Shot During Carjacking, Baltimore Pastor Preaches Easter Sunday on Scooter

Reverend Rashad Singletary had a bullet wound in his foot and a mobility scooter beneath him when he arrived at Mount Olive Baptist Church in Turner Station on Easter Sunday. He preached anyway.

Days before the April 5 service, Singletary was shot in the foot during a carjacking outside his own home. The attack was sudden enough that he got into his wife's car and briefly gave chase before thinking better of it and turning back. He was hospitalized, treated, and released. Then Easter came.

Rather than rest, he rolled into Mount Olive and delivered his Resurrection Sunday sermon to a congregation that greeted him with visible surprise and relief. His message, pointedly, carried no call for vengeance.

"God allowed me to see another day; the least I could do on Resurrection Sunday is to be at church," Singletary told WMAR-2 News. "My foot is messed up but my mouth and my hands still work."

For a city where carjackings remain a persistent street-level threat, the image of a shot pastor on a scooter choosing gratitude over fury carries weight well beyond Turner Station. That neighborhood, tucked in southeastern Baltimore near the old Bethlehem Steel site at Sparrows Point, has long looked to faith leaders for both spiritual and civic grounding. Singletary fills that dual role at Mount Olive, and his choice to be physically present on the holiest Sunday of the Christian calendar, framing the experience through forgiveness rather than grievance, set a deliberate public tone.

Baltimore City Police confirmed the investigation into the carjacking and shooting remains active. No arrest had been announced.

The case surfaces a vulnerability that rarely enters policy conversations: faith leaders, often among the most recognizable and community-embedded residents in Baltimore neighborhoods, are not shielded from the street violence they routinely counsel others through. Singletary was targeted at his own home.

His Easter morning appearance resolved nothing about the investigation and made no promises about what justice might look like. What it gave Turner Station was its pastor on a scooter, foot bandaged, microphone in hand, back at the pulpit.