The Defense Department’s inspector general has found that allegations that Gen. John Allen engaged in inappropriate behavior in emails he exchanged with Tampa, Fla., socialite Jill Kelley were unsubstantiated. 

"The IG cleared him," a defense official told NBC News, speaking on condition of anonymity. 

Allen, the current commander of NATO forces in Afghanistan, has been nominated to be Supreme Allied Commander in Europe, but that promotion was put on hold when the IG investigation began. The defense official stressed that no decision has been made yet on whether his nomination will go forward again. 

A statement Wednesday by the International Security Assistance Force in Afghanistan on behalf of Allen said he had been informed that investigators  “the allegations against him were unsubstantiated and … that he did not violate the requirement of exemplary conduct or the prohibition against conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman. “

“He's obviously pleased by the outcome,” it said. “But more critically, he is grateful for the support he received throughout this process from his chain of command, friends, family and colleagues.  He remains focused, as he has always been, on leading the brave men and women of the ISAF team."

Allen’s nomination was jeopardized  in mid-November when it was revealed that he had exchanged emails with Kelley that some Pentagon officials at the time characterized as “inappropriate” and “flirtatious.” 

Allen had met Kelley when he was commander of MacDill Air Force Base outside Tampa, where she served as a volunteer “social liaison.” 

She inadvertently drew him into the scandal that led to the resignation of former CIA Director David Petraeus by complaining to an FBI agent with whom she was acquainted about anonymous emails referencing Petraeus. Among those emails was one that Allen had forwarded to her in the belief that she had sent it to him as a joke, officials told NBC News at the time. 

FBI agents eventually traced the allegedly threatening emails to Paula Broadwell, Petraeus' biographer. That investigation also led to evidence of an extramarital affair between Petraeus and Broadwell, prompting his resignation on Nov. 7. Days later, Defense Secretary Leon Panetta announced the investigation into Allen’s relationship with Kelley. 

Jill Kelley speaks out: 'I knew I was being stalked'

The inspector general’s investigation does not determine guilt or innocence. Rather, it decides whether an allegation is substantiated or not. Even if the finding is that the allegation is unsubstantiated, the IG can still make a recommendation that can harm an officer’s career. 

Jim Miklaszewski is NBC News' Chief Pentagon Correspondent; Courtney Kube is an NBC News producer at the Pentagon. Mike Brunker, NBC News investigations editor, contributed to this report.

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It's hard not to feel sympathy for a sobbing young woman, explaining she only came to this country to work -- for a better life. She believes in her heart, despite what the law says, she has not committed a crime.

On the other hand, it's also difficult not to empathize with an elderly retiree, standing on a street corner with a picket sign, trying to rally support for laws that will remove thousands of day laborers waiting for work on the corners of a suburb that could be anywhere in America.

"We are not bad people," says Teresa Biarra in New Haven, Conn. "We are people dedicated to working." Biarra is here illegally. She's free on bail after federal immigration officers arrested her and 30 others recently.

"The whole thing is the law," says Sue Grant in Farmingville, New York. "I want our politicians to enforce the law, that's all I'm asking." Grant and a few others are picketing at a busy intersection, with signs demanding deportation for anyone here illegally.

The stories of these two women illustrate the nation's sharp divide on illegal immigration. Should we crack down or show compassion? Can we get rid of them, or are they here to stay?

The leaders of Farmingville, part of Suffolk County, New York, and the leaders of New Haven couldn't be farther apart. In Suffolk, Steve Levy is a hardline, law-and-order county executive with soaring approval ratings, and the support of both Democrats and Republicans for re-election.  He has come to personify in many ways, the local official doing everything he can with existing laws on the books to get rid of the thousands of day laborers crowding his county.

"It's not as though we went out looking  for this issue," says Levy venting his frustrations about Washington's inability to fashion an effective immigration policy. "It's hit us on the side of the head like a sledgehammer."

Over in New Haven, Mayor John DeStefano is a strong proponent of integrating illegal immigrants into the community, drawing them out of the shadows in the interest of public safety, and because of the crucial role they play in the local economy.  His police have what's essentially a "don't ask, don't tell" policy with the city's residents when it comes to matters of immigration status.

"What we rely on to create a safe community is police who know who lives in the neighborhoods and those folks have a trusting relationship," is how the mayor sees things.

Interestingly, both local leaders say the main concern is public safety, not some ideological point of view  to influence the nation's foreign policy. That has led Levy in Suffolk county to push for anti-loitering laws, and tougher enforcement of the rules of the road to break up the crowds. Opponents defeated those anti-loitering measures claiming they would criminalize standing on the street, and lead to racial profiling.

"Standing While Latino," they argued, would become a crime. So, police began turning up the heat in "routine" traffic stops. Anyone stopped without a license, and no proper identification gets sent to jail. The result, perhaps not surprisingly, is dozens of illegal immigrants behind bars. And the sting is just gathering pace.

Perhaps because of the sensitivity of targeting people of a certain race or color, Levy insists all of this is about public safety.

"The answer is to enforce the laws on the books and not to hide your eyes and pretend it's not happening," he insists. Levy also has been asking for federal immigration officers to staff the county's jails. So anyone arrested and here illegally can immediately face possible deportation. Already the sheriff has referred thousands of suspects to federal authorities. They'd like that number to rise even higher.  Essentially, removing one illegal worker at a time.   

Meanwhile, back  in New Haven, the Mayor is determined to keep federal officers out of his community -- especially after a roundup last month that swept up 31 people, including Teresa Biarra. The mayor's concern (and that's putting it mildly) is that the raid was unprecedented, and staged two days after the city formally approved a new resident identification card program, the first in the nation. Available to everyone, but particularly useful to undocumented residents, who'll now have a document to use to sign up for city services, open bank accounts, and identify themselves to police.

So, did the immigration raid happen because of the card program?

"Homeland security at every level insists that was not the case," says the mayor, based on calls all the way up to Secretary Michael Chertoff.

"If they weren't, it was just an incredible coincidence,"  the mayor said, his voice heavy with suspicion. He adds the local economy has become dependent on what's called, "the undocumented community." And he offers his view of what citizenship really is all about. "It's a set of values about working hard, about taking care of your family ... values that say you are responsible for one another and the community," he says. Values rather than a piece of paper or a passport is his point.

"I think the idea of sanctuary is just nuts," Levy fires back. "When you look the other way at illegality ... it just encourages more," he insists. Rather than a municipal ID card, he suggests a fool-proof worker ID card only available to people here legally -- that, along with punishing employers who hire workers they shouldn't.

"There's no line you can draw ... based on documented or undocumented at this point," argues DeStefano. Everyone living in cities are too close and interdependent to be separated is how he sees it. He hopes the resident cards build trust, especially with police. One reason for the program was a wave of crime directed at workers on payday, their pockets full of cash, and no one willing to speak openly to the authorities.

All of  which brings us back to where we started. Sue Grant in Suffolk continues her protests directed at the men on the corners. Protests entering year five. She believes her community can be restored to what it used to be.

"All we have to do is put a fence along the border," she suggests. "And deport the people who are here."

"I'm simply looking for a better life," says Biarra. Immigration hearings will determine if she and the others now in custody will be able to stay in this country, or be forced to go.

Crackdown or compassion. Each side believes their approach works. And just about everyone agrees the solution must come from Washington. However, with all the partisan bickering and stalemate, no one expects much from D.C. anytime soon.

I had not been to Salt Lake City in many years. The last visit I recall took me right through town on the way to the ski resorts. So I was quite eager to head out there for a story about the Mormon faith and Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney's run for the white house. And, the fact that polls show a significant number of people say they wouldn't vote for him because of his religion. To be honest, I really didn't know what Mormonism is all about. I'm no theologian, nor expert now. But accept it or reject it, I've come to believe in my travels around the world that it's important and fascinating to learn what people of other cultures and faiths think.

Representatives of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints invited us to meet Jorge Becerra and his family who live in Sandy, Utah. It's a pristine looking, suburban place, with clean streets, shiny cars, framed as you would a scene on a postcard by Utah's still slightly snow-capped mountains. Everything seemed so nice, orderly, spartan. I was envious of the lush lawns and well manicured gardens. We're having trouble getting our grass to grow.

Jorge, an investment advisor, and wife Debbie, a stay-at-home mom, have five children. The couple met during their two years of mission work that all Mormons believe they must do. In fact, their oldest son is away from home on his mission to South Korea, and then the Midwest. It's their "family home evening" night. They began with a hymn, "Choose the Right." Prayer followed. Scripture readings from the Bible, which Mormons believe is sacred yet incomplete.  And then, Jorge led a discussion about the importance of faith and making good choices in life. When it was over, they all went outside for a game of croquette, while enjoying a treat together -- frozen popsicles.

"In a lot of ways we're mainstream America," Jorge explained. "The values that we hold dear are what most American's hold dear, family, religion home, education."

"I think that in a lot of ways we are kind of peculiar," Debbie added, the word "peculiar" catching everyone's attention. But then she finished the thought with, "we do kind of cherish values that have become almost extinct in some areas of the country."

They seemed somewhat amused or oblivious to those anti-Mormon polls about Romney. But they admitted being aware many people beyond their faith think of them as, well, a bit odd or unusual.  "If they understood us they probably wouldn't think we're that radical," said Jorge.

It's difficult to describe the feeling one gets in the presence of the Mormon community. Orderly is a word that comes to mind. The religion's headquarters stands in the heart of the city. The temple with it soaring spires. The high rise office building. A museum. Visitor's centers. All laced with fountains, flowers, security guards and guides wearing black suits and lots of personality, parents with kids in tow, and the seemingly endless parade of newlyweds, posing for pictures around the grounds,  with glowing relatives and friends beaming nearby.

We met with Elder Russell Ballard, a member of the Quorum of Twelve Apostles, which sits just under the First Presidency in the church's hierarchy. We met in a chapel. [Watch the video of the interview] No stained glass windows. No crosses. It was a very serene and plain sanctuary that seemed purposeful not pretentious. Elder Ballard is a patient, good-humored man, with a ready smile, a grandfatherly air about himself, and eager to talk to yet another traveler who'd come calling trying to demystify Mormonism. He and the two media advisors with him have been sitting for many of these interviews because of Romney.

"We welcome the spotlight," Ballard said, seizing the opportunity to set the record straight.

One huge issue, is the charge by evangelical Christians, who also happen to be core Republicans, that Mormons are not true Christians. Some even maintain the religion is a cult and somehow non-authentic.

"There's no organization more centered in Christ on Earth than the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints," Ballard said with assurance, not surprisingly sounding like a pastor delivering a sermon.

That other issue we had to ask him about is polygamy, once a part of Mormon culture. Nowadays, pop culture like HBO's series Big Love keeps the association alive. The series is about a fictional husband with 3 wives. They're not openly portrayed as Mormons, but the fictional Hendrickson family just happens to live in the same Utah town as the Becerras. The church maintains it banned multiple marriages 117 years ago. It insists it has no relationship at all with some 40,000 polygamists now living in the US.

"For some reason, that's all they want to talk about," Ballard said dismissively, the "they" referring to reporters like your's truly. "It's amazing why that can't die," he said, finishing the thought, and he seemed to hope, the discussion on that issue.

Ballard,  like just about everyone else of the faith we spoke to, insists the problem is that outsiders just don't understand, and stereotypes thrive in ignorance.

Even Romney gets asked about polygamy. He admits it was practiced in his family generations ago -- his great-grandfather. Recently he said, "I vehemently oppose polygamy," adding, "I've been married to my high school sweetheart all my life." On the campaign trail, Romney often makes the point that among the front running Republicans, he's the only candidate who has only been married once.

The Mormon church is relatively young as religions go -- founded in the 1830s. Put simply, Mormons believe God appeared before a young farm boy, Joseph Smith, who was trying to figure out his faith. They believe this happened in upstate New York, and that Smith received a set of golden tablets, which he translated into the Book of Mormon, which they believe is another testament of the Bible.

"It's the dealings of our heavenly father with his children that lived in the Americas," Ballard explains. Christians believe the Bible is the beginning and the end of God's word. "The original church was lost," Ballard explains. "There's been a restoration, there are prophets and apostles on Earth," he adds, explaining  why Mormons call themselves "latter day saints."

The church claims more than 13 million members worldwide, more than half of them outside the U.S. The numbers, Mormons say, are similar to the number of Jews. The Mormon church says there are more than 50,000 missionaries, like the Becerra's son, spreading their message around the world, with growth especially strong in Latin America.

But still, perhaps because of their belief in the revelations of Joseph Smith, because of sacred undergarments adults wear to shield themselves, perhaps because they banned black people from the priesthood until the late 1970s, perhaps because so many live in what seem like homogeneous, inward communities, their history has been a fight for mainstream acceptance. Even Joseph Smith, they believe, was persecuted and killed by an angry mob, and his followers fled in huge wagon trains from the Midwest to what was then a barren place, Utah.

Politics is nothing new to the church. Mormons dominate local and state offices in Utah. Fifteen members of Congress are Mormons. Most are Republicans, but so is Senate Democratic majority leader Harry Reid. The church maintains it supports conservative values, encourages its members to be civically active, but stays out of politics. Romney, of course, was elected governor of Massachusetts, a blue state. His father was governor of Michigan.

But so much of politics is perception. I asked the Becerras if they thought Romney's Mormonism would hurt his candidacy.

"It wouldn't be an issue with me if he was Jewish or Pentecostal or Catholic or anything," said Debbie and Jorge, explaining their hope together. "It's not an issue in my mind," said Debbie. "I don't expect that of others."

The Mormon faith encourages its members to share their beliefs with the world. That's why followers of the church, like the Becerras, are thankful the campaign for president seems to be spreading their message as well.

"What do we want? Decency! When do we want it? Now!" 

That was the chant by a small but determined group of women outside the offices of Viacom in midtown Manhattan. They're targeting the media giant because it owns BET, MTV and VH-1, and the hip hop and rap music they play.

"What specifically do you want off the air?" I asked. The terse response: music about bitches, hos and nig%$#'s. You know it when you hear it. "Prurient, debased and racist depictions of women in particular in the media," is how Janice Mathis of Rainbow Push describes it.

I honestly believe we would not have been out there were it not for Don Imus. The women agree.  Numerous groups came together to form something called "Women's Voices," during the Imus controversy. Now, they're trying to ride the public interest generated back then, to try and clean up the airwaves. Some of Imus' defenders said he was just repeating what's so often heard in rap music. "Women's Voices" is trying to take that defense away.

Rather than just march in the streets, they've targeted Viacom's shareholders gathering in New York for their annual meeting. Interestingly, some members of the women's coalition have bought shares in companies like Viacom so they'd have the right to enter the room. It's a fight that they say has been going on more than 15 years, but largely out of the public view.

"Some of the music is destroying our culture," said Dr. E. Faye Williams of the National Congress of Black Women. "Young people are being told making this kind of music is the way to the American dream."

They face a daunting obstacle. In fact, their protest was nearly drowned in Times Square, certainly one of the loudest corners anywhere. The rap and hip hop music industry is a multi-billion-dollar enterprise deeply ingrained in popular culture. But in recent years, sales have been plummeting, down 21 percent in 2006, and with no album in the top ten for the first time in a dozen years. What's more, numerous studies have been produced linking rap to a variety of negative social trends, like drug use and young people being more sexually active. That's perhaps no surprise. Critics long have complained that some rap music "Objectifies" women, often portraying females as "sexual appliances." You've seen the music video screen of the fellas lounging around the pool with what looks like a harem. If you haven't seen the scenes, your kids probably have.

But has the industry hit a tipping point? There's certainly a lot more buzz about just that. "Women's Voices" certainly hopes to give it a good shove.

There weren't any artists out there at the Viacom protests to defend what's usually described as a unique form of "poetry." But in interviews, various artists have said their "music is a mirror," a product of their environments, and harsh realities of life. They claim, and rightly so, that  they have a right to talk and sing about whatever they want. All of this does raise rather complex issues of race, gender and culture, and especially in the African American community. And of course, businesses have a right to sell whatever they want.

"Women's Voices" says the issue isn't free speech, but rather decent  speech. In ways big and small they're hoping to move the market of ideas and record sales that determine what's considered appropriate. This isn't the first time they and other critics have made their case before the entertainment industry's shareholders. They remain steadfast and determined. Things do change. And fallout sometimes takes a bit of time to fall.

It's a crisp afernoon in Prescott Park in Portsmouth, N.H. There's a small crowd waiting for Senator John McCain, R-Ariz., to make his "official" announcement that he's running for president. I thought the crowd would be bigger -- it's a few hundred I would guess. The folks running the show are filling time until the senator arrives. The chants of "McCain! McCain!" are echoing out as far as you can see. I have to believe the staff hopes for more energy when their candidate arrives.

A lot of people in the crowd are comparing the McCain of 2008 to the one of 2000, who burst on the scene as the maverick outsider and won the primary here in decisive fashion. New Hampshire likes candidates with attitude and independence. Some are wondering if McCain still fits that billing. It's important to say he leads in many of the polls here. He has a big, experienced staff. His supporters dismiss the national story, saying he needs a fresh start. The Straight Talk Express just pulled up -- they've cranked up the music -- U2's 'Beautiful Day.' That means it's showtime. Gotta go!

To show or not to show Cho Seung-Hui's "manifesto?" That was the question faced by NBC News. We did what I would think every responsible news organization would do.

I've seen and read through some of the documents that have never aired, because I've been reporting on it all day on MSNBC. It's unbelievable, just like the massacre. We're in the business of providing the public with information and letting you decide how to process it.

Given the enormity of what happened at Virginia Tech, given our failure to comprehend in any way, how someone could become so whatever it was that fueled Cho's rampage, his final words and pictures offer a window into his mind. Admittedly, so much of it in just an angry rant or diatribe, but it says something that perhaps helps us understand. Or at least helps us try to.

Perhaps there's something there that might set off alarms about the next Cho?

All day, I've seen and heard bits of what the gunman had to say.  Each time I walk away feeling more and more upset about it. Shaking my head. I've never seen anything like it. Except perhaps the videos left behind by suicide bombers abroad. But what Cho left behind was so much more extensive. He'd thought about it, certainly in a delusional way, for a long time. I keep asking myself, how could someone actually murder people in cold blood, then walk to the post office and mail a package. And then kill so many many more. And I wonder why no one apparently saw him during the 2 hours, while he ran his murderous errand?

I haven't traveled to the campus in Blacksburg, Va., but now I feel in some ways I have. Perhaps those of you who've watched the pictures feel much the same. Perhaps you didn't want to go. I can honestly say I now feel a deeper sense of the tragedy there. I've seen more than my fair share of death and despair during 25 years in this business. You tend to detach after a while. You have to. The "manifesto" draws you close to Blacksburg. Hearing the killer's voice and seeing him dressed as his victims probably did really drives home in such stark relief the horror of those moments.

I would imagine most people in the Virginia Tech community turned away from the "manifesto." I'm only calling it that because I can't think of another word. Manifesto, frankly, is a word with too much dignity for the rankings of a deranged mass murderer. Some, I've heard say, watched, hoping to get another piece of the puzzle. There's something about having a lot of puzzle pieces that perhaps helps us deal with unspeakable grief and sorrow. Everyone deals with the impossible in their own way.

Finally, I hope Cho's voice and images remain in the nation's mind and heart, when we turn from Virginia Tech, to issues of what we should be learning from what's happened. Those lesson's will be part of the legacy left by the students and faculty cut down so much too soon. When we talk about violence in our culture, caring for the mentally ill or  criminally insane, and dare I say it....gun control. If that multimedia diatribe serves any useful purpose, perhaps it will form some of the background noise for those debates, when we think about the worst possible consequences of hoping the tough issues just go away.

For the record, I've appeared on the Imus Show as a reporter here at NBC News. I have relatives who graduated from Rutgers University. And, before it started disappearing, I had short, and rather tightly curled, hair -- so all of this is hitting very close to home.

I've heard Imus apologize, a few times. He sounds sincere. I understand he wants to meet the Rutgers team. He'll be on Al Sharpton's radio show.

But I still can't forget those words: "nappy headed hos," and then more banter about "jigaboos and wannabes." Where did that come from? How could Imus -- and don't forget his producer -- feel comfortable enough to think that's funny? How could they not anticipate a firestorm? When people speak that way publicly, it makes you wonder what's said, and felt, in private?

If you say the words out loud rather than just listening to them or reading them, each carries even more power. And they strike at the heart of the negative images that so many people have fought so many battles to rid our culture and society of. When I hear those words, I think of people I know -- the insults they endured, and more importantly, the injustices along the way. We're reminded that some of America's most horrible history -- history we hope to leave in our past -- happened during our lifetimes. We're reminded of parents and grandparents who combed and brushed our tightly curled hair.

Clearly, an apology hasn't made all of this go away. Something more has to happen, and is happening. I think some of the media companies trying to keep their distance now realize they remain tainted. I believe many here where I work will do the right thing. It is being taken extremely seriously. One dilemma is that many of the country's most influential decision makers seek out Imus, appear regularly on his show, relish the platform he provides in morning drive time. So far, many of those  powerful voices remain silent.

So what do you do when a significant, powerful institution and corporate interest crashes into what many see as profound issues of morality and decency? What's reasonable, fair and just? Honestly, I don't know the answer. I'm encouraged by the fact that people in positions of power are listening to what a lot of folks out there have to say. Perhaps Imus and his producer should take a break while all this works itself out.

Some people have pointed out he's hurled slurs at everyone during the years. He's a "shock jock," and everyone knows he's edgy. Personally, I don't think being an "equal opportunity " insulter makes this OK.

Ultimately, this is more important than one radio talk-show host. It's important because the "mainstream media" has a tremendous influence on how we see each other, how we think of ourselves, how we determine what's acceptable and what's not. Organizations such as the National Association of Black Journalists and other advocates for diversity have long argued that if America's newsrooms looked like America -- if the faces we see on the air, behind the scenes, and in the management suites -- looked, thought and had sensitivities and experiences more like everyone, the culture inside these institutions would be much different.

And so would what's considered to be a joke.

Think of how you'd explain this to a young little girl, with tightly curled hair, when she asks, "why did he call people who look like me that?"

Something more has to happen. Not just with one individual, but also with the environment that produces all of this. Something that people in power can look back on a few years from now and tell that little girl that we tried very hard to do the right thing.

TEL AVIV -- It's an old saying, but today really is the first day of the rest of Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon's life. He walked out of a Jerusalem hospital, smiling, joking to reporters, "apparently you missed me?" Suddenly he's a world leader who has survived a health scare. Doctors gave him a clean bill of health, pronouncing him fully recovered from a "mild stroke" that caused Israel to hold its collective breath Sunday night. Aides play the entire episode down as nothing that serious. But this country was stunned, while probably not surprised their 77-year-old leader, 10 years beyond retirement age here, visibly overweight and carrying the considerable weight of this part of the world on his shoulders, faced a medical emergency. It's really a wonder nothing like this has ever happened before.

The fact is, if it has happened before, few here know, certainly not the general public and certainly not Sharon's enemies and rivals. His medical records are private, sealed. And calls to change that in recent years have been dismissed. Now that may change.

While Israel paused, while doctors unclogged the blood clot that stopped on its way from Sharon's heart to his brain, many here probably allowed themselves a few moments to wonder what would become of their country without him. Here, no disrespect intended, we took a look at his obit. Just in case. A summary of his life that's on tape in the library, sitting next to those of other world leaders, entertainers, activists and prominent personalities, now in their later years. A year ago everyone the obituary of Sharon's arch nemesis Yasser Arafat.

Sharon's bio (not an obit since he's still with us) says he has always symbolized Israel's Iron Fist. He's been a fighter from the start. Born on a family farm, first wounded in the war that created Israel, and a military leader often called on by his nation when he the going got tough. (Forgive me Martin Fletcher, resident correspondent here, if I've borrowed a few of your well chosen phrases.) To some extent, Sharon is the classic military man who rose to lead his nation. But when you think back about his journey, it's hard to imagine where he stands now. The right wing hawk has turned so much more pragmatic in what's perhaps the twilight of his life. Others probably would call it wisdom.

That's why Sharon's illness, and how well he recovers, is so crucial to this nation, this region and beyond. He has just formed a new political party, Kadima, or Forward. It's a move to the center, a break with the right, that is profoundly shaking up Israeli politics. Many here say Kadima is a one-man show. Sharon and his new party lead in the polls. If he wins re-election in March, many expect more bold initiatives like his decision to unilaterally disengage from Gaza, forcing thousands of settlers, the community he championed for so many years, to now leave their land to Palestinians. The decision tore his old political party, Likud, apart.

What's next? Many here predict initiatives that could shape Israel, and perhaps its final borders, for generations to come. All of it largely the work and vision  of one man who now dominates this country's politics. That's why Israel held its breath Sunday night. Incidentally, that's also why some of Sharon's enemies were celebrating in the streets as rumors spread of his death.

Every once in a while, we meet someone who really has made a difference. Sister Mary Scullion, of the Sisters of Mercy, has been called Philadelphia's Mother Theresa. In the course of reporting tonight's profile of her, she tried to introduce us to, and have us interview, everyone but herself about the homeless problem.

She began her efforts about 20 years ago, when homelessness became a problem that really riveted the nation's attention. She started an organization called Project H.O.M.E. Just doing that was a huge problem because she wanted to open a shelter in an abandoned casket factory close to Center City. No one wanted any homeless people anywhere downtown, and certainly not a shelter where homeless people would live.

But sister Mary wouldn't take no for an answer. The shelter opened, as did several other buildings offering shelter and services close to the heart of the city.

Today, Project H.O.M.E. is an $11-million-a-year non-profit. It has built 60 units of rental housing and renovated 19 abandoned homes, with nine more under construction. It also has helped build the Honickman Learning Center and Comcast Technology Labs, a state-of-the-art digital learning center that's the envy of even the best private schools. The goal is to build up to 100 homes during the next few years.

Clearly, Sister Mary did not do all of that by herself. But what started as something very small has turned into a program that cities across the nation want to emulate.

Sister Mary is persistent, passionate and firmly in control of what she's doing. The key, she says, is connecting with people on the street at a down-to-earth, real, unpretentious level. There's nothing phony about her. She says meeting and getting to know homeless people has made her a better person. She admires their courage and their dignity under such dire conditions. She says most people dismiss the homeless as invisible or unworthy, with no one but themselves to blame for their plight. Obviously, she doesn't see or relate to them in that way.

While we were following her around with a TV camera, she insisted on speaking to the people we encountered first, and making sure they did not mind being photographed. Her honor, her word, her credibility were at stake. One of the biggest problems she encounters in trying to get people to trust her, or anyone, for that matter.

She's a very humble, understated woman, who truly has inspired quite a difference here, and created an organization that seems well on its way to its goal -- ending homelessness on the streets of Philadelphia.