine packaged in signature blue-tinted vials, according to Whitt and three other people who purchased drugs from him. Allison denied that he sold cocaine in an interview with FRONTLINE and ProPublica, and he has not been charged with any drug-related offenses.

In 2018, unbeknownst to his dance party friends, Allison was trying to break through on social media as an anonymous conservative influencer.

His early videos on YouTube under the Ban This Channel handle served up standard conservative fare. He peppered the videos with Tucker Carlson clips and used titles such as “The Russian Collusion Lie” and “Lies About Trump Exposed.” Most of the videos landed without notice.

Allison kept cranking out videos. They got more racist, homophobic and antisemitic. Eventually, after he posted the Nazi Party anthem, YouTube banished him from the platform.

His tilt to extremism came amid trouble in his personal life. Allison and his long-term boyfriend broke up, leaving him angry and depressed, according to Armstrong. And his younger brother in Nevada was imprisoned on drug charges, court records show.

In 2020, Allison abruptly left Idaho. He quit his job as a laborer for a flooring company, citing a family emergency. For a time, he lived in Nevada, taking care of his brother’s children.

Allison also lived with his father and stepmother in Utah for nearly six months, but he spent most of the time holed up in his room on his computer, his father said.

“That was a hard day,” Matthew Allison said after one 10-plus-hour session. His father stared at him, baffled.

Allison asked his father to help him start a website to host his content, which included videos he’d made from old Nazi propaganda footage, John Allison said.

“No, I’m not going to be a party to that,” he said he told his son.

Allison soon found another home for his content: Telegram.

Pete Simi, a sociology professor at Chapman University in Orange, California, has spent much of his career studying violent extremist groups and has closely tracked their migrations to Telegram.

It was sometime in 2021, during the pandemic, when Simi first became aware of BTC.

Simi had just been admitted to a private Telegram chat group.

The administrator of the chat hadn’t been willing to let Simi join until he provided proof of his whiteness. He’d thought his middle-aged skin might raise suspicion, so he’d shared a photo of his adult son’s forearm.

As soon as he entered the chat, someone shared a six-minute video called “Last Battle.” Simi downloaded a copy.

Simi had studied a lot of neo-Nazi propaganda — some of it crude and ineffective. But this video stood out, though the overall message was familiar: It told the story of a nation being destroyed by drag queens, immigrant invaders, Black criminals, interracial marriage and a “Jewish communist takeover.”

What was compelling about this video, Simi thought, was the way it blended violent imagery, ominous music and storytelling to impart a sense of fear and white victimhood. The only salvation, the video suggested, was for heterosexual white people to stand together and arm themselves.

“VOTING WILL NOT REMOVE THEM,” reads text on the screen. “THEY WANT YOU DEAD.”

“I would say ‘Last Battle’ would be one of the more effective videos I’ve seen,” Simi said.

Simi started teaching the video in class as an example of propaganda that would be compelling to many alienated young men.

Allison, as BTC, became a Terrorgram Collective leader in 2022 after a previous leader was arrested, according to prosecutors.

He allegedly distributed lengthy digital how-to guides for making explosives and attacking critical infrastructure, as well as audiobooks of murderers’ manifestos. Prosecutors say he helped create a hit list of perceived enemies — politicians, executives and academics — presented as red-and-black trading cards with assault weapon logos, which included headshots, addresses and photos of the targets’ homes.

One of his major contributions was the 24-minute movie “White Terror,” which he told ProPublica and FRONTLINE that he edited. It was an homage to 105 white men and women who committed acts of terrorism. Humber narrates the script in a remorseless monotone, describing the victims with slurs and praising the terrorists as “saints,” an honorific the Terrorgram influencers bestowed upon white supremacist murderers.

As Allison’s content became more extreme, Telegram started to take down his channels. Each time, the channel just popped back up with a slightly modified name. In December 2021, he bragged in a post that 50 of the channels he had started had been banned by Telegram.

Using data from the social media analysis platform Open Measures and other sources, ProPublica and FRONTLINE identified more than 20 channels in the Terrorgram ecosystem that were run by Allison.

The channels were “widely shared and promoted by other members of the Terrorgram scene,” said Pierre Vaux, a London-based researcher who has studied Terrorgram extensively. Vaux said that Allison also belonged to 120 chat groups and posted in them prolifically. “He’s a superspreader,” said Vaux.

In October 2022, a Slovakian teen who had spent years being indoctrinated on Telegram opened fire on an LGBTQ+ bar in the city of Bratislava, killing two people and wounding a third.

The shooter had been in direct contact with Terrorgram influencers, and according to U.S. prosecutors, sent his manifesto to Allison before the attack.

Another Telegram account Allison ran called BowlTurdsCoinInvesting shared the manifesto. In posts, Allison referred to the victims using a slur for gay people and called the manifesto “fucking amazing.”

Telegram shut the channel down.

But Allison quickly resurfaced — this time as BigTittyChica. He reposted an audiobook version of the Bratislava shooter’s manifesto.

Around this time, Humber sent Allison more news that she found encouraging. She had been communicating with a Terrorgram fan who was contemplating a school shooting targeting people of color, prosecutors said in court filings. About a month later, the user acted, killing four and wounding 11 at an elementary and middle school in Aracruz, Brazil.

Terrorgram consecrated another saint.

Allison’s legal team has suggested that the government may have misinterpreted the communications between Allison and the Slovakian killer. The evidence, they said, did “not show direct messages between Mr. Allison and the shooter but rather are messages that the shooter sent to Telegram group chats that were later forwarded between Mr. Allison’s purported two phones.”

Sociology professor Pete Simi and ProPublica reporter James Bandler watch Allison’s propaganda videos. (Excerpt from “The Rise and Fall of Terrorgram”)

Watch video ➜

While the real world and online lives of Allison might seem irreconcilable — a gay man who allegedly led a neo-Nazi terror group and advocated the murder of gays and lesbians — Simi, the Chapman University professor, has seen such cases before. It illustrates, he said, “the propensity that all of us have for leading contradictory lives. We have a great capacity for compartmentalizing as humans.”

Simi once interviewed a gay man who was also a member of Hammerskin Nation, a violent, hypermasculine Nazi skinhead gang whose members despise LGBTQ+ people. Ultimately, the cognitive dissonance became too great and the man quit the white supremacist movement.

There are other more recent examples. Taylor Ashley Parker-Dipeppe concealed his transgender identity from fellow members of the neo-Nazi Atomwaffen Division, a violently homophobic group. His gender identity was revealed in court after he pleaded guilty in 2021 to conspiracy and stalking charges related to threats against journalists and activists.

Allison’s friends had no inkling that the man they partied with was celebrating the murder of gay people on Telegram. But one friend, Tyler Armstrong, recalled a troubling moment in 2020. He stumbled on a Snapchat post in which Allison repeated a white supremacist meme about high crime rates in the Black community.

When Armstrong asked how Allison, as a gay man, could demonize another vulnerable population, Allison replied, “Don’t get me started on the LGBTQ” community, according to Armstrong. Allison denied the exchange to FRONTLINE and ProPublica.

“Sup bro. do house parties exist anymore?”

It was February 2024, and Allison was texting a friend, trying to score DJ gigs. He’d been working a ton lately at a convenience store job he hated and only partying Saturday nights. “Anyone else tapped in to the scene who would know what’s up?” he asked. “I’m killing it djing and got all the gear.”

Meanwhile on Telegram, Allison was putting the final touches on a movie trilogy, which he said documented “one man’s process of radicalization every step of the way.”

In July, Allison filled out an online application for a part-time job at a popular downtown Boise breakfast spot just a short bike ride from his apartment.

“Hi there, my name’s Matt. I have relevant job experience in baking, making New York style bagels from scratch,” he wrote. “I’m a friendly, clean cut, sociable, reliable, and highly organized hard worker.”

He was hired and began working immediately.

That same month, federal agents arrested Takhistov, the New Jersey man who had watched Allison’s videos and read the Terrorgram Collective manual.

Prosecutors say Takhistov was working with another extremist to disable electrical power stations. What he didn’t know was that his co-conspirator was an undercover investigator. Takhistov was charged with soliciting another individual to destroy energy facilities. In building their case, investigators obtained his chat history, including more than 2,500 files.

Court records do not make it clear whether Takhistov has entered a plea. His attorney declined to comment.

The feds were getting closer. But if Allison was worried about the arrest of this young Terrorgram fan, he didn’t let on at work.

Over the next weeks at his new job, Allison was polite, professional and friendly. He told his father it was the best job he’d ever had.

On Friday, Sept. 6, armed federal agents confronted Allison as he prepared to bike to work.

He did not resist. And for two hours he spoke to investigators, waiving access to a lawyer. Allison admitted to making artwork for one Terrorgram production and to participating in a large number of Telegram channels with white supremacists, according to court records. He explained that he was just sharing “propaganda” and “documenting” his “understanding of the world.”

He repeatedly demanded: “What part of any of this was illegal?”

But investigators found more reasons for concern. In his backpack, agents found zip ties, duct tape, ammunition, a firearm, a knife, lockpicking equipment, two phones and a thumbdrive, court documents say.

In his apartment, they discovered an assault rifle, two laptops and a “go bag” with $1,500 cash, a black balaclava and the kind of skull mask favored by members of Atomwaffen Division, court records show.

Federal authorities also searched his storage unit, where they found disturbing handwritten letters titled “Commit Homicide” and “Post-Mortem Disembowelment” that contained graphic fantasies about murdering a baby and her mother, followed by the post-mortem rape and dissection of the woman’s body, according to the court filings. Prosecutors do not allege that he committed these crimes.

At a detention hearing, Allison’s defense claimed the writings were old song lyrics from his high school death metal band, Putrid Flesh.

In a motion for bail, Allison’s lawyers argued that he was not a threat to anyone and that his speech was protected under the First Amendment.

The judge denied Allison bail.

Late last year in Boise, the two Tylers who partied with Allison — Tyler Whitt and Tyler Armstrong — sat down to process the confounding double life of their former friend.

But first they watched “White Terror,” the BTC production that coldly celebrates terrorist killers with a mix of gruesome violence and dehumanizing language. Both men said the video left them in shock.

“That’s somebody who spent a lot of time thinking and giving in to all this hate in his heart,” Armstrong said. “And I’m like, Where does that come from?”

Whitt, who is gay, said he was still struggling to understand. “That’s got to be a totally broken person,” he said. “It was like hating everybody else is more important than loving one part of himself.”

But Whitt said he had no sympathy for his former friend and hopes Allison will spend the rest of his life in prison.

“I’m glad they got him.”

Tom Jennings, Annie Wong and Karina Meier of FRONTLINE contributed reporting.

by ProPublica and PBS's Frontline

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This story is part of a collaborative investigation from ProPublica and FRONTLINE that includes an upcoming documentary, “The Rise and Fall of Terrorgram,” which premieres March 25 at 10 p.m. EDT/9 p.m. CDT on PBS stations (check local listings) and will be available to stream on YouTube, the PBS App and FRONTLINE’s website.

A new investigative collaboration from FRONTLINE and ProPublica explores a transnational online network of extremists accused of inciting acts of white supremacist terrorism on the messaging platform Telegram. They called themselves Terrorgram — and called their leadership the Terrorgram Collective.

From an award-winning team led by reporters A.C. Thompson and James Bandler and acclaimed filmmakers Thomas Jennings and Annie Wong, “The Rise and Fall of Terrorgram” continues years of groundbreaking reporting on violent extremism and online radicalization from ProPublica and FRONTLINE.

“Drawing on a trove of archived posts, our reporting shows how Telegram and other lightly regulated platforms became a gathering place for ‘militant accelerationists’ — neo-Nazis who want to use terror and violence to bring down governments and create new, white ethnostates,” says Thompson, who has been reporting on the evolution of violent extremism in the U.S. for years and, with this project, expands his focus worldwide.

“These people on the messaging and social media app Telegram were trying to stir other people to commit acts of incredible violence and to spark a race war,” says Bandler. “What we’ve seen through the Terrorgram story is that there are consequences to unfettered free speech, to having influencers out there advocating violence or mass murder.”

Telegram said in a statement that it has always screened postings for problematic content and that “calls for violence from any group are not tolerated on our platform.”

“The Rise and Fall of Terrorgram,” part of a collaborative investigation from FRONTLINE and ProPublica.

“The Rise and Fall of Terrorgram” also probes how authorities in several countries would eventually arrest around a dozen people allegedly tied to the Terrorgram Collective.

“Are these arrests the end of Terrorgram? You may have a collapse specifically of this particular network, but is that the end? Absolutely not,” sociologist Pete Simi says in the documentary. “There will be new Terrorgrams that take its place by another name, and we will continue to see this kind of extremism propagated through platforms of various sorts, not just Telegram.”

More than a year in the making, the 90-minute documentary is part of a multiplatform effort that also includes a series of stories from ProPublica.

“The Rise and Fall of Terrorgram,” premieres Tuesday, March 25 at 10 p.m. EDT/9 p.m. CDT on PBS stations (check local listings) and will be available to stream on YouTube, the PBS App and FRONTLINE’s website.