American Scandal - ENCORE The Kidnapping of Patty Hearst | On the Road | 3

Episode Date: January 6, 2026

With the SLA in tatters, Patricia Hearst goes on the run. The FBI gets an unusual tip, one that promises a breakthrough.Be the first to know about Wondery’s newest podcasts, curated recommendations, and more! Sign up now at https://wondery.fm/wonderynewsletterListen to American Scandal on the Wondery App or wherever you get your podcasts. Experience all episodes ad-free and be the first to binge the newest season. Unlock exclusive early access by joining Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial today by visiting wondery.com/links/american-scandal/ now.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Want to get more from American Scandal? Subscribe to Wondry Plus for early access to new episodes, add free listening, and exclusive content you can't find anywhere else. Join Wondry Plus in the Wondry app or on Apple Podcasts. This episode previously aired in 2022. A listener note, this episode contains descriptions of violence and may not be suitable for a younger audience. It's the evening of May 17, 1974.

In a motel room in Anaheim, California, Patricia Hearst is sitting on a carpet watching the news. In a live broadcast, armed police officers in Los Angeles are swarming a residential neighborhood. A small yellow house is burning to the ground. And as billows of smoke drift into the sky, one of the TV commentators asks the question that seems to be on everyone's mind, has Patricia Hurst just died. Hurst sits up, disoriented by the surreal turn of events. Only minutes ago, the Corps members of the Symbianese Liberation Army got in a shootout with Los Angeles Police.

The two sides exchanged thousands of rounds. It was a chaotic battle with seemingly no end in sight. But the fight took a turn when the SLA's house suddenly burst into flames, growing into a raging Inferno. Hearst and two SLA members, Bill and Emily Harris, sat watching the violent spectacle on TV, and no one had to say what they were all thinking. Their comrades weren't going to survive. In the motel room, Hurst continues watching the coverage, her eyes glossy and blank. She knows she's at least partly responsible for the horrifying deaths they've just watched on live TV, the deaths of people like Kujo, Julina, and Sincu M. Tume, the leader of the SLA.

Just yesterday, Hurst was waiting in a van when Bill Harris tried to shoplift from a sporting goods store. He was caught in the act. But instead of letting him get arrested, Hurst pulled out a submachine gun and began firing at the store. The stunt broke up the scene, and Hurst and the Harris's went on the run. They didn't dare return to the SLA safehouse, and and danger the others. But despite their efforts, they couldn't stop the police from tracking down several members of the group. The police descended on the SLA's house, and soon TV journalists had their cameras rolling as the SLA opened fire on the police, leading to a long shootout, and a blaze that seems to have taken everyone's lives. The death and destruction

have left Hurst feeling sick with remorse for her role in the tragedy. She was never exactly a consenting member of the group. She had only joined after the SLA kidnapped her and kept her trapped in a dark closet, threatening to kill her. Still for months now, these political radicals have been her entire world. It seems her mother and father gave up trying to rescue her. And the FBI wants to prosecute Hearst for taking part in the SLA's bank robbery. And although the SLA had initially dressed her up in combat fatigues, imposed her for photos like a prop, they also fed her, housed her, and trained her to defend herself. They were her kidnappers, but she had also become their comrade.

Or at least, she used to have that feeling. The core members of the group are now likely dead, and Hearst doesn't know what's going to happen, what she and the other two remaining members should do, or whether this is the end of the SLA, and the beginning of a new chapter for Hearst. Hearst looks over at Bill Harris, who's still gazing at the TV.

Sincu warned about this. weren't about what? He said the biggest threat to my life wasn't the SLA, it was the police. I guess he was right. Yeah, of course he was right. It doesn't matter if your last name is Hurst. If you were in that house, you would have gone down with them. They don't care. The negotiators, they didn't say come out with Patty Hurst, we'll take you home. They would have killed me if they had the chance. Of course they would. It was just dumb luck you were sitting here in a motel. Well, I'm tired of sitting around in a motel. Oh, yeah? What do you want to do?

The cops, the FBI. They're all still looking for us. Hurst gets up and begins pacing. Let's get back to L.A. Do a search and destroy mission on the cops. You want to go up against the LAPD, the three of us. If we're going to go out, let's go out in a blaze of glory. The cops have to pay.

Harris, like many SLA members, has wondered if Hurst has only been playing the part of a violent radical, making it seem like she's ready to fight. Her fury now is clearly not entirely an act, But still, Harris doesn't seem convinced. No, we're not going up against the cops. Why not? Because what is it going to accomplish?

We're fighting a war. Yeah, but we're not just at war with the police. We're fighting oppression, pollution, capitalism, poverty. And shooting cops right now isn't going to accomplish anything on those fronts. Look, if you're scared, go ahead and say it. I'll be honest, I'm scared, but I'm still ready to fight. Now, come on. Hurst heads over to a nightstand.

grabs the car keys. But Harris stops her. No, you realize I'm the leader here. I was next in line after Sincu. Oh, you may think you're in charge, but have you ever fired a gun at someone? Because I have. As your leader, I'm telling you to stand down. This isn't the time to be cautious. Let me be clear. If I have to use a gun, I will. Stand down. That's an order. Stand down. Okay. Okay. Hearst takes a seat in an armchair and tries to calm herself to let go of the rage that's now coursing through her. Hurst never set out to be a radical activist. That role was forced on her after weeks spent in isolation

just trying to survive. But Hurst can feel that something inside her has shifted. Perhaps it's a political awakening, a dawning understanding of the world in all its horrors and inequities, a commitment to a cause bigger than herself, and a recognition that she can never go back, not back to her friends or family or her old life.

From Wondery, I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is American Scamp. By May of 1974, Patricia Hurst had undergone a dramatic transformation. The media heiress pledged herself to the radical ideology of her captors, the Symbionese Liberation Army. Her announcements shocked the American public, which had been following the saga of her captivity in newspapers and on TV. But after the course,

Four members of the SLA died, Hurst did not go back to her old life. Instead, she and her comrades, Bill and Emily Harris, went on the run. They traveled across the country, trying to find safe haven. And while the FBI had been stymied in their hunt for Patricia Hurst, the Bureau would soon catch a break, getting an unlikely tip that would lead them closer to America's most infamous fugitive. This is episode three, on the road. It's June 1974 in Berkeley, California. Jack Scott stumbles forward as he's led, blindfolded, into an apartment building on a quiet residential street. A woman's hand reaches out and steadies him, leading Scott up a staircase.

After stepping through a doorway, he's walked over to a chair and his blindfold is removed. For a moment, Scott is blinded by the natural light. But when his eyes adjust, he finds himself sitting face to face with the surviving members of the Symbianese Liberation Army. Scott can't help but let out a chuckle and surprise. Scott is an author and journalist who's grown fascinated by political stories, especially those that deal with left-wing ideology. And as far as he sees it, no story is more interesting or important than the SLA, and their kidnapping of Patricia Hurst. Hurst appears to have taken up her captor's revolutionary cause. It's unclear whether her change of heart is sincere or the result of

of brainwashing. But either way, now that Hearst and the surviving members of the SLA are on the run, the public is desperate for updates. So Scott made a move. The journalist contacted an old friend connected to a network of Bay Area radicals. This friend offered to lead Scott to some people who might be connected themselves to the SLA. Scott would have to wear a blindfold on his way to the meeting, and he wouldn't be told where he was going. But for Scott, the stipulations were fine, as long as they got him closer to the story. And right now, Scott can't believe his luck. He didn't expect to be meeting with the actual surviving members of the SLA. It's a rag-tag group, dressed in camouflage like soldiers. And one by one, they introduced themselves

by their adopted names, General Teco, Yolanda, and Tanya. Scott knows their actual names are Bill Harris, Emily Harris, and Patricia Hurst. But Scott has to earn the group's goodwill. So he addresses them by their names of choice and begins delivering his pitch. Scott explains that if the SLA tells him their story, he can share it with the rest of the world. He's a responsible journalist, and if they work together, the public will finally get the truth without any of the bias of the mainstream media. Scott surveys the group waiting for their approval, but Bill Harris is resistant. He tells Scott, we need a journalist like we need a hole in the head. What the group is really looking for is someone to help them get out of California so they can lie low.

They heard Scott could make that happen. Scott sinks into his seat. It is true that in the past, he has helped other radicals running from the law. But Scott doesn't want to remain in the business of transporting fugitives. That's too risky. At the same time, Scott doesn't want to give up the opportunity to interview Hearst and the SLA. So the journalist proposes what could be a good option. His wife rented a farm in Pennsylvania.

Maybe they could all head east and regroup in a more idyllic setting. They'd have to leave behind their weapons. There are no guns allowed on the farm. But they could all talk, share their stories, and they wouldn't risk being seen by a single police officer. Emily and Bill Harris appear to be interested in the plan. But when Scott turns to Patricia Hurst, there's a cold reluctance in her eyes. Hurst says there's no way they're giving up their guns.

Even if they're on a farm, they'll never be safe. The police are ruthless. And if the authorities do come for them, the SLA is prepared to use their firepower and avenge their comrades' deaths. Hearing this promise of violence, Scott has taken aback. He knew Hearst joined her captors, but he did not expect her to be the most aggressive or violent.

Scott tries to reassure Hurst that they'll be safe on the farm, but she remains stubborn and unyielding. In order to keep the door to this opportunity open, Scott tells Hurst how his family has a long history of helping revolutionaries. He promises the SLA is going to be okay. And besides, they can't remain hiding in North Berkeley forever. They stand a much greater chance of getting caught. Scott sits back, waiting to see if he got through.

Emily and Bill Harris both agree Pennsylvania is a good idea. But Patty Hurst still doesn't look happy. Eventually, though, she gives in and agrees. They'll head to Pennsylvania and stay there for a while, and Scott can be their shepherd. Scott smiles, they have a deal. A minute later, the four of them begin mapping out the details of the trip, how they'll get from Berkeley to rural Pennsylvania,

the techniques they'll use to avoid being spotted. It won't be easy. But if they're careful, they'll make it to Pennsylvania and be able to lay low, and Scott will have his interview with Patricia Hurst in a clearer picture of who she really is. Several days later, a Ford sedan rumbles down a highway heading east. It's late at night and nearly empty out on the rural patch of I-80, a road stretching all the way from San Francisco to New Jersey.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Lou Scott rolls down a window to get a little fresh air. Her husband, John, is at the wheel, and they've been driving for hours. Lou wouldn't mind taking a break, maybe stretching her legs or taking a short walk. But that's not part of the plan. Lou and her husband can't afford to stop the car unless it's absolutely necessary. In the back is one of the most infamous women in America. She's wearing a wig, along with padding over her stomach, to make her look pregnant. Still, there's no mistaking Patricia Hurst, the victim of a kidnapping,

and now the focus of dinner table conversations across the country. And although Hurst is a fugitive wanted by the FBI, Lou Scott doesn't have too many qualms about transporting her across the country. country. In part, she's doing it as a favor for her son. Jack Scott is a journalist, and getting an interview with Hearst and the SLA promised to be the story of a lifetime. Part of the agreement was the group had to get out of California, and the farm that Jack Scott's wife is renting in Pennsylvania was an obvious destination. But Lou Scott also has some sympathies for the SLA's ideology. Growing up in Ireland, Lou was no stranger to revolution. Her father was a founding member

of the IRA, the Irish paramilitary group fighting for independence. Lou's mother even hit Irish soldiers underneath her bed, keeping them safe from British patrols. Still for Lou, the story of Patricia Hurst seems to transcend politics. She may not have the same beliefs as someone like Hurst's mother, Catherine, but she is a mother herself, and she can only imagine the grief of losing a child. So while Lou and her husband agreed to drive Patricia Hurst across the country, they also came up with another plan. Once they had Hearst in the car, they would offer to give her a ride home,

putting an end to this whole ordeal. Lou turns from the front passenger seat, offering a tender smile. She addresses her as Patty and asks if they could talk for a moment. Hurst bristles when she hears her old name and demands to be called Tanya. Lou nods apologizing.

And addressing Hurst by her adopted name, Lou suggests an alternative. plan. They don't have to drive her to the farm. Not if Hearst doesn't want to go. And in fact, Lou and her husband were thinking they could just take her home, back to her old life. Lou's husband chimes in saying they'd also be happy to drive her to a hospital. She could get whatever medical or psychiatric help she might need. She could stop living a life on the run and get back to people who love and miss her. But the suggestion does not go over well with Hurst. with a sour look on her face

she says that her family doesn't miss her all they care about is their own wealth and bourgeois comfort and while it may sound simple, it's not Hearst is a wanted criminal the cops are not going to be sympathetic if she just checks herself into a hospital she'll be arrested and sent to jail

Lou Scott pushes back saying deals can be made and it's not inevitable that Hurst will be sent to jail but Hurst shakes her head and says no she won't do it She's not going back to her old life. The cops are out to get her, and if they try to arrest her, she's not going to lie down and take it. She'll put up a fight.

She might even have to sacrifice her own life. Lou and her husband try again to talk some sense into Hurst, but it doesn't take long to realize it's a lost cause. Lou turns back around, staring out at the empty highway. Up until now, she assumed there was still a fragment of the old Patricia Hurst, lying underneath her disguise as Tanya. but that person, whoever she was, may already be long gone. It's the summer of 1974 in Jeffersonville, New York. It's a humid afternoon, and Patricia Hurst is leaning against an old farmhouse trying to catch her breath. Insects buzz in her ear, and Hurst keeps scratching her ankles, trying to get rid of an itch that's been with her all day,

ever since she began a series of training exercises here in the woods. Hurst looks over at Wendy Yoshamura, a petite woman with chin-length black hair. Like Hurst, she's sweaty, swatting away bugs and exhausted. But both she and Hurst know they're probably not done for the day. All afternoon, these two women have been part of a small group running drills that new SLA leader Bill Harris has been leading, calling them search and destroy missions. The idea is to keep up their conditioning. The feds could show up at any minute, and Harris wants the group to be prepared.

But the drills have bordered on ridiculous. Hurst and the others have been chasing each other through the woods, carrying broomsticks like guns. They've pretended to fire off rounds. They've simulated getting shot and falling to the ground. There have been a lot of dramatic performances, a lot of make-belief. Hurst has struggled to buy into the whole routine. But she can't tell if these doubts are what the SLA calls bad think,

thoughts that have to be flushed away in order to carry out the group's noble struggle. Still, as Hearst begins talking with Yoshimura, she can see she's not entirely alone. Yoshimura is a fugitive herself. The journalist Jack Scott helped ferry her out of California, too, after her boyfriend was arrested for making bombs. Scott later asked Yoshimura to help the SLA keep a low profile on the farm, and although they come from different backgrounds, Hurst has found herself gravitating toward Yoshimura. For one, they're both frustrated with Bill Harris. The new leader of the SLA doesn't seem up to the task.

Beyond his childish training exercises, Harris is prone to mood swings, arrogance, and he can get out of control. After driving across the country from the Bay Area, Harris and the remaining members of the SLA arrived at the farmhouse Jack Scott's wife had been renting. But Harris broke one of the only rules in place, no weapons. So when Harris held target practice with a BB gun, the group was turned away and had to find another home.

They managed to find accommodations at an old one-room farmhouse in southeastern New York. But it's not a comfortable way to live. The mosquito bites are constant, and the house is decrepit. And it's all made worse by Bill Harris's silly exercises in the woods. But after so much traveling and so much frustration with the diminished state of the SLA, Hearst is glad to have found someone she connects with. Yoshimura seems like she could even be a friend. Hurst looks back out of the woods and snorts in disgust.

Wendy, I'm done. I don't think I can run one more drill. No kidding. We look like frazzled witches running around with these broomsticks. Like that's really going to help us if the fed show up. Yeah, but we can't stop. We do need to be able to fight. Otherwise, we'd be as good as dead if the police show up.

You really think those are the only two options? Hearst goes silent. She doesn't understand what Yoshimura is getting at. Maybe you do. Who told you those were the only options? Sincu. He said if cops show up, they'll attack us, so we had to be able to fight. Well, maybe Sincu didn't consider a third option.

What third option? What would you do if the Fed showed up? I'd walk out with my hands up. But Wendy, they'd shoot you right there. Maybe they would. But probably they wouldn't. No, you saw what happened. in L.A. Cops showed up and everyone was killed, just like Sincu said. Yeah, except the SLA

fired their guns first. Look, I don't know what you think. But if it were me, I'd surrender. I'd let them trot me off to prison. I'd do a little time, and then I'd get out. Now, Sincu says, if I went to prison, the pigs would torture me. Well, the alternative is dying. And if you're dead, you can't do much for the revolution, can you? No, of course not, but that's not the point. No, look, I'm going to tell you, fighting is easy. Anyone can pick up a gun, sacrifice their lives. What is harder is going on and actually fighting the system

while living, that is much more radical. Yoshamura heads inside the farmhouse, leaving hers by herself, staring off into the rolling green pastures. It's an uncomfortable thought, giving up and surrendering to the police. On a primal level, it feels wrong.

But Yoshimura might have a point. You cannot change anything about the world if you're dead. and even people behind bars eventually get out and start over. Hello, American Scandal listeners. I have an exciting announcement. I'm going on tour and coming to a theater near you. The very first show will be at the Granada Theater in Dallas, Texas on March 6th. It's going to be a thrilling evening of history, storytelling, and music with a full band behind me as we look back to explore the days that made America, and they aren't the days you might think. Sure, everyone knows July 4, 1776, but there are many other days that are maybe even more influential and certainly more scandalous. So come out to see me live in Dallas, or for information

on tickets and upcoming dates, go to American History Live.com. That's Americanhistorylive.com. Come see my Days that Made America Tour live on stage. Go to American History Live.com. It's early 1975 at an FBI office in San Francisco, California. The workday has already started, but Special Agent Charlie Bates is lying on his office couch, half asleep and hungover. Last night was another boozy occasion in the Hurst family library. It's been almost a year since Patricia Hurst was kidnapped, but Bates, the agent overseeing the case, could only give her family the same update as

always. The FBI has no news. And as always, Patricia Hurst's father, Randy, offered a stoic reply saying that no news is good news and then topping off their glasses with more scotch. Bates is now paying the prize for that drinking, but he still has to put in a full day of work. And so when there's a knock on the door, Bates groans tells whoever it is to come on in. A younger agent steps into the office and tells Bates they've gotten a new tip in the Hurst case. This one comes from police in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

Apparently, a drunken man walked into the station last night and said he knew where Patricia Hurst and the surviving members of the SLA have been hiding. Bates rubs his temples, trying to process this latest in an endless stream of farcical news. For months now, tips have been pouring in across the country. Bates estimates the Bureau has interviewed some 5,000 people just in the Bay Area alone. But all these have turned out to be false leads. Patty Hurst, the most famous kidnapping victim in the world, apparently no longer wants to be found. The FBI's reputation has been on the line, but even with the countless hours they've spent on the case,

the Bureau still has nothing, and they've begun to look like fools. So hearing this latest report out of Scranton, Bates starts to laugh. The case has already become a joke to the public. Now they're dealing with some drunk, telling tall tales and police stations. Bates tells the younger agent to file this one away along with all the other bad tips. But the younger agent doesn't budge. He says that the drunken man is named Walter Scott, and he claims it was his own parents who drove Patricia Hurst out to Pennsylvania

at the behest of his brother, a journalist. They took her to a farmhouse where she and the other SLA members kept a low profile. But this Scott guy seems to have an axe to grind with his family and is now spilling the beans. So even if he is a drunk, he may still have some credible information. Bates sits up a little more interested. This actually could be a breakthrough. But he asks one last question. Does this man Walter Scott know where the farmhouse is?

The younger agent nods, and that seals the deal. Bates orders a team out to Scranton to talk to Scott. It's probably another dead end. But if it's not, it could be a turning point for the case. Later that week, a burly FBI agent squints in the afternoon sun on a farm in rural Pennsylvania. The day is getting late, and the agent wants his colleagues to hurry up before nightfall. He doesn't want to lose another day. But the other agents have to work slowly and methodically.

They're searching for any clues that the Symbionese Liberation Army was recently in this house, and they can't afford to make mistakes. Finally, the last of the team members exits the farmhouse, and the Burley FBI agent looks down at the dog, standing by his side. The bloodhound has been trained to identify trace human smells. And when the agent snaps his fingers, the dog comes to attention. The agent then holds a silky pajama shirt to the bloodhound's nose. He comes from Hearst's apartment in Berkeley, a relic from the young woman's life before her kidnapping. The hound sniffs the shirt, and it sets its eyes on the farmhouse, his body

alert and focused. The FBI agent walks the dog inside. He's a man. He's a man. He says, he can tell this space was recently occupied. Dirty dishes are in the sink. Newspapers are strewn about. And as the bloodhound presses its wet nose to the floor and then to the furniture, its nostrils flare. But the hound doesn't yet detect Patty Hurst's unique scent. It's discouraging. There is a chance Hurst could have been here, but her scent has disappeared. Or she may never have been here. There's no way of knowing. But then the agent feels the dog leash go taut. The hound begins pulling toward the farmhouse staircase. The agent follows the dog up the stairs to the second floor. The hound now seems fixated, its nose moving back and forth, sniffing the air. It leads the

agent to a bedroom, where a mattress and crumpled sheets are on the floor. The dog buries its nose in the bedding, it sniffs hard, and then begins to bark. The FBI Bloodhound's alert indicates that Patricia Hurst was here in the bedroom. If so, it's a breakthrough in the case. And within moments, the forensic team files into the room dusting for fingerprints and bagging other evidence. They still have a lot of questions, including where Hurst and the SLA might have gone next, but for the first time they have a real path forward and a chance to make an arrest. It's the morning of April 21st, 1975, in Carmichael, California. In the driver's seat of a stolen van, Patricia Hurst stares out the window, her eyes train,

on the Crocker National Bank down the street. Hearst checks her watch. It's been more than 90 seconds, and it shouldn't be taking this long. Inside the bank, SLA member Emily Harris is leading a robbery. She's joined by a handful of leftist radicals who've teamed up with the SLA.

Hurst is driving the getaway vehicle. And like her accomplices, she's wearing a modest disguise, a floral blouse, sunglasses, and a brown wig. It is not the first time Hurst has been part of this kind of operation. A year ago, she and the SLA robbed another bank, an event that became a national sensation. And getting media coverage was exactly the point.

The SLA was performing an act of political theater, showing the country that Hurst had become a radical and a criminal. But this time, the group isn't trying to score headlines. They just need the money. It's only been half a year since Hurst, the Harris's, and the fugitive Wendy Yoshamura left the East Coast and headed back to California. Hearst knew it was a risky decision, but they were broke and stuck on a farm covered in mosquito bites. In California, they have social ties, connections, and a network of activists like the ones helping lead today's robbery.

Sitting in the driver's seat of the van, Hurst taps her fingers on the steering wheel. The group needs to hurry up and get out of the bank. They need to leave before the cops show up. Hearst has her eyes trained on the bank, when suddenly a Pontiac Firebird flies past the van. It's the robbery team. They're out of the bank, and the getaway mission has begun. Hearst turns the key in the ignition and takes off.

The plan is to meet up on another block, ditch the firebird, and escape in the van. Hearst turns a corner and pulls up alongside the firebird on an empty street. Emily Harris and three of their new comrades jump out. Then they race to the van and throw themselves in the backseat. Harris shuts the door. Go, go, go, go. Let's get out of here. Hearst guns it down the street, making a series of quick turns and merging into traffic. They should now be in the clear.

But Hurst notices the mood in the backseat is tense. All right, what happened? What's wrong? Harris waves away the question. Doesn't matter. Everything's fine. Everything's fine? What went on? Everything's fine. I'm sure she's going to live. Who's going to live? Tell me what happened. I don't want to get into it. Right now, just everyone take off our disguises.

Everyone in the back seat starts to undress. But as Hearst takes off her wig, she pauses looking back at Harris. Look, something went wrong and I deserve to know what. Someone got shot, okay? Some woman. Someone got shot? Who fired? I did. How? Look, I didn't mean to shoot her.

I told her to get down on the floor and she didn't move fast enough. I pushed her with the shot. gun and it went off. Hurst can't believe it. Oh, God, is she okay? I don't know. She's a bourgeois pig. It's karma. And that was her karma back there. Anyway, what do you want me to do? Turn around and give her mouth to mouth?

No, but if you remember, this is war. There are countless people out there, just like that woman, living with their heads buried in the sand. I tell you, she won't be missed. No, no. Look, it's true. And more important, you need to get out of that blouse before someone recognizes us. With one hand on the wheel, Hurst slips off the blouse and continues driving the van toward the safe house.

Soon they're out of traffic and back on to a quiet street. When Hearst parks the van, everyone hops out, happy to be back at the safe house. But Hurst is not feeling relieved. She has grown more radical in recent months, even threatening violence against the police.

But Hurst believes that that's a far different proposition than shooting a stranger at a bank, a woman who could have been poor, and striving for a little bit of dignity just like everyone else. Now that woman may be dead, and Hearst is painfully aware that she's an accomplice to the crime. It's the spring of 1975 in San Francisco. Randy Hurst pours a couple of drinks and heads over to a couch

where he takes a seat across from a man with thinning hair and oversized glasses. Jack Scott is a journalist and author. He's also a man who helps smuggle Randy's daughter Patricia across the country, allowing her to escape from the Bay Area. The FBI has been making threats against Scott for harboring Patricia, who's now a wanted criminal for her role in a bank robbery. But the writer has seemed unmoved. At a recent press conference, he even announced that he would never cooperate with the vets.

It was a bold stance. But Randy Hurst has a feeling he might be able to get Scott talking, maybe even gleaned some new information about his daughter and her whereabouts. Randy sets the drinks on a coffee table and takes a seat across from Scott. Well, Jack, I've been enjoying it, but I think we need to talk about something other than baseball. We both know the reason I invited you over. Yeah, of course. Let's get down to it. So, the first thing I'd like to know is how did Patty seem when you were with her?

Are you willing to talk with me about that? Scott shifts in his seat. Randy knows the journalist is going to be cagey. He doesn't want to incriminate himself. Well, that depends. You can report me to the FBI? No, no, I never would. This is just for me.

I'm a father who lost his daughter, trying to get her back. Well, I understand. But Randy, if the young woman I saw last summer was, in fact, your daughter, she's in good health, at least when I was with her. Okay. Thank you. But I did hear something rather upsetting. Is it true she's pregnant? I'm sorry. Where'd you hear that? Your brother. When he went to the police station and reported the group was on your farm, he said something about one of the women being pregnant. Am I mistaken? No, that was a disguise. Ah, good. That one kept me up at night. I can't imagine my daughter was carrying the child of one of her captors. Scott takes a sip from his drink and sets it back on the table.

Yeah, I can imagine this whole thing has been very taxing for you and your wife. Jack, do you have any kids? No, I don't. Then you can't even imagine. Every night I lie awake wondering, did my daughter actually join the Symbionese Liberation Army? Well, the woman I saw seemed very committed. I don't think she was faking it.

Well, that doesn't surprise me. Patricia has always been a rebel. Middle child, you know, they have to do something to stand out. Randy Hurst finishes his drink and mindlessly rotates the glass, watching the ice swirl. I suppose, Jack, it's only a matter of time now, isn't it? I'm sorry, until what? Until they find her? I mean, the feds have a trail of breadcrumbs.

Pretty soon someone in the SLA is going to slip up, and that'll be the end of the manhunt. And then we've got another problem, and this time with the FBI. You're concerned that Bureau is going to go after you? No, not me. My concern is that when Patty was first taken, the feds and I, we were on the same page. They saw her as an innocent victim, but they've changed their tune. Now Patty's some bank-robbing radical. They don't want to bring her home.

They want to send her to jail. I mean, you think that'll go that far? I mean, if it comes to a trial, the jury has to take your side. They'll see she was brainwashed. She has to have been. Well, maybe. But I can't let my daughter face that kind of risk. What happens if she loses?

You understand? So, you know, I've been thinking, maybe I just need to get her out of the country. And knowing your skill set, I thought maybe you could help. Oh, I don't know about that. Please, just level with me. How much would it take to get her to Cuba?

She'd be safe. They couldn't get to her. Randy, I'm not smuggling your daughter to Cuba. Then please, tell me, where is she? How can I get her back? Scott shakes his head. I don't know where she is, and I... And I'm sorry, but at this point, I'd rather not know.

It's like carrying around a grenade. Besides, how do you know she even wants to flee the country? Jack, she is a Hurst. And I know you saw her playing dress-up on your road trip, but do you really think she's prepared to face prison? I don't think anyone is. But the real question is why your daughter shouldn't be held accountable for her actions. Oh, she probably will.

I just don't think prison is the right way to do it. Thank you for your time, Jack. As Randy Hurst, the company's Jack Scott, to the door, he feels frustrated that he didn't get further in the conversation. But still the meeting wasn't entirely a flop. Randy learned some important facts. His daughter is probably okay, at least physically, and she's not pregnant with a child of one of those maniacs.

But it is troubling to hear that Patricia seems, committed to the SLA's cause. And the fact remains, if she does face a day of reckoning, and goes up against a judge and jury, there is no telling what might happen. It's September 18, 1975, a balmy late summer afternoon in a safe house in the Outer Mission District of San Francisco. Patricia Hurst and Wendy Yoshamura share this apartment. And today they've been talking about a familiar subject, the slow disintegration of the SLA,

as the group's members and their radical comrades go separate ways. Hurst believes the fault lies in part with Bill Harris, who took over as the leader of the SLA after the death of Sincu M. Tumé. Harris is no visionary and spends too much of his time bickering with his wife. But it's not just Harris that's gotten her spirit slow. Hurst is tired of living as a fugitive. She doesn't want to keep having to pack up her things and move at a moment's notice. Some nights, Hurst lies awake in the dark,

and considers what it would be like to call her parents or friends from college. It's like an old perfume she can't wash off, a sense of the people from her previous life. Hurst assumes none of those people want to hear from her, not after she made such scathing condemnations of her family and the world she came from. Her taped commentary was broadcast on radio stations and TV, and for months her parents haven't communicated a single message through the media. It must be that everyone's just given up on her. Hearst pours herself a glass of water and sits back down with Yoshimura, as the two continue dissecting the failures of the SLA.

They have a lot of complaints about the direction of the group, but it's hard. At this point, the SLA is Hearst's only real family, all she has in this world. The conversation starts to taper off, and Hearst gets up to use the bathroom. But as she walks through a hallway, Hearst hears a commotion behind her. She spins around, and suddenly Hearst finds two heavyset men storming in through the front door with guns drawn. They shout out, telling Hurst to freeze. It's the FBI. Everything suddenly feels slow and fluid. This is the moment Hurst has been training for, the moment she's been dreading.

And it's unfolding exactly as Sincu told her it would. She's standing vulnerable, with law enforcement aiming their guns directly at her. Hearst feels glued to the ground. But then she comes to her senses and takes off, running to Yoshimura's bedroom, slamming the door and bracing for a barrage of bullets. But no guns are fired. Instead, one of the agents starts yelling that Hearst needs to come out.

She's surrounded and the agents are armed. Hurst feels like she's about to hyperventilate. She doesn't know what to do. There's a shotgun in her own closet, but she could never get there. Hearst coweres in Yoshimura's bedroom, trying frantically to make a decision, something that won't leave her riddled with bullets. And then she remembers the conversation from the farm in New York many months ago. Yoshimura said she didn't want to die in a shootout with the cops.

If her back was against the wall, she would be willing to come out with her hands up, to spend time in prison, as long as it meant she could live to see another day. Thinking back on that conversation, Hurst has a moment of clarity. She wants the same thing. She wants to go on living, to keep fighting for the revolution, even if it means spending some amount of time locked up. So Hurst opens the door and steps out of the bedroom. After confirming that she is, in fact, Patricia Hurst, she stands still, waiting as an agent slapped handcuffs over her wrists and leads her down into an FBI squad car and an uncertain future. From Wondry, this is episode three of the kidnapping of Patty Hurst from American Scandal.

In our next episode, Hurst faces trial for her role in the Hibernia bank robber. But the jury has to decide whether America's most infamous fugitive is a hardened criminal or a victim who was just trying to survive. If you're enjoying American Scandal, you can unlock exclusive seasons on Wondry Plus. Binge new season first and listen completely ad-free when you join Wondry Plus in the Wondry app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a survey at Wondry.com slash survey. If you'd like to learn more about Patricia Hurst, we recommend the books American heiress by Jeffrey Tubin and Every Secret Thing by Patricia Campbell Hurst and Alvin Noss Cow. This episode contains reenactments and dramatized details.

And while in most cases, we can't know exactly what we've said, all our dramatizations are based on historical research. American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham, for Airship. Audio editing by Molly Bach, sound designed by Derek Barron's, music by Lindsay Grant. This episode is written by A.J. Marriss Show, edited by Christina Malsberger. Our senior producer is Gabe Riven. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lauer Beckman, and Marsha Louis for Wondering.