The homicide clearance rate this year has hovered between 86% and 90% — the highest since 1984, when the department recorded a 95% clearance rate.
The change is a welcome improvement from the challenges of 2015 to 2022, when the rate of solved homicides hovered around 50% or less and dropped to a historic low of 41.8% in 2021, according to police data.
Just as there’s no single explanation for the drop in shootings, there’s no simple answer to why detectives are closing cases more quickly this year. And a higher arrest rate doesn’t account for whether a defendant is convicted at trial.
But interviews with law enforcement officials and a review of police data and court records suggest a few likely factors: the overall decline in violence, which gives officers more time to investigate, and recent investments in technology that give detectives faster access to evidence.
Here are five things contributing to the improved clearance rate:
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Simple math
The clearance rate is calculated by dividing the number of homicide cases solved in a given year — regardless of when the crime occurred — by the number of homicides that occurred in that same year.
And so the apparent improvement partly comes down to simple math: with dramatically fewer killings this year, even fewer total arrests can boost the clearance rate.
Through August, police had solved about 60% of the killings in 2025, but because they’ve cleared nearly 50 others from previous years — and because there are a third as many homicides as three years ago — the rate goes up.
Still, that number is notable. Only about a third of killings that occurred in 2021 and 2022 were solved that same year, according to an Inquirer analysis of court records and police data.
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Time
The significant reduction in violence this year has given detectives the time to solve their cases, both old and new.
During the pandemic — as the city recorded about 2,000 homicides in just four years — detectives were handling 10 to 15 cases each year, more than twice the workload recommended by the U.S. Department of Justice.
This year, it’s half that.
That’s making a difference. Detectives this year appear to be solving cases more quickly than years past, according to an Inquirer analysis.
Through August, police arrested a suspect within a week in about 31% of cases — up from just 15% three years ago.
A video camera at Jasper and Orleans Streets in Philadelphia.
Cameras are everywhere
Just in the last year, police have doubled the number of “real-time crime” cameras on Philadelphia’s streets. In 2024, police said there were 3,625 of the ultrahigh-resolution cameras across the city. This year, there are 7,309.
And there are tens of thousands of other cameras through SEPTA, private businesses, and residents’ home-surveillance systems that give detectives leads on suspects.
Police have also recently installed hundreds of license plate readers — 650 for every patrol vehicle and another 125 on poles across the city.
The department also subscribes to a software that taps into a broader network of millions of other plate readers — on tow trucks, in parking garages, and even private businesses across the region.
Police said the tools are helping them track shooters’ movements before and after a shooting and locate getaway cars more quickly, by searching a vehicle’s license plate or even by its make and model.
Police locate a gun and a cell phone on the 700 block of East Willard Street, where a man in his 20s was fatally shot in December 2024.
Phones and social media
Philadelphia police and the district attorney’s office have greatly expanded their digital evidence tools in the past two years.
Where cases once relied on grainy video and often-reluctant witnesses, detectives now have high-definition video footage, partial DNA processors, and cell phone location data — evidence that “never goes away” and doesn’t lie, said Deputy Police Commissioner Frank Vanore.
Getting access to a suspect’s — and victim’s — phones and social media can often tell the story behind a crime.
The Gun Violence Task Force, which investigates gang violence and works closely with homicide and shooting detectives, had just two cell phone extraction devices two years ago. Now, it has 14, plus a host of advanced software that helps investigators track and map gang networks.
Between the homicide unit and the task force, nearly 2,000 phones were processed last year — often giving detectives crucial evidence and information about crimes beyond the one they were initially investigating.
Improved morale
Some detectives, who asked not to be identified to speak frankly about their work, said morale in the homicide unit — and across the department — has improved.
During the pandemic, when shootings surged, tensions in the unit went unchecked, and conditions at the Roundhouse headquarters were dire. The office was overcrowded and infested with vermin, and investigators shared just 15 computers among nearly 100 detectives.
Since moving in 2022 to new offices at 400 N. Broad St., each detective now has a desk and computer, and that has boosted productivity, they said.
The detectives also said that patrol officers seem more empowered than during the height of the gun violence crisis to engage with their neighborhoods and gather information that ends up being important to their investigations.
To hear Michael Blichasz tell it, none of this would have happened if he hadn’t gone asking for a copy of the deed.
City officials never would have come knocking on the door of his nonprofit museum, the Polish American Cultural Center, curious how he came to be the supposed owner of a multimillion-dollar property in the heart of Philadelphia’s historic district.
They never would have begun scrutinizing the decades-long paper trail, the political handshakes, and the forgotten promises made to the once-powerful community leader.
And the quaint Polish history museum that has operated in Society Hill since 1987 would still have its home.
Because for nearly 30 years, City Hall never questioned whether Blichasz’s nonprofit actually owned the building at 308 Walnut St.
“No one mentioned a word about it,” Blichasz, 79, said. “It was totally silent.”
That silence started unraveling seven years ago when, Blichasz said, he requested a copy of the deed in order to get a state grant to make repairs on the five-story property. He had somehow avoided an inquiry for decades, despite securing other grants and contracts to keep alive his nonprofit’s mission: providing Polish immigrants with a one-stop cultural hub that could connect them to city services.
Officials at the Philadelphia Redevelopment Authority (PRA) scratched their heads at the request, according to Blichasz. Records showed the authority owned the museum building, not the Polish group.
PRA eventually took Blichasz to court, accusing him of squatting in the property and failing to pay back millions in loan installments. Blichasz said former Mayor W. Wilson Goode and other elected officials in the late 1980s purchased the property for his group and promised to pay off the debt as a gift to the Polish community.
But apparently those promises were never written down.
“The city has no records [or] evidence anyone in the city ever agreed to pay the balance on behalf of [the Polish museum] to obtain ownership of the property,” Jamila Davis, a PRA spokesperson, said in a statement.
Michael Blichasz, president of the Polish American Cultural Center, stands beside a bust of the former Pope John Paul II.
This much both sides agree on: The Polish American Cultural Center came to occupy the historic building thanks to a rare and generous arrangement in 1987.
Goode approved a $2.1 million bond to buy a permanent home for United Polish American Social Services, a nonprofit run by Blichasz that had been aiding the city’s Polish immigrants since the early 20th century.
The grant led to the birth of the city’s first and only Polish museum, where Blichasz amassed an exhibit hall full of national folk art, portraits of famous Poles such as Pope John Paul II, and historical artifacts dating from the first immigrant settlers to these shores in 1608 to the diaspora that followed the 1939 invasion of the Nazis.
But Goode’s act of benevolence came with a caveat: According to the bond agreement, if the Polish group failed to keep up with payments, the city could kill the deal and take back the building. Blichasz claims Goode and other elected officials at the time, many of whom are now dead, promised he would never have to pay a dime.
“They said, ‘You will pay zero,’” he said.
A copy of a $81,875 check Blichasz provided to The Inquirer represents one of the only payments made by the nonprofit to the city — in August 1988. PRA said Blichasz’snonprofit, all told, paid about $155,000 toward the bond taken out by the city, which grew to $4.6 million with interest.
The Goode administration later applied for a federal grant through the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) to pay off the property, according to records provided to The Inquirer.
Blichasz said he was under the impression the deal was done. But those federal funds never materialized — and the city didn’t seek to settle the debt for decades.
Bicentennial cash and ethnic tensions
The museum’s origins lie in the summer of 1987, when City Hall faced accusations of racial and ethnic favoritism.
The city had just unlocked $2 million left from the 1976 Bicentennial, and Council members had sent half that money to nine Black community groups. Anger simmered among white ethnic leaders like Blichasz.
“Reverse discrimination,” Councilmember Joan Krajewski said at the time.
Critics asserted also that regardless of race, the fund was supporting activities with few ties to America’s birthday celebration — from a Trinidadian steelpan orchestra to a Polish-American festival at Penn’s Landing led by Blichasz.
At the time, however, Blichasz’s nonprofit was also trying to move its headquarters from Fairmountto Philadelphia’s historic district.
And the city had already agreed to pay for the new building.
After the city inked the bond purchase on behalf of the Polish group, Blichasz vowed to increase the nonprofit’s annual budget by 50% to keep up with repayment. Goode promised the group leniency, but newspaper articles from the time show no offer to fully wipe the debt.
Blichasz was confident. Donors in the Polish community, he said, would “respond with joy” to bring this first-of-its-kind museum to life in Philadelphia.
But the joy proved less than hoped.
Months later, Blichasz was back at City Hall asking for a bailout. His group had raised only a fraction of its $1 million goal and needed an additional $350,000 to pay the mortgage and museum build-out costs.
He pointed out that the city had financed capital projects for other ethnic groups, including the Mummers Museum, the African American history museum, and the Jewish museum.
“This is going to tell us just how appreciated the good, taxpaying Poles are by this country,” Blichasz said at the time.
The museum, he promised, would be “an attraction” that would more than repay its debt.
Then Vice President George H.W. Bush visits the Polish American Cultural Center for the opening published on Aug. 10, 1988, in The Inquirer.
Teaching self-sufficiency
The Polish American Cultural Center opened its doors in August 1988 to a flag-waving crowd of 300 people. Then-Vice President George H.W. Bush attended the ribbon-cutting ceremony, where visitors admired hand-cut Polish crystal and other curios from the homeland.
Alongside the museum, the nonprofit continued to provide the community with services that ranged from English language courses to help with rent and fuel rebates — work Blichasz said was “teaching Polish immigrants to be self-sufficient.”
Much of that work was also financed by the city.
Auditors later raised concern over a six-figure contract the Goode administration dealt to the nonprofit. At the time, the arrangement led former city finance director David Brenner to speculate about Blichasz’s political clout: “Where his influence comes from beats the hell out of me, but no question he’s got it.”
At some point, however, concerns over the debt for 308 Walnut St. disappeared.
As far as Blichasz was concerned, it was absolved after Goode applied for the HUD grant.
Blichasz said officials like Krajewski and Goode insisted his group not cut any more checks to the city, saying “we will take care of it.”
Why PRA did not inquire about the outstanding mortgage agreement remains uncertain. A spokesperson did not immediately respond to a question about the matter, and city records show only one inspection of the property, in 2011.
By the time PRA took a renewed interest, Blichasz had a problem: Many of the people who helped facilitate the initial deal were no longer around to help explain.
The outside of the Polish American Cultural Center.
A historic takeback
The museum fell under the radar until Mayor Jim Kenney’s first term. Soon after Kenney took office in 2016, Blichasz recalled, there was a heated meeting after the nascent administration ended his nonprofit’s six-figure social services contract.
He described the city as more interested in “giving out condoms” than providing help to an increasingly elderly Polish population.
Years later, during an insurance audit of large buildings owned by the Philadelphia Redevelopment Authority, Kenney administration officials were baffled by 308 Walnut St. It’s not clear if the PRA even knew who owned it.
PRA officials toured the building in 2019 and found the museum on the first floor much as it had ever been. But the floors above were in shambles, according to a city employee who toured the property.
The second through fourth floors looked as if their occupants had been raptured, with calendars from the 1980s frozen on the walls and moldy cups of coffee that appeared to date to the same decade.
On the fifth floor, officials said, they found evidence that someone had been sleeping in the building along with boxes of old documents and recording equipment where Blichasz broadcast his Polish American radio hour.
PRA quickly moved to intervene.
“Based on concerning conditions observed during the tour,” PRA said in a statement this week, it hired an engineering firm to document the state of the building. The contractors reported it needed at least $1.8 million to be brought back to code. The lack of maintenance resulted “in potentially dangerous structural issues,” PRA said in a statement.
Blichasz acknowledged water damage from leaks, which he had hoped to repair with state grants. But he called the PRA’s overall assessment of the property a fiction. He said his nonprofit spent “millions” in repairs over the years out of its operating budget.
“It’s very fishy,” Blichasz said of PRA’s inspection.
The agency said in a statement that officials “attempted to negotiate” but that Blichasz “refused to cooperate and repeatedly requested outright ownership” of the property, despite not having complied with the terms of the original deal.
With no legal title, the PRA took the nonprofit to court in 2023. The agency ultimately won, wresting back control of the building. A judge ordered the nonprofit to pay $3.5 million dollars in debt and damages.
This April, the Polish American Cultural Center was evicted.
Michael Blichasz, director of the Polish American Cultural Center museum poses with a bust of astronomer Nicholas Copernicus. Published in the Philadelphia Daily News on Oct. 14, 1988.
Last chance to cut a deal
As the city clawed back the property, Blichasz accused officials of negotiating in bad faith. He also suggested it was a racially motivated attack against his organization to divert funding to nonwhite community groups.
Those who could attest to the original deal are dead or not talking. Krajewski, the former Council member, died in 2013. Blichasz said he hadn’t reached out to Goode in years. Phone calls to the former mayor were not returned.
“When those people were alive, we could have had a nice get-together, a hearing,” Blichasz said. “Now they want to take me to court. I said, ‘Why? You never sat down with us to discuss this.’ All I want to do is keep the original mission and goals alive.”
The ordeal has interested at least one current elected official.
Councilmember Mark Squilla, who represents the area, has acted as a liaison between Mayor Cherelle L. Parker and Blichasz this year. Emails shared with The Inquirer showed that Blichasz turned down three compromise options from Parker that would have either allowed the Polish group to remain in the building under a new lease or helped pay for the group’s relocation.
Squilla acknowledged that the paperwork didn’t support Blichasz’s case. But he argued that his decades of contributions to the city should be considered, too.
“After we did some background research, I figured there’s no way we could find out what really happened,” Squilla said. “So I figured, ‘Why don’t we just work out a deal?’ And unfortunately, the deals that the PRA made were not accepted by the Polish museum folks.”
Squilla introduced a resolution in City Council on Oct. 9 to hold hearings on the PRA’s treatment of Blichasz.
“After 30 years, I believe that they had the right to stay in and use the building,” the Council member said.
On Wednesday, a woman approached the doorway of the museum, asking if it was open.
Inside, standing in the wood-paneled hallway that harkened back to another era, a maintenance worker shooed her away.
It’s a local tradition as predictable as slow-rolling through a South Philly stop sign or cursing Schuylkill Expressway traffic: Each election season, the Philadelphia Bar Association publishes its carefully considered opinion of the sitting judges up for reelection — then, the voters ignore it and send every incumbent back to the bench.
That’s because, since 1969, judicial retention elections have been yes-or-no votes for each judge rather than head-to-head competition. In that time, only one Philadelphia Common Pleas Court judge has ever been denied another term — and he was already facing removal for misconduct in a high-profile case. He “had to work damn hard to lose that election,” retired Common Pleas judge Benjamin Lerner said.
In September, the bar’s Commission on Judicial Selection and Retention issued its advice for the Nov. 4 election, recommending 13 out of the 18 judges seeking reelection to Philadelphia’s Common Pleas and Municipal Courts. Other than noting that three of the five “not recommended” judges had not participated in the review process, the bar — as is typically the case — released no further information about its decisions.
But this year, The Inquirer obtained the confidential survey responses the association collected from hundreds of lawyers. The attorneys — who practice in Philadelphia’s criminal, civil, and family courts — provided the bar with detailed feedback under the cover of anonymity about the sitting judges. They also answered yes-or-no questions about their confidence in each judge’s integrity, legal ability, temperament, diligence, attentiveness, and general qualification for the job.
The Inquirer followed up on the issues raised in the survey by interviewing lawyers and judges, watching weeks of court hearings, and reviewing a decade of Superior Court decisions.
The survey results and The Inquirer’s examination offer voters a rare window into how members of Philadelphia’s legal community view the performance of the judges up for retention next month. It has been at least 40 years since such inside information was made available to the public.
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The judges earning the bar association’s recommendation include several on Common Pleas Court with near-unanimous support: Family Court Judges Walter Olszewski, Ourania Papademetriou, and Christopher Mallios; and Judge Ann Butchart, who handles civil cases.
Olszewski is a “wonderful, caring, intelligent jurist,” one lawyer wrote. “A true public servant.”
The majority of the judges received the bar’s recommendation despite feedback that was mixed, though generally positive.
The most polarizing was Judge Tracy Brandeis-Roman, who has faced blistering appeals from the district attorney’s office accusing her of a pro-defendant bias. Two-thirds of lawyers surveyed said Brandeis-Roman is qualified, and some referred to her as a “fair and compassionate” jurist. But others called her biased and “ill-informed on the law.”
Brandeis-Roman declined to comment.
The judges who received the harshest criticism — and whom the bar ultimately declined to recommend — were faulted for their demeanor, disciplinary histories, or disregard for legal procedures.
“She was cruel and condescending to my client,” a lawyer wrote of Common Pleas Court Judge Lyris F. Younge, who faced parent protests in 2018 and was later sanctioned by the state Court of Judicial Discipline.
“Incapable, even after all of the years of being on the bench, of making an appropriate decision expeditiously,” another said of Common Pleas Court Judge Frank Palumbo.
Younge and Palumbo did not respond to requests for comment.
Marc Zucker, who chairs the bar’s Commission on Judicial Selection and Retention, said the anonymous survey has no bearing on the final recommendations. Instead, he described it as a jumping-off point for an extensive process in which more than 100 volunteer investigators interview candidates, other judges, and lawyers. They also scrutinize judges’ written opinions, social media posts, and financial disclosures.
“We don’t take any criticism at face value,” Zucker said. “We try and look behind it, and hear multiple voices addressing each of those matters.”
That information is kept private, he said, to encourage candor.
The bar’s work does seem to have an influence on voters in competitive primaries. In May, only candidates it recommended won primaries for Common Pleas Court judge.
But the stakes are high. Local judges “make decisions that have a huge impact on our communities,” Cristella said. “Everyone knows someone who’s had a custody hearing, or had to appear in traffic court. People have all kinds of reasons to be before a judge.”
Here is what voters should know about some of the more notable judges up for retention on Nov. 4:
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When Palumbo first ran for judge in 1999, he was best known as the son of a famous Philly power broker and nightclub owner. The bar association declined to recommend him, but Palumbo drew the top ballot position and cruised to victory. Since then, he has been reelected twice without the bar’s support.
This year, survey participants complained that Palumbo is erratic and indecisive. One lawyer wrote that getting through a daily list of cases “is an immense struggle for him.” Another claimed he “purposefully blows up negotiated pleas in his room so he does not have to take them.”
The Superior Court has overturned about one-quarter of cases it decided on appeal from Palumbo’s courtroom over the last decade, well above the statewide average of 13%.
A reporter sat in Palumbo’s courtroom on five occasions in August and September. By the time he arrived around 10:30 a.m., most matters had already been resolved by agreement.
One day, the prosecutor and the public defender informed Palumbo that, in his absence, they had agreed on the outcome of every single case: In minutes, Palumbo’s work on the bench was done.
But when the lawyers in the matters before him did not reach a complete agreement, as was the case on Aug. 27, Palumbo launched into circuitous legal questioning that stymied what might have been a routine proceeding.
On that day, Palumbo took the bench at 10:40 a.m. and asked, “Is everything worked out?”
The lawyers told him there was just one outstanding matter: A man on probation had agreed to plead guilty in a gun case, and they wanted Palumbo to order a presentence investigation and schedule a sentencing for a future date. Instead, Palumbo questioned why the case was in his courtroom, offered to transfer it to another judge, and then aborted the proceeding, saying he could not accept the plea without the man’s probation file in hand.
After the prosecutor complained, Palumbo offered, twice more, to transfer the case elsewhere. “I can just move it to the trial room,” he said.
Generally speaking, lawyers on both sides find it difficult to navigate judges who unilaterally delay or derail proceedings, said Dana Bazelon, a former Philadelphia defense lawyer and policy director for the district attorney’s office, who is now a fellow at the Quattrone Center of the University of Pennsylvania Carey Law School.
“There are judges who really struggle to make decisions who are currently sitting — and that is as basic a tenet of the job as there is,” she said. “You can’t really do the job if you can’t make decisions.”
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After a jury returned a guilty verdict against Stephen Jones in a child sexual assault case this May, the victim’s family felt a moment’s relief. Then Brandeis-Roman handed down her sentence.
The outcome was not unusual for Brandeis-Roman. Philadelphia’s district attorney’s office has appealed more than two dozen of her rulings, arguing that her sentences are too lenient and that her decisions have a pro-defendant bias. It’s a notable trend given that the office, under D.A. Larry Krasner, is considered one of the most progressive in the country.
The Superior Court has so far decided 17 of those cases appealed by prosecutors. Sixteen of them were overturned, including a guilty jury verdict Brandeis-Roman had tossed out despite what the Superior Court called “uncontradicted and overwhelming” video evidence tying the defendant to a shooting.
Krasner’s office is appealing another Brandeis-Roman decision to vacate a jury’s guilty verdict in a sexual assault trial.
At what was supposed to be the sentencing hearing for that case, the judge instead threw out the verdict, saying that the evidence did not support the jury’s finding and that the defendant might not have known the victim was incapacitated. The prosecutor’s appeal argued that Brandeis-Roman usurped the role of the jury, took a “thoroughly slanted view,” and disregarded testimony that the woman had been so drunk that her friends had to clean up her vomit and put her to bed.
Marian Braccia, a Temple University law professor and former Philadelphia prosecutor, said it is rare to see a judge overrule a jury in that manner and requires a finding that no reasonable jury could have reached that verdict.
For that to happen repeatedly, she said, “really undermines the reliability of the whole system.”
The lawyers responding to the bar’s survey who praised Brandeis-Roman cited her diligence, compassion, and unyielding commitment to justice.
“Constantly bullied by the [district attorney’s office] and yet still has the self-respect and respect for fairness to be kind and stand up to them. Holds everyone to the same standard,” one lawyer wrote.
Setting aside the prosecution’s appeals, the appellate court has affirmed more than 90% of her rulings.
Prosecutors, meanwhile, continue to file motions urging Brandeis-Roman to reconsider what they say are light sentences.
In one September case, she sentenced Eladio Vega — a 33-year-old man convicted of beating a pregnant woman, causing her to miscarry and breaking her jaw — to a brief jail term, followed by probation and drug treatment.
The prosecutor had requested five to 10 years in prison for Vega, given previous convictions for domestic incidents that included breaking his mother’s wrist. But Brandeis-Roman, noting that Vega had survived child abuse and mental illness, said state prison “would absolutely be adding to the trauma.”
She acknowledged that her decision went against state guidelines: “On paper,” she said, giving him a lighter sentence “doesn’t make sense.”
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Then a relatively new Family Court judge hearing child-welfare cases, Younge had come to the bench with deep expertise in child welfare, having worked as a lawyer for the City of Philadelphia and an executive in the Philadelphia Department of Human Services.
But, among other complaints, the protesting parents said Younge had shut them out of proceedings. One mother who became ill during a hearing stepped out of the room, and Younge would not allow her to return, terminating her parental rights in her absence.
The Superior Court reversed a spate of the judge’s decisions, finding Younge abused her discretion in throwing a grandmother in jail and handcuffing a mother while her kids were removed.
One appellate decision cited “example after example of overreaching, failing to be fair and impartial, evidence of a fixed presumptive idea of what took place, and a failure to provide due process to the two parents involved. … The punishment effectuated by [Younge] was, at best, neglectful and, at worst, designed to affect the bond between Parents and [child] so that termination would be the natural outcome of the proceedings.”
Instead of child-welfare matters, Younge is now hearing civil cases. Over her tenure, the Superior Court has overturned about 27% of the cases appealed from her courtroom, double the statewide average.
Younge did not participate in the bar’s process or respond to requests for comment from The Inquirer.
In the survey, most lawyers brought up concerns with her record in Family Court. Those who had been in her civil courtroom gave mixed feedback.
“Those patterns and practices are still present in her civil courtrooms,” one lawyer wrote. “No party, on either side, gets a fair trial.”
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Presiding mostly over post-conviction reviews in criminal court, DiClaudio inherited a docket that included cases pending for a decade or longer, and he said he prided himself on his hard work and efficiency in clearing that backlog. He has noted that his record includes overturning roughly 50 homicide convictions.
Lawyers surveyed about DiClaudio were divided, with many criticizing his courtroom demeanor even as they said he “knows the law and gets to the right conclusions.” The Superior Court has overturned his rulings in only about 7% of cases.
But DiClaudio’s decade on the bench has been marked by controversy, including three cases the Judicial Conduct Board brought against him.
In the first case, from 2019, the board said DiClaudio ignored court orders related to a lawsuit over unpaid membership dues he owed to a sports club. DiClaudio was given a two-week suspension and placed on judicial probation until 2026.
This year, the board argued that DiClaudio had improperly used his office to promote his wife’s cheesesteak shop and “traded on and abused the prestige of his office for the personal and economic benefit of himself and others.”
While a final decision on that case was pending, fellow Common Pleas Court Judge Zachary Shaffer alleged that DiClaudio tried to influence his sentencing decision in a gun case by showing Shaffer a piece of paper with the name of a defendant and saying, “I’ve heard you might do the right thing anyway.”
Court supervisors placed DiClaudio on administrative leave, and the Judicial Conduct Board pushed for his suspension without pay on the grounds that his continued employment as a judge would “erode public confidence in the judiciary.”
DiClaudio stipulated to various missteps in the 2019 case related to the club debt, but he has denied any wrongdoing in the two pending cases. DiClaudio denied trying to influence Shaffer, and his lawyer insisted that he had not sought to sway the judge but had happened to mention the defendant in passing when Shaffer stopped by his chambers to buy a T-shirt from the cheesesteak shop.
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A former criminal-defense lawyer, Grey was recommended by the bar when he first ran for judge in 2015.
Some survey respondents praised him for his commitment to families. But lawyers also raised concerns about his temperament, saying he yells at litigants and interrupts testimony.
“Judge Grey’s judicial performance is highly dependent on his mood, which varies widely from day to day,” one lawyer wrote. “He is also frequently aggressively impatient with attorneys, social workers and adult parties. Great with kids.”
An Inquirer review of Superior Court decisions found Grey had the highest reversal rate of any judge in Family Court’s juvenile division. In several opinions, appellate judges said Grey returned children home to dangerous situations — in one case going so far as to say they were “appalled” by Grey’s decision.
In an interview, Grey acknowledged some errors but said in most cases, his decisions were properly grounded in the available evidence and the law.
As for occasionally yelling, he said it’s warranted.
“I’ve yelled at attorneys for not knowing what’s going on or being prepared,” he said.
Grey said that allowing himself to become emotionally involved is crucial to building connections, and that it is incumbent on him to get involved in asking questions and guiding testimony so that he has all the information he needs to decide cases.
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Frazier-Lyde is the only Municipal Court candidate up for retention whom the bar declined to recommend.
It’s unlikely to affect her chances at the polls. In the last election cycle, she won by the largest margin of any Municipal Court judge.
The former champion boxer — and daughter of a Philly legend, Smokin’ Joe Frazier — is often responsible for reviewing defendants’ bail terms and handling preliminary hearings, including in domestic violence cases.
Frazier-Lyde, in an interview, said she is proud of her work on the bench and in the community, and she said she felt blindsided by the bar’s failure to recommend her. She noted the association’s magazine praised her in a feature in its spring 2025 issue as “kind, empathetic and outwardly focused.”
“I have public interest and public welfare at the forefront of how I look at everything,” Frazier-Lyde said, adding that she had heard no complaints from the legal community or her supervisors, who in recent months have asked her to handle a double caseload.
But lawyers who responded to the survey said Frazier-Lyde often ignores procedural rules, such as when she questions witnesses after both sides have rested.
She disagreed with that assessment. “I follow the law. I know the law,” she said.
Survey respondents also questioned her handling of domestic violence cases, reporting that she had ordered victims and their alleged abusers into couples counseling. Frazier-Lyde said she does not order anyone into counseling but does seek expert evaluations to determine whether counseling is warranted.
She also frequently imposes mutual stay-away orders on both defendants and complainants — even extending that to unspecified “friends, family, and associates” on both sides, advising that any violation could result in criminal charges.
Frazier-Lyde said it’s her job to do all she can to keep everyone safe before trial, and such orders help achieve that.
Bazelon, the Penn Law fellow, said it can become impossible to prosecute domestic violence cases if judges see their role as mediating an interpersonal conflict rather than assessing the evidence in an alleged crime.
“Many people see domestic violence as not real crime,” she said. “But when judges bring that to the bench, it means they’re not taking victims seriously enough, and it has the potential to put people in danger.
—Staff writers Dylan Purcell and Chris A. Williams contributed to this article.
Correction: A previous version of this story incorrectly stated the terms of Eladio Vega’s sentence.
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Ray the Nubian goat has come a long way since a parasite threatened to take his life, leaving him with three legs but not dampening his spirit. Now he’s in need of a wheelchair.
As a jolly middle-aged goat, 7-year-old Ray loved taking long strolls around Awbury Arboretum, supporting people in bereavement with hoofshakes and kisses, and taking children with cerebral palsy on rides.
The wagon was his biggest job, and he took it seriously, said Karen Krivit, the director of Philly Goat Project, an East Germantown nonprofit that provides community wellness through nature connection. So much so that he hid his pain.
“Goats tend to hide their injuries,” Krivit said. “Ray was determined to keep from showing any pain and just trying to pull his head high and be with everybody else.”
Philly Goat Project’s annual Christmas Tree-Cycle feeds old trees to goats.
Ray had been battling a parasite infection common among outdoor animals, Krivit said. But, as often happens for hisbreed, he was resistant to the medication. As his veterinarian team continued trying for a cure, a slight limp alerted the Philly Goat Project staff that his condition had worsened.
The parasite affected his bone density, causing one of his femurs to break in three places. A big problem for any goat due to their rough-and-tumble nature.
The place Ray had called home since he was 3 months old rallied around him, raising money for a titanium plate to secure the bone in place. But his anatomy once again worked against him.
With Ray standing at a little over 3 feet tall, his natural lanky composition would have made it hard for the plate and the screws to hold onto the bone. The titanium plate could have collapsed his bone in another area, causing additional damage, Krivit said.
“We were able to eliminate the parasite, but not in time enough to save his leg,” she added. “The safest long-term plan was amputation.”
For tall animals in particular, it’s hard to thrive on three legs, Krivit explained. The biggest challenges since the amputation in May have been teaching him how to move around by himself and reintegrating him into his herd of 13 goats.
“Humans tend to be mean to each other if you look different or act differently; it’s the same with goats,” Krivit said. “But humans can use their voices and talk about it; goats can only be mean and exclude another goat. Not being rejected is vital to his survival.”
Ray was placed in a nearby separate stall. His brother Teddy never stopped looking out for him.
Ten thousand dollars and months of rehabilitation later, Ray has a severe limp, but can now stand up and lie down by himself. The herd has accepted him back, but he seems to feel left behind when they go on long walks, often bellowing as the other goats head out without him.
“Because he is moving his body in three legs instead of four, he is at risk for hurting himself further if he goes on a long walk, making it harder for him to stay connected to the herd,” Krivit said.
So Ray needs a wheelchair.
For goats, that involves a metal harness with a wheel on each side of the goat, mimicking a leg. But they are expensive.
The Goat Project needs $2,000 for a custom-made wheelchair for Ray, physical therapy, and proper fitting.
For Krivit, leaving her beloved otherwise-healthy goat without a wheelchair is not an option. She is hoping to raise enough money at the group’s annual GOAToberFest to get him a chair.
The Oct. 18 event will take place at the Conservatory at Laurel Hill West Cemetery, and tickets run for $75, with free snacks, drinks, and goodie bags.
Until then, she hopes folks can see in Ray a symbol of resilience.
“A wheelchair is the missing link for him to safely go on walks that will support his body and his spirit to not be left behind,” Krivit said. “If Ray can be resilient and he can survive this, I hope that gives people hope in their times of adversity.”
Krivit hopes their upcoming annual GOAToberFest can help get Ray a wheelchair.
As Vladimir Putin blocks peace talks, Kyiv wants to share with the U.S. and Europe how to counter the AI-driven weapons of the future.
Betsyk, commander for the 3rd Separate Assault Brigade's special battalion for intercepting enemy drones, sits beside downed Russian reconnaissance drones.3rd Separate Assault Brigade
DIRECTION POKROVSK, Ukraine — In a warren of rooms filled with computers, 3D printers, colorful wires, and drone frames, the atmosphere was casual, but the intentions were deadly.
The young men in their 20s and 30s, dressed in cargo pants and T-shirts, wouldn’t have looked out of place at a Silicon Valley start-up. Except they were fighting for their lives — and their country’s survival.
In the basement command center, three of the soldier-techies stared at multiple screens with dozens of views delivered by Ukrainian-made surveillance drones. They were looking for Russian targets in a war that had lasted for three and a half years.
As I peered over their shoulders during a June visit to the rear of the front lines, a moving car was spotted.
Orders were quickly passed to a frontline drone navigator and pilot in a trench or basement who would make the final call as to whether the target was clearly visible and worth destroying — at which point the pilot’s goggles would let him watch the little exploding drone descend until a flash signaled another kill.
It was a slow day, and everyone’s attention had turned to other screens before I could learn the fate of the car. But there were always more targets to find.
By my side, the 31-year-old commander of an elite drone battalion of the 59th Assault Brigade, call sign Condor, told me there are up to 300 targets a day, which can range from a single fighter in the grass to a moving motorcycle to a small Russian dugout covered with branches or nets.
“The orcs outnumber us, and they don’t care about loss of lives,” Condor said, using the name of the grotesque enemy warriors in the Lord of the Rings series to refer to the Russians. “In this new way of war, infantry and artillery and mortars still matter, but everything is controlled by air. Now, a military is just a way of supporting drones.”
For Ukraine, drones are an essential part of why the country has been able to hold out so long against an army four times its size.
Source: Institute for the Study of War and AEI's Critical Threats Project.John Duchneskie/Staff Artist
The technology of unmanned weaponry is advancing at a pace that appears revolutionary — from aerial drones to drones that move by sea, robotic land drones, and long-range drones carrying missiles — all increasingly directed by artificial intelligence.
Sea drones drove Russian ships out of the Black Sea along the Ukrainian coast, and continue to strike at the critical Kerch Bridge connecting Russia to Crimea. In June, Ukrainian security services conducted the amazing Operation Spiderweb, which damaged or destroyed up to 40 Russian warplanes worth billions of dollars, deep inside Russia — all with 117 small drones costing $500 each.
But Russia is catching up. Ukraine needs the funds to massively scale up drone production.
That’s why the most important moment of President Donald Trump’s Monday meeting with Ukraine’s president and top European leaders may have been when Volodymyr Zelensky proposed to share his country’s breakthrough drone technology with the Pentagon.
Kyiv would sell tens of billions of dollars’ worth of advanced Ukrainian-made drones to America, and, in return, would buy double that dollar amount of U.S. weapons systems, financed by Europe. Both countries would then be far better equipped for the challenges of modern conflict.
The success of that proposal could bolster American preparedness for future tech wars, while helping Ukraine survive as a free, sovereign state.
More on Ukraine
Trump’s deference to Putin means only more bloodshed in Ukraine
The president could have used America’s power to force Vladimir Putin to negotiate seriously. Instead, he opened the door to blaming Ukraine for any failed "peace" talks.
Why so? Peace talks are going nowhere. Vladimir Putin has no interest in peace. He thinks he’s winning.
The Russian dictator “has no reason to compromise so long as the president refuses to apply any pressure on Moscow,” as former Russian political prisoner Vladimir Kara-Murza bluntly told MSNBC. “You cannot make peace by placating Russia.”
Despite the effusive red-carpet welcome Trump gave Putin at their recent Alaska summit, the Russian leader has rejected every one of the president’s proposals to end the war.
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No ceasefire. No strong security guarantees for Kyiv, as the naive White House negotiator Steve Witkoff claimed Putin had accepted. The Kremlin has already rebuffed a possible bilateral meeting between Putin and Zelensky that Trump has been touting.
Peace talks will become plausible only if the U.S. joins Europe in putting maximum pressure on Russia, convincing Putin he can’t win and can’t afford to fight any longer.
But that would require Trump to recognize what the Europeans already know: Ukraine has been able to hold off the Russians until now because it has pioneered a revolutionary new way of warfare — the war of drones.
So Zelensky’s proposal is in both countries’ interests. The U.S. is way behind in small drone production, but it has weapons systems crucial to Ukraine. A swap would signal to Putin that Trump is not a pushover.
If Trump wants to be a peacemaker, he must recognize that the Ukraine war is about far more than real estate. It is a battle over freedom, geopolitics — and who will win the tech wars of the future.
As I was told by former Ukrainian Minister of Strategic Industries Oleksandr Kamyshin: “This war started like the Second World War with drones. But it will finish as the First World Drone War.”
A pilot with the elite drone unit for HUR, the Ukrainian Defense Ministry’s intelligence service, demonstrates drone control.Trudy Rubin/Staff
In the air
My latest Ukraine visit — my fifth since the fighting began in February 2022 — showed me what it means when unmanned drones take over the battlefield.
Last year, I could still visit artillery emplacements and destroyed villages near the front where army units lived, showered outdoors, and ate outdoors. I could drive on roads to and from towns near the Donetsk front line inside the contested parts of the eastern Donbas region that Ukraine still controls. Military vehicles still sped along those roads.
Those days are over.
The 15 kilometers (roughly nine miles) on each side of the front line have become a kill zone where almost nothing moves on land because it is at risk of being hit by the other side’s drones.
The size of the kill zone keeps expanding.
Tanks are sitting ducks. So are medical evacuation vehicles. Indeed, military vehicles of any kind. No longer are the soldiers who man frontline positions or drone pilots rotated every day or two; they stay in place for days because the roads in and out are so risky.
Supplies are brought in and the wounded taken out by unmanned robotic carts, known as land drones. These robots also lay mines, and some are equipped with machine guns or rockets.
As for Ukraine’s cities, Putin is demonstrating how drones can be used as a cheap, terrifying tool of terror against civilians.
During my stay in Kyiv, the nightly Russian barrage of Shaheds — drones designed in Iran and gifted by the thousands to Putin by the ayatollahs — rained down nightly on civilian targets. I was lucky to be in a hotel with a comfortable basement shelter, but my Ukrainian friends and contacts were up each night huddled in their hallways or bathrooms. They still are.
Natalya Dubchek stands next to a minibus destroyed by a Shahed drone. The fire from the explosion torched her home in Odesa, Ukraine.Trudy Rubin / Staff
In Odesa one morning, I visited a neighborhood where a family of three was incinerated when a Shahed sheared off the top floor of their apartment building in a residential neighborhood. I spoke with a woman whose bungalow burned to its concrete walls, and who barely escaped the flames.
Even after my return to the U.S., I have kept the air raid alerts on my iPhone, which can be set to any city or region. My phone buzzes every time Russia launches another swarm of Shaheds (along with cruise and ballistic missiles) against Kyiv. For hours, the alerts go off every 20 minutes.
Each buzz means Ukrainian civilians, including the elderly and mothers with small children, must decide whether to descend to an underground shelter and spend miserable hours or the entire night there.
The Shaheds, which give off a chilling whine as they fly, are now copied and manufactured inside Russia with Tehran’s technical help. They have been made more lethal with the addition of jet engines, which enable them to fly higher and faster and elude countermeasures. They are meant to terrorize, exhaust, and kill civilians in Ukrainian schools, hospitals, markets, and apartment buildings.
The number of Shaheds in the skies has jumped dramatically since Putin concluded that Trump will never be serious about punishing Russia for its refusal to accept a ceasefire or engage in serious peace talks. And they are affecting morale. If the Russian barrage continues, more Ukrainians may try to leave for abroad.
A Ukrainian officer shows a thermobaric charge from a downed Shahed drone in a research laboratory in an undisclosed location in Ukraine in 2024.Efrem Lukatsky
Yet, despite the daily Shahed carnage and recent Russian gains on long stalemated front lines, Moscow is still not winning this war.
A prime reason is that Ukraine’s war of technology has so far enabled Kyiv to hold its defensive line, but not to take back territory.
Former Ukrainian commander in chief, now ambassador to the U.K., Valerii Zaluzhnyi, told a video forum in Kyiv that the only war Ukraine can wage is a “high-tech war of survival” until it destroys Russia’s military and economic ability to keep fighting over the long run.
The bad news is that Russia is learning from Ukraine and receiving large-scale tech aid, components, and ready-made drones not only from Iran, but from its other allies, China and North Korea.
This alliance of dictators is growing stronger, and its members are watching the Ukraine war for lessons in future drone warfare with the West. Think China and Taiwan.
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To shake up the Kremlin, Kyiv needs to vastly scale up its drone production and race to outdo the Russians with innovation, especially interceptors that can destroy Shaheds and fiber-optic drones.
European governments and private companies are entering agreements to jointly produce drones, both in Ukraine and in Europe. They are studying Kyiv’s technological advances, including on the front lines.
Ukraine wants to share its invaluable battle-tested knowledge with Washington, yet Trump still appears hung up on the vain hope that Putin “wants a peace deal,” which he mistakenly believes would entitle him to a Nobel Peace Prize.
So long as he refuses to recognize Kyiv’s importance as a strategic ally, the president undermines not only Ukraine’s security but ours.
A Ukrainian serviceman of 57th motorised brigade controls an FPV drone at the frontline in Kharkiv region, Ukraine in August.Andrii Marienko
Drone expansion
In June 2024, when I first met with then-infantry commander Condor of the 59th Assault Brigade in one of the hottest combat zones in eastern Ukraine, he was struggling to arm his depleted battalion. They were suffering through a terrible “shell hunger,” he told me, after the U.S. Congress had frozen military aid for six months. His men were often reduced to firing one artillery shell for every 10 fired by the Russians.
“Every day of [congressional] delay cost broken lives and deaths,” the former history teacher turned soldier said bitterly, as we sat in a dark, virtually empty cafe in the countryside near Pokrovsk. “So, we had no other choice but to be creative.”
To fend off a brutal Russian adversary with four times their population and massive industrial might, the nation’s techies and grunts turned their front lines and hidden basements into a tech incubator for modern war.
Desperate fighters, like Condor’s unit, were already using simple Chinese-made commercial drones to spy on Russian forces in 2023 and 2024.
Every unit I visited near the front during those years had guys working on benches in abandoned farmhouses or workshops, putting together drones from parts purchased on Amazon with their own salaries, or donated by families, friends, or private charitable foundations.
While Ukraine was well known in peacetime for talented engineers and a deep tech sector, many of those early do-it-yourself builders had no such background, but figured things out as they went.
By the summer of 2024, the men of Condor’s unit had come up with how to turn small commercial or DIY drones into little exploding drones.
Call sign Condor, commander of the UAV Forces Battalion of the 59th Assault Brigade.Trudy Rubin / Staff
“We cut sewage pipes and stuffed them with explosives,” Condor explained. “We did the same with energy drink cans.”
These makeshift mini bombs were then affixed to UAVs, the shorthand for unmanned aerial vehicles, mostly small Chinese DJI MAVIC quadcopters, the kind Americans use to record panoramic overhead views of weddings. The Ukrainians launched them at Russian tanks, artillery positions, and trenches.
“This is the art of war,” Condor said, with a grim smile. “When you have no supplies, you have to innovate.”
The turning point came in 2024, when the U.S.-induced shell hunger spurred a massive expansion of drone use to save Ukraine’s army. The goal was to protect and preserve precious frontline man power in a war in which Russia treats soldiers like cannon fodder — and to do so with weapons far cheaper than what they destroy.
Government and private companies produced two million drones in 2025, and are set to manufacture more than four million next year. They could produce eight million to 10 million, Zelensky has said, if they had enough funds.
Other weaponry still plays an important role, especially air defenses. While drones can hold the defensive line, taking territory still requires infantry. But 80% or more of the Ukrainian strikes on the front line are now made by drones.
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The friends of Roman Tarasyuk vow to keep fighting despite Trump's support for Putin.
Those early exploding drones have evolved into larger attack drones with bigger payloads, including sea drones that resemble large rowboats filled with electronics and sometimes carrying rockets. Robotic ground drones are now mounted with machine guns, and larger long-distance drones can carry small missiles. All of these drones are unmanned and directed by pilots and navigators using goggles and tablets.
Anything that can be viewed by FPVs — first-person view drones in which pilots wearing special goggles can see exactly what the drone sees — is now vulnerable to drone attacks, including men, artillery, ships, helicopters, and low-flying planes.
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In the process, Ukraine has rewritten the rules of ground, sea, and air conflict.
As the war continues, artificial intelligence is certain to take on more of the piloting responsibilities (although target decisions will still be made by pilots and commanders, for now).
So crucial have drones become to modern warfare that the Ukrainian military has a new branch up and running whose task is coordinating drone warfare, called the Unmanned Systems Forces.
“We are the first country with an unmanned forces command,” I was told by Hanna Gvozdiar, deputy minister for Ukraine’s Ministry for Strategic Industries. She estimated Ukraine now produces 300 different varieties of drones.
Moreover, special drone units within most Ukrainian battalions have become central to every element of the conflict. Not only do many of them design their own drones, but they also provide constant updates to private drone manufacturers so they can stay ahead of Russian defenses.
As for Condor, he moved from commanding infantrymen to leading the UAV Forces Battalion of the same 59th Assault Brigade, one of the top drone units in the country. By the time I saw him in June, he was fighting a totally different war.
A worker inspects a combat drone at Fire Point's secret factory in Ukraine in August.Efrem Lukatsky
Advantage Ukraine
In the “genesis space” of a modern, glass-fronted office building in Kyiv, a group of start-up Ukrainian tech entrepreneurs has come to pitch their products to guests from the European Union — and to anyone who might fund them to scale up.
The program is sponsored by Brave1, a government-supported tech incubator that helps connect drone start-ups with investors and provides seed money for promising new projects.
“We are in a race with the Russian drone ecosystem,” I was told by Artem Moroz, Brave1’s head of international investment. “The Russians don’t need to fundraise for drone production,” he noted, with bitter irony.
“We want to win the war with the help of technology because we can’t compete with man power,” he continued. “Most of the innovation comes from the private sector. We unite 1,500 companies, some in apartments, some operating at a huge scale, providing thousands of drones.”
Before the show-and-tell, I listened to Oleksiy Babenko, one of Ukraine’s best drone producers, make his pitch to foreign investors. Babenko’s company, Vyriy — named for a paradise in pre-Christian Slavic mythology — makes a small FPV drone called Molfar, which can function in swarms and evade Russian electronic jamming.
“Practically every Ukrainian university has a polytech [division] that graduates a lot of talent. We are a technical hub for software development, and young tech entrepreneurs are migrating to the battlefield,” he told the group.
A technician prepares a Shrike drone at the Skyfall military technology company in Ukraine.Andrew Kravchenko
“But this brilliant talent needs investment, domestic or foreign, to scale up production. If we don’t do this, we will die.”
After Babenko came the young entrepreneurs with slide decks and videos: Bravo Dynamics promotes a radio-based mesh network that can connect drones, but could also have civilian uses. Farsight Vision produces software that digests visual data, which could help drone targeting or serve business uses. VMP has a robot model “that will be the main tool for logistics on the front line,” but could be used for civil defense.
There is both pride and a sense of frustration in the room. Ukraine is a start-up nation. These talented innovators, not Ukrainian government bureaucrats, have sparked the drone revolution.
Right now, Ukraine produces 94% of its own drones and is reducing its dependence on Chinese parts. Kyiv is also manufacturing 40% of its other weapons inventory.
But Ukrainian factories are operating at only one-fourth of capacity, according to Kamyshin, the former government minister. “We need $10 billion to $15 billion of necessary capital to produce what is needed,” he told me as we fast-walked through a park near his office so he could work off some of the daily tension. “We are much better innovators than the Russians, but we need to scale up.”
More on Ukraine
Ukraine’s drone attack was more than a morale booster, it showed the new face of modern war
Operation Spiderweb illustrated the brilliance of Ukraine’s technological skills and the flaws of the Russian military.
Private Ukrainian firms lead Europe and the U.S. in producing battle-tested drones, from mass-produced FPVs to highly secret deep strike missile drones. Ukraine seeks not only to intensively scale up its own drone production but to become an international hub for dual-use technology.
However, unlike Russia, which can draw on billions from its (dwindling) sovereign wealth fund, Ukrainians must raise funds to increase government and private drone production to keep up with Russian drone output — which has now expanded to industrial scale.
“Our only chance is to become our own arsenal and the arsenal for Europe,” argued former Ukrainian Defense Minister Andriy Zagorodnyuk over coffee. “The question is, how to organize that.”
European governments are seriously addressing this question of scaling up Ukrainian production, and some private investors are hovering. The question is whether they can act quickly enough to fund joint projects inside Ukraine or based in Europe. Especially now that Trump has decreed Washington will no longer give military aid to Kyiv, but will let Europeans buy weapons to transfer.
There’s no time to waste, as Russia is scaling up its drone output at a frightening rate.
In this photo taken from a video distributed by the Russian Defense Ministry Press Service in May, Russian servicemen train to operate military drones in an undisclosed location.Russian Defense Ministry Press Service via AP
Advantage Russia
Putin has rallied Russia’s entire state-run industrial machine behind the war effort, and the total drone output of its state-run industrial machine now exceeds Ukraine’s. Long-range drone production more than doubled from 2023 to 2025, and has increased fivefold since then.
Prodded by Ukraine’s success in drone technology, Moscow is rushing to build a drone empire, even introducing school curriculums about the development and operations of drones.
Moreover, while Russia receives support from its ever-tightening alliance with China, North Korea, and Iran, Trump is too transactional to see the broader geopolitical threat this drone quartet poses to the United States.
Tehran was the first to partner with Moscow by sending thousands of its long-range Shaheds to Russia in 2022. Since then, Shaheds have become the go-to UAV for terrorizing Ukrainian cities.
Iran also helped Russia set up its own production facilities in Tatarstan (now spread out over the whole country), which mass-produce the killer drones, along with decoy copies to confuse Ukrainian air defenses.
In this photo taken from a video distributed by the Russian Defense Ministry Press Service in August, a soldier launches a reconnaissance drone in an undisclosed location in Ukraine.Russian Defense Ministry Press Service via AP
Equally dangerous, Russia is giving North Korea the technology and production skills to start producing the Russian variants of Iran’s Shaheds, according to Ukraine’s head of military intelligence, Kyrylo Budanov. This will enable the North to strike targets across South Korea, changing the balance of power between the two nations, Budanov warned in an interview with the military news site the War Zone.
Meantime, China, despite its denials, is actively enabling Russia’s drone production, providing basic drones and many critical components. “China uses Russia as a research base,” I was told by Yehor Cherniev, deputy chairman of the Ukrainian parliament’s National Security Committee. “China watches aspects of the new warfare. It is about geopolitical vision on both sides.”
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Without Beijing’s aid, Russia would probably be unable to rapidly scale up its production of long-range UAVs.
Moreover, top experts on Russia and China warn that the quartets’ mutual interest in undermining the West should shatter any Trump illusions of splitting Russia from China.
Trump’s coddling of Putin only speeds Russia’s advancement in the new global drone wars, which could boomerang against Washington all too soon.
“The U.S. will be drawn in,” insisted former defense minister Zagorodnyuk. “China and Russia want to destroy Western dominance, starting with Europe and NATO, and leading to a clash with the United States.
“This war is not going to end, but is going to get worse.”
Prime Minister of Denmark Mette Frederiksen lays a wreath during a memorial ceremony, as her husband Bo Tengberg and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, right, stand behind her at the Field of Mars at Lychakiv Cemetery in Lviv, Ukraine, in 2024.Mads Claus Rasmussen
What Europe understands
On Aug. 3, as Denmark took over the rotating European Union presidency, Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen called on Europeans to “change our mindset” about helping Kyiv.
“Instead of thinking we are delivering weapons to Ukraine,” she stated bluntly, “we have to think of it as a part of rearming ourselves — because right now it is the army of Ukraine that is protecting Europe. I see no signs that Putin’s imperial dreams stop with Ukraine.”
The tough-minded Frederiksen, who stood up to Trump when he threatened to seize Greenland, is now echoed by most other European leaders, none of whom harbor illusions about Putin’s aims. They understand that Ukraine’s army is defending the line between Western democracies and Eurasian adversaries, as Europe’s NATO members struggle to beef up their weak defenses.
Russia has been conducting assassinations, sabotage, and cyberwarfare against European nations for the past several years. The Kremlin clearly seeks to militarize and control the Arctic, which impacts the Nordic states, and to exert its power in the Baltic Sea and the North Atlantic.
The three Baltic states — Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania — along with other European nations that suffered under Soviet domination, all worry that Putin’s first move should Ukraine fall would be to move on them, perhaps using drones.
The aim would be to prove NATO was a paper tiger and would not come to its members’ defense, leading to the collapse of the alliance.
NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, left, shakes hands with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky during their briefing in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Friday.Efrem Lukatsky
Mark Rutte, the former Dutch prime minister and current secretary-general of NATO, has gone one step further, warning that “Russia is reconstituting itself at an incredible pace, and the U.S. is not secure if the Atlantic, Europe, and the Arctic are not secured.”
Rutte has also cautioned that if China’s Xi Jinping attacks Taiwan, the Chinese leader might ask Putin to open a new front in Europe to distract NATO and the United States.
With Trump favoring Putin, the Europeans are moving to bolster Kyiv’s military production, including drones. They know they need Ukraine’s army as a buffer against Moscow. As Zelensky said at the Munich Security Conference in Germany in February, referring to the Russians: “Right now, Ukraine stops them. If not, who will stop them?”
Good question.
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Europe is far from ready to defend against drones or other Russian mischief now that the United States has turned its back. “The Europeans are really changing. They are buying time for themselves,” said Zagarodnyuk. “They realize they will be next.”
With that in mind, Frederiksen has pioneered the “Danish model,” a framework whereby Europeans fund drone production by private Ukrainian manufacturers, with Copenhagen vetting the contracts and effectiveness.
Germany, Norway, the Netherlands, Britain, and the European Union are following suit, as is a special fund set up by NATO. Private European weapons manufacturers are looking into joint production and sending representatives to Ukraine to test drones and components. Ukraine, meanwhile, has offered its front line for companies to “Test in Ukraine.”
Ukrainian drone units near the front line tell me they often host European military or civilian manufacturers looking to test drones or components. Few Americans come, they said, and U.S. special forces no longer visit. If Europe coordinates its efforts, that may suffice to fund Ukraine’s drone scale-up and block Russia’s push to dominate drone warfare.
But that goal will be Herculean if Trump continues to back Putin over Europe and Ukraine.
President Donald Trump meets with Ukraine's President Volodymyr Zelensky in the Oval Office at the White House on Aug. 18 in Washington. (AP Photo/Julia Demaree Nikhinson)Julia Demaree Nikhinson
What Trump doesn’t understand
Last fall, the former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Mark Milley, and former Google CEO Eric Schmidt sounded the alarm over America’s lack of readiness for the wars of the future.
Writing in Foreign Affairs, the two men warned: “Future wars will no longer be about who can mass the most people or field the best jets, ships and tanks. Instead, they will be dominated by increasingly autonomous weapons systems (largely drones) and powerful algorithms. Unfortunately, this is a future for which the United States remains unprepared.”
Five days after Ukraine’s Operation Spiderweb garnered huge international publicity, Trump signed an executive order calling for “continued American development, commercialization and export of drones.” He called for American “drone dominance.”
What the president did not do was turn to Ukraine, which has extensive combat experience with drones that the U.S. military and its nascent drone manufacturers lack.
To understand whether that makes sense, I turned to Michael Horowitz, director of the University of Pennsylvania’s Perry World House, who served in the Biden administration as U.S. deputy assistant secretary of defense for force development and emerging capabilities. Translated, that means he is an expert on the new drone warfare, where large masses of relatively cheap unmanned drones can deliver precise and deadly strikes.
“The Ukraine war has been transformative to the U.S. military in a couple of ways,” he told me. “It showed how attack drones are now a ubiquitous part of warfare, and ready to scale up today.”
A Ukrainian serviceman operates a drone on the front line in the Zaporizhzhia region of Ukraine in 2024.Andriy Andriyenko
While the Pentagon has used thousands of drones against militants such as the Yemeni Houthis, the new warfare will demand millions, which “requires the U.S. to find a different model than the war on terrorism … drawing from the lessons from Ukraine,” Horowitz said.
There is another lesson at hand. The Pentagon is a slow-moving bureaucracy that normally deals with only a handful of defense contractors that take years to produce small numbers of very expensive ships, tanks, and planes — most (not all) of which are now vulnerable to cheap drones.
Moreover, the U.S. military structure generally emphasizes a rigid top-down command when it comes to weapons, which can make change difficult.
Ukraine, out of necessity, has cast aside this inflexible model, as small military units now do critical drone R&D and modify drones daily to adjust to changes in battlefield conditions. Moreover, private drone firms and their brilliant techies interact directly with the military and test on the battlefront.
More on Ukraine
How Ukraine can still beat Russia — even with Trump getting in the way
The president has spread dangerous myths about Ukraine that obscure that country's importance to our security and global standing. Trudy Rubin is in Ukraine to debunk those myths.
These are lessons yet to be absorbed by a Pentagon roiled by internal politics and reluctant to commit sufficient funds to scaling up small, inexpensive drones and robots that will be at the forefront of new wars.
Yet, lo and behold, a U.S. change agent has entered the picture.
Schmidt, the former Google CEO, has signed an agreement in Denmark with the Ukrainian government to produce hundreds of thousands of AI-enhanced drones this year, and more next year — particularly the desperately needed Shahed interceptors.
Schmidt’s secretive firm, Swift Beat, has already been supplying Ukraine with drones that have downed many Shaheds. Ukraine will have priority on the interceptors, which will be sold at cost.
This major project by a big name like Schmidt may give other U.S. drone firms — and even U.S. investment funds — the needed encouragement to take advantage of the talent and testing opportunities in Ukraine.
Unfortunately, Trump’s blindness to Putin’s motives will probably deter the U.S. military from making use of Ukrainian expertise in confronting Russia’s strategic army of drones. If he rejects cooperation with Ukraine and Europe — including giving a thumbs-down to any form of Zelensky’s proposed drone deal — it will help Russia surge ahead of the U.S. in drone dominance.
Should this course remain unchanged, sooner rather than later, Americans, Europeans, and Ukraine will pay a very high price.
The city’s new Neighborhood Wellness Court initiative has been placed on hold amid growing concern from the leadership of Philadelphia‘s courts and judges’ mounting frustration with the city officials tasked with overseeing the program.
Wellness court, which Mayor Cherelle L. Parker’s administration launched in January as a fast-track way to arrest people in Kensington for drug-related offenses and get them into treatment, has not taken any new cases over the last three weeks, city officials said.
Supervising Municipal Court Judge Karen Simmons was nearly ready to shut the program down over frustration with the lack of coordination and communication from the Parker administration with the courts and other city agencies involved, according to sources with knowledge of conversations about the program.
Simmons was concerned that the city was treating people arrested in some neighborhoods differently from others, and that there was inconsistency in how the program was tracking its data and determining who should be eligible for treatment, according to the sources, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss private conversations.
Simmons ultimately gave the city time to fix those issues, asking that officials put together a written manual and streamline the paperwork and intake procedures to ensure fairness, the sources said. The city is expected to make those adjustments so police can resume making arrests and bringing people through the program next week.
A spokesperson for the courts declined to comment and referred questions to the city.
Chief Public Safety Director Adam Geer oversees the office that runs Neighborhood Wellness Court in Kensington.
Chief Public Safety Director Adam Geer, who oversees the city office that runs wellness court, said the delays were related to “administrative protocols” that needed to be resolved but declined to provide specifics.
Geer said that he expects the program to return to normal operations next week and that the city “is fully committed to successfully implementing and sustaining the Neighborhood Wellness Court model.”
Joshu Harris, the city’s deputy director of public safety, is no longer overseeing the program‘s operations, the sources said, and Deputy Mayor Vanessa Garrett Harley is now involved.
“As with all new pilot programs of this kind, adjustments will continually be made to improve operations as time moves forward,” city spokesperson Joe Grace said Thursday.
The pause comes amid long-simmering tension between the courts and the city over how the program was launched, sources said. Leadership of the Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office, the Defender Association of Philadelphia, and even the judges tasked with overseeing the court were largely excluded from the city’s plans for the program and how it would operate, sources said. They have felt like the Parker administration did not want their input.
That conflict spilled into open court this month. Municipal Court Judge Henry Lewandowski III, who has presided over most of the wellness court cases so far, said at a hearing in early April that certain politicians in the city think they can “just wave a wand” and fix Kensington’s long-standing drug problems.
“I care way more than they ever will. They’re fake,” he said, adding that officials are trying to build new programs just so they have something to take credit for.
“If I said what I wanted to say,” he said, “I’d have to resign.”
His frustration was clear again Thursday as he oversaw more than 100 summary offense cases, most for fare evasion amid SEPTA‘s new crackdown on turnstile jumping.
“Who knows what program they’ll start by next week,” he said. “Every Wednesday, there’s new stuff, new programs, new procedures. … I’ve never been more confused, I’ve never been more uncertain what my job is.”
Wellness court takes place every Wednesday inside a courtroom at the 24th / 25th Police District.
Wellness court is a signature part of Parker’s plan to shut down Kensington’s notorious open-air drug market and restore quality of life for neighborhood residents.
The court runs on Wednesday afternoons. First, in the morning, police conduct sweeps of the Kensington area and arrest people in addiction for offenses like sleeping on the sidewalk, gathering around an outdoor fire, or stumbling into the street. They are typically charged with summary offenses like obstructing highways.
Those arrested are then brought to the Police-Assisted Diversion program building on Lehigh Avenue, where they are evaluated by a nurse and an addiction specialist. Officials also attempt to address any outstanding arrest warrants, and connect them with a court-appointed attorney hired by the city to discuss their rights.
Finally, they are brought before a judge — Lewandowski has heard most cases so far — inside the nearby police district. They are offered the opportunity to immediately go to rehab or face a summary trial for their alleged crimes. Those who opt to go into treatment and complete the program and terms set by the city will later have their cases dismissed and expunged.
Few in the program have asked for a same-day trial. Those found guilty have so far been ordered to pay fines and court fees ranging from about $200 to $500.
Homelessness and public drug use is widespread in Kensington, the heart of the city’s open-air drug market.
Of the more than 50 people who have come before the court so far, only two had successfully completed treatment as of early April, according to data collected by The Inquirer. The vast majority brought through the program almost immediately leave treatment and do not appear at follow-up hearings, the data show.
The city has declined to share data on wellness court, including with City Council at a recent budget hearing, saying that it is too early to judge the program on numbers alone and that more time is needed to see results.
But the Parker administration said it wants to expand the court and needs more funding for it to succeed. At a recent budget hearing, Geer asked City Council for an additional $3.7 million to operate the court five days a week and hire additional staffers.
The goal, Geer said, is to build a system where people suffering on the streets can immediately be connected with treatment and resources, avoid going to jail, and get housing through the city’s new Riverview Wellness Village. Geer has said that the program will never have a 100% success rate, but that every “touch” the program has with people in addiction increases their likelihood to eventually go into treatment.
But the First Judicial District has said wellness court will not be expanding anytime soon, according to sources.
Civil rights advocates have raised constitutional concerns over the program. In a letter to the Parker administration, the Pennsylvania chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union said the program could pose a threat to drug users’ rights and questioned whether the city could force people to make consequential legal decisions while potentially under the influence of narcotics.
A 42-year-old man with a history of addiction died inside a Philadelphia jail over the weekend just days after he was arrested in Kensington, officials said.
Andrew Drury was picked up on a bench warrant by Philadelphia police near Kensington and Lehigh Avenues on Thursday night and was found collapsed inside the intake room at Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility on Sunday afternoon, according to police and prison officials. Officers who found Drury administered two doses of Narcan, among other lifesaving measures, but he did not regain consciousness, officials said.
Drury, whose cause of death remains under investigation, was addicted to opioids and had been hospitalized multiple times for withdrawal-related complications when he was jailed in the fall on similar warrant issues, according to a source familiar with his care who was not authorized to speak publicly.
Philadelphia police arrested Drury in Kensington around 10:30 p.m. Thursday on outstanding bench warrants related to a drug case in Maryland and a 2022 violation of a protection-from-abuse order filed in Philadelphia.
Sgt. Eric Gripp, a spokesperson for Philadelphia police, said Drury was evaluated and “received off-site medical treatment” before he was transferred to the jail on State Road around 2:15 a.m. Saturday.
People who use drugs are often gathered near Kensington and Somerset Avenues, an intersection at the heart of Philadelphia’s opioid crisis.
Drury had been in an intake room at the facility for nearly 36 hours, waiting to be assigned to a cell block, when a jail guard found him unresponsive around 1:45 p.m. Sunday, according to John Mitchell, a spokesperson for the Philadelphia prisons. He was pronounced dead at 2 p.m., Mitchell said.
The cause of Drury’s death was under investigation, he said, but no foul play was suspected. Gripp declined to say where and under what circumstances Drury was treated medically while in police custody, citing an ongoing investigation. It is not clear whether Drury was medically evaluated once he arrived at the jail.
Drury is the first person to die in the custody of the Philadelphia Department of Prisons this year, and his death comes as the city ramps up drug enforcement in Kensington and arrests more people in addiction. Advocates have warned city and law enforcement officials that the withdrawal effects for people who use opioids can be life-threatening, and that the understaffed jails might struggle to respond to people’s health needs in those circumstances.
His death follows that of Amanda Cahill, 31,who died inside a cell at the Philadelphia Industrial Correctional Center in September, days after she was arrested in Kensington on charges related to drugs and open warrants. The Philadelphia Medical Examiner’s Office said Tuesday that an autopsy showed Cahill died from drug intoxication.
At least 29 people in addiction have died in Philadelphia jail or police custody since 2018 for reasons that appear connected to drug intoxication or withdrawal, according to medical examiner records reviewed by The Inquirer.
Amanda Cahill, 31, is seen here in a photo provided by her family. She died in Philadelphia Industrial Correctional Center in September.
Drury’s legal troubles go back to at least July 2021, when he was arrested for possession with intent to distribute drugs in Maryland, according to court records. Then, in July 2022, he was arrested in Philadelphia for violating a protection-from-abuse order that his mother had filed against him. He was later released on bail.
After Drury failed to appear in court in Maryland and Philadelphia, warrants were issued for his arrest. He was picked up by police on Oct. 1, 2024, in connection with those pending cases.
While in custody, Drury was hospitalized at least twice, including for more than a week, after experiencing health issues related to withdrawal, said the person familiar with his care, who had reviewed the records related to Drury’s earlier cases.
He was released from jail in November after authorities in Maryland declined to extradite him, the source said. Because he did not return to Maryland to resolve his case, there was still an outstanding warrant for his arrest. And when Drury did not appear for a December hearing in his Philadelphia case, a second warrant was issued.
The warrants landed him back in police custody on Thursday.
Two of Drury’s relatives, who asked not to be identified for privacy reasons, said they did not know he was struggling with addiction. They described him as a warm and generous person, a good listener, and a helping hand.
“I feel that something is not right,” one relative said. “I don’t know, and I won’t know, I guess, until I can get the coroner’s report. I’m in the dark right now.”
Andrew Pappas, pretrial managing director of the Defender Association of Philadelphia, said Drury’s death underscores the dangerous conditions inside Philadelphia’s jails, which face an ongoing staffing shortage.
“We continue to see the effects of that with yet another death in custody,” he said.
It was a tough two-and-a-half-week period: Students accused of impersonating ICE agents. One student accused of shooting and killing another. A student stabbing a former student 13 times. And a student falling from a light pole during a post-Eagles celebration and dying from his injuries.
These high-profile incidents involved Temple University students and three of the four occurred on or near campus, posing another test for new president John A. Fry.
Some say they are gratified that the administration communicated swiftly and thoroughly about the incidents, which wasn’t always the case in the past.
“That’s been really great to have such a quick turnaround time,” said Ray Epstein, president of student government. “Even if it is the middle of the night, we are getting an email immediately.”
After Chase Myles, a 20-year-old student from Maryland was shot and killed atabout 11 p.m. Feb. 6, Fry notified the campus in an email at 3:46 a.m., and just hours later was on a plane back to campus from an alumni event in Florida so he could be on the ground to talk to the victim’s parents and help coordinate the response.
By contrast, it took nearly twice as long for the university to get out an email about the shooting death of Samuel Collington outside his off-campus residence in November 2021 even though that happened in the daytime. The email did not come from then-president Jason Wingard, but rather from then-safety chief Charles Leone. The attack put the campus on edge and stirred fear in the Temple community among students, parents, and staff — and social media posts circulatedwith the hashtag “Where’s Wingard,” who laterresigned after less than two years on the job.
Donna Gray, Temple’s campus safety services manager for risk reduction and advocacy services, greets Temple president John A. Fry during his first day of work Nov. 1.
That incident ― which happened as part of an attempted robbery and carjacking ― was different in that it involved random violence by a stranger in the neighborhood.
But even the Temple police officers’ union, which has been critical of university leadership in past years, has noted Fry’s efforts in dealing with the recent multiple incidents.
“He seems to be handling it well,” said Sean Quinn, president of the Temple University Police Association. “Without a doubt, as soon as these things happen, he’s right on top of it.”
“It is up to us to tell the bad news first, personally to all of our community,” he said. “Number two is just to keep a steady stream of communications following that even when there is not a whole lot to say. It’s worth checking in.”
Parents on the university’s family council said they are confident in the university leadership’s handling of the incidents, too.
“It seems like there are the right people in place,” said Allison Borenstein, a Temple alumna whose son, a sophomore, attends the university. “They handled it well, and I think they are on it.”
Borenstein, an event planner at a synagogue who lives in Cherry Hill, noted such incidents could happen near any college campus and said she feels that Temple sometimes gets an unfair rap.
“There’s nothing that the school could have done in advance,” she said.
Emma Legge, an alumna and parent of a senior who lives in New York, said she feels she is kept informed, and she checks in with her son after receiving a communication.
“I do feel as a parent that Temple is doing what it can within the city of Philadelphia to manage what happens,” said Legge, who got both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees at Temple and met her husband, also a twice Temple alumnus, there. “I have a lot of confidence in the university and the people who are on board.”
Philadelphia Police Commissioner Kevin J. Bethel and Jennifer Griffin, Temple University vice president for public safety, after graduation ceremonies for the Police Academy Class #402, new officers of the Philadelphia Police Department and Temple University Police Department, at Temple’s Performing Arts Center in June.
That includes Jennifer Griffin, vice president for public safety, she said.
“I feel very reassured by the measures police are undertaking to be involved in the neighborhood and be involved with students,” said Legge, who works in student affairs administration at a New York college.
Griffin said after the recentincidents, she met with the student safety advisory committee and its members saidthey appreciated the accurate and timely information, which she said she has always aimed to provide since starting at Temple about two and a half years ago.
“We hope it decreased anxiety,” she said.
Of Fry, she said, “I thought he handled all the incidents with thoughtfulness and decisiveness and direction that I would expect from somebody with his level of experience.”
The police union has been critical of Griffin, even calling for her to resign or be fired over staffing issues. University leadership has backed Griffin.
Quinn said the union now is trying to work things out, noting that the university is amid a police staffing study conducted by an external company.
“I just don’t want to come to work every day feeling like I’m butting heads,” he said. “I actually would like to work with whoever I have to work with to see if we can accomplish things.”
Fry said he expects to have the results of the staffing study in a couple months. He said he’s pleased with the work campus police do, noting he had gone on ride alongs with them and wants to make sure they have enough help.
Ray Epstein, Temple student government president.
While Epstein, the student government president, endorsed the university’s handling of communication about the recent shooting, she said it also should have issued an alert after a report about a student placing hidden cameras in a fraternity bathroom in late November and recording people without their knowledge. Instead the campus learned of it through social media earlier this month, she said. The student has been arrested and charged in that case.
“I was not sure when or if the fraternity/university would ever disclose this incident, but I wanted to inform everyone in case this was never announced,” someone posted on a Temple Reddit page, with court documents about the case.
“Maybe it’s perceived by campus safety as not being an ongoing threat,” Epstein said. “I’d argue that it is because when these things happen in a house, you can’t possibly know until an investigation is concluded who all was involved.”
Griffin countered that the investigation was handled swiftly, the individual was identified and arrested, and there was no ongoing threat to the community. A Temple alert is sent when there is an immediate threat to the community, she said.
In this case, people who lived in the house notified law enforcement after the equipment was found, the equipment was taken and the individual who put it there was identified, she said.
“The people who called in the cameras were cooperative,” she said. “It was an isolated incident at an off-campus residence … and student affairs reached out to those who were impacted.”
Inquirer photographers and videographers captured tens of thousands of images in 2024. Here are some of our favorites.
By
Inquirer Staff Photographers
Published Dec 12, 2024
By the time the votes were counted, Donald Trump and rival Kamala Harris had shown up at more than 100 events in the Philly region and across the state in a year when Pennsylvania became the center of the political universe in the 2024 presidential election.
The sports year began with the retirement (and subsequent ubiquity) of Eagles legend Jason Kelce, photographed as he left the field in a final deflating defeat. It didn’t get much better for Philly’s other pro sports teams, failures perhaps best encapsulated by the image of a 76er who ended up in the stands, upside down, his red sneakers pointing to the ceiling.
Along the way, the people behind the cameras provided our readers with magical images — a 1-year-old in bunny costume on Easter Sunday on a South Jersey farm among 400,000 daffodils, a white-robed bishop being lowered into the Atlantic Ocean to bless the waters, skywatchers admiring the eclipse, an overweight Bull mastiff – eating a carrot.
Words have their place, but it is true that some things must be seen to be believed — like an apron-clad Donald Trump at a McDonald’s drive-through window.
Eagles center Jason Kelce walks off the field after the game. Eagles lose 32-9 to the Buccaneers in the wild-card round of the NFL playoffs at Raymond James Stadium in Tampa, Fl. on Monday, Jan. 15, 2024.David Maialetti / Staff PhotographerSixers forward Danuel House Jr. falls into the fans during the second quarter against the Brooklyn Nets on Feb. 3 at the Wells Fargo Center.Yong Kim / Staff PhotographerSiddeeq Shabazz, a leading Philly Black cyclist who took up cycling during the pandemic and helped grow a local biking movement to increase diversity within the sport was shot and paralyzed last year. His 12-year-old daughter, Suri Shabbaz, his only child, is a student teacher dancer at a local studio. Every year for the last eight or so years, they have attended the father/daughter dance at the studio. This was the first year they didn't attend because of his injuries. They strike a dancing pose together on Feb. 27 at B’ella Ballerina Performing Arts Center.Charles Fox / Staff Photographer
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Eagles quarterback Jalen Hurts pauses in prayer before the start of the game against the New Orleans Saints at the Superdome in New Orleans on Sept. 22.David Maialetti / Staff PhotographerPhillies catcher J.T. Realmuto leaps past Pittsburgh Pirates baserunner Jared Triolo in the second inning during a split squad spring training game at BayCare Ballpark in Clearwater, Fla., on March 18.. Triolo was safe on the play.Yong Kim / Staff Photographer
Eagles running back Saquon Barkley leaps over Jacksonville Jaguars cornerback Jarrian Jones during the second quarter at Lincoln Financial Field on Nov. 3.Yong Kim / Staff Photographer
Making of a Photo: Witnessing Saquon Barkley's backward jump
Philadelphia Inquirer photographer, Yong Kim, was at the Linc when Eagles’ running back, Saquon Barkley, made an eye-catching play against the Jacksonville Jaguars.
A video deep dive of Yong Kim’s iconic photo.Gabe Coffey
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Marchers carry a 400-foot-long rainbow flag — the largest in Philadelphia history — moving it up Walnut Street on June 2 as Pride March and Festival kicks off with a march from Washington Square with the theme “Be You.”Tom Gralish / Staff Photographer
Allie Katch in the ring during Effy's Big Gay Brunch presented by Game Changer Wrestling at Penn's Landing Caterers in Philadelphia on April 6. The event was one of several that took place during Wrestlemania week. The event is a safe and inclusive space for LGBTQ+ wrestlers that seeks to promote their talent. “I’m glad they are starting to pay attention,” Taylor Gibson, better known by the ring name Effy, said to the sold-out crowd. “We have some of the best talent in the world.”Heather Khalifa / Staff PhotographerDrag queen Martha Graham Cracker (Dito van Reigersberg) performs at B. West in Philadelphia on March 15.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff Photographer
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One-year-old Olivia Clavijo of Elizabeth, N.J., tightly hugs her tulips while spending the day with her family at the 2024 Dalton Farms Festival of Tulips! in Swedesboro, N.J. on Easter Sunday. The farm has 400,000 daffodils and 150 varieties of tulips and planted one million bulbs.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff PhotographerStudents at the Antonia Pantoja Charter School watch the eclipse in Philadelphia on April 8.Jessica Griffin / Staff PhotographerThe khachapuri Adjaruli and Lobio at Gamarjoba in Philadelphia. Food styling by Emilie FosnochtMonica Herndon / Staff PhotographerDennis Sullivan, bishop of the Diocese of Camden, is helped into an Atlantic City Beach Patrol boat on Aug. 15. Bishop Sullivan blessed the water by tossing a wreath into the surf. The tradition is called Wedding of the Sea. According to organizers the tradition began in Venice around the year 1000 AD. The tradition came to Atlantic City through St. Michael’s Church, a historically Italian parish.David Maialetti / Staff PhotographerThe Avalon Beach Patrol team celebrates the Lifeguard Championship in Brigantine on Aug. 12.Steven M. Falk / Staff Photographer
Ron Wolffe of Iowa watches Ariell Flight, of West Chester, on the Wall of Death. Acrobatic riders performed at the Race of Gentlemen in Wildwood on Oct. 4.Alejandro A. Alvarez / Staff PhotographerAs the fog moves in, Caleesi Cohen (left), 10, and her sister Senaia-Imani Cohen, 17, move out after spending the day on the beach with their family in Wildwood on Memorial Day weekend. The girls’ father, Michael Cohen, (not in photo) said he pulled the cart across the expansive Wildwood beach when they arrived and now it was the girls’ turn. The family is from Sicklerville.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff Photographer
Pro-Palestinian demonstrators march on Market Street as they head to Independence Mall prior to the Sept. 10 presidential debate at the National Constitution Center.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff PhotographerPeople get set up to camp out for the night to support Palestine on College Green in the heart of the University of Pennsylvania campus on April 25.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff Photographer
Making of a Photo: Covering the Pro-Palestinian encampment at Penn
Philadelphia Inquirer photographer, Elizabeth Robertson, describes how she spent time overnight at the encampment where Penn students protested the war in Gaza.
A video deep dive of Elizabeth Robertson’s coverage of the Pro-Palestinian encampment at Penn.Gabe Coffey
A protester with the Penn Gaza Solidarity Encampment is arrested at South 34th St. near the Penn campus on May 17.Steven M. Falk / Staff PhotographerInside, after waiting in line outside in the heat for hours on July 31, a supporter takes a drink of water in the restroom at the Pennsylvania Farm Show Complex in Harrisburg, before an appearance by former President Donald Trump.Tom Gralish / Staff PhotographerPhiladelphia Mayor Cherelle L. Parker (center) arrives in City Council chambers to deliver her first budget address on March 14.Heather Khalifa / Staff PhotographerMel Lee, of Lansdale, with the Woori Center, marches along 11th Street during a Sept. 7 rally to protest the Sixers’ plans to build a new arena near Chinatown.Tyger Williams / Staff PhotographerVice President Kamala Harris greets children in the crowd of supporters after speaking at a Republicans for Harris event in Washington Crossing on Oct. 16.Tom Gralish / Staff PhotographerAn excited Elon Musk is about to greet former President Donald Trump at his Oct. 5 rally in Butler, Pa.Steven M. Falk / Staff Photographer
Jim Worthington gets a hug from Linda Mitchell as they learn Donald Trump has won Pennsylvania during an election night party in Newtown, Bucks County.Steven M. Falk / Staff PhotographerFormer President Donald Trump works the drive-through window at the McDonald’s in Feasterville, Bucks County, on Oct. 20 after saying on “Fox & Friends” he will “do everything” at the Golden Arches.Tom Gralish / Staff Photographer
Making of a Photo: Documenting an election year in Pennsylvania, according to a Philadelphia Inquirer photographer
Philadelphia Inquirer photographer, Tom Gralish, has covered presidential elections for decades over his 40-year career as a photojournalist. This year’s election was unlike any other.
A video deep dive of Tom Gralish’s coverage of the 2024 election year in Pennsylvania.Gabe Coffey
Firefighters work the scene where two police officers were injured while responding to reported standoff in East Lansdowne on Feb. 7.Charles Fox / Staff PhotographerA person, who did not want to be named, struggles to pull a shopping cart past a mural on Somerset Street off Kensington Avenue on March 18. The mural is on a wall outside of Cantina La Martina.David Maialetti / Staff Photographer
A man kneels in prayer near the crime scene after multiple people were shot at an Eid al-Fitr gathering at Clara Muhammad Square in Philadelphia on April 10.Monica Herndon / Staff PhotographerRetired Army Maj. Andre McCoy, a member of American Legion Post 405 and the Philadelphia Veterans Advisory Commission, salutes the grave of Navy Cmdr. John Montgomery Dale after an abbreviated Memorial Day ceremony at the Christ Church Burial Ground in Old City. The Christ Church Preservation Trust program honored Dale (1797-1852).Yong Kim / Staff Photographer
Nyshyia Thomas (right) is shown at home with her family, during an interview during which she talked about her son Da'Juan Brown, who was killed in a random shooting.Jessica Griffin / Staff PhotographerHigh School student, Ivan Bailey-Green is photographed with his paintings on May 7 during art class at St. Joseph's Preparatory School. Ivan was a member of the St. Joe's Prep football team and recently committed to East Stroudsburg. He is also considered by many to be the best artist in the school, something he came to lately but fell in love with. He plans to major in nursing but also explore art in college as a minor or possibly a career.Jose F. Moreno / Staff PhotographerRising sophomore Kylie Price, of Wilmington, stands in front of the University of the Arts Dorrance Hamilton Hall on South Broad Street in Philadelphia on June 9. Just over one week earlier, university officials announced that the school would be closing permanently.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff PhotographerPeople riding dirt bikes and four wheelers ride down the Art Museum steps on Feb. 3.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff Photographer
People watch the Italian Air Force Frecce Tricolori during a flyover at the Philadelphia Museum of Art on Aug 12.Jose F. Moreno / Staff PhotographerSpectators watch as a group from Pace Roofing try to climb the greased pole during the Italian Market Festival on May 19.David Maialetti / Staff Photographer
Tugboats taking the Battleship New Jersey to the Paulsboro Marine Terminal pass near the flight plan for Philadelphia International Airport on March 21. After a stop in Paulsboro, the World War II-era battleship turned museum headed to the Navy Yard for repainting and repairs.Tom Gralish / Staff PhotographerAlmond Street resident Ryan Annau checks the depth of a large sinkhole on the 3100 block of Almond Street in Port Richmond on Jan. 28.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff Photographer
Birders gather along South 51st Street at Botanic on Jan. 23 to look at a colorful male Painted Bunting, a bird that normally breeds in southern climates.Alejandro A. Alvarez / Staff PhotographerRalphie, a bullmastiff who reached about 30% overweight. He's lost about 10 pounds but he has a good bit left to go. Healthy treats like carrots are now used to reward him.Charles Fox / Staff Photographer
Pennsylvania State Police and Philadelphia police keep an eye on a horse reported to have been running wild on I-95 on Feb. 20.Alejandro A. Alvarez / Staff Photographer
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Staff Contributors
Introduction: Tony Wood
Art Direction: Julia Duarte
Editing: Brian Leighton
Photography: Alejandro A. Alvarez, Steven M. Falk, Charles Fox, Tom Gralish, Jessica Griffin, Monica Herndon, Heather Khalifa, Yong Kim, David Maialetti, Jose F. Moreno, Elizabeth Robertson, Tyger Williams
Videography: Gabe Coffey, Astrid Rodrigues
Photo Editing: Jasmine Goldband, Danese Kenon, Frank Wiese
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Picture it: The Birds game is on, you’re snacking on the couch, and suddenly, you hear it: “This holiday season, my good friend gave to me: seven Powerball tickets — .” With the start of Pennsylvania’s annual showing of its prized lottery Christmas commercial, the holiday season is truly here.
Dating to 1992, the ad, which is titled “Snowfall,” features a group of carolers singing an abridged and heavily modified version of “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” swapping the usual swans a-swimming and geese a-laying for an array of lottery games.
On social media, the return of the ad — which typically begins airing in early November — is celebrated. “It’s practically a holiday tradition,” one Reddit user wrote 13 years ago about the ad (from a Reddit thread in 2011 discussing its return that holiday season). A new Reddit thread posted this week also embraced the holiday ad.
“The moment they hear the carolers sing, many Pennsylvanians reflexively smile, sing along, and mentally count the weeks until they can put up the tree,” Drew Svitko, the Pennsylvania Lottery’s executive director, said in 2016 ahead of the ad’s 25th anniversary. “We are proud that our popular commercial brings back so many warm memories for viewers and has become a Keystone State holiday tradition.”
But the ad we see today is not the exact ad that was shown over three decades ago.
The original version was filmed in Pittsburgh ahead of its 1992 debut. It features an older man, Joe, leaving his place on a snowy night to dole out lottery ticket gifts throughout his neighborhood, including tocoffee- and newsstand owners. Carolers sing. That version was shown from 1992 through 2011.
In 2011, the Pennsylvania Lottery reproduced the holiday commercial in high-definition video and to accommodate modern TV specs. This time, the shoot took place in Philadelphia. But the shot-for-shot remake was so carefully executed, many viewers didn’t notice the difference when it was shown in 2012 until it was pointed out.
“The lottery took great care in recreating the beloved ad,” Pennsylvania Lottery spokesperson Ewa Swope said Tuesday. “By retaining the original audio track and voice-over, along with the shot-for-shot remake, we stayed true to the look and feel of the original spot.”
Local Philly blog Crossing Broad posted a side-by-side comparison of the 1992 and 2012 ads to highlight the matching.
Of course, the 2012 ad has been tweaked slightly over the years to account for changes to the lottery’s game offerings. Swope said a visual card within the ad is also updated annually to spotlight a featured holiday scratch-off game — this year’s is the Jingle Jangle Jackpot.
“Because the original spot is so beloved, we didn’t want to upset anyone by going in a vastly different creative direction,” Connie Bloss, a marketing pro who worked on both the 1992 and 2012 “Snowfall” ads, told the Associated Press at the time of the new spot’s debut. “We meticulously examined each frame to match the outfits, props, location, and other small details. We really wanted to get it right.”
Swope said the ad’s aim has always been the same: to remind consumers that lottery products can be given as gifts. Becoming a holiday classic was just a bonus.
“We could not have imagined in 1992 that this spot would become such a holiday classic,” Swope said. “We routinely hear from players that when they see the commercial, they know the holiday season is starting. We are happy that so many players enjoy and look forward to this spot as a part of their holiday tradition.”
You can watch the latest version of “Snowfall” below:
