Cold Open

It’s late afternoon on May 13th, 1985 in a townhouse in West Philadelphia.

13-year-old Birdie Africa huddles next to his mother on the floor of a dark, cramped basement. There are 11 other people beside them, including five young children. Birdie’s mother presses a wet blanket against his face, trying to ward off the tear gas that’s seeping into the basement from the house above.

It’s hours into a standoff between Philadelphia police and MOVE, a radical Black liberation, back-to-nature group which Birdie and his mother belong to. And after months of growing tension, hundreds of cops surrounded the townhouse this morning and ordered MOVE to surrender. But the families inside refused to go anywhere, and now the police are trying to force them out.

Birdie listens anxiously as a helicopter flies low overhead. The entire house seems to shake, showering dust on the people sheltering in the basement.

Then, an explosion rocks the house above. People cry out, and Birdie clings tighter to his mother, but still, no one thinks of a escape or surrender.

But within moments, more smoke begins creeping down the steps into the basement. But it’s not tear gas this time. The house is on fire.

Birdie Africa will be one of only two survivors to make it out of this basement alive. By the time the fire is extinguished, Birdie’s mother, five other adults and five children will be dead, 61 houses in the neighborhood will have been destroyed, and hundreds of people will have been left homeless. Birdie will be badly burned. But the disaster will also leave a lasting scar on the city of Philadelphia itself, which even today still grapples with the consequences of the fatal decision to drop a bomb on the MOVE house on May 13th, 1985.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is May 13th, 1985: The Philadelphia MOVE Bombing.

Act One

It’s May 20th, 1977 in the neighborhood of Powelton Village in Philadelphia, eight years before the bombing of the MOVE house.

55-year-old Paul Washington slows his car as he nears a large crowd that’s gathered on the sidewalk. Beyond them, Paul can see lights flashing on countless police cars, and a thick line of uniformed officers blocking the street.

Paul is an Episcopal priest and has been a leading member of the Black Power movement for more than a decade. Through his work, he’s come to know another Black liberation group in Philadelphia. Like Paul, they also campaigns for an end to racism, but MOVE’s confrontational tactics and its extreme anti-science and anti-technology views set them apart. Paul worries that their cult-like values do more harm than good—still, he always tries to help out during their frequent run-ins with authorities. So, tonight, when he heard that MOVE’s headquarters was surrounded by police, he rushed over immediately.

Neighbors have reported seeing members of MOVE marching around their front porch in military-style uniforms, carrying weapons. Hundreds of cops have responded, and now the MOVE house is completely surrounded. It’s a tense situation—Philadelphia police have a reputation for violence with the city’s Black residents.

And though Paul may not agree with everything MOVE stands for, he’s desperate to prevent bloodshed. So, climbing out of his car, he weaves his way through the crowd until he reaches the police line. After talking to the officers in charge, he’s allowed to approach the house to speak to one of the MOVE members.

He explains to the man that the police want MOVE to surrender their weapons. But the man tells Paul that one of the MOVE's member was recently arrested. They want proof that he hasn’t been brutalized. If the police bring him to the house and show that he’s unharmed, MOVE will lay down their guns.

Paul passes this request along to the police. It’s highly irregular, but the officers reluctantly agree if it means an end to the standoff. So, Paul rushes back to the MOVE house to share the good news.

But when they hear the police have relented. The MOVE leaders change their demands. They tell Paul that they don’t just want to see their comrade. They want him released from custody. Paul can’t believe it. He didn’t expect the police to even consider MOVE’s initial request, and he knows for sure they won't agree to this.

Sure enough, the police refuse, telling Paul not to waste any more of his time on behalf of MOVE. But Paul doesn’t want to give up just yet. He keeps negotiating back and forth, and the police eventually agree to reduce the number of officers on the scene by half. It’s progress, but it’s far from a resolution, and, in the end, with neither side willing to make any more compromises, Paul decides its time to step back.

So, the stalemate drags on. The city announces plans to evict MOVE from their home. But the MOVE members refuses to leave. In an attempt to force them out, the police erect a blockade around the house which turns into a months-long siege. Paul and others in the community may be exasperated by MOVE’s behavior, but they also won’t stand by and watch them be starved out of their home. So, they start smuggling food past the blockade and organize a huge protest march.

Eventually, the police run out of patience, though. And on August 8th, 1978, they launch a raid on the MOVE house. Using a cherry picker to knock down a wall, they blast the house with water cannons and tear gas. In the chaos, there’s an exchange of gunfire, a police officer is killed and a member of MOVE is badly beaten by the police as he tries to escape.

When it’s all finally over, nine MOVE members are put on trial for the police officer’s murder. They claim he was hit by friendly fire, but ultimately they’re found guilty and sentenced to between thirty and a hundred years in prison each. Around the same time, there is also a trial for the officers who savagely beat the fleeing MOVE member. But just as the jury is about to return their verdict, the judge issues a directed order of acquittal, telling the jury to find the officer is not guilty.

The contrast between the two verdicts adds to the tension burning between MOVE and city authorities. Members of MOVE have been beaten, jailed, evicted and their house destroyed. But they don’t abandon their cause, and soon, MOVE’s leaders will find a new home for the organization. But it won’t be long before it too becomes the scene of another standoff with police, and this one will be even deadlier than the last.

Act Two

It’s July 4th, 1984, in Philadelphia, six years after the police evicted MOVE from their previous home.

Wilson Goode, Philadelphia’s first Black mayor, listens as a group of disgruntled residents complain about the problems caused by their neighbors, the radical Black liberation group, MOVE.

Following the violent confrontation with police in 1978, MOVE found a new home in a mostly middle-class Black neighborhood in West Philadelphia. But the group has not made a good impression with its new neighbors. The property is covered with piles of trash, its windows are boarded up, and the group broadcasts profanity-laced messages to passersby through loudspeakers.

So as he hears the litany of complaints, Mayor Goode just nods in agreement. He wouldn’t want his family dealing with these kinds of issues either. So, he promises to send sanitation to deal with the trash piling up, but there’s little else he can do. MOVE may not be good neighbors, but technically, they’re not breaking any laws.

This is frustrating for the neighborhood, and as time goes on, MOVE’s neighbors only become more disgruntled. Eventually, Mayor Goode convenes other city leaders including the district attorney and police commissioner to come up with a solution. He is determined to avoid a repeat of the 1978 showdown that resulted in the death of a police officer. And the commissioner reassures him that he has a plan that will avoid any bloodshed. There are several arrest warrants out for MOVE members. And the hope is to use these as leverage to force a resolution.

Mayor Goode gives the police commissioner's plan the green light, and, on May 12th, 1985, Philadelphia police evacuate the neighborhood surrounding MOVE’s home. The city then turns off the gas supply to the MOVE house and shuts off electricity for the entire block. The following morning, hundreds of police take up positions surrounding the house.

At 5.35 AM, the police commissioner orders the MOVE members to surrender. Makes a long speech that begins: “Attention MOVE: This is America. You have to abide by the laws of the United States.” But the people inside still refuse to come out, and any hope for a peaceful resolution disintegrates fast. First, the police use high-pressure hoses and tear gas on the house. But in response, shots ring out from inside, and a ninety-minute gunfight breaks out with the police.

So, with tear gas, water cannons and a fire fight, all failing to force MOVE out, the police commissioner suggests an even more aggressive plan: gaining entry to the building through the use of explosives. Worried that the situation is spiraling out of control, Mayor Goode approves the action.

So, later that afternoon, a helicopter is sent over to the MOVE house. A police officer leans out and drops two small bombs onto a makeshift wooden bunker that’s been built on the roof. The small bombs flatten the bunker, but they also ignite fuel tanks for the house’s gasoline-powered generator. A fierce fire breaks out.

But rather than contain it, the police commissioner orders firefighters to let the house burn. He hopes the flames will finally dislodge the MOVE members. But the decision is catastrophic. As their home collapses around them, 11 members of MOVE are killed, among them five children. And the damage isn’t limited to just one house. The fire grows into a blaze that destroys almost four city blocks. Dozens of homes are destroyed and hundreds of people are left homeless.

In the wake of this deadly fire, there’s widespread criticism of the Philadelphia authorities, and Mayor Goode orders a commission to examine the decisions leading up to the catastrophe. This investigation finds the bombing was “grossly negligent” and “unconscionable.” Mayor Goode personally apologizes and takes full responsibility— but he doesn’t resign, and no criminal charges are filed against any of the officials involved in the operation, and the only person to face any jail time following the bombing is Ramona Africa, the sole surviving adult member of MOVE. In April 1986, she is convicted on charges of inciting a riot, goes on to spend seven years behind bars.

But Ramona’s prison time doesn’t dull her fierce belief that an injustice was done back in 1985. Upon her release, she returns to court in a civil suit to fight for compensation, and in 1996, a jury orders Philadelphia to pay $1.5 million to Ramona and relatives of other MOVE members.

But even after paying compensation, the city struggles to turn the page on the controversy. The rebuilding of the neighborhood will turn into another failure, with many residents unable to ever return. And then, decades later, a shameful discovery at a local university will reopen the wounds left by the MOVE bombing once again.

Act Three

It’s April 29th, 2021, in Philadelphia, more than 35 years after city police bombed the MOVE house.

Mike Africa Jr. steps forward to address a crowd that's gathered outside the University of Pennsylvania’s Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. Mike is the son of two MOVE members who were incarcerated for the murder of a police officer back in 1978. He was born while his mother was in prison, and he has inherited both his parents’ determination to fight for social justice.

Today, Mike is especially angry. It's just been revealed that the university museum is in possession of the remains of two of the children who died in the MOVE bombing. 14-year-old Katricia and 12-year-old Zanetta Dotson, also known as Tree and Delisha Africa, were killed in the inferno unleashed by Philadelphia police.

Their bodies were originally given to the museum to assist with verification after the bombing. But rather than return the burned remains to family members, the bones were kept in a cardboard box for years and used for study and research.

So today, on the steps in the museum, Mike grips a microphone tightly, his body's filled with rage. But he takes a big calming breath before speaking.

Mike talks about the horror and anger he feels, realizing that members of the MOVE family still have not received a proper burial. Decades have passed since the tragic day Katricia and Zanetta died, but events like this—that their bodies were hidden away and never properly burried—make it impossible for Mike and others like him to trust the people in power.

After this protest, an investigation is launched into how the remains ended up at the museum. There are recriminations, apologies, and the Philadelphia City Health Commissioner resigns. And finally, in 2022, the remains of Katricia and Zanetta are returned to their surviving brother. He has them cremated and gives them a proper burial.

But there is no sense of closure for the people of Philadelphia. For many, the misuse of the human remains by the museum demonstrates a casual disregard for Black bodies and lives that feels all too common, even decades after Philadelphia’s leaders decided to bomb their own residents on May 13th, 1985.

Outro

Next on History Daily. May 14th, 1643. A four-year-old boy becomes King of France, beginning the longest reign of any monarch in history.

 From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Gabriel Gould.

Supervising Sound Designer Matthew Filler.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Ruben Abrahams Brosbe.

Edited by William Simpson.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.