Showing posts with label MOVE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MOVE. Show all posts

Monday, December 12, 2011

INTERNATIONAL HEADLINES! Mumia Abu-Jamal: Man, myth and the death penalty #OP #MOVE

Mumia Abu-Jamal: Man, myth and the death penalty

Protesters hold signs in support of Mumia Abu Jamal while police officers look on Across the world, supporters protested to free Mr Abu-Jamal

Almost 30 years after his conviction for killing a police officer, Mumia Abu-Jamal has had his sentence revised and will no longer be a death-row inmate.

For many Abu-Jamal's case was less about the crime than it was about the man, and the moral justification of the death penalty.

When Mumia Abu-Jamal was convicted in 1982 of killing Daniel Faulkner, the courtroom was only half full.

"Outside of Philadelphia, the case was not a big deal at the time," says Marc Kaufman, a journalist who covered the story for the Philadelphia Inquirer. "Interest in the case was significantly less than what would come later."

What came later was a global movement. Abu-Jamal became an international symbol for institutional racism and judicial abuse and a cause celebre for anti-death penalty advocates. His face was a prominent image at anti-death penalty rallies, progressive gatherings and Beastie Boys concerts.

By the 1990s, his name had become a shorthand for injustice and racism within America. In doing so, his supporters turned Abu-Jamal from a man into a myth.

Now, Abu-Jamal is off death row, serving a life sentence with no chance of parole. The decision came this week after years of appeals, cemented when the Philadelphia district attorney declined to pursue a new sentencing trial after a higher court declared the death penalty verdict invalid.

Poster boy

For supporters of the family of Daniel Faulkner, this case has always been about the death of the officer and the facts of the murder presented at trial: witnesses who placed Abu Jamal at the scene, Abu-Jamal's gun recovered nearby and a bullet from Faulkner's weapon lodged in his ankle.

That numerous appeals from the Abu-Jamal legal team were denied by the courts only steeled their resolve that the facts were on their side.

Mumia Abu-Jamal Mumia Abu-Jamal in 1995

Supporters of Abu-Jamal maintain his innocence, and say he was a victim of a corrupt system. For them, the focus of the case is less about the specifics of that night than the institutional problems within American law enforcement.

The circumstances of the trial spoke to structural issues with the criminal justice system long argued by anti-death penalty advocates, says Shari Silberstein, executive director for Equal Justice USA. An all-white jury for a black man. A judge with a reputation for being tough on minorities. A city fraught with racial tension.

Though there were problems with Abu-Jamal's trial, other cases have had more clear-cut examples of wrongdoing, incompetence and bias, says Richard Dieter, director of the Death Penalty Information Center.

But none of those cases had defendants who so neatly embodied the intellectual outrage activists felt about the capital punishment.

"There's general opposition to the death penalty, and it needs a face, and a cause," Mr Dieter says.

Abu-Jamal provided that face perfectly. His public profile literally made him a poster boy for those who found capital punishment abhorrent.

Prior to his arrest, Abu-Jabal had been a public radio host and a political activist.

After his conviction, he wrote several books from jail - vivid accounts of prison life and intellectual attacks on the criminal justice system, but little about what happened the night Daniel Faulkner died.

"He was a very prolific writer and communicator to the outside world, and people were able to hear his voice and perspective of prison life in a way that people hadn't before," says Shari Silberstein.

In the 90s, at a time when support for the death penalty was at an all-time high, the "Free Mumia" movement was also peaking, providing clear rallying point for those who believed the system was unfair.

To his supporters, Abu-Jamal is not a hard-luck case or a simple victim of mistaken identity. He is a political prisoner.

'No resolution'

As the myth of Mumia grew, Marc Kaufman says, the facts of the case became less significant.

Five people stand in front of flags, with a man at the centre at a podium The slain officer's widow stood with Philadelphia's prosecutor as the death penalty was revoked

"Because he is articulate and appealing, there are a lot of people who were attracted to him," says Mr Kaufman. "That's fine and appropriate, but what I personally found disingenuous as the years went on was that there was a revisionist history as to what happened" on the night Daniel Faulkner was shot.

The theories and speculation that supporters say proved Abu-Jamal was framed didn't stand up to scrutiny, says Mr Kaufman, who reported on many of the claims.

"Thirty years of appeals, and there's no consensus about whether he's an innocent man who's been railroaded because of race or if he's a guilty murderer," says Frank Baumgartner, professor of political science at the University of North Carolina. "There's no resolution in that issue."

And it looks like there never will be. Part of the reason that the district attorney declined to go forward with a new trial is that after 30 years, many of the original witnesses have died. The case has been so divisive that each side has their own set of facts, and there's no sign of a detente.

Life sentence

In the end, this much is true: an appeals court did find that the sentencing jury that handed Abu-Jamal the death penalty had received invalid instructions.

Regardless of whether he was a political prisoner or cold-blooded killer, the court said, justice was unfairly applied.

To opponents of capital punishment, that possibility, not the facts of an individual case, is the point.

"I think every case is a good case for people who opposed the death penalty," says Franklin Zimring, a law professor at the University of California, Berkeley. "When you start putting the system under a microscope, the death penalty looks both unnecessary and problematic."

That's cold comfort for Maureen Faulkner, who gave her permission to the district attorney before he made the decision to take Abu-Jamal off death row. After the official announcement, she noted the severe financial, emotional, and psychological toll this fight has taken on her family.

"My family and I have endured a three-decade ordeal at the hands of Mumia Abu-Jamal, his attorneys and his supporters, who in many cases never even took the time to educate themselves about the case before lending their names, giving their support and advocating for his freedom," she said.

She has also been a prisoner.

"The death penalty is often a lengthy and disappointing quest that does no one, really, any service," says Mr Dieter. "Once you get started on the death penalty, all bets are off. It's all about the defendant and nothing about the victim for years. It's a tease at best. At worst it's a disservice."

check. your. facts.

always go to the SOurce.

you need three.

i am one.

It's your #MOVE

His name was Vincent. He died along with a piece of my childhood. Don't color me crazy, yet. Besides, crazy makes a great defense.

when you play at this level, and live to talk about IT? You get three choices [if you live to talk about it...

a. Club Med
b. Club Fed
c. Club Head

#DeepBlack Cold Witness onamove....

EL DANI-EL Durant [look it up~ here's a clue... there is ONLY one Elyssa Durant in the entire United States... you can verify that with the attorney of record in Virginia.

STAND DOWN... cut all networks... you are fucking with federal documents... obstruction of justice? tampering with evidence? Get the fuck off MY PC.

sick and tired of playing Man In The Middle... and this property is UNDER SURVEILLANCE!

judgment, truth, balance and discipline

Elohim Emet
Dan-I-El
Hangman 11

I have a brother who needs US today. Tomorrow may be too late...

#chosen

Posted via email from DailyDDoSe

Thursday, November 10, 2011

DailyDDoSe: Stop and Stare: Peace Offering [musical prelude]

"Stop & Stare"

This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us
It's time to make our move, I'm shaking off the rust
I've got my heart set on anywhere but here
I'm staring down myself, counting up the years
Steady hands, just take the wheel...
And every glance is killing me
Time to make one last appeal... for the life I lead

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be, oh
Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you're here not there
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need
Oh, can you see what I see

They're trying to come back, all my senses push
Untie the weight bags, I never thought I could...
Steady feet, don't fail me now
Gonna run till you can't walk
Something pulls my focus out
And I'm standing down...

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be, oh
Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you're here not there
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need
Oh, you don't need

What you need, what you need...

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be
Oh, do you see what I see...

Thanks to El, Alex, thisisjeremy, picard2002 for correcting these lyrics.

Posted via email from pwned

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Reality Bytes: The Roof is On Fire

Monday, October 5, 2009

The Roof is On Fire

The APPEAL had given me for the thirteen months I actually believed somebody was listening. WRONG AGAIN! That false strength I kept in reserve to keep going was the part of me that needed to believe that I haven't lost everything. It gave a false sense that somebody was actually listening.


I WAS WRONG.... THE APPEAL WAS NEVER REVIEWED. AND NO ONE SEEMS TO GIVE A DAMN THAT THIRTEEN MONTHS HAVE PASSED, AND MY BENEFITS ARE MORE SCREWED UP THAN EVER!

So listen carefully, my friends. It was not too long ago that I had almost everything a young person needs to succeed in this world.

Or maybe not.


As for my most current insurance dispute... I feel that I have done everything humanly possible to be sympathetic towards health care provider who is NOT providing care. I cannot sacrifice my own well being for every bright eyed bushy tailed wanna be who is too stupid to see that I am far from.

I had such a battle this week. It culminated in the end like every other battle I have taken on. I only won because ultimately but we are all losing.


For every underqualified, health care provider who has NOT provided the adequate, there are many more like me. Alienated just enough to give up on fashion, etiquette and social norms; but not enough to walk away from it all.
We are keeping watch. We are taking names, and I for one do not give a rat's ass about "keeping the peace."


Having been on both sides if the proverbial couch, I have the perspective is both enlightening and scary at the same time.


I look back and want to say shout "told you so" from the nearest roof top.


Crazy is crazy does... out loud. I may be enjoying this just a little too much.

Sometimes I try to look at this fight, (I meant to say this life) objectively.


I can see my own future, and I can see where it is taking me. I know how it will end if I don't keep up the pace.

It is amazing at how far we will go to have nothing at all.

I have come this far, and on some level I almost enjoy the dance. No. On some level, I actually love the dance.

But then there are days like this.

Because without this turmoil, this exercise in futility, absurdity, government waste, bureaucracy, irreverent disregard for basic human kindness, decency and humanity-- and all long to go to the kind of place I hear about ain Fairy Tales .

He speaks of a place called Neverland.  You see, I don't know the story of Peter Pan, Captain Hook, and I have no idea who Wendy is. Of course I've heard of Tink (though I hear she is a pain in the ass ;) but only because I like glitter pens and fairy dust. I don't know these things, because I don't know the innocence, the purity, the make believe world of childhood. I never had one.

I knew cruelty... and though I am not cruel, this is who I am at this very moment: Dark, discouraged, and deeply disappointed.

What if this is all that there is for me? If I can never break free from this cycle of insanity, and trust me when I say the insanity I speak of is NOT in my head. We have all heard the expression insanity is the sane response to insane surroundings; let me assure that there are very few cases that rival mine. I am the stuff psychologists, sociologists, and the occult speak of behind closed doors. My sister and I were raised this way. She may be a lawyer, she may have good credit, she may have a lot of things, but while my father took me to see the same shrink that treated Danton, Milken, Masrtronardo and more, he took her to see a psychiatrist who specialized in serial killers.

So I wonder, and you should too... did he take us there to be healed or did he take us there to create our futures? I will never be good enough for him. Thank god jesus allah and the power invested in this little stupid wifi device... his vision of us, his vision of U.S. is wrong.

I know this now. I didn't know then. I have proof now. I hardly even need it. It all out in the open and I am glad. Never again should the FBI create hatred, men so indoctrinated by power that they have such little regard for human life that they treat their children the same way they treated John Africa and the thirteen members of MOVE the day the Powers That Beat decided it was long overdue to take John Africa out. So what if thirteen people died with him... who cares about the 5 children who died alog with him?

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. We don't need no water let the mother fucker burn,  Burn, mother fucker, burn. 

And they did.  And they died. May 13, 1985.

Burned forever in my mind, and it should be in yours too. OUR COUNTRY. OUR PEOPLE. OUR GOVERNMENT.

FUCK YOU AMERICA! FUCK THE US FOR FUCKING US ALL!  And thank you daddy, for letting me in on the secret.  Now what? 

What else would call if not the City of Brotherly Love? ON A MOVE...

I do. Because my daddy told me to shoot them ya know... just in case. Daddy lost his first and only trial and the CITY of Philadelphia decided it was time to take him out.

No. I won't give up now. I could be next! (As I laugh my fucking ass off!!!!!)

What if I have nothing left? What if the Hook does NOT bring me back?

This demonstration and project in futility and determination has defined me for so long, that without it, I'm not sure if I am anything at all.
fuck that... yeah... Reality Bytes. But I won't play dead, and I won't pretend my name is not Elyssa Danielle Durant. My Daddy changed his, my gold-digging bitch of a mother changed her name 5 times, now with $250K invested in it, her face and her body are quite lovely too.



Mumia is STILL on death row. The 39th District is corrupt to the core. The MAYOR dropped the bomb. May 13, 1985. No longer sealed, and I am no longer hiding, Now I know, why my life stopped when it was about to start. I know the truth, and the feds know I'm certifiable. So you decide...



~~~~~this where I must break~~~ all in due time my friends~~~~



I can't lose what I never had. I won’t be another sell-out... mostly because I don't know how.

I am then the voice of perseverance. I am one voice of perseverance. I am one of 47 million Americans. And today I am I am still fighting the good fight.

This battle; this challenge; this half won war this fight has come to define me. And without that, I am not really much of anything at all...

As someone once told me, if you don’t stand for something, you will fall for anything. I've already fallen, but I sure as shit stand for something.



"...so for now, I write. Maybe later read.  I am always listening. But if there is any justice left in this world, maybe someday, I might actually live."

That's a;; for now, folks. I think I'll tweet a bit.  I think I've earned it the right to play a little.  Can't go anywhere anyway.  License suspended (thanks again dad! You can manage to moved 1.3 million dollars into two separate trusts within one hour of TRO, but you it takes 22 days to hand over the $4.50 I needed to avoid eviction and 6 months homelessness?)  


You must be so proud. I'm finally doing you ordered me to do long ago. Fighting for myself, because you made it clear you will never do it for me.  Lesson learned. Bring it on. Again.  This time I know what t expect.


Elyssa Durant
Nashville, Tennessee

[Parts previously posted at United Professionals under: An Appalling Appeal]

1 comments:

landscraper said...

hifrommes;your sufferin soul ashines so manys lifes truths from our freezin world your skyclear words strenhths aflows like rivers jumppin rocks..wow is reads your thoughts and feel the life you are.
isa sends yous ahumblethankyos.
ps. love your shine

Posted via email from ElyssaD's Posterous

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

AUGUST 1977 [imHo-- more biased than the judge, the jury, FiveSquad, and Frank Rizzo himself]

RON WILLIAMS / Philadelphia Jounral via UPI
Police and firefighters duck after others were hit by gunfire at the start of the Aug. 8, 1978, shoot-out. Officer James Ramp was killed and many others were injured.
1 of 13

Cop’s death in ‘78 clash was a spark

"OH MY GOD! They shot a cop!"

I shouted into the phone to a Daily News editor who was taking notes as police surrounded the MOVE compound in Powelton Village.

Cops were trying to get the radical cult members to drop their weapons and come out of the basement with their children.

Suddenly, gunshots came from the basement window of the MOVE house.

From a third-floor apartment window, I looked down to where stakeout cop James Ramp was slowly kneeling to take a shooting position on the sidewalk with others. Ramp abruptly fell backward, blood coming out of his mouth.

It was 8:15 a.m. on Aug. 8, 1978, in the first armed battle between MOVE and the Philadelphia Police Department. Ramp was killed and 16 cops and firefighters were injured.

At 6 a.m., an officer had read a warrant and ordered the MOVE members to surrender, then Msgr. Charles Devlin, of the Cardinal's Commission on Human Relations, and many others appealed to MOVE to end the siege.

"Please on behalf of everything that is sane and honest, send out the children," said Devlin.

Bulldozers shoved away the parapet where for 15 months MOVE had threatened a showdown if four of their members weren't released from prison. Using a battering ram, flak-jacketed cops rammed the front, side and basement windows, then a wall, revealing a bag of onions, peanut butter, potatoes and waxed paper.

Deluge tanks were positioned close to the house, where they discharged columns of water directly into the basement.

Hundreds of rats and dozens of dogs emerged from the house all morning, eventually followed by 11 MOVE members and 11 children.

But the rage felt by some police upset by the death of one of their own was saved for the vitriolic Delbert Orr Africa, an ex-Black Panther member and Army vet who counted dead soldiers before shipping them home from Vietnam.

When Delbert Africa climbed through the basement window, a cop grabbed his dreadlocks, dragging him down the street, while others kicked and pounded his body. Other officers jumped the cops to pull them off.

Daily News photographer Norman Lono, who had hidden in the shower of the same apartment as I had, documented the horror from beginning to end.

The next morning I awoke screaming from the images of war. Covering MOVE was a recurring nightmare.

 

The siege begins

 

Only 15 months earlier during a nine-hour standoff with police, 18 MOVE members, in tan fatigues and black berets, brandished rifles and handguns on the parapet at the MOVE compound, a twin house illegally taken over at 33rd and Pearl streets.

They demanded that four jailed members be freed and threatened to kill city officials, judges, cops and reporters. After nine hours, Civil Affairs Inspector George Fencl persuaded the members to put away their weapons.

From that day on - May 20, 1977 - police began a 24-hour surveillance of MOVE, whose members relished the attention and publicity, and incited crowds with racial epithets and harangues against city officials.

When I wrote about their exploits - their arsenal, their bombs, the beating of neighbors, their finances, their drug dealing and their relocation of a few members to a Richmond, Va., property - in the Daily News, I garnered their ire, harassment and a place on their hit list, which included the mayor, the police commissioner, the district attorney and other city officials.

MOVE was co-founded in 1971-72 by a third-grade dropout, the bearded, slightly built brown-skinned Vincent Lopez Leaphart, once known as the "dog man" for surrounding himself with dogs, and by Donald Glassey, a white social-work graduate student at the University of Pennsylvania.

As a MOVE founder "John Africa," Leaphart told his rambling, disjointed thoughts to Glassey, who researched them and wrote them down.

In the early days, the ragtag members demonstrated against the Philadelphia Zoo over the caging of animals, at a pet store, as well as against celebrities, leftists and community leaders. They were arrested hundreds of times, mostly on misdemeanors, clogging the court system.

An underground newspaper, the Drummer, and a police-intelligence white paper arrived at the same conclusion: The group was reactionary and potentially fascist.

Leaphart had urged his four dozen disciples, many from his own family, to prepare for Armageddon since the summer of 1976, after a bitter protest at the 17th Police District in South Philadelphia.

Members spent hours reciting "The Book," snippets of the bizarre theories of Leaphart. They wanted to take civilization back to a primitive culture. They said their name was "Life," and their age was "one," because "life has no beginning and no end."

They said that they'd obey only the "law of nature," and that was anything they claimed it to be. They threw their garbage in the yard, where rats and other vermin bred, causing neighbors to complain. Then they beat up their neighbors, yet refused to kill rats.

To prepare for battle, John Africa directed MOVE members to operate in cells without knowledge of what each other was doing. They rigorously exercised and sparred regularly, nearly beating on each other to toughen themselves.

Their lexicon was a game of semantics. They used "tools," but the same implements in the hands of police were called "weapons."

In 1976, Janine Africa claimed her infant had been killed in a scuffle with police, but a former MOVE member later said the baby had been stillborn. MOVE invited city officials to their house, where they saw a dead baby lying on a straw-like bed. Later in a tug-of-war with the Medical Examiner's Office, MOVE refused to give pathologists the corpse for an autopsy.

By August 1977, agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF) seized MOVE's arsenal: 11 weapons including rifles; 49 pipe bombs and parts; gun powder; chemicals, and books to make bombs. A federal grand jury indicted 11 members on bomb-plot charges.

Mayor Frank Rizzo promised to "show them more firepower than they've ever seen," and MOVE members threatened to "cycle" - or kill - their naked children if city inspectors or officials came near.

MOVE, meantime, had dug a tunnel from their compound to the basement of a store and could crawl out of a vent on to Powelton Avenue a half block away.

After the mayor barricaded a four-block area around the MOVE compound for 56 days, Rizzo vowed he'd "starve them out." Numerous people, concerned about MOVE children inside, tried to end the siege, including City Council members, community leaders, drug dealers and attorneys. The result: Members received boxes of requested raw vegetables.

In early May 1978, a settlement appeared to have been reached. MOVE members turned in weapons - mostly broken - and agreed to be charged with offenses and the barricade was lifted.

To the public, it appeared as if Rizzo had won, but there was more to the deal.

As members left the compound to surrender to police, four long-jailed MOVE members who had just been released from city prisons as an unpublicized part of the deal stood waving at them from 33rd Street and Powelton Avenue.

The concession was a victory for MOVE after the 15-month standoff.

Emboldened by their win, MOVE members reneged on their promise and refused to leave the compound on Aug. 1, 1978. Seven days later came the shoot-out in which Officer Ramp was killed.

During the 19-week trial that followed, Ramona Johnson, a Temple University student who had intended to become a lawyer, served as a liaison between the jailed MOVE members and their lawyers. She would later become Ramona Africa, a spokeswoman for the group.

On May 8, 1980, nine MOVE members were convicted of third-degree murder in Ramp's death and sentenced to 30 to 100 years in state prison.

At last, there was peace.

But in 1981, an ATF squad led by agent Walter Wasyluk arrested John Africa and several MOVE members, then shorn of their dreadlocks, without incident in Rochester, N.Y., where they had bought a piece of the American dream: a half-dozen properties, a luncheonette and an auto-body shop.

Earlier they had obtained property in Virginia.

Inside the Rochester Police Department building, the MOVE members resorted to their old behavior, spouting claims of police brutality and refusing to be fingerprinted in the federal bombmaking case stemming from the seizure of weapons in 1977.

Wasyluk appealed to John Africa for quiet. John Africa raised his hand in a salute, silencing his followers.


 

During John Africa's 10-day trial here, in which he was cleared of bomb-making charges, MOVE members filled the courtroom. After testimony one afternoon, the hall was filled with agents, attorneys and MOVE members.

I was interviewing John Africa's sisters, LaVerne Sims and Louise James, who were also MOVE members, when I suddenly looked up and realized the agents and attorneys were gone.

I was alone in the hall with Louise and LaVerne, 16 other MOVE members and Mumia Abu-Jamal, a radio reporter for WHYY who recently had grown his hair in dreadlocks. I knew I was hated by MOVE, after being on their hit list in 1978.

They surrounded me and began pummeling me with their hands and grabbing at my notebook. I tried to shield my face and moved toward the wall, holding onto the notebook.

Abu-Jamal shouted repeatedly: "Get her! Get her! Get her!"

The MOVE members continued to hit me on the back, as I inched closer and closer to the door to the judge's chambers.

I was pounding on the door as they were hitting me. Finally, a court officer opened the door, looked around at the MOVE members and saw me and let me inside.

When I returned to the Daily News, I told managing editor Zack Stalberg what had just happened. I didn't want to stop covering the story, and I didn't care if Abu-Jamal had a different angle on a story.

But I was upset that another reporter, Abu-Jamal, would incite MOVE members to assault me.

Stalberg called WHYY to file a complaint about Abu-Jamal's behavior. Apparently, WHYY was having its own problems with him.

The next time I would hear of him was eight months later, when he was charged with fatally shooting Officer Daniel Faulkner at 13th and Locust streets. Abu-Jamal had been driving a taxi after he lost his job at WHYY.

Abu-Jamal was convicted of the murder and sentenced to death. During his time on death row, he became an international cause célèbre and sought to become an honorary member of the Newspaper Guild of Greater Philadelphia, where I was a Local 10 vice president.

And he later tried to become an honorary member of the Communications Workers of America, with which the Guild had merged.

His attempt to boost journalism credentials through union membership failed on both counts.


 

As the second wave of supporters joined the MOVE cause, some were paying more attention to the "Free Mumia"campaign than they were to the nine MOVE members who had been convicted of Ramp's murder.

After his '81 bomb-making acquittal, John Africa moved into his sister Louise's home at 6221 Osage Ave., where she was caring for the MOVE children of imprisoned members.

Soon, James' home became MOVE headquarters.

John Africa, however, was becoming more irrational, and at his direction, James' son, Frank James Africa, evicted his feisty, outspoken 4-foot-10 mother from her house, chasing her down the street with a wooden club.

By then, MOVE's legal runner had changed her name to Ramona Africa and moved into the Osage Street house. Meantime, MOVE members tried various ways to spring jailed members sentenced in Ramp's killing.

Their ploys included:

_ Sending death threats to 10 judges who had convicted MOVE members unless they reversed their convictions.

_ Meeting with ATF agent Wasyluk in a bid to recruit him as a supporter. Instead, Wasyluk wanted to reopen an investigation into MOVE, but ATF nixed it.

_ Meeting with various city and law-enforcement officials in a vain attempt to gain support for MOVE.

Meantime, appeals of the Ramp-related convictions reached the state Supreme Court, but the high court refused to overturn their convictions.

When direct pressure on authorities failed, MOVE began building a rooftop bunker, arming themselves and returning to a tactic that had been successful in the past: harassing their neighbors so they would pressure the city.

 

http://www.philly.com/dailynews/special/20100506_Cops_death_in_78_clash_was_a...

read these comments, anD tell these people to kindly bend over and kiss my white ivy league ass.... and maybe one day, when they grow a set, tell them... they can contact me directly... unlike these motherfucking cowards.... I USE MY REAL NAME. Take your best shot, I guarantee, mine is better...

Till then... I'll be waiting. Writing right. Righting wrongs.

http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/news/local-beat/Move-25-Years-Later-Barger-937...

headflame1

What a terrible day for our law enforcement officers. These MOVE people should have been removed from that house WAY before that terrible day. The city was afraid of them. so the good, hard working people who lived in that neighborhood had to put up with MOVE's antics. then, the city paid MOVE money! What a disgrace. They should not have gotten a dime.
2:31 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditGhost_of_Generic

May 13, 1985: greatest day ever
3:37 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditduke22 no one cares a bunch of blacks broke the law and they died!! good!! i wish it were more!!!!!!!
3:44 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditduke22 i wish there were 100 c.0.0.n.s that died!!!!!!!
3:44 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditduke22 its amazing, no c.0.0.n can afford a computer to post back!!!!! you should just steal one, what elase is new!!!
3:46 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditduke22 i cant wait till the revolution!!!!!!!! WHITE POWER!!!!!!!!
3:48 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditmsviki kiss our black a$$es Duke22, you are the c.o.o.n.
4:11 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditmsviki albiet you are mad as hell we got a black president too, huh? racist idiot.
4:12 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditmsviki God will show you the error of your ways soon enough.
4:13 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditanonymous "We got a black president" Listen to yourself! I can haz education?

http://www.philly.com/dailynews/special/20100506_Cops_death_in_78_clash_was_a...

Posted via email from ElyssaD's Posterous

Monday, August 16, 2010

AUGUST 1977 [imHo-- more biased than the judge, the jury, FiveSquad, and Frank Rizzo himself]

RON WILLIAMS / Philadelphia Jounral via UPI
Police and firefighters duck after others were hit by gunfire at the start of the Aug. 8, 1978, shoot-out. Officer James Ramp was killed and many others were injured.
1 of 13

Cop’s death in ‘78 clash was a spark

"OH MY GOD! They shot a cop!"

I shouted into the phone to a Daily News editor who was taking notes as police surrounded the MOVE compound in Powelton Village.

Cops were trying to get the radical cult members to drop their weapons and come out of the basement with their children.

Suddenly, gunshots came from the basement window of the MOVE house.

From a third-floor apartment window, I looked down to where stakeout cop James Ramp was slowly kneeling to take a shooting position on the sidewalk with others. Ramp abruptly fell backward, blood coming out of his mouth.

It was 8:15 a.m. on Aug. 8, 1978, in the first armed battle between MOVE and the Philadelphia Police Department. Ramp was killed and 16 cops and firefighters were injured.

At 6 a.m., an officer had read a warrant and ordered the MOVE members to surrender, then Msgr. Charles Devlin, of the Cardinal's Commission on Human Relations, and many others appealed to MOVE to end the siege.

"Please on behalf of everything that is sane and honest, send out the children," said Devlin.

Bulldozers shoved away the parapet where for 15 months MOVE had threatened a showdown if four of their members weren't released from prison. Using a battering ram, flak-jacketed cops rammed the front, side and basement windows, then a wall, revealing a bag of onions, peanut butter, potatoes and waxed paper.

Deluge tanks were positioned close to the house, where they discharged columns of water directly into the basement.

Hundreds of rats and dozens of dogs emerged from the house all morning, eventually followed by 11 MOVE members and 11 children.

But the rage felt by some police upset by the death of one of their own was saved for the vitriolic Delbert Orr Africa, an ex-Black Panther member and Army vet who counted dead soldiers before shipping them home from Vietnam.

When Delbert Africa climbed through the basement window, a cop grabbed his dreadlocks, dragging him down the street, while others kicked and pounded his body. Other officers jumped the cops to pull them off.

Daily News photographer Norman Lono, who had hidden in the shower of the same apartment as I had, documented the horror from beginning to end.

The next morning I awoke screaming from the images of war. Covering MOVE was a recurring nightmare.

 

The siege begins

 

Only 15 months earlier during a nine-hour standoff with police, 18 MOVE members, in tan fatigues and black berets, brandished rifles and handguns on the parapet at the MOVE compound, a twin house illegally taken over at 33rd and Pearl streets.

They demanded that four jailed members be freed and threatened to kill city officials, judges, cops and reporters. After nine hours, Civil Affairs Inspector George Fencl persuaded the members to put away their weapons.

From that day on - May 20, 1977 - police began a 24-hour surveillance of MOVE, whose members relished the attention and publicity, and incited crowds with racial epithets and harangues against city officials.

When I wrote about their exploits - their arsenal, their bombs, the beating of neighbors, their finances, their drug dealing and their relocation of a few members to a Richmond, Va., property - in the Daily News, I garnered their ire, harassment and a place on their hit list, which included the mayor, the police commissioner, the district attorney and other city officials.

MOVE was co-founded in 1971-72 by a third-grade dropout, the bearded, slightly built brown-skinned Vincent Lopez Leaphart, once known as the "dog man" for surrounding himself with dogs, and by Donald Glassey, a white social-work graduate student at the University of Pennsylvania.

As a MOVE founder "John Africa," Leaphart told his rambling, disjointed thoughts to Glassey, who researched them and wrote them down.

In the early days, the ragtag members demonstrated against the Philadelphia Zoo over the caging of animals, at a pet store, as well as against celebrities, leftists and community leaders. They were arrested hundreds of times, mostly on misdemeanors, clogging the court system.

An underground newspaper, the Drummer, and a police-intelligence white paper arrived at the same conclusion: The group was reactionary and potentially fascist.

Leaphart had urged his four dozen disciples, many from his own family, to prepare for Armageddon since the summer of 1976, after a bitter protest at the 17th Police District in South Philadelphia.

Members spent hours reciting "The Book," snippets of the bizarre theories of Leaphart. They wanted to take civilization back to a primitive culture. They said their name was "Life," and their age was "one," because "life has no beginning and no end."

They said that they'd obey only the "law of nature," and that was anything they claimed it to be. They threw their garbage in the yard, where rats and other vermin bred, causing neighbors to complain. Then they beat up their neighbors, yet refused to kill rats.

To prepare for battle, John Africa directed MOVE members to operate in cells without knowledge of what each other was doing. They rigorously exercised and sparred regularly, nearly beating on each other to toughen themselves.

Their lexicon was a game of semantics. They used "tools," but the same implements in the hands of police were called "weapons."

In 1976, Janine Africa claimed her infant had been killed in a scuffle with police, but a former MOVE member later said the baby had been stillborn. MOVE invited city officials to their house, where they saw a dead baby lying on a straw-like bed. Later in a tug-of-war with the Medical Examiner's Office, MOVE refused to give pathologists the corpse for an autopsy.

By August 1977, agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF) seized MOVE's arsenal: 11 weapons including rifles; 49 pipe bombs and parts; gun powder; chemicals, and books to make bombs. A federal grand jury indicted 11 members on bomb-plot charges.

Mayor Frank Rizzo promised to "show them more firepower than they've ever seen," and MOVE members threatened to "cycle" - or kill - their naked children if city inspectors or officials came near.

MOVE, meantime, had dug a tunnel from their compound to the basement of a store and could crawl out of a vent on to Powelton Avenue a half block away.

After the mayor barricaded a four-block area around the MOVE compound for 56 days, Rizzo vowed he'd "starve them out." Numerous people, concerned about MOVE children inside, tried to end the siege, including City Council members, community leaders, drug dealers and attorneys. The result: Members received boxes of requested raw vegetables.

In early May 1978, a settlement appeared to have been reached. MOVE members turned in weapons - mostly broken - and agreed to be charged with offenses and the barricade was lifted.

To the public, it appeared as if Rizzo had won, but there was more to the deal.

As members left the compound to surrender to police, four long-jailed MOVE members who had just been released from city prisons as an unpublicized part of the deal stood waving at them from 33rd Street and Powelton Avenue.

The concession was a victory for MOVE after the 15-month standoff.

Emboldened by their win, MOVE members reneged on their promise and refused to leave the compound on Aug. 1, 1978. Seven days later came the shoot-out in which Officer Ramp was killed.

During the 19-week trial that followed, Ramona Johnson, a Temple University student who had intended to become a lawyer, served as a liaison between the jailed MOVE members and their lawyers. She would later become Ramona Africa, a spokeswoman for the group.

On May 8, 1980, nine MOVE members were convicted of third-degree murder in Ramp's death and sentenced to 30 to 100 years in state prison.

At last, there was peace.

But in 1981, an ATF squad led by agent Walter Wasyluk arrested John Africa and several MOVE members, then shorn of their dreadlocks, without incident in Rochester, N.Y., where they had bought a piece of the American dream: a half-dozen properties, a luncheonette and an auto-body shop.

Earlier they had obtained property in Virginia.

Inside the Rochester Police Department building, the MOVE members resorted to their old behavior, spouting claims of police brutality and refusing to be fingerprinted in the federal bombmaking case stemming from the seizure of weapons in 1977.

Wasyluk appealed to John Africa for quiet. John Africa raised his hand in a salute, silencing his followers.


 

During John Africa's 10-day trial here, in which he was cleared of bomb-making charges, MOVE members filled the courtroom. After testimony one afternoon, the hall was filled with agents, attorneys and MOVE members.

I was interviewing John Africa's sisters, LaVerne Sims and Louise James, who were also MOVE members, when I suddenly looked up and realized the agents and attorneys were gone.

I was alone in the hall with Louise and LaVerne, 16 other MOVE members and Mumia Abu-Jamal, a radio reporter for WHYY who recently had grown his hair in dreadlocks. I knew I was hated by MOVE, after being on their hit list in 1978.

They surrounded me and began pummeling me with their hands and grabbing at my notebook. I tried to shield my face and moved toward the wall, holding onto the notebook.

Abu-Jamal shouted repeatedly: "Get her! Get her! Get her!"

The MOVE members continued to hit me on the back, as I inched closer and closer to the door to the judge's chambers.

I was pounding on the door as they were hitting me. Finally, a court officer opened the door, looked around at the MOVE members and saw me and let me inside.

When I returned to the Daily News, I told managing editor Zack Stalberg what had just happened. I didn't want to stop covering the story, and I didn't care if Abu-Jamal had a different angle on a story.

But I was upset that another reporter, Abu-Jamal, would incite MOVE members to assault me.

Stalberg called WHYY to file a complaint about Abu-Jamal's behavior. Apparently, WHYY was having its own problems with him.

The next time I would hear of him was eight months later, when he was charged with fatally shooting Officer Daniel Faulkner at 13th and Locust streets. Abu-Jamal had been driving a taxi after he lost his job at WHYY.

Abu-Jamal was convicted of the murder and sentenced to death. During his time on death row, he became an international cause célèbre and sought to become an honorary member of the Newspaper Guild of Greater Philadelphia, where I was a Local 10 vice president.

And he later tried to become an honorary member of the Communications Workers of America, with which the Guild had merged.

His attempt to boost journalism credentials through union membership failed on both counts.


 

As the second wave of supporters joined the MOVE cause, some were paying more attention to the "Free Mumia"campaign than they were to the nine MOVE members who had been convicted of Ramp's murder.

After his '81 bomb-making acquittal, John Africa moved into his sister Louise's home at 6221 Osage Ave., where she was caring for the MOVE children of imprisoned members.

Soon, James' home became MOVE headquarters.

John Africa, however, was becoming more irrational, and at his direction, James' son, Frank James Africa, evicted his feisty, outspoken 4-foot-10 mother from her house, chasing her down the street with a wooden club.

By then, MOVE's legal runner had changed her name to Ramona Africa and moved into the Osage Street house. Meantime, MOVE members tried various ways to spring jailed members sentenced in Ramp's killing.

Their ploys included:

_ Sending death threats to 10 judges who had convicted MOVE members unless they reversed their convictions.

_ Meeting with ATF agent Wasyluk in a bid to recruit him as a supporter. Instead, Wasyluk wanted to reopen an investigation into MOVE, but ATF nixed it.

_ Meeting with various city and law-enforcement officials in a vain attempt to gain support for MOVE.

Meantime, appeals of the Ramp-related convictions reached the state Supreme Court, but the high court refused to overturn their convictions.

When direct pressure on authorities failed, MOVE began building a rooftop bunker, arming themselves and returning to a tactic that had been successful in the past: harassing their neighbors so they would pressure the city.

 

http://www.philly.com/dailynews/special/20100506_Cops_death_in_78_clash_was_a...

read these comments, anD tell these people to kindly bend over and kiss my white ivy league ass.... and maybe one day, when they grow a set, tell them... they can contact me directly... unlike these motherfucking cowards.... I USE MY REAL NAME. Take your best shot, I guarantee, mine is better...

Till then... I'll be waiting. Writing right. Righting wrongs.

http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/news/local-beat/Move-25-Years-Later-Barger-937...

headflame1

What a terrible day for our law enforcement officers. These MOVE people should have been removed from that house WAY before that terrible day. The city was afraid of them. so the good, hard working people who lived in that neighborhood had to put up with MOVE's antics. then, the city paid MOVE money! What a disgrace. They should not have gotten a dime.
2:31 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditGhost_of_Generic

May 13, 1985: greatest day ever
3:37 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditduke22 no one cares a bunch of blacks broke the law and they died!! good!! i wish it were more!!!!!!!
3:44 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditduke22 i wish there were 100 c.0.0.n.s that died!!!!!!!
3:44 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditduke22 its amazing, no c.0.0.n can afford a computer to post back!!!!! you should just steal one, what elase is new!!!
3:46 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditduke22 i cant wait till the revolution!!!!!!!! WHITE POWER!!!!!!!!
3:48 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditmsviki kiss our black a$$es Duke22, you are the c.o.o.n.
4:11 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditmsviki albiet you are mad as hell we got a black president too, huh? racist idiot.
4:12 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditmsviki God will show you the error of your ways soon enough.
4:13 PM, 5.13.10

RejectEditanonymous "We got a black president" Listen to yourself! I can haz education?

http://www.philly.com/dailynews/special/20100506_Cops_death_in_78_clash_was_a...

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