Deacon Richard Pryor, Brian Anthony Browning, Pastor Bobby Kelly Jr., and the CrossPointe Crisis: Averted Tragedy at a Michigan Church Through Unlikely Heroism

On a warm Sunday afternoon, June 22, 2025, what could have been a horrific mass casualty event at CrossPointe Community Church in Wayne, Michigan, was averted through the decisive, life-risking actions of one man—Deacon Richard Pryor. At the center of this gripping story are not only Pryor’s brave intervention and the violent confrontation that ensued, but also the potential motives and mental state of the now-deceased assailant, Brian Anthony Browning, and the resilience of a congregation led by Pastor Bobby Kelly Jr.

In a nation all too familiar with mass shootings in places of worship, schools, and public gathering spaces, the events at CrossPointe stand out not because of their horror, but because of the rapid actions that prevented tragedy. The narrative that has emerged reveals not only a hero in Pryor, but also a deeply unsettling near miss—a moment when lives hung in the balance and a community was tested in one of the most terrifying ways imaginable.

The Setting: A Church Full of Children
That Sunday, CrossPointe Community Church was hosting a vacation Bible school event, a regular fixture in many American churches during summer months. Designed as a time for spiritual growth, games, and fellowship—particularly for young children—the church’s sanctuary and classrooms were filled with approximately 150 attendees, many of them children. For a moment, it was just another day of scripture, crafts, and songs. That illusion of safety would soon be shattered.

The Arrival of the Assailant: Tactical Gear and Lethal Intent
According to statements from the Wayne Police Department, Brian Anthony Browning, 31, of Romulus, Michigan, arrived at the church dressed in camouflage clothing and a tactical vest—indicators typically associated with military or paramilitary activity. Witnesses noted that he parked and began retrieving firearms from his vehicle, positioning himself near the church entrance.

While the specific weapons retrieved by Browning were not detailed in initial reports, the characterization of him as “heavily armed” suggests not only lethal capacity but premeditated intent. His garb and behavior, coupled with an attempt to approach a crowded church entrance, immediately elevated the situation to one of high threat.

Browning had no prior criminal record and no known police encounters. This absence of a documented history only deepens the mystery: What drove him to approach a church he had visited before, armed and apparently prepared to commit mass violence?

Richard Pryor’s Intervention: A Split-Second Decision
Richard Pryor, a deacon at CrossPointe and long-time member of the congregation, was in the parking lot as Browning approached. According to Steven Lewellyn, a supporter who later launched a fundraiser for Pryor, it was at this moment that the deacon recognized the imminent danger.

Rather than retreating, calling out, or freezing, Pryor used his personal vehicle—a Ford F-150 truck—to intercept and strike the gunman. The maneuver was described as both intentional and immediate. By directing the vehicle into the path of the armed man, Pryor bought crucial seconds for the church’s security team, allowing them time to respond with armed force.

The truck was riddled with bullets, according to Lewellyn. It absorbed multiple rounds and was destroyed in the process, a sobering testament to the degree of violence unleashed in those pivotal moments. Pryor’s act wasn’t just a reaction—it was a decision to put himself directly between the threat and over a hundred vulnerable people inside the church.

The Security Team Responds: A Life-Saving Delay
Pastor Bobby Kelly Jr., speaking to the press, confirmed that the gunman never made it inside the church, though he fired several shots toward the building. One member of the security team was injured—a gunshot wound to the leg—but, remarkably, no other injuries were reported.

This is where timing proved critical. Browning, having been struck by Pryor’s truck, was in a vulnerable position just outside the church. That delay was the opening the armed security team needed. A member of that team engaged Browning with lethal force, fatally shooting him outside the entrance before police arrived.

The Wayne Police Department later praised the response, stating, “Their bravery undoubtedly prevented a large-scale tragedy.”

A Moment Captured on Video: Panic and Protocol
The church’s livestream footage, now part of the police investigation, captured the moment panic swept through the congregation. Voices can be heard yelling commands—“Get down!”, “Everybody to the back!”—as staff moved quickly to shelter children and escort others to safety. The auditory chaos preserved on video highlights the urgency and danger in those seconds.

Church safety protocols, possibly drilled or trained in advance, appear to have been implemented effectively. In mass shooting scenarios, seconds count. The clear commands and rapid action likely minimized the number of casualties, particularly among the children in attendance.

The Suspect: A Quiet Man With a History of Proximity
The motivations behind Browning’s actions remain opaque. What is known is that he had visited the church on three separate occasions in the past year. He was not an official member, but his mother attended services intermittently. This suggests that Browning may have been familiar with the church’s layout, attendance patterns, and possibly even its security arrangements.

Whether these prior visits were reconnaissance or simply passive attendance is unclear, but the connection hints at a deeper complexity. As police investigators noted, Browning may have been suffering a mental health crisis—a possibility that, while speculative, opens the door to broader questions about unnoticed warning signs, access to firearms, and the breakdowns in social support systems that often precede such violent incidents.

Heroism and Aftermath: A Community Rallies
In the days following the event, the community has rallied around Deacon Richard Pryor, recognizing his selfless act as the decisive factor that prevented a mass shooting. His vehicle—a material object—has now become a symbol of bravery, its destruction a physical reminder of the threat that was stopped.

Steven Lewellyn’s fundraiser, launched in support of Pryor, seeks to not only replace the destroyed vehicle but also acknowledge the cost—emotional and financial—of Pryor’s intervention. The fundraiser is a small but powerful gesture: a communal thank you, an act of solidarity, and a public recognition that this man’s choice altered the outcome of the day.

Pryor’s act reflects a broader theme of civic courage—where individuals, not necessarily trained or obligated, choose to act for the good of others. In the hierarchy of emergency responses, it is often local actors—citizens, deacons, teachers—who stand between danger and safety.

The Broader Implications: Faith Under Fire
This attempted shooting adds to a tragic but growing list of violent attacks on religious institutions in North America. From Charleston to Sutherland Springs, places of worship have been increasingly targeted—motivated variously by ideology, racism, personal grievance, or psychological breakdown.

CrossPointe Community Church will not emerge from this unscarred. While the attack was averted, the psychological impact is lasting. For the children present, the fear of gunfire may now be forever linked to their memories of church. For the adults—teachers, parents, volunteers—the trauma of nearly losing lives under their protection will linger.

Pastor Bobby Kelly Jr., who described the incident with both composure and pain, will now face the challenge of rebuilding trust, not only in the security of the church but in the broader promise of sanctuary that religious spaces are supposed to represent.

Mental Health and Public Safety: A Complex Equation
The revelation that Browning had no criminal record and no police encounters complicates the narrative. Many mass shooters pass under the radar of law enforcement until the moment they strike. The notion that Browning may have been in mental crisis offers no justification—but it does demand a reckoning with how communities monitor, support, or miss those in distress.

The fact that Browning’s mother was an occasional attendee raises further questions. Did she know he was struggling? Was he isolated? Were there signs? Could intervention have occurred earlier?

These are difficult, even painful, questions, but they are essential. The intersection of mental illness and access to weapons remains one of the most challenging and politically sensitive areas in American public safety discourse.

A Sobering Case Study
The Wayne incident will now serve as a case study for both religious institutions and law enforcement. Its elements are textbook: an armed assailant, a vulnerable target, a narrow window for response, and a civilian intervening at great personal risk.

CrossPointe’s experience will likely inform security protocols at churches across the state and possibly the nation. Training for ushers, deacons, parking lot attendants—once a rarity—may now become standard. The presence of an armed security team, once debated in faith communities, may no longer be a question but an expectation.

Conclusion: Crisis Narrowly Averted
In the end, the events of June 22 at CrossPointe Community Church could have concluded very differently. Had Richard Pryor arrived two minutes later—or hesitated—the outcome might have echoed the tragedies of other mass shootings where security responses came too late.

Instead, one man’s instinctive choice to act, to drive toward danger, bought time for others to do their jobs and saved lives. The church, though shaken, remains intact. The children are safe. The community mourns what nearly was, even as it celebrates what was prevented.

As the Wayne Police Department continues its investigation and the church community slowly processes its collective trauma, one thing remains clear: Richard Pryor’s name will not be forgotten, nor will the moment he chose action over fear. In that parking lot in Wayne, Michigan, amid terror and gunfire, a deacon drove straight into history.