American Scandal - ENCORE The Kidnapping of Patty Hearst | The Plot | 1

Episode Date: December 30, 2025

Media heiress Patricia Hearst moves to Berkeley, intent on building a new life. In Oakland, a group of political radicals plot a deadly attack.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 February 4th, 1974.

It's a sleepy Monday night in Berkeley, California, and Patricia Hurst is curled up on a couch watching an episode of Mission Impossible on TV. Hearst yawns, and she turns over on the sofa, letting her slippers dangle from the edge of her toes. Hurst is 19 years old. She's 5'2, petite, with brown hair and bangs. As an undergrad at UC Berkeley, spending an evening watching lowbrow TV isn't exactly her idea of an exciting time.

But it's not that bad. At least she has company. Over on the other side of the couch, her fiancé is lounging back with a book in his lap. Steve Weed is a shaggy but handsome 26-year-old with wire-rimmed glasses. He's a philosophy grad student at UC Berkeley, the kind of guy who seems to understand how things really work. And that's a big part of why Hurst was drawn to him. She comes from a wealthy family, a family with one of those names like the Kennedys or the Rockefellers. Her grandfather, William Randolph Hurst, founded a media empire with a chain of newspapers that helped define America. He was an extraordinarily wealthy man, and he even served as inspiration for the main character in Citizen Kane, the classic Hollywood film.

Hurst knows that her grandfather's legacy is worth celebrating, but in recent years she's grown increasingly disillusioned with her family. She sees them as stuffy and bourgeois, and she's wanted to get away from all the trappings of their wealth. Studying art history at Berkeley and running away with an older man, a pot-smoking intellectual at that, seemed like her best chance to embrace a liberal life, one she could lead on her own terms. But tonight, sitting on the couch in her living room, Hurst gets a sinking feeling of doubt. Somehow she's found herself stuck in a routine of suffocating domesticity, cooking, cleaning, catering to her fiancé's needs. This wasn't how things were supposed to turn out. Hirst wasn't supposed to become a housewife. But Hirst tries to set aside those thoughts. She turns her attention back to the TV.

The show continues predictably when there's an urgent knock on the front door. Hirst and Wede share a glance. It's late. They're not expecting any visitors. So Weed gets up with Hirst trailing behind. When he opens the door, they find a young woman outside looking agitated. Hi, I'm sorry, this is embarrassing. I just backed up and I guess I hit someone's car in the garage. Hurst glares at the woman. Which car? An MG? A blue sports car? I'm sorry, I'm not sure. It was dark.

Well, if it was an MG, that was my car. I'm sorry, I don't know. Can I just come in and use your phone? Well, hang on a second. I'll grab some paper and a pen. You can write down in your information. and then we'll start making calls. Hearst begins making her way to the kitchen.

But with her back turned, she hears a sudden commotion behind her. Earth spins around and sees two men have burst into the apartment. They're wearing masks and carrying guns. And the woman from the doorway is now holding a pistol herself and racing toward Hurst. The woman storms forward and suddenly shoves Hurst to the ground. Keep quiet and no one gets hurt. Please don't do this. I won't call the cops.

I swear. I said keep quiet. The intruders begin rifling through the apartment, and Hurst looks over at her fiancé, silently pleading for him to do something, anything. Weed gives a subtle nod. As one of the men comes out to the bedroom, weed rushes at him, hands outstretched. But the man is quicker and hits weed in the face, sending him staggering into the hallway. Leaning against a wall, weed wipes his nose. Look, look, take my wallet. Take anything you want. Just leave us alone. Hurst is about to call out to join her fiancé in his plea for mercy, but she notices a strange look on his face. Before she can stop him, weed turns and flees out the back door,

leaving Hurst alone with the intruders. Hurst lies on the ground stunned, as the young woman leans down with a look of menace. Well, now it's just you, me, and my friends, isn't it? What do you want? Where is it? Where's the safe? We don't have one.

I'm not screwing around. Where do you keep your safe? I'm telling you the truth. We don't have it. How the hell do you not have a safe? You're a Hurst. Hurst continues to plead, but the woman has had enough. She shoves a piece of cloth into Hurst's mouth, gagging her.

Then she wraps a blindfold over Hurst's eyes and binds her hands with rope. Hurst is yanked to her feet and dragged out of the apartment. With her eyes covered, she can't see a thing. She only feels the cool night air on her skin, and here's the sound of a car's trunk popping open. Hearst doesn't understand what's going on, why her fiancé fled, why these three broke into her apartment.

But then she realizes, with those three words, you're a Hurst, they know who she is. And it's at that moment the truth dawns on her. This isn't just a simple robbery. This is a kidnapping. And Patricia Hurst is the target. Mom and dad, mom and mom, dad and dad, whatever. Parents! Are you about to spend five hours in the car with your beloved kids this holiday season?

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There's a little bit of something for everyone. Listen to Tis the Grinch holiday podcast wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondry, I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is a Mary. American skin. In 1974, the country was gripped by a sensational story involving crime, radical politics, and one of the most powerful families in America. Patricia Hurst was an heiress to a corporate empire. Her grandfather, William Randolph Hurst, was a media tycoon, who by the early 1900s owned one of the largest newspaper chains in the country.

Hurst's publications were known for exaggerated stories and provocative headlines, a brand of journalism that sold papers and made a fortune. So when Patricia Hurst was kidnapped from her apartment, journalists took notice. The event became one of the hottest stories in the media, earning coverage from newspapers, radio stations, TV networks, and magazines, many of them part of the vast empire built by Patricia Hurst's own grandfather.

But the saga took an even more shocking turn when Hurst began aligning herself with her captors, a group of radical activists. The media frenzy soon engulfed Hurst's family and millions of Americans and a dozen jurors were left with some gnawing questions. Did Patricia Hurst actually become a convert of the radical group that kidnapped her?

Or was she just trying to survive? In an age of mass media and celebrity, how culpable were journalists for the way the saga played out and the crimes that would leave Hearst facing the possibility of a long prison sentence? This is episode one, the plot. It's 1965 in Menlo Park, California, nine years before Patricia Hurst was abducted from her apartment in Berkeley. It's a sunny morning at the convent of the Sacred Heart, a private Catholic school. In a classroom with brick walls and tall arched windows, Patricia Hurst slides quietly into her desk, trying not to draw attention to herself.

The 11-year-old smooths down her pleated skirt. As her teacher begins the day's lesson, Hearst gazes out at the bright blue sky and watches an oak tree rustle in the wind. Hearst should be paying attention. The nun who teaches this class is famously strict and notorious for, for berating her students if they act out of line. But Hearst just can't get herself to concentrate. She doesn't like this class.

And going to this school wasn't her idea either. It was Hurst's mother who wanted her to attend a Catholic boarding school. Catherine Hurst is a devout Catholic herself, and she wanted her daughter to have a strict religious education. Plus, the boarding school isn't that far from the family's mansion in Hillsborough, California. Patricia can still spend time at home with her mother, father, and four sisters. and over the summer they can all still travel to San Simeon and the famous Hurst Castle there. The family estate spans 86,000 acres.

It's a property Hurst has always found to be enchanting. She gets to ride horses and commune with nature. There, Hurst feels like she can be herself, get some distance from her mother's lessons about etiquette and religion. But sitting in a classroom at her boarding school, Hurst can only daydream about summers on her family estate. She gazes out the window, staring at the trees, and Hurst is lost in her fantasy. She doesn't notice that her teacher has turned from the chalkboard and begun making her way through the aisle of desks.

The nun stops next to Hurst. And when the girl looks up, the nun demands to know why Hurst is staring out the window. Has she no interest in learning? Hurst remains silent, hoping the nun will move on to some other poor girl. But the nun bends in closer and continues her reprimand. She asks Hurst if this is how a student should behave in the presence of the Lord, if this is fitting behavior for a respectable child. As the nun chastises Hurst, beads a spit fly out of her mouth and land on Hurst's face,

but she doesn't move or say a word. The nun's face turns red, and she wraps the desk, demanding an answer. But Hurst doesn't know what to do. She could remain silent and keep taking this punishing tirade, or she could say something and defend her. herself, but Hearst doubts that'll achieve anything. Then an idea strikes her. Hirst looks her teacher in the eye, and without blinking, she tells the nun to go to hell. The nun freezes, and Hurst suppresses a grin. For once, the nun is speechless, but not for long. With her face now a deep

crimson, the nun barks at Hirst, telling her to get up and go to the office of the Reverend mother. Hearst nods and begins walking through the classroom to the front door. She can feel everyone watching her, and at first she feels a bit sheepish. But slowly her feelings begin to shift. She knows what she just did was out of character. She doesn't have a reputation as a troubled student or an unruly kid. And she only did what was necessary to get herself out of a bad situation. Sometimes you have to do that. But one shocking choice doesn't mean she's a bad person. It's 1973 in Berkeley, California, eight years later. Patricia Hearst steps into her apartment and sits down her bag.

She takes off her coat and hangs it up. And as she stands in the foyer, gazing at her small apartment unit, for a moment, hers considers turning back around, walking out the door, getting away from here and far away from her problems. But Hurst's boyfriend, Steve Weed, beckons her to come in and help get dinner ready. for Hearst, this has been a rotten night. She and Weed just saw a movie and spent the whole car ride back bickering about its meaning.

As usual, the conversation devolved into a series of personal attacks. Weed liked the movie, and his praise for the film was hyper-intellectual, as you'd expect from a philosophy PhD student. Hearst, though, thought the movie was kind of silly, and over the top. Weed argued that her take was evidence of her naivete and social privilege. Hurst pushed back. She wasn't some sort of naive child. It was the kind of fight that's been happening more and more. And now that they're back at the apartment and Weed is demanding dinner, Hurst feels stung. A big part of her wants to flee. Their life together wasn't supposed to be like this.

When Hearst met Weed, she was still in high school, and Weed was her teacher. She looked up to him, seeing Weed as the exact opposite of the stuffy world she came from. He was a leftist, an intellectual, and had nothing to do with the Hearst Media Empire or her grandfather. Getting together with Weed seemed like a chance as a fresh start, a way to build a life untethered from her family legacy. But reality hasn't matched her fantasies. Two years into their relationship,

Hearst has found herself fighting to find her voice in any conversation that isn't about household chores. In ways she can't put her finger on, a relationship that was supposed to be progressive now feels backward, a relic of a bygone era. But Hearst hasn't given up hope. She still believes that if she argues her points well enough, her boyfriend will take her seriously.

She can prove that she's more than just a rich kid from an ultra-wealthy family, and she can have the life she wants and a partner who respects her. Hearst grabs a pot and sticks it onto the range top. And as she heats up some leftover soup, she looks over at weed. Steve, it's a movie. I can have my own opinions about it. I'm not a child, but you are a 19-year-old getting her first taste of college.

So, you're in your mid-20s, big deal. It is a big deal. There's a lot of life you get exposed to in between 19 in my age. I get it fine, but I'm not allowed to have an opinion? Not if it's going to embarrass me in front of my friends. Oh, so I'm in embarrassment, huh? Hearst ladle soup into a couple of bowls, and the two head over to the dining room table and grab a seat. As she takes her first spoonful, Hurst pauses and looks up at wheat.

You know, you were the same way just last month with your mother. What's that supposed to me? You treat your own mother like she's unaware that there's a modern world outside her front door. She voted for Nixon, for God's sake. So did half of America, which is exactly our problem. Look, Steve, she's a person. You don't have to talk down to her, or her. me. Oh, okay. You know, I'm sorry. I'm not going to keep listening to the princess of publishing

giving me a lecture on modern America. You and my mother both have no idea how out of touch you both sound. Hurst drops her spoon into her ball. Steve, you might be getting a PhD in philosophy, but you're not so smart when it comes to treating people the right way. Wow, okay, that's enough. You spend all your time reading books. Have you ever looked up, tried to read the room, maybe be a little more humble? I said that's enough. What if I'm I am more to say. Are you going to stop me? Weed pushes back his chair. And striding to the other side of the table, he grabs Hearst by the waist and carries her across the room, opens the front door.

And before Hurst can stop him, weed drops her outside, closes the door, and turns the lock. Hurst stands in the cool night air, frozen in shock. Her boyfriend just locked her out of her own apartment. For what feels like in eternity, Hurst stands outside, cycling through a litany of her grievances. Every instance she knows her boyfriend was wrong. But eventually she gets tired and cold. So Hurst knocks on the door and calls out, apologizing. After a few moments, she hears the deadbolt turn and the door unlocks.

Hurst opens it and pads back into the apartment. She finds weed watching TV in the living room. Earth sits back down at the table and swallows a spoon from her. of cold soup. Gazing at her boyfriend, whose glasses reflect the pale light of the TV, Hurst tries to reassure herself. She can fix her life. It won't be like this forever. It's December 1973 in Hillsborough, California, and Catherine Hurst is strolling through her large house, taking in the holiday splendor. Green garlands are draped across the mantles. There's a glittering nativity scene on the grand piano. It's 65 degrees outside in northern California,

but the hearths have made sure to give their Christmas tree a proper decoration, one that evokes the joyous spirit of wintertime. As the matriarch of the household, Catherine is fastidious in her attention to detail, and she's happy to see that everything looks right. Even Catherine's hair is perfectly sprayed, and the pearls around her neck are polished and gleaming. Catherine knows that anyone looking in at this house would see a happy family and a life well put together. The Hursts should be a source of envy to anyone. But even with the garlands and wreaths, even with the expensive artwork on the walls, and the French wine in the cellar, Catherine Hearst can't help but feel deeply uneasy.

There's a problem brewing in her family. Catherine has never approved of her daughter Patricia's new fiancé, Steve Weed. but it isn't just weeds liberal values that chafe at Catherine. He might be pursuing a Ph.D., but he seems lazy, and he's arrogant. Catherine often questions how such a man could ever be right for her daughter. Catherine continues her tour of the decorations and approaches a staircase where there's a photographer waiting with a camera slung over his shoulder. Despite her deepest misgivings, Catherine is going to try to make the best of the situation. Today, Patricia and her fiancé are coming to the house.

The family hired a professional to lead a photo shoot so the family can place an engagement announcement in the local papers. Patricia doesn't seem happy about taking part in this ritual. But that's tough luck. Catherine may not be able to control her rebellious daughter or stop her from marrying an inferior man, but she can at least control the family's public reputation. A few minutes later, the front door of the mansion swings open

and Patricia and her fiancée walk in. Patricia is wearing a simple knit dress, an outfit that Catherine believes is fine for the occasion. But Steve Weed is wearing a pair of blue jeans. Worse, he hasn't shaved his mustache. Catherine silently fumes as she stares at the young couple. This is unacceptable. If the public sees this man in a newspaper announcement,

they'll believe the Hursts now keep company with deadbeats. So Catherine pulls Patricia aside and hisses that Weed must shave for the photo shoot. But her daughter pushes back, saying she likes the mustache, and there's no way she's forcing weed to shave it. Catherine can tell she's not going to win this argument. So she moves on to the next issue, the blue jeans. But Patricia asks, what exactly Catherine's solution is? Does she want weed to put on a pair of her father's dress pants? They won't fit. Surely one pair of jeans won't destroy the family's legacy. Catherine grows increasingly flustered by her daughter's obstinence, and she blurts out that we'd must at least put on a tie. Catherine sighs. Her daughter

has already rejected so much of Catherine's worldview. She waved off Catholicism. She went to Berkeley instead of Stanford. She's engaged this mustachioed man with his liberal politics. Catherine is praying that her daughter will at least compromise on this one thing for the photo shoot. Finally, Patricia asks if wearing the tie will put an end to the argument. Catherine says it will. And although Patricia nods unhappily, she says Weed keeps a tie in his car, and she'll have him fetch it.

Soon Weed returns with a tie. It's floppy with a garish print. But Catherine says nothing, and weighs the couple over to a large painting of Patricia's grandmother. Patricia and her fiancé pose underneath the portrait as the photographer snaps several shots.

And when they're finished, the group begins heading out toward the estate grounds for some outdoor photos. But as Weed and the photographer step outside, Catherine stops her daughter and asks if they can talk for a moment. Patricia looks wary. But speaking tenderly, Catherine tells her daughter that it's not too late. She would never judge her if she had a change of heart.

Patricia doesn't have to marry this man. Something flickers in Patricia's eyes, and she opens her mouth to speak. But then the flicker fades. Patricia says this is just like her mother. She never supports her decisions. Without saying another word, Patricia turns and hurries out through French doors into the garden. Standing alone in the mansion, Catherine straightens her back and adjusts her pearl necklace. Her daughter may not realize it, but Catherine only has her best interests at heart.

This is just a rebellious phase, and Catherine is sure that someday Patricia will outgrow it. She's bound to clean up her husband, and then she can assume her role in high society. And somehow everything will turn out all right. 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 Or for information on tickets and upcoming dates, go to Americanhistorylive.com. That's American History Live.com. Come see my Days That Made America Tour live on stage.

Go to American History Live.com. It's March 5, 1973, at Soledad State Prison, a few hours south of San Francisco. In a dark room on the south side of the prison, prison complex, an inmate with hooded eyes and a short afro kneels on the ground as he works to repair a large boiler. He tightens a rusted bolt. As he pauses to inspect the equipment, he looks over at a prison guard and gives a curtain nod. The inmate, Sincu M. Tumay, knows he's relatively lucky. He has a coveted job, doing a handiwork in an empty part of the prison. He barely has any supervision. Still, when he was escorted to the job and looked at at the horizon, past the chain link fences

and guards stationed with her guns, Sincu could only dream of what it must feel like to be free. It's a feeling Sincu has never really known. When he was only 14 years old, he fled his abusive father and took up a life of crime. He got involved in street gangs, guns, and violent relationships. He cycled in and out of the criminal justice system, and trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went.

But while Sincu is no stranger to prison, his most recent conviction was especially baffling. Sincu was sentenced to life in prison, but it may only be five years. He doesn't know how long he's going to be away. It could be a short stint, or he could die in prison. The decision is in the hands of the parole board. With that kind of uncertainty, an inmate could easily lose his mind. But Sincu has always tried to make the most of things.

He's gotten involved with prison activists, and as a black inmate, he studied up on issues of racial injustice. Sincu has learned about men like George Jackson, an inmate who became. became a powerful leader behind bars and spearheaded violent uprisings. Reading about men like Jackson, Sincu has been filled with the spirit of righteousness and rage. And he was inspired to shed his birth name, Donald DeFries, which he called a slave name. Instead, he would be known as Sincu M. Tumé, after the leader of a slave rebellion and the Swahili word for profit. Sincu's brush with radical politics also gave him a dream to lead his own rebellion, with his own devoted followers. Still, there's only so much he can accomplish while locked up.

And with his unpredictable sentence, all he can really do is dream of the day he gets out. In the boiler room, Sincu finishes tightening another bolt and looks over as a correctional officer opens the door and steps outside. Beyond the guard is a six-foot chain-link fence. It's topped with curling barbed wire, but beyond that is freedom. Sincu keeps working and waiting for the guard to return. Several minutes pass, but for some reason, the officer doesn't come back into the boiler room. Sincu pauses, staring at the open door.

This is an unexpected turn of events. There's no one watching him. Sincu could just walk right out of here, and after that, the only thing standing between him and freedom would be a six-foot fence and his own raw fear. Sincu sets his tools on the ground and begins walking to the door. Maybe he'll start with just a quick look. He looks outside and surveys the surroundings. There's no one here.

Just a vast concrete expanse and a plume of steam coming up from the prison laundry building off in the distance. Without giving it another thought, Sincu begins to run. He reaches the chain-link fence and starts climbing. And when he reaches the top, barbed wire tears into his arms, but adrenaline numbs the pain. Sincu then flings himself to the other side of the fence

and continues to run. He gets farther from the prison and farther from the guards, their nightsticks and shackles and oppression. His breath grows labored, and his legs are tired. Sincu keeps running, farther from Soledad prison and closer to Highway 101. Five months later, Patricia Soltizek pages through a stack of political pamphlets in an apartment in Berkeley, California. As she reads through a list of radical proposals and incendiary arguments,

her brown eyes twinkle with excitement, Then Soltizek grabs a pen and starts jotting down ideas. Though her parents call her Patricia, everyone else knows Soltizik as Ms. Moon, it's her adopted name and part of her new identity as a radical feminist and dropout from Berkeley. In the last few years, Ms. Moon has done a lot of learning and a lot of growing up,

and there's much she wants to change about the world. Ms. Moon is sick of the forces that give rise to racism, sexism, greed, and every other form of oppression. She's seen firsthand that the police are willing to fire on innocent protesters, people doing nothing wrong. And with America increasingly feeling like it's falling apart at the seams, Ms. Moon believes the country is ready for revolution. Large-scale change is exactly what she's trying to accomplish. Ms. Moon looks across the room and watches Sincu M. Tumay pacing on a shag rug, gripping a nearly empty glass of plum wine. A friend of Ms. Moons connected her with Sincu after his assistant.

escape from Soledad Prison. And for the last couple of months, they've been living and sleeping together. But the two have also been talking about the need for revolution, the imperative for big political change. But tonight, she and Sincu have decided that they're done with talking. It's time for action. The two have gathered with Ms. Moon's other comrade, Nancy Ling Perry, and together, these three are brainstorming a constitution for a new radical group. Ms. Moon sits on the ground, paging through a flyer from the radical political group, the Black Panthers. Ms. Moon believes in the mantra of following black leadership, and she wants to share what

she's reading with Sincu. But it can be tough to pin down his ideology, especially once a wine bottle is uncorked. Often, Sincu gets surly when she talks about any other group, as if they're stealing his thunder. So in talking with Sincu, Ms. Moon tries to tread lightly. Hey, Sin, take a look at this one. I always thought there was a simplicity to the Black Panthers literature. Maybe something we can learn from.

Sin Q narrows his eyes. Panthers, huh? You think it's simplicity? Or is it stupidity? This says boycott lettuce. Well, yeah, it's in solidarity with the farmers. They were getting exploited. What kind of revolution are you going to start

by telling people not to eat lettuce? Well, Sin, the Panthers are all over the news. And it was because of these kind of slogans. I mean, people say, stopped buying lettuce at Safeway. They had an impact. So if we're going to do something similar, maybe we do have something to learn from the Panthers. Now, forget it. Let's focus on something else. Well, I mean, we need a name for the group. Yeah, I was up late last night. A word in my head, symbiosis, you know, a black con like me and two white women. People don't expect us to

come together in a revolution. But that's our strength, isn't it? Sincu throws back the of his plum wine. Well, damn right. I want to unite all the struggles together. Let people know we're fighting for freedom. How we're going to crush the fascists together. It's like we're an army. That's it. A freedom army. An army of liberation. That's an idea. Nancy Ling Perry nods and begins typing, taking down notes. Sin Q pours himself another glass of wine and continues pacing the room, now with a wild look in his eyes. Symbiosis. Symbiosis. Yeah, but symbiosis what? I know. What? What's the name? We're getting close. Symbiosis army. Simbionese Army. The Symbionese Liberation Army. The Symbionese Liberation Army. That's the name. Yeah. That's who we are. The SLA. Sincu? You're a genius. Ms. Moon grins as she looks down at the spread of political pamphlets in front of her.

Soon, the Sinbienese Liberation Army is going to have its own radical literature. And with Sin Q's leadership and Perry by her side, Ms. Moon is certain they'll be able to force some big changes in American society. They're going to have to get organized, and they'll have to finish drafting the Constitution. But Ms. Moon knows all of that is still just talk. What the group really needs is to take action. It's the evening of November 6, 1973, three months later. In a dark alley in Oakland, California, Sincu M. Tume stands shivering, his clothes damp from the rain.

He peers around a corner and takes another look at a white Chevy Vega sitting in a parking lot. Sincu grips a 12-gauge shotgun and turns back to his comrades hiding in the shadows. Today, the Symbionese Liberation Army has a target. Marcus Foster, the superintendent of Oakland Unified School District, and a man embroiled in political strife. In recent months, violence has been spiking on school campuses, and people have been calling for change. But the superintendent came up with a solution that Sincu believes is a terrible abuse of power. Foster is going to hire armed security guards to try to keep school children safe. Foster is a black man, and Sincu believes he should know better than to use federal money to hire a fashion.

police force, and stationed them in public schools, the schools of the people. The Black Panthers have already stepped into the fray, promising they would oversee school security themselves. And while that would be an improvement, Sincu believed more righteous action was called for, and that his group, the Simbienese Liberation Army, should be the one leading the charge. So Sincu hatched a plan. He and his comrades are going to assassinate Superintendent Marcus Foster and take a stand. against oppression. If they succeed in their mission, Sincu believes the SLA will be hailed as one of the most radical revolutionary groups on the left. They'll be feared and respected, and Sincu will be

seen as a visionary. But in order to carry out their mission, Foster has to actually show up. Sincu and his comrades have been waiting outside a school board meeting for hours, and so far there's no sign of a superintendent. As they stand in the alleyway, Nancy Ling Perry and Mismun continue to pester Sincu with nervous questions. Are their guns loaded properly? Is the safety on or off? They're concerned the rain might affect their bullets, which are laced with cyanide.

As the two women's chatter grows more frantic, Sincu begins to wonder if they should abandon the mission, maybe plan for another day. But then suddenly a door slams into the distance. When Sincu peers around the corner again, he spots two figures walking in the shadows. Sincu waits his heart pounding, and when the men finally come out of the shadows, stepping into a pool of incandescent light, he can see it's them, Marcus Foster and his deputy.

Sincu takes a deep breath and grips his shotgun. But before he can give an order, his comrade Nancy Ling Perry fires off two hasty rounds. The first shot misses, but her second hits the superintendent in the leg. Sincu curses. Perry was supposed to follow directions. The clans going off the rails, but they don't have time to argue. Sincu takes another deep breath and then raises his Remington and Foster. He begins firing, round after round, as the two men scream.

Sincu's comrade Mismoon follows behind, firing her gun, and then taking the fatal shot. As Foster falls dead onto the asphalt, Sincu, Mismun, and Perry, flee down the alley, sprinting toward their getaway vehicle. They hop in and the car peels. out speeding down a city street. As he looks out the window, Sincu's mind spins, thinking about what just happened. Soon the world is going to learn about the assassination of Marcus Foster. Sincu has no doubt that his group, the SLA, will be fawned over and feared. Sincu will probably be seen as a revolutionary hero, and soon his army will grow larger, more powerful, and capable of taking

on much, much more. It's late December 1973, a month and a half after the killing of Marcus Foster. In a safe house in Concord, California, Sincu M. Tumé shifts restlessly on a beat-up old couch. Half a dozen new recruits are seated around him, riffing on ideas for their next revolutionary action. And while there's a palpable energy in the room, a sense that anything is possible, Sincu feels flat. After the murder of Marcus Foster, the Symbionese Liberation Army

proudly claimed responsibility through a written announcement. The message introduced the world to the new group and its symbol, a seven-headed cobra. But Sincu was not prepared for the blowback he was about to face. The Black Panthers condemned the act

as a slaughter and demanded justice. And at the superintendent's funeral, a racially and ideologically diverse crowd mourned what they called a senseless loss of a respected city leader. It was clear that the SLA's first revolutionary action had been a failure. And facing public disgrace, Sincu knew he had to figure out a new plan, something to rehabilitate his group's image.

Sitting in the living room of their new safe house, Sincu takes a look at his rag-tag army. To his left is a young white couple, Bill and Emily Harris, who recently fell in with a group. And it's Bill who says he thinks he has a plane, a way to win support for the SLA. According to Harris, the group should engage in guerrilla theater. They should hijack a Mack truck filled with meat and distribute the food to the poor.

Harris says this kind of action is a little bit like Robin Hood. People would see how the SLA is on the right side of the fight for justice. Sin Q buries his face in his hands. He told his group that from here on out they had to stay away from anything lethal since cops are now looking for them. But this idea, a stun, reducing the SLA to a food pantry is useless. Harris looks stung, but Sincu isn't concerned.

They need real ideas and real plans. So he turns to another recruit, a hardened Vietnam vet named Joe Romero. Romero has the toughness and military training Sincu has been looking for. But when prompted for ideas, Ramiro stays silent, and so does the rest of the group. Everyone seems to be waiting for Sincu to tell them what's next. Bill Harris then steps back into the conversation. Harris slides over a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle and tells Sincu to have a look.

Scanning the newspaper, Sincu finds an article announcing a wedding engagement. Patricia Hurst is engaged to someone named Steve Weed. Sincu knows the name Hurst, everyone does, but he has no idea what Harris is getting at by pointing out this article. Harris explains that this is what they've been looking for. Sincu has talked about the possibility of a kidnapping. and Hearst is the perfect target. She's an heiress to a publishing empire, a princess from the ruling class.

Sincu stares down at the petite young woman in the photo, mulling over the idea, kidnapping someone from the Hearst family, a family that made enormous wealth off capitalist propaganda that would make a splash. And people would see the SLA as a true revolutionary group one fighting against injustice and greed. There's no doubt such a high-profile

kidnapping would be a risk, especially now that they're being hunted by cops for murder. But for Sincu, it's a risk worth taking. So the SLA's leader gives Harris the okay to track down Hearst, to start preparing for a mission that will put the SLA on the map. It's after midnight on January 10, 1974, in Concord, California. It's an overcast night, and police officer David Doge is patrolling a series of quix. quiet streets in his cruiser. It's about midway through his shift, and he hasn't seen anything worth remarking on, but that's not much of a surprise. It's a weeknight in suburban Concord. It's not Oakland or San Francisco. But as he rounds a bend, Doge notices a beat-up

van that seems out of place on a residential street, and something about it rubs him the wrong way, so Doge decides to have a look. Doge flashes his lights and pulls over his patrol car. He hops out of his cruiser and approaches the van on foot. When he's close enough, Duge knocks on the driver's side window. It rolls down, revealing two men with greasy hair and mustaches. Duge squints as he takes stock of the young man. Well, evening, gentlemen. Notice you here on the street.

The driver just shrugged. Is that a crime officer? Well, it depends. Can I see some ID? The driver pulls out a license, which lists his name as Robert Scalise. All right, Mr. Scalise, what are you doing in this area tonight? We're just trying to find our way to my friend's house. Got a little turned around.

And your buddy's expecting you at one in the morning? Well, we're running late. And you didn't think to find a pay phone and just give him a call. Instead, you just decided to sit here in the dark? Well, officer, like I said, we're a little lost. We should probably be on our way. Duge frowns and swings his flashlight to the back of the van. It's strange.

The windows are covered with black curtains. Nothing about this is adding up. So Duge aims his light at the man in the passenger seat. I'm going to need to see your ID too, please. The driver shakes his head. Oh, officer, that's not necessary. It's not your call. Let me see that ID, son.

The passenger hands over his ID and Duge inspects it under his flashlight. The name on the card says Joe Romero. Duge takes a moment to review the facts. These men could be telling the truth, just a couple of guys trying to hang out with a friend who got a little lost. But the officer isn't going to take any chances. Okay, all right.

You fellas just stay here for a minute, and I'll be right back. Duge returns to his cruiser and runs the names off the IDs. Nothing turns up from the search, but the officer still has a bad feeling about these guys. And sometimes, police work is all about feelings. Duge isn't going to risk anything.

so when he returns to the van, he asks the man in the passenger seat to step out. When he does, Duge asks Ramiro if he has any weapons on him. Ramiro hesitates. And as Duge moves to perform a frisk, Ramiro quickly steps back and opens his jacket, revealing a pistol. The officer snaps into action. He sprints to his cruiser looking for cover. But before he can reach the car, Ramiro begins firing.

The gunshots echo through the quiet streets. as Duge leaps behind his own vehicle. Adrenaline courses through his veins. His pupils dilate. And when there's a break in the gunfire, Duge grips his own weapon and leaps up to fire back. But he misses, and Ramiro flees by foot, taking off into the darkness as the van begins racing down the street.

Duge reaches for his police radio and calls out to dispatch, announcing that he's been fired at and needs backup. Duge waits in his cruiser, holding tight. for support. He isn't sure he's safe. The men could still come back and try to finish what they started. And sure enough, right as his backup arrives, the van reappears, driving right toward them, its engine groaning in the night air. Duge kneels down, aiming his gun at the vehicle. He calls out for the van to stop, and it slows down, eventually coming to a halt. The driver steps out of the van, as the other officers rush forward and place him in handcuffs.

With one man now in custody, Officer Duge decides to have a look inside the van. Duge opens the door, and with his flashlight raised, he crouches and climbs through the van. He crawls over beer bottles and fast food wrappers. When he reaches the back of the vehicle, Duge discovers a stack of brightly colored flyers. He leans closer, inspecting them. He picks one up and sees an image of a seven-headed cobra and the word Symbionese Liberation Army. The officer flinches. The SLA is the group responsible for assassinating Marcus Foster,

their violent political radicals. And if the man they arrested tonight is involved with the organization, the police may be one step closer to finding the killers and bringing them to justice. From Wondering, this is episode one of the kidnapping of Patty Hurst from American scam. In our next episode, the Hearst family begins public negotiations to get their daughter back from the SLA. But when Patricia's voice

broadcast across the nation, she makes a startling announcement about her family, her captors, and the next chapter of her life. 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 in Alvin Moscow. This episode contains reenactments and dramatized details. And while in most cases, we can't know exactly what was 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 design by Derek Barron's, music by Lindsay Graham. This episode is written by A.J. Marischel, edited by Christina Malsberger. Our senior producer is Gabe Ribbon. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lauer Beckman, and Marshall Louie for Wondery.