The Church, the Mall, and the Cover-Up: Richland County Faces Explosive Civil Rights Claims After Florence County’s $12M Scandal
- CUBNSC
- Nov 13, 2025
- 5 min read
By Javar Juarez | Columbia Urban Broadcast Network | November 13, 2025
Richland County, S.C. - Days after Florence County was hit with a $12 million discrimination verdict, Richland County is now facing its own escalating civil rights battle: a third legal filing, submitted just yesterday, sharply rebuking the County’s attempt to have the Dutch Square Mall lawsuit dismissed and renewing allegations of intentional discrimination against a Black church developer.
On the surface, the two cases appear unrelated. But the similarities are impossible to ignore. In both, county officials held private discussions, deviated from established procedure, and shut down development plans that carried community benefit and substantial economic impact. And in both, the plaintiffs claim the counties did so under the guise of policy concerns while concealing motivations that violated federal law.
What happened in Florence County has already been judged in court. What is now unfolding in Richland County may follow the same arc—only with even clearer evidence.
A Decision Caught on Camera
The lawsuit filed by Word of God Community Development Corporation, its affiliated entities, and Bishop Eric Davis alleges that Councilwoman Allison Terracio stated openly and on camera that she would not allow the church’s proposal to reach the full council because of its religious identity. According to the court filing, Terracio expressed that she opposed “the Church” approaching the council and invoked her personal interpretation of the "separation of church and state" as justification.
That statement, if verified, places the County in direct conflict with longstanding U.S. Supreme Court precedent. Under decisions like Trinity Lutheran v. Comer, government officials may not deny otherwise available public benefits based solely on religious status. It is one of the clearest areas of First Amendment law, and it is precisely where the lawsuit asserts Richland County crossed the line.
Rather than correcting the error, the complaint argues that the rest of the council joined Terracio’s position during a closed executive session. No public vote was taken, no formal discussion was allowed, and the project never once appeared on a council agenda. The County’s decision was then communicated through a letter from its attorney, a letter the plaintiffs say offered “false and pre-textual” reasons designed to conceal the unconstitutional basis behind the denial.
The church, which had already secured support from multiple government partners—including the City of Columbia and the South Carolina Jobs-Economic Development Authority—was abruptly and silently shut out.
A Familiar Story in South Carolina
For residents who followed the Florence County trial earlier this year, the contours of the Richland case may feel strikingly familiar. In Florence, a private developer brought a federal lawsuit accusing county leaders of blocking a workforce housing project through procedural maneuvers and discriminatory intent. That case, which drew the attention of the U.S. Department of Justice, ultimately ended with a multimillion-dollar judgment against the County after a jury concluded the decision-making was not rooted in legitimate planning concerns, but in resistance to the people the development was expected to serve.
Although the underlying issues differ—one case focused on race and housing, the other on religious discrimination—the allegations share a common thread: county governance used not to regulate, but to obstruct; not to evaluate, but to exclude.
In both situations, elected officials are accused of crafting explanations after the fact and of acting in ways that cannot be defended under federal civil rights law. And in both, the plaintiffs argue that the counties operated with the kind of confidence that only comes from believing no one will ever see behind the curtain.
Economic Favoritism and Selective Access
What elevates the controversy in Richland County is the contrast between the treatment of Word of God and the County’s handling of other major development projects. During the same period that the church was attempting to bring its Dutch Square Mall proposal to the table, Richland County approved more than $20 million in tax incentives for the redevelopment of the Richland Fashion Mall.
The two projects share comparable size, scope, and economic ambition. The only material difference, according to the lawsuit, is the religious identity of the applicant.
Where the private mall developer received a hearing, structured negotiation, and substantial government partnership, Word of God received silence, delay, and rejection without a single minute of public discussion.
This, the plaintiffs argue, is the clearest sign that the decision had nothing to do with policy and everything to do with prejudice.
What the Stakes Are Now
If the case proceeds—as the church’s legal team says it almost certainly will—Richland County will enter a discovery process that could pull back the curtain on every internal communication tied to the Dutch Square Mall decision. Emails, text messages, executive session notes, and private correspondence may soon be placed under federal scrutiny, just as they were in the Florence County case that ended with a $12 million verdict. There, discovery proved decisive. It revealed motives that officials had worked hard to obscure. The same risk now looms over Richland County.
What makes that risk even more acute is the County’s own history. According to the lawsuit, this is not the first time county officials were confronted with the constitutional limits of their authority. In 2022, when Word of God sought support for its G.A.N.G.S. in Peace violence-prevention initiative—a church-affiliated program praised by law enforcement—Council member Allison Terracio raised the same “separation of church and state” objection she would later invoke against the Dutch Square proposal. The County Attorney, Patrick Wright, publicly advised the Council at that time that such a position was unconstitutional. Yet two years later, the County allegedly took the very same action, this time in a higher-stakes economic development context, fully aware of the legal implications.
This history, combined with the documented statements at the heart of the current dispute, makes the legal exposure significant. The political exposure may be even greater, as residents grapple with the possibility that their elected officials ignored legal guidance, repeated past misconduct, and acted in ways that could cost taxpayers dearly.
A Statewide Reckoning
The Florence and Richland cases together raise questions far beyond the individual counties involved. They point to a broader pattern across South Carolina in which local governments may be exercising power in ways that undermine civil rights law, economic fairness, and the development opportunities of historically marginalized communities.
Whether it is a secular affordable housing project in Florence or a church-led economic redevelopment effort in Columbia, the through line is the same: when certain entities seek to participate in public-facing economic development, they are met with barriers that others—often larger, wealthier, or politically connected—do not encounter.
That pattern is no longer a matter of suspicion. It is a matter of record.
A Florence jury recognized it. A federal court will soon decide whether Richland County followed the same path.
If the allegations are proven, the consequences for Richland County could mirror, or even exceed, those seen in Florence. And once again, it will not be the elected officials who bear the financial burden, but the residents they were elected to serve.
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