Once upon a time in 1920s America, there was a young man who had fallen on hard times. He was clever enough to maybe find some honest work, but he grew fond of the idea of taking to the road and living a drifter's life on the edge. Barely two months through, sleeping in a tunnel, he got hit by a train. A passing Ventrue saw the incident, and moved to pity, decided to Embrace the poor soul. Regrettably, the poor soul clung on too hard, entangling his sire, and ending up with them both being hit by a train again. The sire was introduced to his Final Death, Harry was torpored.
Many years passed, and Harry was a grisly exhibit for nearby children and a landmark for drifters, when some other vagabond fell prey to the same error as Harry eighty eight years past, and was splattered. The blood fell on Harry, reinvigorating him. He came to with two realizations in his mind- first, he was hit by two trains, he was still alive. Therefore, God loved HIM. Second, some chump that tried to help him got killed for the trouble. God was telling him that compassion was for chumps, and that he only loved HARRY.
Ever since, he's been preaching to and fleecing the flock, figuring that if God wanted him not to steal God wouldn't have brought him back, would he?