Ep.2 The Branch Davidians

Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:24):
Welcome to Hidden Cults, the podcast that shines a light
into the shadows. Here we explore the strange, the secretive,
and the spiritually seductive. From fringe religions to doomsday prophets,
from communes to corporate empires. These are the movements that
promised meaning and sometimes delivered something far more dangerous. I'm
your host, and in each episode, we uncover the true
stories behind the world's most controversial cults, the leaders who

(00:47):
led them, the followers who followed, and the echoes they
left behind. If you or someone you care about has
been impacted by a cult, you're not alone. There is help.
Whether you're still inside a cult or trying to process
what you've been through, support is out there. You can
find organizations and hotlines in the description of this episode.
You deserve freedom, healing, and a life that's truly your own.

(01:10):
Reach out. The first step is often the hardest, but
it's also the most powerful. If you'd like to share
your story and experiences with a cult, you can email
it to me and I will read it on a
future Listener Stories episode. Your anonymity is guaranteed always today's episode,
let's begin Part one, Roots of Rebellion, from Prophecy to

(01:31):
Power nineteen twenty nine to nineteen eighty one. It didn't
start in the fire, It didn't start with David Korish,
and it certainly didn't start in nineteen ninety three. To
understand how a religious community could find itself under siege
by the US government, how dozens of people, including children,
could die in a blaze on live television, and how

(01:52):
that event would ripple through American society for decades, you
have to go back back almost a century, back to prophecy,
back to a man with a foreign accent and a
vision that burned brighter than the Texan sun. This is
the story of how a fringe interpretation of an already
fringe theology took root, grew into a movement, and ultimately

(02:13):
laid the foundation for one of the most tragic and
controversial confrontations in modern American history. It begins in nineteen
twenty nine with a man named Victor Hotef. Victor Hutef
was a Bulgarian immigrant who arrived in the United States
seeking opportunity and spiritual fulfillment. Like many immigrants in the
early twentieth century, he found both possibility and disillusionment in

(02:35):
equal measure. What he didn't find was a spiritual home,
not until he discovered the Seventh Day Adventist Church. The
Adventists were themselves the product of failed prophecy. In the
eighteen forties, William Miller had predicted the return of Christ,
a date that came and went with no heavenly arrival.
The Great Disappointment, as it was later called, became the

(02:57):
theological soil from which Adventism would grow, a group committed
to biblical prophecy, the Sabbath, and the belief that the
end of days was always just around the corner. But
for who Tef even the Adventists weren't getting it quite right.
He believed that the Church had drifted from truth, become
too institutional, too accommodating. He was certain that the true

(03:19):
meaning of biblical prophecy had been obscured by bureaucracy and compromise. So,
in true prophetic fashion, how Tef wrote a book, The
Shepherd's Rod, a title drawn from the Book of Micah,
was a dense, symbol laden exegesis of scripture, filled with
new interpretations and warnings about the coming judgment. In it,

(03:39):
how Tef claimed that the Seventh Day Adventist Church was
corrupt and would soon be judged by God. Only a
small remnant, the faithful one hundred and forty four thousand
mentioned in Revelation would be spared. This group, he argued,
would be spiritually purified and preserved to usher in the
Kingdom of God. The Adventist leadership was not impressed. They

(04:00):
denounced his writings, expelled him from the church, and tried
to distance themselves from what they saw as dangerous fanaticism.
But expulsion did little to silence Hutef. It only confirmed
his belief that he was right. In nineteen thirty five,
Hutef and a small group of followers moved to Waco, Texas.
They purchased a tract of land and named it Mount Carmel,

(04:22):
after the biblical mountain where the prophet Elijah had confronted
the prophets of Baale. This was not a coincidence. Like Elijah,
how Tef believed he was standing against a corrupt religious establishment,
calling the faithful back to righteousness. Mount Carmel was more
than a refuge. It was a launchpad, a place where
how Tef and his followers could prepare for the purification

(04:44):
of the church and ultimately the end of the world.
They grew their own food, lived communally, studied scripture obsessively,
and waited, and yet there was order to it, discipline.
How Tef wasn't a raving street preacher. He was meticulous.
He saw himself not as a messiah, but as a messenger,

(05:06):
the one who would restore God's people before the final
events began. He never predicted a specific date for the apocalypse,
nor did he claim to be Christ. He wasn't trying
to build a new religion, at least not publicly. He
believed he was reforming an old one. By the time
of his death in nineteen fifty five, how Tef had
built a movement with several hundred committed followers. It was small, insular,

(05:29):
and devout, but his passing left a vacuum and a
question that would haunt the movement for decades. Who speaks
for God? Now? Leadership passed to his wife, Florence Hutef,
where Victor had been measured. Florence was bold. Within a
few years of assuming control, she made a proclamation that
would reshape and nearly destroy the community. She declared that

(05:50):
the judgment prophesied by her late husband would arrive on
April twenty second, nineteen fifty nine. That specific date electrified
the base. It drew new believers, reignited Old zeal And
brought a rush of activity to Mount Carmel. People sold
their possessions, quit their jobs, moved to Waco. Hundreds gathered
at the compound expecting divine judgment. They believed that the

(06:12):
Seventh Day Adventist Church would be metaphorically and literally cleansed,
and that they, the faithful, would inherit its spiritual authority.
But April twenty second came and went. Nothing happened. The
skies didn't part, the church didn't fall, the world didn't end.
The effect was catastrophic. Many followers, heartbroken and humiliated, left

(06:33):
the group. Florence, her credibility shattered, stepped down from leadership.
The community fractured. Some left religion altogether. Others clung to
the belief that they had misunderstood the prophecy, that the
date had symbolic not literal meaning, and a few believed
the problem wasn't the prophecy at all, it was the
prophet entered Benjamin Rodin. Rodin had long been a peripheral

(06:57):
figure in the Davidian movement. He had challenged Lawrence's authority
before the failed prophecy, and had even tried to establish
his own claim to leadership. Now, with the community in disarray,
he saw his chance. He declared that he was the
true prophet, that God was now speaking through him, and
he gave the movement a new name, the Branch Davidians.

(07:18):
The Branch, he explained, referred to a prophecy in Zachariah
about a future Messianic figure. Rodin claimed that the Branch
was both a person and a movement, and that person,
of course, was him. Under Rodin, the theology shifted, the
tone grew more urgent. The group began observing Jewish festivals,
adopted dietary restrictions, and deepened their apocalyptic outlook. Rodin was

(07:40):
not as careful as Hugh Tef had been. He made
bold claims, wrote aggressive tracts, and called out his opponents
by name. He viewed mainstream Adventists as enemies, false prophets
who had rejected God. In nineteen sixty five, Rodin purchased
a new piece of land east of Waco. This would
be the new Mount Carmel, the compound that would one
day become infamous Here he built structures, preached, and drew

(08:04):
a new generation of believers into his orbit. And like
his predecessor, he saw himself as a divine instrument, not
a dictator, but a servant of prophecy. But his version
of prophecy had a harder edge. He warned of war, government, oppression,
and the need for preparation. Guns began to appear at
Mount Carmel, not in large numbers, but as a precaution.

(08:27):
Rodent taught that the righteous would face persecution and the
faithful needed to be ready. Rodin's control lasted until his
death in nineteen seventy eight. Once again leadership was in question,
his wife, Lois Rodin, stepped into the void. Lois was intelligent, articulate,
and a student of theology. She brought a softer touch
to the community, but also introduced new and unusual ideas.

(08:50):
She taught that the Holy Spirit was female. She believed
in divine duality that God encompassed both masculine and feminine aspects.
This idea, while rooted in some ancient traditions, was radical
for her audience. But Lois was also politically astute. She
saw the future of the movement not in herself but
in someone who could inspire devotion, someone who could speak

(09:12):
with authority, someone who could embody the urgency of their mission.
That's someone was Vernon Wayne Howell. Vernon arrived at Mount
Carmel in the late nineteen seventies. He was young, shy,
and deeply obsessed with Scripture. He had bounced between churches
in his youth, even attempted to make it as a
rock guitarist, but it was the Bible that gripped him,

(09:33):
particularly the Book of Revelation. He was charismatic in an
awkward way, not polished, not eloquent, but intense. He believed,
truly believed that God was calling him to something, and
Lois noticed. Their relationship quickly became controversial. Lois was in
her sixties, Vernon was in his early twenties. Rumors swirled

(09:54):
about the nature of their bond spiritual, romantic, or both,
but what was clear is that Lois saw Vernon as
a profit in training. She allowed him to preach, to
lead studies to rise, and rise he did. Vernon began
gathering his own faction inside Mount Carmel. He taught a
distinct theology, one centered on the Seven Seals in Revelation,

(10:15):
he claimed to be the only one who could interpret them.
That claim would eventually define his ministry and his messianic identity.
In nineteen eighty one, Vernon traveled to Israel. He walked
the streets of Jerusalem, sat at the Mount of Olives,
immersed himself in the land of Prophecy. When he returned,
he wasn't just Vernon Howell anymore. He believed he was chosen.

(10:37):
He believed the Seven Seals had been revealed to him.
He believed he was the lamb spoken of in revelation,
and he believed that the end was not only coming,
it had already begun. The struggle for control of Mount
Carmel soon turned bitter. Lois was aging her son, George Roden,
Benjamin's heir, wanted to lead. Vernon and George clashed. Tensions escalated,

(10:58):
Legal battles ensued. There were arrests, threats, even a shootout.
The property changed hands multiple times, but Vernon wouldn't be stopped.
In nineteen eighty seven, after a brief absence, he returned
to Mount Karmel with his followers. He was no longer
just a Bible student. He was the undisputed leader. He
legally changed his name to David Koresh, David after the

(11:19):
biblical king Koresh, the Hebrew version of Cyrus, the Persian
king who freed the Jews. He wasn't just a prophet anymore.
He was something more. The stage was set, the theology
was in place, the compound was fortified, the followers were devoted,
and the world was about to take notice. This is
how it began, not with fire, not with FBI negotiators

(11:42):
or cable news or tear gas, but with prophecy, with
a whisper of judgment, with a man convinced he held
the truth in one hand and the end of the
world in the other. Part two, The Making of David Koresh, Prophecy,
Power and Control. He was born Vernon Wayne Howell, a
name that at the time meant little to anyone outside
the dusty edges of Texas. But within a few years

(12:03):
that name would vanish, replaced by a moniker that carried
the weight of kings and conquerors, a name he chose
for himself, a name he believed was given to him
by God. David Korish. Before the world knew him through
the smoke and flames of Mount Carmel, he was a
boy from Houston, and like many who rise to power
in fringe religious movements, his story begins not with greatness,

(12:26):
but with loneliness. Vernon Howell was born on August seventeenth,
nineteen fifty nine, to a fifteen year old single mother
named Bonnie Sue Clark. His father, Bobby Howell, abandoned the
family before Vernon was even born. Bonnie struggled to raise
him alone, eventually leaving Vernon in the care of his
grandmother while she moved on with her life. He would

(12:47):
later describe his early years as marked by rejection, abandonment,
and instability. He was dyslexic, which made school a battlefield. Teased, alienated,
and held back a grade, Vernon never graduated home high school.
He dropped out in the eleventh grade, bouncing between low
wage jobs and drifting through a world that didn't seem
to want him. But he clung to one thing, the Bible.

(13:11):
Even as a child, Vernon showed an intense fascination with scripture.
He read it obsessively, memorized it, preached to anyone who
would listen. It wasn't just faith, it was fixation. He
believed deeply that God had chosen him for something. He
couldn't articulate what that something was not yet, but he
knew it was real. As a teenager, he tried to

(13:33):
find purpose in music. He learned guitar, wrote songs, and
even pursued a dream of becoming a rock musician. But
his songs were laced with apocalyptic themes and biblical imagery.
The stage wasn't big enough for the message he wanted
to deliver. In nineteen eighty one, Vernon wandered into a
community outside Waco, Texas, a small, isolated religious group descended

(13:56):
from the Seventh day Adventist Church. They called themselves the
brainch Davidians. At the time, the group was led by
Lois Rodin, a sharp witted woman in her sixties who
had taken over after the death of her husband, Benjamin Rodin.
The community was fractured, leadership contested, doctrine in flux, but
Vernon found a home there, and more than that, he

(14:16):
found a mentor. Lois saw something in Vernon. His passion,
his intensity, his biblical knowledge, all of it was magnetic.
Despite their age difference, the two grew close. There was
no doubt that Lois began grooming Vernon as a future leader.
She gave him a platform to teach, allowed him to
develop his own interpretations of prophecy, let him preach about

(14:39):
the Seven Seals, the Book of Revelation, and the role
of a coming Messiah. But Vernon didn't just want to
be a teacher. He wanted to be the teacher. The
more he studied, the more convinced he became that the
prophecies of Revelation weren't just metaphor. They were a road map,
and he was the one destined to read it aloud.

(14:59):
He taught that the Lamb in Revelation wasn't Jesus, but
a future figure who would reveal the hidden meanings of
the Seven Seals, a Messianic interpreter, a new Elijah, and
he was that Lamb. Lois. For all her radical theology
wasn't prepared for Vernon's growing influence, nor was her son,
George Roden. George viewed Vernon as a usurper, a pretender

(15:20):
with no lineage, no authority, no right to lead. Tensions flared,
and soon the community split into factions, those loyal to
the Rodent family and those who followed Vernon Howell. It
came to a head in nineteen eighty four, Vernon and
his followers were expelled from Mount Carmel. They relocated to Palestine, Texas,
living in makeshift conditions tents, buses, trailers, while Vernon continued

(15:44):
to preach, write, and refine his theology. He told his
followers that this exile was foretold, that like the ancient Israelites,
they were being tested in the wilderness, that Mount Carmel
would one day be theirs again. They just had to
be patient. Leship style was a strange mix of humility
and absolute control. He didn't bark orders, he didn't posture. Instead,

(16:07):
he quoted scripture constantly. He used the Bible as a shield,
a sword, a scalpel. Every decision was justified through prophecy,
Every demand cloaked in divine purpose. His charisma was quiet
but potent. He made people feel seen, heard, chosen. He
spent hours listening to their fears, their doubts, and then
he'd open the Bible and show them where their lives

(16:27):
fit into God's plan. It wasn't manipulation in the traditional sense,
it was belief. His and theirs fused together in a
loop of spiritual dependency. In nineteen eighty five, Vernon claimed
he had fathered a child who would be a key
figure in the final days. This child, he said, was
a Messianic figure foretold by scripture. The mother a teenage follower.

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This was the beginning of a pattern, one that would
later define the darkest chapters of his leadership. By nineteen
eighty seven, the power struggle between Vernon and George Roden
escalated into open conflict when George exhumed a corpse from
Mount Carmel's cemetery, allegedly to prove his right to lead
through a bizarre resurrection contest. Vernon called the police. When

(17:14):
they refused to intervene, Vernon and seven armed followers stormed
the compound. A shootout followed. George was injured. Vernon and
his men were arrested, charged with attempted murder, but in
court Vernon claimed self defense. The jury couldn't reach a verdict.
Charges were dropped and George Roden he would soon be institutionalized.

(17:35):
After another violent episode. Mount Carmel now belonged to Vernon Howell.
He returned with his followers and began rebuilding, literally and spiritually.
The buildings were repaired, dormitories constructed, gardens planted, and Vernon's
teachings deepened. He began referring to himself more and more
as the Lamb, the man through whom God was speaking.

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He needed a name that reflected that. In nineteen ninety,
Vernon Howell legally changed his name to David Koresh. The
name was not accidental. David, to evoke the biblical king
warrior poet chosen one Koresh, the Hebrew form of Cyrus,
the Persian king who liberated the Jews from Babylon. David
and Cyrus, two rulers anointed by God used to fulfill

(18:17):
divine purposes. With that name, Vernon Howell was gone. David
Koresh had arrived, and with him came a new era
of doctrine and danger. Korush taught that he alone could
open the seven Seals of Revelation that God had revealed
to him, secrets hidden from millennia. His theology was dense, apocalyptic, militaristic.
He spoke of a coming war between the forces of Babylon,

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the US government, the corrupt churches, the institutions of man
and the true believers, and the battlefield Mount Carmel. He
preached that this war was inevitable, that the branch, Davidians
were God's chosen, his army, his end times people, and
that the government, especially the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco firearms,
would one day surround them, and when that day came,

(19:04):
they were not to flee, they were to stand. But
this wasn't just theology, it was policy. Life at Mount
Carmel began to revolve around preparation. Weapons were purchased, ammunition stockpiled,
drills conducted, Children taught how to duck from gunfire. Followers
were told they were training for the battle of Armageddon
and that they might die for their faith. And still

(19:24):
they stayed. Why Because David Koresh offered them certainty in
a collapsing world, purpose in confusion, community, in isolation. For many,
he was the first person who had ever made them
feel spiritually significant. He told them their lives had cosmic meaning,
that their suffering was sacred, that their leader was chosen.

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But there was another darker layer. Koresh claimed that God
had commanded him to take multiple wives, many of them
under age. He said this was part of a new
light revelation. That the men in the community were to
live so celibately, while Koresh alone would father the children
who would become the future rulers of God's kingdom. It
was divine polygamy, wrapped in scripture and sealed by control.

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Girls as young as twelve were selected. Parents consented, some hesitated,
but ultimately submitted, convinced that to resist Koresh was to
resist God himself and Koresh. He kept meticulous records of
his spiritual wives and the children he fathered. By the
early nineteen nineties, he had more than a dozen wives
and had fathered multiple children. He claimed this was not

(20:34):
about sex, but sacred duty, that his bloodline was part
of a messianic lineage that would usher in a new
world after the coming Judgment. To outsiders, it was abuse,
exploitation occult. To insiders, it was prophecy fulfilled. By nineteen
ninety two, Mount Carmel was an armed, isolated, apocalyptic community
led by a self declared messiah preparing for war. Inside

(20:57):
the world made sense outside suspicions rumors of underage brides,
reports of automatic weapons, concerns about a charismatic leader with
absolute control over a growing number of followers, many of
whom were children. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms,
the ATF began looking into the group. Their initial interest guns,

(21:18):
specifically whether the group was modifying semi automatic rifles into
fully automatic weapons or illegally stockpiling military great arms. They
launched an investigation, they built a case, and in early
nineteen ninety three, they prepared to strike. David Koresh saw
it coming. He'd been preaching it for years. To him,

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the government's arrival wouldn't be a surprise, it would be confirmation.
The Battle of Babylon was about to begin. But no one,
not the government, not the media, not even the Davidians themselves,
could predict how the siege would unfold or how many
would die. The theology was in place, the compound was fortified.
The children had been born into Prophecydavid Koresh stood at

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the center, guitar in one hand, Bible and the other,
ready for the final showdown. Part three, Preparing for War, Theology, Firearms,
and the Coming Siege nineteen eighty nine to nineteen ninety three.
It's easy to view the siege as an eruption, sudden explosive,
a tragic moment in time, But the truth is more sobering.
What happened at Mount Carmel in nineteen ninety three was

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not a spontaneous event. It was the result of years
of preparation, belief, and escalation. This was a battle rehearsed
in scripture, stocked in basement armories, and preached from makeshift pulpits.
This was not just the work of a man spiraling
into fanaticism. It was a system cultivated, structured, and reinforced
brick by brick, verse by verse, bullet by bullet. This

(22:44):
is the story of how theology became warfare, how prophecy
bred paranoia, and how a compound on the Texas Prairie
became a powder keg waiting for a match. At the
Mount Carmel Center outside Waco, Texas, Koresh presided over an
increasingly insular, increasingly radical community. About one hundred adults and
children lived on the property. They grew their own food,

(23:05):
homeschooled their children, studied the Bible day and night. Outsiders
weren't welcome. Koresh's theology was the lens through which everything
was seen, and that theology had a central premise. The
apocalypse was imminent and only the faithful would survive it.
But survival wouldn't come passively. They had to prepare spiritually

(23:25):
and physically. In his teachings, Koresh emphasized the Book of Revelation,
especially the Seven Seals. His interpretation was radical and personal.
He claimed that God had chosen him to open the
seals and reveal their true meaning. Each seal marked a
stage of divine judgment, and the fifth seal that was
the kicker, the martyrdom of the saints. Death was not

(23:47):
to be feared. It was a test, a call to
prove loyalty even under fire. This belief transformed the daily
lives of the Branch Davidians. Bible study became tactical briefing.
Sermons became declaration of war readiness. Children were taught that Babylon,
the symbolic name Koresh used for the US government and
the modern world, would soon descend upon them, and when

(24:09):
it did, they would need to resist, not just spiritually,
but physically. It was during this time that the stockpiling began.
Firearms were purchased in large quantities. Some were standard semi
automatic weapons AR fifteen's AK forty sevens hunting rifles. Others
were kits, parts and accessories. The Branch Davidians attended gun
shows across Texas and other nearby states. They bought in cash,

(24:33):
They filled out forms, They followed the law mostly, but
they also learned how to skirt it, to build, to convert,
to modify. The compound's upper floors were repurposed for armament storage.
Koresh's followers reinforced walls, created hidden compartments, and trained in
weapon handling. Some even drilled for sieges using makeshift tactics

(24:54):
and drills orchestrated by Koresh and a few of his
more militarily minded followers. For Koresh, this wasn't extremism. It
was scripture in action. Babylon was coming. They were God's army.
The Mount Carmel Center was not a commune anymore. It
was a fortress of the righteous. This duality between faith
and control, protection and paranoia became the heartbeat of Mount Carmel.

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But paranoia can't remain inward forever. In nineteen ninety two,
reports began to surface. Neighbors noticed unusual deliveries. One ups
driver reported a package that broke open, revealing black powder,
metal casings, and weapons parts. Others mentioned late night gunfire
on the property. And then there were the allegations about
Koresh's wives, which led Texas Child Protective Services to investigate

(25:43):
the ATF. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms began
its own inquiry. They received tips about illegal weapon modifications, explosives,
and automatic weapons. One agent went under cover, renting a
house near the compound. Surveillance began. Wiretaps were approved. By
the end of the year. The ATF had enough to act,
but they hesitated. They wanted a high profile, coordinated strike,

(26:07):
a public display of authority. Then came the final spark
the media. In late February nineteen ninety three, the Waco
Tribune Herald published the first part of a multi day
expose titled The Sinful Messiah. The article laid bare the
allegations underage brides, illegal weapons, cult like practices. The story
was written with urgency, dripping with moral condemnation. The ATF,

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fearing they'd lose the element of surprise, moved up their timetable.
February twenty eighth, nineteen ninety three, the ATF launched what
they called Operation Showtime, a raid on the Mount Carmel Center.
Agents rolled in with trucks, helicopters, and arrest warrants. They
were told to expect resistance, but only token resistance, maybe
a few rounds, maybe a quick surrender. Instead, all hell

(26:53):
broke loose. The Davidians were prepared. Koresh had been warned,
possibly by a local news crew who got law and
asked directions from someone with ties to the compound. When
the ATF agents arrived, the Davidians were armed and ready.
The firefight lasted two hours. Four ATF agents died, Six
branch Davidians were killed, dozens were injured. Helicopters were shot at,

(27:15):
vehicles were destroyed. It was chaos broadcast on television, unfolding
live in front of a horrified nation. When the smoke cleared,
both sides pulled back, but no one left. What followed
was a fifty one day standoff, a siege that gripped
the country. Involved the FBI, the military, negotiators, psychologists, religious scholars,

(27:36):
and the President of the United States. And it all
started with those quiet years before the fire, when scripture
was turned into strategy, when fear became planning, and when
one man's revelation became the blueprint for war. By the
time the tanks rolled in, by the time the compound burned,
by the time the bodies were counted. The tragedy had

(27:56):
already been written, and it had been written in the
language of prophecy, with the ink of paranoia and the
punctuation of bullets. Part four, Day fifty one, Fire and
Fallout April nineteenth, nineteen ninety three, The fifty first day

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of the siege at Mount Carmel dawned with the quiet
stillness of inevitability. In the early hours, the fields around
the Branch Davidian Compound outside Waco, Texas, lay shrouded in
a pale mist. The air was dry, birds stirred from
the trees, and a line of armored vehicles, silent and menacing,
sat in place like coiled serpents. They had waited for
this day for weeks, so had the government, so had

(28:41):
the world. But inside Mount Carmel more than seventy people, men, women,
children waited for something else, entirely for them. This wasn't
a standoff, It wasn't a negotiation. It wasn't about federal
agents or firearms charges. It was about prophecy, about faith,
about the end. And by the time that day ended,
the compound would be gone, So would David Korish, so

(29:03):
would nearly everyone inside let's go back not to the
morning of the fire, but to the final stretch of decisions, pressures,
and beliefs that made the outcome feel to some inevitable
psychological warfare and a war of wills. After the failed
atf Raid on February twenty eighth left ten people dead,
four federal agents and six branch Davidians, the FBI assumed

(29:25):
full control of the operation. They believed this was no
longer about arrest, warrants or illegal weapons. It was now
a federal crisis, one that would need patients, precision, and planning.
The FBI brought in seasoned negotiators, behavioral analysts, and tactical commanders.
For the first two weeks of March, progress was slow
but visible. Nineteen children were released from the compound, a

(29:47):
few adults trickled out. The FBI was cautiously optimistic, but
David Korsh was not negotiating in conventional terms. He wasn't
bartering for safety, food, or fame. His currency was apocalyptic prophecy,
and every day the siege went on, his worldview seemed
more validated in Koresh's reading of the Book of Revelation Babylon,

(30:07):
the corrupt worldly government would lay siege to the true believers.
They would be tested, persecuted, even slain, But then God's
judgment would come and the righteous would be rewarded. The siege,
in Koresh's eyes, wasn't a confrontation, It was confirmation. Life
inside Mount Carmel had changed. Before the raid, the compound
had been a home, a school, a sanctuary. It had

(30:30):
its own kitchen, chapel, dormitories, jim even a vault. Koresh
taught scripture daily. His followers lived communally, surrendered personal possessions,
and believed in his divinity as the Lamb of God.
But now every window had been blacked out, electricity had
been cut. The compound was cold at night, sweltering during
the day. Food supplies dwindled. Parents ration beans and rice.

(30:53):
Babies drank watered down formula. Still, Koresh remained firm. He
told his followers that suffering was part of the test,
that pain had purpose, that Babylon was closing in, and
that it must outside. The FBI's approach changed when negotiations stalled,
agents escalated pressure. They blared music through loudspeakers, Screeching rabbits,

(31:15):
dying animals, pop songs, the sounds of helicopters. They turned
spotlights on the building all night long. They crushed Koresh's
prized Camaro with a tank. Each move was designed to
break their will, but it had the opposite effect. To
the Davidians, it looked exactly like the enemy Koresh had
preached about. By mid April, tensions inside the FBI's command

(31:35):
center reached a boiling point. The negotiators argued for more time,
more dialogue, more psychological maneuvering, but the tactical team, led
by Hostage Rescue Team Commander Dick Rogers, believed the standoff
had become too dangerous, too prolonged, and too humiliating. On
April fourteenth, Koresh sent word that he was finally ready
to come out after he finished writing his interpretation of

(31:57):
the Seven Seals from Revelation. Began writing, but to the FBI,
it looked like another delay tactic. Attorney General Janet Reno,
new to her position, was brief. Personally, she was told
of possible child abuse inside the compound of stockpiled weapons.
Of the deteriorating conditions, the FBI insisted that tear gas

(32:17):
could end the standoff with minimal casualties. Reno approved the
plan on April eighteenth. The order was given at dawn
the next morning, the FBI would begin what it called
a gas insertion operation. They would not fire live ammunition.
They would insert cs tear gas into the compound, forcing
the Davidians to surrender. It would be slow, methodical, and,

(32:39):
according to FBI planners, safe that they hadn't reckoned with
how deeply Koreesh and his followers believed they were in
the final hours of prophecy. April nineteenth, the final morning,
at five point fifty five am, a voice crackled through
loudspeakers aimed at Mount Carmel. This is not an assault.
We are entering the building to insert tear gas, not

(33:00):
fire your weapons. Exit the compound now and follow instructions inside.
No one moved. Then, at six oh two am, the
first armored vehicle rolled forward. It punched a hole in
the compound's front wall and deployed a canister of tear gas.
Other tanks followed, deploying gas into windows, ventilation shafts, and
breeches in the walls. The FBI believed it would take

(33:22):
no more than forty eight hours. They expected people to
flee the gas to surrender. They were wrong. Inside, the
Davidians ran for cover. Koresh remained calm. Survivors say he
continued to preach, telling his followers to stand strong. Gas
seeped through the building. Children cried, mothers gagged, but they
did not flee. More gas was inserted, more breaches were made,

(33:45):
Some FBI tanks began knocking down walls. Whole sections of
the building began to sag. Still, no one came out.
At eleven thirty one am, a camera mounted on an
FBI tank showed a sudden flash in the rear of
the building, then smoke, then fire. Flames spread quickly, faster
than anyone anticipated. The structure, built largely of wood, ignited

(34:06):
like kindling. Cs gas itself is not flammable, but the
compound was filled with lanterns, propane tanks, and haybales. FBI
audio surveillance captured voices inside the fire's been lit get
the fuel pour it. Within minutes, the entire structure was ablaze.
The inferno from outside agents and reporters watched in horror.
The compound's roof collapsed, Flames erupted from windows, Black smoke

(34:29):
rose into the Texas sky FBI agents shouted over loud
speakers for anyone inside to come out. None did. By
twelve oh seven pm, the compound was fully engulfed. Heat
from the fire could be felt hundreds of yards away.
Nine people managed to escape, most from the kitchen or
bunker areas. They were scorched, disoriented, traumatized. They described scenes

(34:50):
of chaos, of families huddling in corners, of failed escape attempts,
of parents shielding their children. Others were not so lucky.
Seventy six people died inside, twenty five were children. Some
died from smoke inhalation. Others were found with gunshot wounds,
some possibly self inflicted, others not. One woman was crushed

(35:11):
by falling debris. David Koresh's body was found near the
center of the compound, shot in the forehead. Next to him,
Steve Schneider, Koresh's top lieutenant, also dead from a gunshot wound.
It's still unclear whether Koresh was killed or took his
own life. The fire lasted less than an hour. By
one pm, Mount Carmel was a smoldering skeleton. In the

(35:32):
days that followed, the questions began who lit the fire,
Why didn't more people escape? Could this have been avoided?
The FBI insisted it had not started the fire. They
said Davidians had set it deliberately. They pointed to the
audio surveillance to survivor testimony to the group's own apocalyptic
theology they had chosen to die, the FBI said. Critics

(35:54):
weren't convinced. Some questioned why the FBI hadn't allowed more time.
Why hadn't they used non invasive means water cannons for example?
Why had they destroyed walls, introduced chaos and created the
very kind of end time scenario Koresh preached about. Attorney
General Janet Reno appeared before Congress. She took full responsibility

(36:14):
for approving the plan. She insisted the intent had been
to save lives, not end them. Public opinions split. To
some the Davidians were cultists who had brought about their
own destruction. To others, they were victims of federal overreach,
religious persecution, and state violence. The Waco fire became a
flashpoint for anti government sentiment. Militia groups cited it as

(36:37):
proof of tyranny. Timothy mcveig, who had bombed the Oklahoma
City Federal Building, two years later, visited the site in
nineteen ninety three and called Waco a key motivation. Mount
Carmel was gone, but its ashes became sacred ground for
conspiracy theorists, religious survivors, political radicals. Each year on April nineteen,
survivors and sympathizers gather at the site. A new chapel

(37:00):
now stands there. A memorial lists the names of the dead,
But that the debate over Waco, over what happened, why
it happened, and what it meant, has never ended. Was
it a failed rescue mission, a massacre, a tragic collision
of worldviews? What is certain is this April nineteenth, nineteen
ninety three remains one of the darkest days in American

(37:21):
domestic history, a day when belief and authority collided and
fire consumed the space between Part five. Legacy of Ashes,
April nineteenth, nineteen ninety three left a smoldering crater not
only in the Texas soil, but in the American conscience.
The ruins of Mount Carmel weren't just physical, they were emotional, legal, spiritual, political.

(37:43):
In the aftermath of the blaze, when the ash settled
and the bodies were counted, the reckoning began. This is
not the story of how the fire started. This is
the story of what it left behind. It's a legacy
built on trauma, recrimination, radicalization, and silence, and it continues
to shape the world today. Days after the sky over
Waco was still streaked with smoke. When the finger pointing began,

(38:04):
Journalists swarmed the site. The public demanded answers. Congressional leaders
promised investigations. Protesters, some grieving, some furious, lined up at
federal buildings with homemade signs and questions no one wanted
to answer. Why didn't they wait longer, Why didn't they
try something else? Why did seventy six people, twenty five
of them children, have to die? From the beginning, the

(38:26):
official line from the FBI and Justice Department was clear.
The Davidians had started the fire. The group, brainwashed and apocalyptic,
had chosen martyrdom. They lit the flames, locked the doors,
and refused to come out. But the world wasn't buying it,
not all of it. In the following months, journalists dug
into every available document. Investigative reporters unearthed internal FBI memos

(38:51):
that hinted at disorganization and internal conflict. Koresh's lawyer claimed
he had been negotiating sincerely. Religious scholars questioned whether the
government had fully grasped the group's theology or dismissed it
too easily. The families of the dead were left shattered.
Some buried entire bloodlines, others received ashes in boxes. The

(39:12):
trauma for many would stretch across generations. But it wasn't
just grief that filled the vacuum after the fire. It
was anger, and in that anger, something new began to
grow the rise of the militia movement in the early
nineteen nineties. Most Americans still had a baseline faith in
federal institutions. Waco changed that. The images of tanks breaching
a church, of flames engulfing children, of armed agents and

(39:34):
black helicopters, those scenes became the gospel of a new movement,
the anti government militia movement. Waco became a rallying cry
across the country. Loosely organized groups of armed citizens began
training in forests and fields. Convinced that federal tyranny had arrived,
they circulated home videos with grainy Waco footage. They quoted

(39:55):
the Constitution. They printed t shirts with Remember Waco in
block letters. They saw Waco not as a tragedy, but
as a warning. For men like Timothy McVeigh. That warning
became a call to action. McVeigh, a Gulf War veteran,
visited Waco during the siege. He handed out pro gun literature.
He stood outside Mount Carmel's smoking remains and seethed. Two

(40:17):
years later, on April nineteenth, nineteen ninety five, the second
anniversary of the fire, he detonated a bomb outside the
Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. The blast
killed one hundred and sixty eight people, including nineteen children
in a day care center. McVey cited Waco as a
primary motivation. In his mind, the government had declared war
on its citizens, and he was striking back. Waco had

(40:39):
become more than an event. It was now a symbol
weaponized the legal fallac in Washington, officials scrambled to contain
the damage, not just political but legal. Multiple investigations were launched.
Congressional hearings stretched for months. The FBI, ATF, and Justice
Department were grilled on live television. Survivors testified, agents, testified

(41:00):
footage was played. Mistakes were admitted, but only to a point,
The central question who caused the fire remained bitterly contested.
The FBI insisted they had not fired a single bullet
on April nineteen. They had inserted non lethal tear gas
and waited for the Davidians to surrender. The fire, they argued,
was mass suicide, but other voices pushed back. Experts questioned

(41:22):
whether the FBI's tactics cutting power, crushing vehicles, blaring loudspeakers,
and then launching a tear gas assault had pushed an
already paranoid group into a fatal corner. Independent analysts examined
FLEAR infrared footage and claimed it showed muzzle flashes from
FBI positions, suggesting that agents had fired into the compound.

(41:43):
The FBI denied it. Years later, it emerged that some
pyrotechnic tear gas rounds had been used, something the FBI
had initially denied. Under oath, Attorney General Janet Reno, to
her credit, ordered a special Council investigation. That investigation found
no no evidence that the government had started the fire,
but the damage to public trust was already done. Dozens

(42:07):
of lawsuits were filed by survivors and family members of
the deceased Most were dismissed, a few were settled quietly.
No federal agents were held criminally accountable for the deaths
at Waco. Koresh was dead, most of his followers were dead.
The government moved on, but the American people didn't. The
survivors nine people made it out of Mount Carmel on
April nineteenth, nineteen ninety three, scarred, shaken, and haunted. They

(42:30):
were immediately arrested and charged with various crimes, from weapons
violations to aiding in the death of federal agents. Their
trials were long and complicated. Some were acquitted, others received
long sentences. One of the survivors, Clive Doyle, lost his
daughter in the fire. He continued to defend David Korsh
for years afterward. To him, Koresh had been a prophet,

(42:51):
misunderstood and maligned. Others, like Livingstone Fagan, spent years in prison,
emerging with deep theological convictions but bitterness towards the state.
Many survivors faded from public view, choosing silence over spectacle.
Others continued to speak out, attending memorials, giving interviews, trying
to keep the memory of their lost loved ones alive

(43:13):
To this day, survivors and their families maintain that the
FBI's actions were reckless, excessive, and ultimately responsible for the deaths.
Some still live near the site, some still hold services,
a few still believe in Koresh. Hollywood and the retelling.
Waco has been retold and reimagined countless times in books, documentaries, docuseries,

(43:35):
and dramatized television. The story keeps resurfacing each time. It's
a little different. Each time. It tries to answer the
same haunting questions, what really happened, who was to blame?
And could it have been avoided? Shows like Waco twenty eighteen,
based on the accounts of negotiator Gary Nosner and survivor
David Thibodeau, brought the story to new audiences. Podcasts, investigative specials,

(44:00):
and anniversary retrospectives have all dissected the siege frame by frame,
line by line. The media portrayals vary in tone, some
sympathetic to Koresh, others condemning. Some portray the FBI as bungling,
others as trapped by circumstance. But what they all reflect
is this Waco continues to fascinate, divide, and disturb because

(44:20):
It's not just about one man or one compound. It's
about power, belief and the line between them. Mount Carmel today,
the site where Mount Carmel once stood is now quiet again.
A small chapel sits where the main structure burned. A
granite monument lists the names of the dead. Visitors leave flowers,
some leave handwritten notes, some just stand and stare. The

(44:42):
land is owned by Charles Pace, a former branch Davidian
who broke from Koresh's teachings. He holds services there, different doctrine,
but the same soil. Each April, a modest crowd gathers survivors, sympathizers,
conspiracy theorists, curious tourists, and always a question hanging in
the air, what have we learned? Waco revealed the dangerous

(45:02):
consequences of radical belief, but also the risks of misunderstanding it.
To many Americans, the Davidians were a cult, armed, extreme
and unstable. To others, they were a religious group practicing
their faith in peace until the government brought war to
their doorstep. To some, the FBI were professionals doing their
duty under extreme stress. To others, they were aggressors, militarized

(45:26):
arrogant and deaf to the humanity of the people inside.
The truth, as always lies somewhere in the wreckage. What's
undeniable is that the siege and the fire shattered something fundamental.
It shattered trust. It turned neighbors against institutions, It hardened ideologies.
It created martyrs and monsters depending on who you ask,

(45:47):
and its impact still reverberates from gun policy to religious freedom,
from law enforcement protocol to political extremism. The legacy of
Waco continues to shape the landscape of modern America, just
in memory but in action. The Branch Davidians are gone,
but their story is not, but the questions remain. Their
leader is dead, but the myth for better or worse

(46:09):
lives on. Waco is now shorthand for overreach, for resistance,
for radical belief, for tragic failure. It is a legacy
built not on conclusions, but on contradictions. It is a
scar that never fully closed, a reminder that fire consumes
but it also reveals. And as long as people still
gather at Mount Carmel, as long as militias still train

(46:30):
in the woods, as long as Americans still argue about
power and freedom and faith, Waco isn't over. Waco didn't
end in fire alone. It ended in questions about faith,
about fear, about how far a government will go to
stop a belief system it doesn't understand, And it left
behind a crater in American trust, one still smoldering with suspicion,

(46:52):
rage and grief. But the flames of Waco weren't the
only ones burning. In the nineteen nineties, Half a world away,
another group was preparing for the end of days. Only
this time their leader wasn't just preaching about armageddon, he
was building it. Next time on Hidden Cults, we traveled
to Japan and cover the dark story of om Shinrikio,

(47:12):
the doomsday cult led by Shoko Asahara that combined fringe science,
Eastern mysticism, and apocalyptic prophecy with weapons of mass destruction.
They promised enlightenment, they delivered terror. In nineteen ninety five,
they unleashed a deadly seren gas attack on the Tokyo
subway system, killing thirteen and injuring thousands, marking one of

(47:34):
the worst domestic terror attacks in Japanese history. What led
to this horrific moment? How did a self proclaimed guru
build an empire of mind control, chemicals and chaos, And
what can we learn from a movement that weaponized belief
that's next time,

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Ep.2 The Branch Davidians

NFL Daily with Gregg Rosenthal