FAMILY FEUD AT MEEKS FOUNDATION

It seems like a cause anybody could rally around, but for some reason the Christi Meeks Foundation for Missing Children, Inc. has been plagued with controversy from the day it opened its doors last spring.

Much of the controversy has centered on the organization’s founder and executive director, Teresa Rogers, a 31-year-old former insurance saleswoman who left her $35,000-a-year job last April to set up the foundation. “God took me by the hand and pointed me in that direction,” she says. “It seemed to me that no one else had the guts to stand up for our children. I’ve thrived on material things. But I realized it was time for us to wake up and find out what our priorities are.”

The foundation’s purpose is to assist law enforcement authorities in locating missing children, to counsel and console parents, and to educate the public on how to protect children from kidnappers.

Rogers entered the limelight earlier this year when she organized a national publicity campaign to locate her niece, Christi Lynn Meeks, who vanished from a Mesquite apartment complex last January 19. Three months later, after one of the most widely publicized search for a child in U.S. history, police found Christi’s body in Lake Texoma.

Rogers says that since she incorporated the nonprofit foundation last April 9, her automobile has been repossessed and she has been forced to hock $3,000 worth of her own jewelry. Rogers is currently living in her mother’s apartment. “It’s kind of embarrassing for a woman my age to have to ask her mother for 55C to buy a Coke,” she says.

But she has had more serious problems. Rogers says “sick” people have sent her some scary messages. One day she arrived at her office and discovered an obituary attached to her business card lying on her desk; on another morning she was left a mysterious box of chocolate-covered cherries containing traces of a foreign substance. And if that wasn’t enough to make Rogers look over her shoulder, one night she left her office after working late to find the word “dead” spray-painted on the hood of her car. Anonymous phone callers have given her such frightening messages as “I killed Christi and you’re next,” and “You have been warned-now you die.” Neither Rogers nor police have an explanation for the strange occurrences.

Though the public was not told, the foundation’s applecart was upset early on when two Mesquite police detectives, who were members of the organization’s original board of directors resigned because they felt their investigation into Christi’s murder represented a conflict of interest. At the time, that left Rogers as the foundation’s sole director.

Rogers says she believes the resignations are connected somehow to her refusals to allow Christi’s father, Michael Meeks, to join the board of directors. When first interviewed, Rogers would only say she “had her reasons” for not permitting his inclusion on the board-reasons she didn’t care to discuss publicly. Later, she admitted her refusal was due to Meeks’ 1970 guilty plea on charges of fondling a teenaged girl, an offense that netted him a two-year probated sentence.

But the family feud went public last August when Meeks filed a lawsuit against Rogers asking a state judge to require the foundation to cease using his daughter’s name. Meeks did not detail his allegations in his lawsuit, but he claimed that Rogers was misusing public contributions to the foundation for her own personal gain and that she refused to let him see the foundation’s financial records.

Rogers vigorously denies Meeks’ allegations. In fact, she says, the foundation has only raised about $6,000 in cash donations to date, an amount that has barely kept it afloat. “Right now our budget’s so low we can’t even pay next month’s phone bill,” she says. According to Rogers, the day after the lawsuit hit the newspapers, a representative of the JCPenney Co. told her the company would have to renege on its promise to help raise $5,000 for the foundation.

Since its formation, Rogers says, the foundation has tracked down a total of 12 missing children using its own financial and personal resources. “We helped other agencies locate an additional 11 children,” she says.

Although Michael Meeks’ attorney, Don Black, says no one is calling Rogers a crook, Meeks persists in claiming that Rogers is out for herself. “She’s made herself out to be a saint,” says Meeks. “But I’ll tell you, the lady is cheating somebody out of their money. The lady is taking advantage of some people and using my daughter’s name. It gripes me.”

Officials with the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children say they believe the Meeks Foundation is a well-intentioned, legitimately run organization. “As far as we know everything is fine,” says Marsha Gilmer-Hill, an official with the Washington-based organization. “We haven’t had any complaints.” Just last May, President Reagan wrote to Rogers, praising the foundation’s “grass roots” efforts. “Nancy joins me in sending best wishes for your great endeavor,” Reagan said in his letter.

“Teresa’s earned the respect of every volunteer working for her,” says Sybil Henderson, one of about 15 individuals who do volunteer work for the foundation. “She’s got me for life.”