The basis of the celebrated Paramount Network miniseries starring Michael Shannon and Taylor Kitsch -- Waco is the critically-acclaimed, first person account of the siege by Branch Davidian survivor, David Thibodeau. Twenty-five years ago, the FBI staged a deadly raid on the Branch Davidian compound in Waco. Texas. David Thibodeau survived to tell the story. When he first met the man who called himself David Koresh, David Thibodeau was a drummer in a local a rock band. Though he had never been religious in the slightest, Thibodeau gradually became a follower and moved to the Branch Davidian compound in Waco. He remained there until April 19, 1993, when the compound was stormed and burned to the ground after a 51-day standoff with government authorities. In this compelling account -- now with an updated epilogue that revisits remaining survivors--Thibodeau explores why so many people came to believe that Koresh was divinely inspired. We meet the men, women, and children of Mt. Carmel. We get inside the day-to-day life of the community. We also understand Thibodeau's brutally honest assessment of the United States government's actions. The result is a memoir that reads like a thriller, with each page taking us closer to the eventual inferno.
Growing up in a warm weather city is one of the best things a child could possibly want. I went barefoot most of the time and when school beckoned, I sadly had to encase my happy feet in shoes. I remember rain; wonderful rain that left puddles in the soft sandy loam that was the street in front of my house. I would go out when the rains stopped and sit on the curb holding handfuls of the sweet smelling moist earth to my face. The scent of fresh cut grass came in second best. I inhaled the scent of Waco. I remember the Cotton Palace. Waco is in the heart of cotton country. A fair was held once a year and I would wander up and down watching snake charmers, dancing girls, strong men and of course, cotton candy. A large machine filled with wonderful toys was there for 5 cents to manipulate a claw and if luck was with you, you were a winner of some wondrous object. The only object I ever snared was a pencil clip and I remember that distinctly. I remember Juan. He sold tamales out of a box hung by a leather strap around his neck. The inside of the box was lined with shiny metal. The smell and taste of those steamy tamales still makes me sigh with pleasure. I remember W. Lee ODaniels and his hillbilly band. He was running for governor and the crowd loved him and his music; he became governor. I remember downtown, Goldstein, Miguel the largest department store in town. It had a small caf that served blue plate specials for 25 cents and just about everything else you wanted to buy. The best place of all was the ice cream parlor Palace of Sweets long marble counter, ice cream chairs and tables for the big people and the little people. I remember walking with my mother on summer nights on long strolls past Baylor University, the oldest college in Texas, which has the worlds largest collection of the works of Robert Browning. I remember going for ice-cream cones with my brother one day a week when cones were two for a nickel. I would slowly savor my cone on the way home and one disastrous day I dropped my cone in the dirt. My brother calmly handed me his cone saying, I dont like ice-cream anyway. I protested mildly and guiltily licked his melting cone the rest of the way home. I remember my father sitting close to a small radio listening to the ravings of Hitler. None of knew German, except my father, but we sensed heaviness in the air. I remember the buses with the Jim Crow section in the back, which in those days had very little meaning for me. Years later when I lived in Houston and became wiser, I would approach the public drinking fountains, labeled White and Colored and loudly proclaim I wonder how colored water tastes. I remember lying on a blanket at night and trying to find the Big Dipper. I remember the fireflies and the sound of crickets. Waco, tree lined streets, shacks down by the Brazos River, Castle Heights, the upscale community where a rich cotton baron had build his home to look like a castle complete with turrets. I was told it is now a museum. I remember people coming into our store to buy Brown Mule Chewing Tobacco little tin mules were imbedded in each piece. Ladies would come in and request in a quiet voice Garrett Snuff. It was not exactly ladylike to dip snuff. Waco, a town where people said, Yes mam and no mam. I was the only one in my classroom that refused to finish a sentence with a mam; I dont think Ive changed. I remember Cameron Park, a glorious natural park with spring water gushing out from crevices among the rocks; playgrounds, Sunday picnics, watermelon cuts (a term used for sharing a melon) which was brought from the icehouse, wonderfully cold. I remember Oakwood Cemetery, a wooded area where squirrels ran happily and birds were everywhere in abundance. Large marble angels guarding graves, small mausoleums, large blocks of intricately carved marble. It is the oldest cemetery in Texas
One of nine survivors of the attack on the Branch Davidian compound in 1993 describes how he came to join the religious community and offers an eyewitness account of the tragedy.
Nearly twenty years after they happened, the ATF and FBI assaults on the Branch Davidian residence near Waco, Texas remain the most deadly law enforcement action on American soil. The raid by Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms agents on February 28, 1993, which resulted in the deaths of four ATF agents and six Branch Davidians, precipitated a 51-day siege conducted by the FBI. The FBI tank and gas assault on the residence at Mount Carmel Center on April 19 culminated in a fire that killed 53 adults and 23 children, with only nine survivors. In A Journey to Waco, survivor Clive Doyle not only takes readers inside the tragic fire and its aftermath, but he also tells the larger story of how and why he joined the Branch Davidians, how the Branch Davidian community developed, and the status of survivors. While the media and official reports painted one picture of the Branch Davidians and the two assaults, A Journey to Waco shares a much more personal account of the ATF raid, the siege, and the final assault that details events unreported by the media.A Journey to Waco presents what the Branch Davidians believed and introduces readers to the community’s members, including David Koresh. A Journey to Waco is a personal account of one man’s journey with the Branch Davidians, through the tragic fire, and beyond.
"We were not orphans. Our parents were living; they just couldn't take care of us." This poignant remark captures the heartbreaking reality faced by thousands of Texas children from the 1920s through the 1970s. The Waco State Home provided housing and education for "dependent and neglected" children, but residents paid a price in physical and sexual abuse, military discipline, and plantation-style labor. Even so, the institution was the only home they had, and it rescued many children from an even worse fate. Now for the first time, oral histories and newly unearthed documents reveal what went on behind the gates of the Waco State Home. Sherry Matthews has tracked down former residents and uncovered criminal abuse that went unpunished and unpublicized. She first became aware of the Waco State Home at age three, when her three brothers were taken there to live. Years later, she attended a reunion at the Home and began collecting the alumni stories with assistance from author Jesse Sublett. We Were Not Orphans gathers riveting recollections from nearly sixty alumni who share the horror of abuse as well as their triumphs of spirit and ingenuity. Some alumni recall only the positive—bountiful food, caring teachers, victorious sports teams, and friendships and values that have lasted a lifetime. Others recount bloody beatings and sexual molestation that have left physical and emotional scars. These personal narratives and Matthews's relentless pursuit of the truth show how much can go wrong when a government-run institution operates without adequate public oversight. The Waco State Home finally closed after a landmark federal court decision and a courageous superintendent stopped the abuse and helped shepherd the children out of institutionalized care.
The 1993 government assault on the Branch Davidian compound near Waco, Texas, resulted in the deaths of four federal agents and eighty Branch Davidians, including seventeen children. Whether these tragic deaths could have been avoided is still debatable, but what seems clear is that the events in Texas have broad implications for religious freedom in America. James Tabor and Eugene Gallagher's bold examination of the Waco story offers the first balanced account of the siege. They try to understand what really happened in Waco: What brought the Branch Davidians to Mount Carmel? Why did the government attack? How did the media affect events? The authors address the accusations of illegal weapons possession, strange sexual practices, and child abuse that were made against David Koresh and his followers. Without attempting to excuse such actions, they point out that the public has not heard the complete story and that many media reports were distorted. The authors have carefully studied the Davidian movement, analyzing the theology and biblical interpretation that were so central to the group's functioning. They also consider how two decades of intense activity against so-called cults have influenced public perceptions of unorthodox religions. In exploring our fear of unconventional religious groups and how such fear curtails our ability to tolerate religious differences, Why Waco? is an unsettling wake-up call. Using the events at Mount Carmel as a cautionary tale, the authors challenge all Americans, including government officials and media representatives, to closely examine our national commitment to religious freedom.
Teach children that the greatest rewards come from patience, hard work, and learning from mistakes! In the #1 New York Times bestseller We Are the Gardeners, Joanna Gaines and the kids chronicle the adventures of starting their own family garden. From their failed endeavors, obstacles to overcome (bunnies that eat everything), and all of the knowledge they gain along the way, the Gaines family shares how they learned to grow a happy, successful garden. We Are the Gardeners is a whimsical picture book perfect for: Ages 4-8 Parents, libraries, classroom story times, and discussions focusing on springtime and gardening Households that enjoy watching HGTV's Fixer Upper Young children and families interested in gardening and plants After reading, children will learn: Trying something new isn't always easy, but the hardest work often yields the greatest reward The basic steps and process of starting a garden The importance of patience and how it is possible to learn from your mistakes You and your children will learn all about the Gaines family's story of becoming gardeners in Joanna's first children's book--starting with the first little fern Chip bought for Jo. Over the years, the family's love for gardening has blossomed into what is now a beautiful, bustling garden.
Evaluation of the Handling of the Branch Davidian Stand-off in Waco, Texas is a critical retrospective evaluation of the activities of the United States Department of Justice and the Federal Bureau of Investigation during the fifty-one-day halt at the Branch Davidians' Mt. Carmel compound near Waco, Texas.
Meticulously documented, this volume contains more than 1,500 endnotes which aid in analyzing all side of the complex issue of the role of federal law enforcement and the risks that their enormous powers pose to individual rights, judicial authority, and arrest procedures in the name of public safety. Photos.
Winner of the 2023 National Book Critics Circle for Nonfiction and the Los Angeles Times Book Prize A Washington Post best nonfiction book of 2023 | Winner of the Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Nonfiction “A riveting indictment of the child welfare system . . . [A] bracing gut punch of a book.” —Robert Kolker, The Washington Post “[A] moving and superbly reported book.” —Jessica Winter, The New Yorker “A harrowing account . . . [and] a powerful critique of [the] foster care system . . . We Were Once a Family is a wrenching book.” —Jennifer Szalai, The New York Times A New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice | One of Publishers Weekly's best nonfiction books of 2023 The shocking, deeply reported story of a murder-suicide that claimed the lives of six children—and a searing indictment of the American foster care system. On March 26, 2018, rescue workers discovered a crumpled SUV and the bodies of two women and multiple children at the bottom of a cliff along the Pacific Coast Highway. Investigators soon concluded that the crash was a murder-suicide, but there was more to the story: Jennifer and Sarah Hart, it turned out, were a white married couple who had adopted six Black children from two different Texas families in 2006 and 2008. Behind the family’s loving facade was an alleged pattern of abuse and neglect that had been ignored as the couple withdrew the children from school and moved west. It soon became apparent that the State of Texas knew all too little about the two individuals to whom it had given custody of six children. Immersive journalism of the highest order, Roxanna Asgarian’s We Were Once a Family is a revelation of precarious lives; it is also a shattering exposé of the foster care and adoption systems that produced this tragedy. As a journalist in Houston, Asgarian sought out the children’s birth families and put them at the center of the story. We follow the lives of the Harts’ adopted children and their birth parents, and the machinations of the state agency that sent the children far away. Asgarian’s reporting uncovers persistent racial biases and corruption as young people of color are separated from birth parents without proper cause. The result is a riveting narrative and a deeply reported indictment of a system that continues to fail America’s most vulnerable children while upending the lives of their families.
