Category: Philadelphia News

  • Man who killed five people in the Kingsessing mass shooting pleads guilty, is sentenced to decades in prison

    Man who killed five people in the Kingsessing mass shooting pleads guilty, is sentenced to decades in prison

    The man who walked through the streets of Kingsessing and shot people at random in 2023, killing five and wounding five others in one of Philadelphia’s deadliest mass shootings, pleaded guilty Wednesday to multiple counts of murder and was sentenced to decades in prison.

    Kimbrady Carriker, 43, admitted that on the evening of July 3, 2023, he calmly walked through a Southwest Philadelphia neighborhood dressed in body armor and wearing a ski mask, and pointed his AR-15-style rifle at seemingly random passersby — then pulled the trigger.

    He killed five people: DaJuan Brown, 15; Lashyd Merritt, 21; Dymir Stanton, 29; Ralph Moralis, 59; and Joseph Wamah Jr., 31.

    Five others were injured: a 13-year-old boy he shot multiple times in the legs, and a mother who was driving with her 2-year-old twins and 10-year-old niece when he fired more than a dozen bullets into her car.

    Wamah was killed first in the early morning of July 2, targeted in his home for reasons that remain unclear. Carriker returned to Wamah’s block nearly two days later, armed with the same gun, and shot the others.

    Carriker’s admission to the killings marks the end of the legal saga in a shooting that shocked the city, shattered families’ lives, and traumatized a community.

    “This was 14 minutes of terror for the residents of the Kingsessing neighborhood,” Assistant District Attorney Robert Wainwright said of Carriker’s carnage.

    Prosecutors say surveillance video showed Kimbrady Carriker, dressed in a ballistic vest and ski mask, walking through Southwest Philadelphia shooting people at random on July 3, 2023.

    Carriker’s attorneys had been expected to argue at trial that he was legally insane when he gunned down his victims, and that he should be housed in a secure psychiatric facility for most of his life, not state prison.

    Carriker suffered from “severe delusions and religious preoccupations” and “had a fixed illusion that he was working for the National Security Agency,” said Gregg Blender, assistant defender at the Defender Association of Philadelphia.

    Even after he was arrested, taken to Norristown State Hospital, and medicated, he believed that he had done something wrong only because the “National Security Association personnel did not come and rescue me,” Blender said he told doctors.

    Prosecutors disagreed that Carriker was legally insane and said his actions were deliberate and he should spend the rest of his life in state prison. But as they prepared for trial, an expert hired by the Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office interviewed Carriker and agreed with defense lawyers that he did not appear to know that what he was doing that night was wrong.

    Prosecutors did not want to risk that a jury might find Carriker not guilty by reason of insanity, Wainwright said. So they offered Carriker the opportunity to plead guilty to five counts of third-degree murder, five counts of attempted murder, and gun crimes. They asked a judge to sentence him to 37½ to 75 years in prison.

    On Wednesday, Carriker agreed.

    Police gather evidence near 56th Street and Chester Avenue after the mass shooting on July 3, 2023.

    Common Pleas Court Judge Glenn B. Bronson sentenced Carriker to the agreed-upon decades behind bars. The judge said that, in his 15 years of handling homicide cases, this was the worst he had seen, but that he would respect the deal reached by prosecutors and Carriker’s defense team.

    “It traumatized an entire community,” the judge said of the shooting. “It traumatized an entire city.”

    Survivors of the shooting, and loved ones of the people who died, spoke emotionally in court Wednesday of the devastation of that July night, and the lasting impact on their lives.

    The father of Joseph Wamah Jr., consumed by the trauma of finding his son’s dead body inside his home, died earlier this year. His daughter said he could not mend his broken heart, and spiraled into a health crisis.

    Jonah Wamah, the father of Joseph Wamah, one of the victims in the Kingsessing mass shooting, spoke of the impact of losing his son in June 2024. He died earlier this year, in September, after his family said he could not recover from the grief of his son’s killing.

    “He faded in front of my eyes,” Jasmine Wamah said of her father.

    Other family members spoke of being hospitalized for their mental health, of looking after children without fathers and caring for kids with bullet scars in their legs.

    Odessa Brown spoke of holding her 15-year-old grandson as he bled out from his injuries.

    “When DaJuan was born, he was given to me and I held him in his arms,” she said. “And that day, I held him when he was on the ground, dying, praying, asking God, please save my child.”

    Ralph Moralis’ daughter, Taneisha Moralis, said that, at six months pregnant, she can’t stop thinking about how her child will never know their grandfather.

    And Charlotte Clark, the girlfriend of Dymir Stanton, said she struggles to get up each day to care for their daughter, who was only 3 when her father was killed.

    “I am still yearning for him from my soul. It makes me crazy,” she said, shaking.

    She said she hoped Carriker would rot in prison for what he took from her family.

    Nyshyia Thomas misses her son, DaJuan, every day. At the sentencing of her son’s killer on Wednesday, she said: “I will never get to see his face as a grown man. I will always just know the child.”

    A killing spree

    Carriker’s killing spree began shortly after midnight on July 2, when he showed up at Wamah’s home on the 1600 block of South 56th Street. He shot multiple bullets through the door, then walked in and shot Wamah nine times.

    It remains unclear why Carriker targeted Wamah. Police did not know he had been killed until days later.

    Nearly two days later, just before 8:30 p.m., Carriker returned to that block with the same rifle and a semiautomatic handgun. First, he fired 18 shots into the Jeep of Octavia Brown, a young woman driving her 2-year-old twins and 10-year-old niece to a family barbecue.

    One of the toddlers was shot multiple times in the leg, and the other twin was grazed by a bullet. Glass shards exploded into Brown’s face and eye. The boys survived their injuries, but the family was traumatized. Brown said Wednesday that her son still has pain in his legs from the shooting.

    As nearby police rushed to the scene, Carriker walked south down 56th Street, coming across 13-year-old Ryan Moss and shooting him multiple times in the legs. His friend, DaJuan Brown, was on his grandmother’s porch and ran out to help his friend. DaJuan and a responding officer found the boy screaming for help behind a car.

    As DaJuan ran home for help, Carriker shot him multiple times, killing him.

    Carriker continued on, next shooting Moralis as he got out of his car. Then, as he reached Greenway Avenue, he came to face Lashyd Merritt leaving his home, and shot him. Both men died.

    Carriker then turned up South Frazier Street, where he shot and killed Dymir Stanton. Stanton’s brother, Kaadir, shot at Carriker in self-defense as he tried to get to his brother.

    Philadelphia police responded to a sprawling scene nearly a mile long. Officer Ryan Howell ran toward the sounds of gunfire, then found Carriker in a dark alleyway. The gunman quickly surrendered.

    Police Officer Ryan Howell’s body worn camera footage showed how he found Kimbrady Carriker surrendering in a narrow alleyway.

    ‘I am sorry’

    Prosecutors said Carriker told Howell “good job” as he took him into custody, and said, “I’m out here helping you guys.” Law enforcement sources have said Carriker told police that the shooting spree was an attempt to help authorities address the city’s gun violence crisis, and that God would be sending more people to help.

    Carriker’s attorneys said he was profoundly delusional and did not understand the impact of his actions.

    Blender, of the defender association, said Wednesday that there was nothing he could say to comfort to the victims’ families — or the relatives of Carriker, who live with their own guilt.

    “He was under a mental health disease that prevented him from understanding what was going,” Blender said. “It is not an excuse. It is not to justify this horrific, horrific behavior.”

    Later in the sentencing, Carriker, dressed in a red jumpsuit, attempted to apologize.

    “All I ever wanted to do was help my community. I never meant to cause this harm,” he said. “I am sorry for the pain I have caused. I would take it back, but I can’t, so I will say that I am sorry and maybe one day you can forgive me.”

    After the hearing, the heartbroken families poured into the streets.

    A man who said he was like a father to Carriker said: “All families are hurting. If there’s anything that we could ever say, it’s that we are sorry that this happened.”

    And the loves ones of the victims left with little comfort. Wamah’s sister did not get the answer to the question that she says haunts her every day: “Why?”

    When she asked Carriker in court, he said nothing.

    Ne’siyah Thomas-Brown, left, sister of Da’Juan Brown, and, Odessa Brown, right, grandmother, outside the Juanita Kidd Stout Center for Criminal Justice, in Philadelphia, December 17, 2025.
  • SEPTA trolley tunnel will remain closed through at least the end of December

    SEPTA trolley tunnel will remain closed through at least the end of December

    There will be no Christmas miracle for trolley riders.

    The Center City trolley tunnel will remain closed at least through the end of December, SEPTA said Wednesday. Officials did not offer a precise reopening date but were hopeful service would resume in January.

    The tunnel has been closed since the beginning of November for repairs to its overhead catenary wire system. In October, damage caused two separate incidents in which trolleys were stopped and hundreds of riders were evacuated inside the tunnel.

    “We want to make sure that we don’t reopen before we feel that the risk has been reduced as low as possible that we could have another event in the tunnel,” said Kate O’Connor, SEPTA’s assistant general manager of engineering, maintenance, and construction.

    Issues began earlier this fall after SEPTA changed the size of the brass sliders that hold chunks of carbon that rub off and coat the wires carrying electricity to the trolleys. The carbon coating helps the trolleys move smoothly.

    A 3-inch slider, left, and a 4-inch slider, which coats electric powered wires with carbon to reduce friction. When they fail, trolleys are stranded.

    The switch from 3-inch to 4-inch sliders was meant to prolong their lifespan and lower maintenance costs, but it proved to do the opposite. Inside the tunnel, where there are more curves on the tracks and more equipment holding the wire to the ceiling, the new sliders and carbon burned through more quickly.

    SEPTA had tested the 4-inch sliders before the change was made, but observed no issues, O’Connor said. The tests proved to be too limited, she said, and did not adequately measure how the sliders would work across an entire fleet.

    SEPTA changed back to the 3-inch slider, but because the overhead wires were now damaged, the once-reliable sliders began to wear out more quickly, too.

    “We could hear the rubbing on the brass” after less than a day, said Jason Tarlecki, SEPTA’s deputy chief engineer of power.

    Trolley slider parts are on display as Jason Tarlecki, acting SEPTA chief engineer of power, talks with the news media at the 40th Street trolley portal (rear) Wednesday, Dec. 17, 2025.

    SEPTA determined it needed to replace the tunnel’s roughly five miles of overhead copper wiring, Tarlecki said, after the excess wear left it “shattered and raw” in sections.

    Those repairs have taken longer than originally projected. According to SEPTA officials, supply-chain issues stemming from the pandemic have created longer wait times for new parts. New wiring needs to build up a carbon coating over time, and SEPTA has been running trolleys along the system during the closure for the patina to develop. And the transit authority has been conducting tests, like experimenting with reduced-speed zones and readjusted wire tension, to ensure that the issue does not arise again.

    On Thursday morning, City Councilmember Jamie Gauthier and State Rep. Rick Krajewski (D., Philadelphia) plan to lead a canvass pushing for SEPTA and the city to help riders during the closure of the tunnel.

    “I know how challenging and frustrating it’s been for the tens of thousands of West and Southwest Philadelphians who rely on the trolley to get to school, work, and other essentials. [Market-Frankford Line] riders dealing with crush crowds and drivers stuck in trolley diversion gridlock are suffering too. … Only a sustainable investment from our state government can solve the root cause of this problem: SEPTA’s aging infrastructure,” Gauthier said in a statement.

    Even once the tunnel does reopen and service returns, the slider saga might not be over. O’Connor said that it was possible SEPTA would close the tunnel again occasionally, possibly for a weekend, as it continues to replace sections of the wiring.

    SEPTA trolley operator Victoria Daniels approaches the end of the tunnel, heading toward the 40th Street Trolley Portal Wednesday, Dec. 17, 2025, after a tour to update the news media on overhead wire repairs in the closed tunnel due to unexpected issues from new slider parts.
  • Lawsuit claiming Facebook had access to Jefferson’s private patient portal is dismissed

    Lawsuit claiming Facebook had access to Jefferson’s private patient portal is dismissed

    A federal judge on Wednesday tossed a proposed class-action lawsuit by Jefferson Health patients accusing the Philadelphia area’s largest health system of allowing Facebook’s third-party tracking technology, Meta Pixel, access to private patient information.

    After two years of litigation, and surviving a previous effort to dismiss the complaint, attorneys who filed the lawsuit asked the court to replace the named patients as the representatives of the proposed class. The lawyers said some aspects of their clients’ interactions with Jefferson’s web properties undermined the case.

    District Judge Cynthia M. Rufe rejected the request and dismissed the lawsuit, writing in an opinion that the plaintiffs had “ample opportunity to identify any defects or issues” over the last two years.

    “They have not identified any discovery or new evidence to justify such delay, nor have they explained how counsel’s due diligence did not determine the limitations of Plaintiffs’ claims,” Rufe wrote.

    The judge noted that the attorneys also missed the deadline to file for class certifications and did not respond to discovery requests.

    Attorneys David Cohen and James Zouras of the Stephan Zouras firm, who filed the complaint, did not respond to a request for comment.

    The original lawsuit was filed in 2022 in the Eastern District of Pennsylvania on behalf of Robert Stewart and Nancy Murphy, who said they suspected that their health information had been compromised when they started seeing Facebook ads related to medical issues, such as diabetes, kidney stones, and smoking cessation, that they had discussed with Jefferson providers through the patient portal.

    The lawsuit says Jefferson patients were tracked on the health system’s public-facing homepage, as well as within a password-protected portal where doctors and patients communicate.

    Jefferson denied in legal filings that it used Meta Pixel on its patient portals. It acknowledged using third-party tracking technology on its public-facing websites, which do not contain private medical information.

    Jefferson did not respond to a request for comment.

    In April, Cohen and Zouras asked the court to replace Stewart and Murphy with a third patient, Cathryn Thorpe, as the named plaintiff representing the patients in the class action.

    The attorneys said Stewart and Murphy would remain members of the proposed class of harmed patients.

    Jefferson’s attorneys argued in court filings that the request to replace the named plaintiffs was an admission that there was “no live controversy” and the suit should be tossed out.

    Rufe could not square how the patients’ case was too problematic to serve as named plaintiffs but they could still remain members of the class. She denied the request and dismissed the lawsuit.

  • Netflix orders series adaptation of Philly author Liz Moore’s ‘The God of the Woods’

    Netflix orders series adaptation of Philly author Liz Moore’s ‘The God of the Woods’

    Another book by South Philly author Liz Moore is heading to the small screen.

    Netflix announced it has ordered a series adaptation of The God of the Woods, a multigenerational mystery drama set in the Adirondacks.

    Moore will serve as a co-showrunner, writer, and executive producer, Netflix said. It marks the author’s second book that has been adapted for TV.

    The 2024 novel is about a teenage girl who disappears from her summer camp in 1975 and how the investigation uncovers years of family secrets and mysteries.

    Earlier this year, Moore’s best-selling Long Bright River, which focuses on Kensington’s opioid crisis, was turned into a series for Peacock. That crime thriller premiered in March.

    The author, who lives in South Philly, earned local credibility for her efforts to depict Kensington honestly in her book and with producers for the Peacock series. She said at the time her aim was to make something that countered misguided depictions of the neighborhood.

    Moore teaches at Temple’s College of Liberal Arts and is the director of the school’s creative writing MFA program.

    The God of the Woods is Moore’s fifth novel. It collected several accolades, including multiple Book Club shortlists and a spot on Barack Obama’s Summer Reading List.

    No additional details have been publicized about the Netflix series’ cast or release date.

  • A statue of a civil rights activist who spent much of her life in Philly now stands in the U.S. Capitol

    A statue of a civil rights activist who spent much of her life in Philly now stands in the U.S. Capitol

    Back in 1951, a teenage Barbara Rose Johns led a walkout at her segregated high school in Virginia that would go on to contribute to the U.S. Supreme Court’s landmark decision in Brown v. Board of Education. Now, a statue of her is on display in the U.S. Capitol, replacing a sculpture of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee.

    “The Commonwealth of Virginia will now be properly represented by an actual patriot who embodied the principle of liberty and justice for all,” House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries (D., N.Y.) said at a ceremony Tuesday unveiling the statue. “And not a traitor who took up arms against the United States to preserve the brutal institution of chattel slavery.”

    And while Johns today is remembered as a seminal civil rights figure who hailed from Virginia, she spent much of her adult life in Philadelphia.

    Born in New York City in 1935, Johns as a child moved to Prince Edward County, Va., where she lived on a farm with her grandmother. The county’s public schools were segregated, and in the late 1940s, she began attending an all-Black high school in Farmville known as Robert Russa Moton High School.

    Johns, according to the Moton Museum, became frustrated with the poor conditions at the school, which lacked resources and was overcrowded compared with white facilities. In April 1951, when she was 16, she led a walkout with hundreds of other students to protest the conditions, ultimately gaining the support of NAACP lawyers, who filed a lawsuit that challenged the practice of segregated education.

    Known as Davis v. Prince Edward, the lawsuit went on to become one of the five cases that the U.S. Supreme Court reviewed in Brown v. Board of Education. The high court’s landmark 1954 decision declared “separate but equal” public schools unconstitutional. Despite resisting the court’s decision, Prince Edward County schools were ultimately integrated by the mid-1960s.

    People take photos of a statue of Virginia civil rights activist Barbara Rose Johns, whose statue will replace one of Robert E. Lee as one of Virginia’s two statues on display at the Capitol, at a dedication ceremony Tuesday, Dec. 16, 2025, in Washington.

    Following the walkout, Johns’ parents were worried for their daughter’s safety and sent her to live in Montgomery, Ala., where she resided with her uncle, the Rev. Vernon Johns, who was a pastor and civil rights leader in his own right. She completed high school there and studied for a time at Spelman College in Atlanta, according to the Farmville Herald, Farmville’s local newspaper.

    In 1954, she married the Rev. William Rowland Powell, and the pair later moved to Philadelphia. As a resident, Johns continued college at Drexel University, from which she graduated in 1979 with a bachelor’s degree in library science, according to the 2018 book Recovering Untold Stories: An Enduring Legacy of the Brown v. Board of Education Decision.

    Johns would go on to have five children, and worked for more than 20 years as a librarian for the Philadelphia School District. Public information about her time in Philadelphia is scarce, and neither Drexel nor the school district immediately responded to requests for comment.

    On Sept. 25, 1991, Johns died in Philadelphia following a battle with cancer. Her family, the Farmville Herald reported, knew little of activism and her involvement in the Moton walkout, only learning of it late in her life.

    The statue of Johns is part of the National Statuary Hall Collection at the Capitol, in which each state can contribute two statues. The other statue representing Virginia is of George Washington.

    The National Statuary Hall displays 35 of the statues. Others are in the Crypt, the Hall of Columns, and the Capitol Visitor Center. House Speaker Mike Johnson (R., La.) said the Johns statue will be placed in the Crypt.

    Former Democratic Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam had requested the removal of the Lee statue. In December 2020, a state commission recommended replacing Lee’s statue with a statue of Johns. The removal occurred during a time of renewed national attention over Confederate monuments after the death of George Floyd, and the Lee statue was relocated to the Virginia Museum of History and Culture.

    Johns is also featured in a sculpture at the Virginia Civil Rights Memorial outside the state Capitol in Richmond. Her former high school is now a National Historic Landmark and museum.

    “She was brave, bold, determined, strong, wise, unselfish, warm and loving,” said Terry Harrison, one of her daughters, at Tuesday’s unveiling, according to NPR. “We’re truly grateful that this magnificent monument to her story, the sacrifices that her family and her community made, may continue to inspire and teach others that no matter what, you too can reach for the moon.”

    This article contains information from the Associated Press.

  • It’s an open secret that some charter schools push out kids with behavioral problems, Philly principals say

    It’s an open secret that some charter schools push out kids with behavioral problems, Philly principals say

    The trickle begins in the fall, some principals say: Students with a history of behavior or disciplinary problems or other issues show up in Philadelphia School District schools, often from city charters.

    Students switch schools after the start of the school year for many reasons — and changing schools is fairly common in Philadelphia.

    But at times, it seems like some students are off-loaded from charters because they’re tough to educate, according to interviews with a dozen district administrators. In district schools, administrators cannot remove students for such issues.

    Advocates at the Education Law Center have noted that trend, as has the head of the district’s principals union — all of whom call it concerning, especially in a school system with large numbers of needy students and not enough resources to educate them.

    “In October, in November, in December, that’s when we see the counseling out, the threats of expulsion that say, ‘We’re going to expel you, but you can go to a district school and then you won’t be expelled,’” said Margie Wakelin, a lawyer with the Philadelphia-based Education Law Center-PA.

    Cassandra St. Vil, chief executive officer of a group that represents a large number of Philadelphia charters, said she is not aware of any data to support those anecdotal claims.

    “For years, opponents of charter schools have tried to use this message and yet there has never been any evidence to back it up,” said St. Vil, of Philadelphia Charters for Excellence. “And conversely, we hear from charter school leaders the exact same thing, that students come to them.”

    District data show that over the last three years, there has been a steady flow of charter students transferring to district schools throughout the school year. In the 2024-25 school year, for instance, 161 students transferred from brick-and-mortar charters to district schools in September. By June, it was 843 students, just a fraction of the total charter sector.

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    Charters educate more than 64,000 Philadelphia students; there are about 114,000 in district schools.

    “While this is not an issue across the entire charter sector, the district is looking at the data, and working with the Charter Schools Office,” Christina Clark, a district spokesperson, said in a statement. “The district is working to analyze enrollment trends across all sectors.”

    Robin Cooper, president of Commonwealth Association of School Administrators, Teamsters Local 502, said many district schools get a stream of students beginning in the fall, after district schools’ budgets are locked in on Oct. 1, then another in the spring, just before state testing. (Students’ scores count for the schools they attended on Oct. 1, even if they switch schools after that date.)

    “They’re not sending the kids who get A’s, the good kids, they’re sending you the kids who might have problems,” said Cooper, who was a longtime district principal before assuming the union presidency. “It negatively impacts your climate, and the charter is getting the money for the student.”

    One district principal, who declined to be named for fear of reprisal, said they recently stopped in a hallway to talk to a student who had just transferred to the district school from a charter.

    “She said, ‘They kicked me out for fighting,’” the principal said. “Here, we can’t kick a student out for fighting. I said, ‘Welcome to our school. I’m in the business of growing children.’”

    Students ‘counseled out’ of charters

    Charter schools — which are publicly funded but privately managed, though authorized by local boards of education — have transformed Philadelphia’s educational landscape since they first came to Pennsylvania in 1997.

    Charters are funded by per-student payments from the school district, but are paid only for the number of days enrolled.

    By law, charters are open to all students, and most operate on citywide lotteries — though some are neighborhood schools.

    A 2017 Education Law Center analysis of the enrollment of special education students in Pennsylvania charters found that “while a number of individual charter schools equitably serve all students, the charter school sector taken as a whole generally underserves these vulnerable student populations.”

    Anecdotally, district principals say in some cases, they see students with behavior problems or learning differences accepted to some charters, but then some of them are “counseled out.” That means they are not officially expelled or forced to leave, but strongly encouraged or pressured to do so after a disciplinary issue crops up.

    In district schools, the bar for expulsion is much higher — for incidents such as using a weapon, or threatening mass violence.

    Wakelin, of the Education Law Center, said she recently spoke to a parent whose child has a significant disability. The parent had multiple conversations with the charter school about the child’s needs. She said the school kept telling the family: We’ll help.

    “And then very recently, the charter school said, ‘You know, you might be better served in a district school that has more resources for a student with autism,’” said Wakelin, who declined to name the school in question.

    ‘It’s no secret’

    After the start of the school year, another district principal said, comes a bump in charter transfers.

    “We see an increase every year,” said the principal, who, like other current and former district administrators who spoke to The Inquirer, asked not to be identified for fear of reprisal. “It’s not talked about, but in the schools, it’s no secret.”

    When new students transfer in, an administrator often asks why they left their old school.

    “Most of them say it’s because they were kicked out of whatever charter school they were at — they got into a fight, or whatever,” the principal said. “And most of the times, it’s things that we can’t move students for in the Philadelphia School District.”

    Lawrence Jones, longtime chief executive officer of the Richard Allen Preparatory Charter School in Southwest Philadelphia, said there is “an urban myth” that charters off-load problem students to district schools and then benefit financially for doing so. (There is a common perception that charters get paid for students based on their Oct. 1 enrollment counts, and keep the money if students go elsewhere, but charters actually get paid for the number of days students are enrolled.)

    “The gain that you could potentially get for dropping those kids, financially and other funding, would be less than if you held onto those students,” said Jones.

    But a third district principal called the issue a particular challenge for neighborhood schools, which already typically tend to have higher concentrations of children with complicated needs. Public schools often get needy students midyear, but no additional funding. Their budgets are projected in the spring, but finalized in the fall.

    “It’s just not fair,” said the third principal. “We’re not getting their best kids.”

    That principal is currently experiencing what they call “the season when we get charter kids,” they said. “They send them to us for discipline issues, uniform violations.”

    ‘A sword that cuts both ways’

    The practice engenders deep frustration, principals say.

    “Public schools can’t turn kids away. It’s not like the charter world where you can say, ‘No, I’m full, have a nice day.’ In public school, you take the kid, crowded or not, and figure it out,” a fourth principal said.

    St. Vil, of Philadelphia Charters for Excellence, which represents 64 schools, disputes that characterization. She noted that nearly 80% of the city’s charter students are Black or Latino, and many have special needs or are English learners.

    “These schools are achieving real success stories for students who too often haven’t thrived in one-size-fits-all settings,” St. Vil said.

    Jones, of Richard Allen Preparatory Charter School, said that while there may be some isolated instances where a charter counsels out a student with difficulties, “it’s a sword that cuts both ways.” Students sometimes come to charters from district schools with inadequate special-education plans, he said.

    Parents enrolling their children at Richard Allen have told him that they were told his school “could provide better services,” Jones said. “I asked, ‘By who?’ And they said, ‘By staff at the former school, the district school.’”

  • Why Philadelphia loses promising biotech firms to Boston, San Francisco, and San Diego

    Why Philadelphia loses promising biotech firms to Boston, San Francisco, and San Diego

    Capstan Therapeutics’ sale this year for $2.1 billion, the highest price paid for a private early-stage biotech company since 2022, was a triumph for its founders at the University of Pennsylvania.

    Unfortunately for Philadelphia, the company is based in San Diego. Investors wanted an executive who lives there to be CEO.

    Capstan was a miss for Philadelphia, said Jeffrey Marrazzo, who cofounded a high-profile regional biotech company, Spark Therapeutics, and is now an industry investor and consultant.

    If Philadelphia had a bigger talent pool of biotech CEOs, “it would have and should have been here,” he said.

    The company, which aims to treat autoimmune diseases by reengineering cells inside the body, most likely would have been sold wherever it was based, but keeping it here would have boosted the local biotech ecosystem, experts said.

    The Philadelphia region has lagged behind other biotech centers in landing companies and jobs, but industry experts are working to close the gap and better compete with Boston, the San Francisco Bay Area, and San Diego.

    According to Marrazzo and others, the Philadelphia region’s relatively shallow pool of top biotech management is a key challenge.

    Big investors go to managers who have proven ability to deliver big investment returns, said Fred Vogt, interim CEO of Iovance Biotherapeutics, a California company with a manufacturing facility in the Navy Yard.

    “They want the company to perform. They’ll put it in Antarctica, if that was where the performance would come from,” he said.

    A positive sign for Philadelphia is Eli Lilly & Co.’s recent decision to open an incubator for early-stage biotech companies in Center City.

    The Lilly announcement last month also reflects Philadelphia’s national biotech stature. It’s the fourth U.S. city to get a Lilly Gateway Lab, behind Boston, the San Francisco Bay Area, and San Diego.

    Those places have far outpaced Philadelphia in the creation of biotech research and development jobs, even as the sector’s growth has slowed.

    From 2014 through last year, the Boston area added four biotech research and development jobs for every one job added here, according to an Inquirer analysis of federal employment data.

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    Penn’s role in Philadelphia biotech

    Philadelphia’s reputation as an innovation center — boosters like to call the region “Cellicon Valley” — starts with the University of Pennsylvania, which has long been a top recipient of National Institutes of Health grants to advance scientific discovery.

    Penn scientists’ 21st-century accomplishments include key roles in figuring out how to arm immune cells to fight cancer, fixing faulty genes, and modifying mRNA to fight disease.

    Research at Penn has contributed to the creation of 45 FDA-approved treatments since 2013, according to the university.

    “Penn discoveries help spark new biotech companies, but we can’t build the whole ecosystem in this area alone,” said John Swartley, Penn’s chief innovation officer. “Great science is just one ingredient. We also need capital, experienced leadership, real estate and manufacturing infrastructure, and strong city and state support.”

    Penn was one of two Philadelphia institutions receiving more than $100 million in NIH funding in the year that ended Sept. 30. The other was the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.

    Katalin Karikó and Drew Weissman spoke at a University of Pennsylvania news conference after they were named winners of a 2023 Nobel Prize in medicine. Their work was instrumental to modifying mRNA for therapeutic uses, such as the rapid development of lifesaving vaccines during the COVID-19 pandemic.

    By contrast, the Boston area was home to 10 institutions with at least $100 million in NIH grants, generating more spinoffs and jobs.

    The Philadelphia region has a healthy number of biotech spinouts, but the biggest markets have more from a larger number of research institutions, said Robert Adelson, founder Osage University Partners, a venture capital firm in Bala Cynwyd.

    That concentration of jobs and companies in the Boston area — where nearly 60,000 people worked in biotech R&D last year — makes it easier to attract people. By comparison, there were 13,800 such jobs in Philadelphia and Montgomery County, home to the bulk of the regional sector.

    If a startup fails, which happens commonly in biotech, “there’ll be another startup or another company for me to go to” in a place like Boston, said Matt Cohen, a managing partner for life science at Osage.

    Another challenge for Philadelphia: It specializes in cell and gene therapy, a relatively small segment of the biotech industry, whose allure to investors has faded in the last few years.

    Such market forces shaped the trajectory of Spark, a 2013 Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia spinout that developed Luxterna, the first FDA-approved gene therapy, used to treat an inherited form of blindness. The promise of Spark’s gene therapy work for a form of hemophilia spurred its 2019 acquisition by Swiss pharmaceutical titan Roche for $4.8 billion.

    This year, Roche laid off more than half the company’s workforce as part of a restructuring and a rethinking of treatments for blood diseases that it had been developing.

    The company still employs about 300 in the city, a spokesperson said, and work continues on its $575 million Gene Therapy Innovation Center at 30th and Chestnut Streets in University City.

    The long arc of biotech

    A handful of companies dominated the early days of U.S. biotech. Boston had Biogen and Genzyme, San Francisco had Genentech, San Diego had Hybritech, and Philadelphia had Centocor. All of them started between 1976 and 1981.

    Centocor started in the University City Science Center because one of its founders, virologist Hilary Koprowski, was the longtime director of the Wistar Institute. Centocor’s first CEO, Hubert Schoemaker, moved here from the Boston area, where he had gotten his doctorate at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

    Centocor was one of the nation’s largest biotech companies when Johnson & Johnson bought it for $4.9 billion in 1999. Its portfolio included an anticlotting drug called Reopro and Remicade for Crohn’s disease.

    Another drug still under development at the time of the sale, Stelara, went on to become J&J’s top-selling drug as recently as 2023 with $10.9 billion in revenue. Stelara, approved to treat several autoimmune disorders, remains a testament to Centocor’s legacy.

    Despite its product success, Centocor didn’t have the same flywheel effect of creating new companies and a pipeline of CEOs as peer companies did in regions outside of Philadelphia.

    The University of Pennsylvania’s Smilow Center for Translational Research, shown in 2020, is one of the school’s major laboratory buildings.

    “There are a lot of alums of Centocor that are really impressive, but they seem to have wound up elsewhere,” said Bill Holodnak, CEO and founder of Occam Global, a New York life science executive recruitment firm.

    Among the Centocor executives who left the region was Harvey Berger, Centocor’s head of research and development from 1986 to 1991. He started a new company in Cambridge, Mass.

    At the time, the Philadelphia area didn’t have the infrastructure, range of scientists, or management talent needed for biotech startups, he said.

    Since then, he thinks the regional market has matured.

    “Now, there’s nothing holding the Philadelphia ecosystem back. The universities, obviously Penn, and others have figured this out,” Berger said.

    Conditions have changed

    Penn’s strategy for helping faculty members commercialize their inventions has evolved significantly over the last 15 years.

    It previously licensed the rights to develop its research to companies outside of the area, such as Jim Wilson’s gene therapy discoveries and biochemist Katalin Karikó and immunologist Drew Weissman’s mRNA patents. Now it takes a more active role in creating companies.

    Among Penn’s latest spinouts is Dispatch Bio, which came out of stealth mode earlier this year after raising $216 million from investors led by Chicago-based Arch Venture Partners and San Francisco-based Parker Institute for Cancer Immunotherapy.

    Dispatch, chaired by Marrazzo, is developing a cell therapy approach that uses a virus to attach what it calls a “flare” onto the cells it wants the immune system to attack.

    Marrazzo said in July that he wasn’t going to be involved in Dispatch if it wasn’t based largely in Philadelphia. As of July, 75% of its 60 employees were working in Philadelphia. Still, Dispatch’s CEO is in the San Francisco Bay Area.

    The Philadelphia region is increasingly well-positioned for the current biotech era, said Audrey Greenberg, who played a key role in launching King of Prussia’s Center for Breakthrough Medicines about five years ago. The center is a contract developer and manufacturer for cell and gene therapies.

    “You no longer need to move to Kendall Square to get a company funded,” she said, referring to Cambridge’s biotech epicenter. “You need good data, a credible translational plan, experienced advisers, and access to patient capital, all of which can increasingly be built here.”

    Greenberg now works as a venture partner for the Mayo Clinic, with the goal of commercializing research discoveries within the health system’s network of hospitals in Minnesota, Arizona, and Florida.

    She plans to bring that biotech business to the Philadelphia region.

    “I’m going to be starting my companies all here in Philadelphia, because that’s where I am. And I know everybody here, and everybody I’m going to hire in these startups that are going to be based here,” she said.

  • 10-year-old boy severely burned in Northeast Philadelphia plane crash comes home from hospital

    10-year-old boy severely burned in Northeast Philadelphia plane crash comes home from hospital

    The 10-year-old boy who was severely burned in the Northeast Philadelphia plane crash was headed home on Tuesday after spending nearly a year in the hospital, his grandmother, Alberta “Amira” Brown said.

    “It’s the best thing ever that he’ll be home for the holidays,” Brown said in the morning as the boy prepared to leave Weisman Children’s rehabilitation hospital in South Jersey. “He is truly happy to be coming home.”

    Ramesses Vazquez Viana, then 9, suffered burns to 90% of his body on Jan. 31 when a Learjet medical transport crashed on Cottman Avenue near the Roosevelt Mall, killing all six people on board.

    Ramesses had been riding in a car with his father, Steven Dreuitt Jr., and Dreuitt’s fiancée, Dominique Goods Burke. Dreuitt, 37, died in the blaze. Goods Burke, 34, died in April from her injuries after spending nearly three months at Thomas Jefferson University Hospital.

    A bystander saw Ramesses after he escaped from the car; the boy’s back was on fire, and his shirt was burned away.

    Police took Ramesses to St. Christopher’s Hospital for Children, and he was later airlifted to Shriners Children’s hospital in Boston. He underwent more than 40 surgeries, including multiple skin grafts. He spent months in physical therapy relearning how to get out of bed, walk and climb stairs, according family interviews with CBS News.

    His classmates from Smedley Elementary School in the Philadelphia’s Frankford neighborhood cheered him on from afar, writing him cards and sending videos.

    Ramesses celebrated his 10th birthday in October at the Boston hospital.

    “No matter how many times you knock him down, he’s strong,” his mother, Jamie Vazquez Viana, told CBS News last month.

    A few weeks ago, Ramesses was moved closer to his Philadelphia home to Weisman Children’s in Marlton, N.J.

    During a phone interview with The Inquirer, Brown said her grandson “has a long road ahead of him” and would need additional surgeries.

    During a visit with him Saturday, he kicked a soccer ball around with her.

    Brown confirmed a CBS report that Ramesses was being released from Weisman sometime Tuesday, but declined to provide specifics.

    Brown said her grandson has chilling memories from that night: He was in the car’s backseat texting with Brown at about 6 p.m. when the plane exploded in a giant fireball, and he heard loud booms.

    As flames engulfed the car, Ramesses tried to help his father, who couldn’t move his legs. The child heard his father yell to get out, and that he loved him. Ramesses told his father he loved him back. He could hear Goods Burke screaming.

    Steven Dreuitt Jr. and Goods Burke shared a teenage son, Dominick Goods, who is now a junior at Imhotep Institute Charter High School. Brown said her older grandson is “really struggling” with his parents’ deaths.

    The six passengers killed on the medical transport jet were Mexican nationals. They included the pilot and copilot, two medical personnel, an 11-year-old girl, and her mother. The girl was headed home to Mexico after undergoing treatment for a spinal condition at Shriners Children’s Philadelphia.

    More than a dozen people on the ground were injured, and 16 homes were badly damaged, temporarily or permanently displacing several families.

    Investigators with the National Transportation Safety Board haven’t yet determined why the plane crashed. A preliminary report, released earlier this year, found the cockpit voice recorder “had likely not been recording audio for several years.” No distress calls were made by the pilot or copilot.

  • Philly landlord whose intimidation campaign against tenant left two people dead is sentenced to 9 to 18 years in prison

    Philly landlord whose intimidation campaign against tenant left two people dead is sentenced to 9 to 18 years in prison

    The rowhouse on East Pastorius Street no longer looked like a home.

    Its doors and windows had been stripped, leaving the two-bedroom Germantown rowhouse open to the elements — and leaving Patricia Hall, the tenant and mother of four, alone inside and clutching her gun, afraid that if she left, her landlord would finally get his way and throw out everything she owned.

    That night, a man slipped through the open back door, armed with a gun of his own.

    Hall encountered Felipe Eskew, dressed in a mask, as she lay on her couch. They shot and killed each other.

    The intimidation campaign that ended two lives began months earlier, after Hall’s landlord, Stephen Wilkins, grew determined to force Hall and her family out of the crumbling property after they fell behind on rent.

    On Tuesday, Wilkins, 55, was sentenced to nine to 18 years in prison for setting in motion the events that led to the deadly confrontation.

    Patricia Hall’s life was not easy, her family said. She grew up without a mother, and often struggled financially. But she loved her children fiercely and tried to protect them.

    Hall, 45, and her now 28-year-old daughter, Crystal, had been renting the two-bedroom at 127 E. Pastorius St. for about three years when, in early 2023, they fell behind on rent. They paid Wilkins what they could, but the shortfall was adding up.

    At the same time, the family said, the house was falling apart — kitchen and bathroom sinks wouldn’t drain, the stairs were crumbling, the ceiling was cracking — and Wilkins was refusing to make repairs.

    Tension between the Halls and Wilkins started building. Crystal Hall said Wilkins tried to illegally force them out by shutting off the electricity and water, ripping out the electric meter and circuit breakers, and throwing a brick through their window.

    After his emergency eviction filing was denied by the courts and the family still refused to leave, he went a step further and on the afternoon of Sept. 15, he removed every door and window from the home — leaving Patricia Hall and her kids inside a shell-like structure.

    Hall couldn’t afford to lose the few things that she had, her daughter said, so she sent her young children to stay with a relative, and Hall remained in the house — her gun at her side, just in case.

    Late that night, prosecutors said, Askew — Wilkins’ best friend — crept inside the open back door of the home, wearing gloves and black mask, and armed with a gun.

    Assistant District Attorney Cydney Pope said she believes Wilkins sent Askew — who was eager to move into the Pastorius Street rowhouse himself — to the home to scare Hall into leaving, not necessarily to kill her.

    Instead, when he encountered Hall and her gun, the two shot and killed each other.

    Crystal Hall returned to the house where her mother Patricia Hall, was killed. Her mother was found shot multiple times behind the couch in the living room behind her.

    Wilkins was charged with murder and related crimes two months later after Homicide Detective Joseph Cremen uncovered Wilkins’ trail of terror against the Hall family — a harassment campaign that culminated to the removal of the windows, and the break-in-turned killing

    Wilkins was the last person Askew called just before Pope said he crept into Hall’s home and killed her.

    But Pope said the evidence connecting Wilkins directly to Askew’s plans that night was limited. The two men, who had been friends for three decades, were careful never to text directly about their plans to force Hall out, she said.

    Concerned that a jury could acquit him of the crimes, the prosecutor said, she offered to drop the murder charge in exchange for a guilty plea to involuntary manslaughter and solicitation to commit burglary. He agreed in September.

    Inside the courtroom Tuesday, Crystal Hall said Wilkins’ scheme had upended her life and those of her three young siblings, now 9, 12, and 15. She has suffered emotional breakdowns in the aftermath, she said, and now takes medication for her mental health. Her youngest brother, she said, is angry and confused. Her 15-year-old sister barely speaks.

    “We were all we had,” she said of her mother. “We can never get past the life that was taken.”

    Crystal Hall said her mother was “our source of guidance, laughter, and unconditional live.”

    She asked that Wilkins received the maximum sentence of 12½ to 24 years.

    But Wilkins’ family and his attorneys, Fortunato Perri Jr. and Brian McMonagle, asked the judge for mercy for “a man who became desperate” and never meant any harm to Hall.

    Teliah Wilkins said she’d seen how her husband had reflected on his actions over the 25 months he has spent in jail so far, and that he was “consumed with regret.”

    “Stephen’s conduct wasn’t born of malice,” she said, “… but a series of profound misjudgments.”

    But when Wilkins addressed the judge, he denied having ever sent Askew to the home.

    “I never meant harm for anybody,” he said. “… I never even wanted him to go there.”

    Bronson, the judge, questioned why, then, Askew was at the house that night, and why Wilkins, if he was not involved with Askew’s actions, pleaded guilty.

    Wilkins said he didn’t know why Askew was there, only that “he wanted the house.” He took a plea so as not to risk spending the rest of his life in prison, he said.

    As the judge stared in confusion, Wilkins began to stammer and apologize.

    “Is that it?” Bronson asked.

    The judge, while handing down his sentence, said he did believe Wilkins did not mean for Hall to die, but that given the circumstances of the crime, the landlord was lucky not to be facing second-degree murder and life in prison.

    He ordered him to spend nine to 18 years behind bars.

    Crystal Hall, in the gallery, began to sob. She whispered thanks to God. Then she walked out of court, and prepared to spend another holiday season without her mother.

    A photo of a young Patricia Hall holding her daughter, Crystal, as a baby.
  • Philly Police Officer Andy Chan, who died six years after a motorcycle crash, is laid to rest

    Philly Police Officer Andy Chan, who died six years after a motorcycle crash, is laid to rest

    Philadelphia Police Commissioner Kevin Bethel stood at a podium behind a cherry wood coffin inside the Cathedral Basilica of SS. Peter and Paul on Tuesday and told mourners how Highway Patrol Officer Andy Chan had arrived in the afterlife: on his motorcycle, boots shining, smiling.

    Then he turned to the highway patrol officers standing in the front pews. “And how,” he asked, “did Andy Chan announce himself when he arrived at the gates of heaven?”

    “Highway!” they answered in unison.

    Chan, 55, was laid to rest Tuesday morning, six years after a 79-year-old driver struck his patrol motorcycle near Pennypack Park, catapulting him more than 20 feet away onto the pavement and causing brain injuries from which he never fully recovered.

    A highway patrol motorcycle leads the procession to the Cathedral Basilica of SS. Peter and Paul for the funeral of Philadelphia Police Officer Andy Chan.

    Chan served 24 years on the Philadelphia police force before the crash on a quiet stretch of Rowland Avenue irrevocably altered the course of his life.

    A highway patrol officer for nearly his entire career, Chan spent his working days on two wheels, patrolling neighborhoods and highways astride the bike he was known for riding with pride.

    He greeted his fellow officers not with “Hello,” but with “Highway!”

    Officers towed Chan’s motorcycle, still bearing his name, in a procession that stretched nearly 18 miles, from North Philadelphia to Center City and finally, to the cathedral.

    Inside the gilded building, photos of Chan streamed on TVs: Beside his wife, Teng, dressed in their wedding attire, hands clasped and raised triumphantly as they walked into their reception. In a portrait studio, cradling the youngest of his three children. Standing on the grass of the National Mall in Washington, D.C., surrounded by fellow officers. His arm around a gray-haired Sylvester Stallone. On his bike, over and over again.

    The body of Philadelphia police officer Andy Chan is lifted from Caisson after arriving at the Cathedral Basilica St. Peter and Paul, Tuesday, December 16, 2025.

    Chan had wanted to be a police officer since childhood, he once said in a radio appearance. From his parents’ restaurant in Chinatown, he listened with reverence to the uniformed officers who came in to eat and swap stories with his father. “I kind of looked up to police officers,” he said.

    But he was drawn especially to the thunder of their motorcycles as they passed.

    After joining the department, Chan spent eight years riding the streets of the 39th District as a bicycle officer before being promoted in 2004 to the department’s elite Highway Patrol Unit.

    When he introduced himself to the woman who would become his wife, he did so simply with the words: “I’m Highway.”

    The casket of Philadelphia Police Highway Patrol Officer Andy Chan arriving at the Cathedral Basilica of SS. Peter and Paul on Tuesday.

    Teng Chan described her husband’s “unwavering sense of purpose” as rivaled only by his love of his family. On road trips, she said, he gave long lectures to their eldest son about life, inspiring him to become a volunteer firefighter and later, join the U.S. National Guard, she said.

    As for her, his wife said, “He pushed me out of my comfort zone. He made me who I am today: a better person. A fighter.”

    After the Jan. 3, 2019, crash, Chan remained in a coma for weeks, reliant on a ventilator. When he awoke, he required 24-hour care from family, friends, and fellow police officers, who regularly sat by his side. Though he could no longer speak, those close to him said he showed recognition and response when loved ones were present.

    “We were heartbroken every day after the accident,” Teng Chan said. “We prayed every day for recovery, for him to be restored. With his unbreakable spirit, he stayed with us.

    “But,” she said, “it was time. He has a higher calling.”

    Chan was buried in Laurel Hill West Cemetery.