Showing posts with label Murder by Fire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Murder by Fire. Show all posts

Thursday, May 1, 2025

Murder By Fire: My Broad & Liberty Piece On The Crime Of Arson

Broad & Liberty published my piece on arson – Murder by Fire.

You can read the piece via the blow link or the below text:

Paul Davis: Murder by fire

Fire is one of the most destructive forces on earth. 

I know firsthand the destructiveness of fire, as I attended a U.S. Navy firefighting school in 1970 when I was an eighteen-year-old sailor serving on the aircraft carrier USS Kitty Hawk prior to our tour of duty on “Yankee Station” in the Gulf of Tonkin during the Vietnam War. 

We entered concrete buildings in firefighting gear and equipment, and we put out real fires, and we put out oil fires on the ground that stretched across parking lots. The training was realistic and there were some injuries, including the time when I was the lead on a long fire hose, and I let the fire get around me. My sleeve and arm caught on fire and the instructor motioned for me to exit the enclosure. Medical corpsmen were outside, and they wrapped up my arm, killed the fire and they then examined the damage. Thankfully, the burns were superficial, but it was a frightening moment.        

Also at the school, we sat through flight deck footage of the aircraft carrier USS Forrestal’s famous fire. We watched bombs, missiles and jet fuel ignite, and we saw sailors die from the fire and explosions. I recall the gruesome images to this day. 

After graduating from firefighting school, I went on to serve on a damage control team aboard the Kitty Hawk and fought some real fires, but thankfully those fires were nothing along the lines of the horrendous and deadly fire on the USS Forrestal. But with abundant amounts of bombs, missiles, and jet fuel onboard, even a small fire can escalate and become a major catastrophe, as it did on the USS Forrestal.

Later, as a reporter, I covered fires and cases of arson for local newspapers. Accidental fires are bad enough, but it is a heinous crime when fires are set intentionally. Especially if someone is killed in the fire. Dying in a fire is a horrible way to go.

Arson is rarely amusing, but I recall a Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF) special agent telling me about a nitwit gangbanger who poured an accelerant on the floor of a building that he was planning to burn for the insurance. 

When he threw a match on the floor, the flames engulfed the entire room’s floor and burned his unique and expensive sneakers so badly that the sneakers stuck to the burning floor. The gangbanger pulled his badly burned feet out of his sneakers, and he ran out of the building in his bare and scorched feet. 

The ATF’s forensic team identified the gangbanger through his abandoned and burned sneakers, and when the ATF agents went to arrest him, he stood in the doorway in heavily bandaged feet. The ATF agents laughed at the sight of him.

I’ve been thinking about my Navy firefighting training and experience and my early reporting of arson as I followed the story of the arson attack on the Pennsylvania governor’s mansion. 

On April 13, a man scaled an iron security fence, slipped past the state police and broke into the Pennsylvania governor’s mansion in Harrisburg. He then set a fire that forced Governor Josh Shapiro and his family to evacuate. Thankfully no one was injured. The suspected arsonist was arrested and faces charges of attempted murder, terrorism, aggravated arson and aggravated assault. 

In another arson case, U.S. Attorney David Metcalf announced on April 17 that Jason Mattis, 51, of Philadelphia was sentenced to 120 months in prison and three years of supervised release for using a destructive device to start a fire at a Northeast Philadelphia home.

According to the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Philadelphia, Mattis was charged in December 2022 and convicted in September 2024 of possessing an unregistered destructive device.

According to the U.S. Attorney Office, on July 1, 2022, Mattis lit an incendiary device similar to a Molotov cocktail and threw it onto the porch of a residence in the Tacony section of Northeast Philadelphia. The weapon thrown by Mattis ignited and started a fire on the porch of the residence, as well as on the sidewalk and the street in front. The incident occurred in the evening while the residents of the home were inside.

Mattis committed this arson while on state parole for an attempted murder conviction.

“It’s tough to understate the seriousness of a crime like this, which put the victims, their home, and their neighborhood at risk,” said Metcalf. “As his lengthy criminal history shows, Jason Mattis lacks respect for both the law and other people. This sentence keeps him behind bars for years and the public is safer for it.”

Eric DeGree, the Special Agent in Charge of the ATF’s Philadelphia Field Division, added, “It is remarkable that this family was able to escape with their lives when Mattis set their home ablaze with a Molotov cocktail-type incendiary device. Arson is a serious, dangerous and often deadly crime. Using the combined capabilities of the ATF-led Philadelphia Arson and Explosives Task Force with the Philadelphia Fire and Police Departments, we will continue to seek justice and keep our communities safe from dangerous arsonists.

Thankfully, this arson case, like the governor’s mansion’s arson case, no one died, unlike an earlier arson case in which a Philadelphia fireman died fighting a fire set by an arsonist. 

On November 21, 2024, former U.S. Attorney Jacqueline C. Romero announced that Al-Ashraf Khalil, 31, and Isaam Jaghama, 31, both of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, were convicted in the June 18, 2022, arson fire at a Fairhill pizza shop, which resulted in the death of Philadelphia Fire Department Lieutenant Sean Williamson and injured five other first responders inside the building when it collapsed.

According to the U.S. Attorney’s Office, a federal jury convicted the defendants on one count each of conspiracy to commit malicious damage by means of fire of a building used in interstate commerce, and one count each of malicious damage by means of fire of a building used in interstate commerce. Khalil was also found guilty of one count of wire fraud, and one count of using fire in furtherance of the commission of that wire fraud.

Khalil was the owner of the property at 300 West Indiana Avenue, which housed both apartments and the pizza shop. As proven at trial, in the early hours of June 18, 2022, he and Jaghama set a fire inside the building so that Khalil could profit by filing an insurance claim related to the fire. The day of the fire, Khalil signed paperwork authorizing an insurance adjuster to file a more than $400,000 insurance claim on his behalf.

“This fire wasn’t an accident or act of God,” said Romero. “But for these defendants, it never would have started, the building would still stand, and Lt. Williamson would still be with his family — a wholly preventable tragedy, sparked by greed. While today’s convictions can never make up for such an immeasurable loss, they ensure a measure of justice for Lt. Williamson, the Williamson family, and the dedicated first responders of the Philadelphia Fire Department. They also reinforce that anyone reckless enough to commit arson will be held to account for their actions.”

ATF’s DeGree added, “Arson is a dangerous deadly crime. In this case two families with children had to run for their lives, four responders were buried alive, and a firefighter was killed. Bringing together the resources of the ATF Philadelphia Arson & Explosives Task Force and the ATF National Response Team, the Philadelphia Fire Department, the Philadelphia Fire Marshal’s Office, the Philadelphia Police Department, the U.S. Marshals Service, and the U.S. Attorney’s Office, we brought these arsonists to justice, and they now face up to life in federal prison. ATF is committed to protecting our communities from dangerous criminals and will continue to partner to prevent and prosecute crimes like this.”

And of course, there is the Kaboni Savage arson case that I looked back on right here this past January. I spoke to author and former Philadelphia Inquirer reporter George Anastasia, who covered the Kaboni Savage story. Anastasia and I spoke about the case after President Biden pardoned Kaboni Savage. Savage, a major Philadelphia drug dealer, ordered multiple murders, including the murder of four children in a firebombing in a home in revenge against a former cohort-turned FBI witness.

Kaboni Savage ordered the firebombing of the witness’s home in 2004 from his prison cell. Killed in the fire were the witness’s mother and her fifteen-month-old child, as well as three other children aged ten, twelve, and fifteen.         

The FBI later caught Kaboni Savage on tape in his prison cell laughing and suggesting, “They should stop off and get him some barbecue sauce and pour it on them burnt bitches.”

A jury sentenced Savage to thirteen death sentences. But President Biden overturned the jury’s decision and commuted this mass murderer’s death sentence to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

“He was a monster,” Anastasia told me. “He was a very despicable individual. The firebombing of that house underscored all that and afterwards the feds bugged his cell, and he was joking about it. That’s horrible.”

Early civilizations describe Hell as a place of tortuous burning fire. Murder by fire can then be described as Hell on earth. 

Paul Davis, a Philadelphia writer and frequent contributor to Broad + Liberty, also contributes to Counterterrorism magazine and writes the “On Crime” column for the Washington Times. He can be reached at pauldavisoncrime.com.    

Note: You can read my previous Broad & Liberty pieces via the below link:  

You searched for Paul Davis - Broad + Liberty

Tuesday, April 29, 2025

My Crime Fiction: 'Murder By Fire'

The story below is another chapter from my novel Olongapo, which I hope to soon publish.

The story originally appeared in American Crime Magazine.

Murder By Fire

By Paul Davis

I was sitting at my desk in the Radio Communications Division's Message Processing Center aboard the USS Kitty Hawk in 1971 as the aircraft carrier was on “Yankee Station” in the Gulf of Tonkin, launching aircraft that flew combat sorties against the North Vietnamese, when I came across a copy of a message for the ship’s captain.  

My small desk was located in a cubbyhole partially hidden by a series of pneumatic tubes, which we called “Bunny Tubes.” We used pneumatic power to shoot high priority messages, such as the message I was reading, in a two-foot-long missile-like container to the captain’s office and to other senior officers aboard the ship. 

As I was responsible for the administrative security of messages that were distributed, filed and eventually destroyed, a copy of the message landed on my desk. The message informed the captain that former Engineman 3rd Class Robert Bean, a former sailor assigned to the Kitty Hawk, had died in prison.    

I remembered Bean as I attended a U.S Navy firefighting school in 1970 with him prior to our setting sail to Southeast Asia during the Vietnam War.

After the deadly fire that killed 134 sailors and injured many more on the aircraft carrier USS Forrestal in 1967, all carrier sailors were ordered to attend firefighting schools. After all, one can't call the fire department while at sea. We were the fire department. 

As the USS Forrestal was conducting combat operations on Yankee Station, a fire erupted on July 29, 1967. An electrical failure caused a Zuni rocket attached to an F-4 Phantom to launch as the jet fighter was sitting on the flight deck. The rocket struck another aircraft on the flight deck, an A-4 Skyhawk. The aircraft’s highly flammable jet fuel spread quickly across the flight deck, which ignited a series of explosions that blew sailors and aircraft apart.

At the school, we sat through flight deck footage of the Forrestal fire and watched bombs, missiles and jet fuel ignite, and we saw sailors die from the fire and explosions. I still recall the gruesome images to this day. 

I liked that officers, chiefs and other senior enlisted people trained alongside junior teenage seamen like me at the firefighting school. At one point, all of us were assigned a part of the long hose and told that we had a certain number of seconds to put it together before the instructor turned on the water. The first two attempts failed, and we all were soaked and knocked down by the great force of the water. Laughing together, we were successful on the third attempt. We were wet but happy to have worked successfully as a team.   

I was 18 years old at the time, and Bean was a couple of years older. He was squat with dirty blonde hair and a pimply face. I recall that he was surly and inattentive. More than once, the instructors screamed at him to get him to focus. He was also chewed out by a Kitty Hawk senior chief who was also taking the firefighting course.

“Son, you’re not taking this training seriously. This course can not only save your worthless fuckin' life, but it can also save the lives of your shipmates should there be a fire on the ship,” the crusty chief said in a gruff voice. “So get your head outta your ass and get with the program.”     

Bean stayed to himself that week and he didn’t join the camaraderie of his fellow sailors. He was not much of a team player, although the course stressed teamwork.    

“Always keep the hose’s stream of water between the fire and you,” I recall one of the Navy fire instructors telling us, "If you let the flames get around you, they'll reach out and hit you like a boxer's jab."

And that’s what happened to me.

We were crowded into a square cement structure that simulated a ship’s compartment. I held the nozzle of the long hose, and I began to wave the hose in short left to right movements. As I waved the hose too sharply to the left, I allowed the fire to slip past me on my right. The flicker of flame seemed almost human - perhaps even supernaturally evil - as it lashed out like a whip and struck my right arm.

The pain and shock of getting burned and seeing my arm on fire caused me to drop the hose’s nozzle and jump back. Fortunately, the instructor grabbed the discarded nozzle quickly and he ordered me out of the burning structure. To my further embarrassment, the heavy smoke and the hood of my poncho impaired my vision and I hit my head on the oval hatchway as I was exiting the structure. The other instructors and medical corpsmen rushed to me, as they believed I was seriously injured.

As it turned out, my burns were superficial and the head injury was only a bump, but my pride received some serious blows that day. I returned to the fire and completed the course without further incidents.

After graduating from firefighting school, I went on to serve on a Damage Control Team aboard the carrier and fought some real fires, but thankfully those fires were nothing along the lines of the horrendous and deadly fire on the USS Forrestal. With an abundance of bombs, missiles and JP jet fuel onboard, even a small fire on a carrier can escalate and become a major catastrophe, as it did on the USS Forrestal.

 

I later learned that Bean, who never had a girlfriend until he joined the Navy and met a portly and exuberant college student in San Diego, did not want to leave her when the aircraft carrier departed San Diego on route to Hawaii, then the Philippines, and lastly, to the Gulf of Tonkin off the coast of North Vietnam. 

After the aircraft carrier made a port of call to Hawaii, Bean was so angry and heartbroken that he became drunk in a Honolulu bar just off Waikiki Beach. 

When the bar closed, Bean took a cab back to the aircraft carrier at the Pearl Harbor naval base and he staggered aboard and leaned against bulkheads in the passageways as he traveled to his workstation below decks to an engine room compartment. The compartment space had three sailors on watch, and they told Bean to go to his rack and sleep it off as he was annoying them with his sad sack love story. Bean sat in a chair and appeared to pass out, so the enginemen on duty ignored him. 

When one of the enginemen left the compartment to go to the head, and the other two were talking to each other with their backs to him, Bean in his drunken state had an idea to punish his uncaring shipmates and cripple the carrier so it would head back to San Diego for repairs rather than go on to Southeast Asia. 

Angry at the enginemen, as well as with the entire U.S. Navy, Bean took out his lighter and reached into a trash can filled with paper. He lit a piece of paper and dropped it back in the trash can, which quickly set fire to the other papers. Bean then lifted the trash can and tossed it into a corner near a supply cabinet and ran out of the engine room compartment. 

The trash can fire ignited some stored flammable material, and the compartment was quickly engulfed with fire and smoke. The two enginemen tried to contain the fire with fire extinguishers, but they were soon overcome with smoke, fell to the deck, and died. The engineman who had gone to the head raised the alarm.   

The fire was extinguished by a Damage Control Team that came on the scene in less than a minute. Although there was severe damage to the compartment, there was not enough damage to prevent the aircraft carrier from departing Pearl Harbor later that week and sailing towards the Philippines. 

After a brief investigation, Bean was arrested, court-martialed and sentenced to prison for arson and murder. He never saw his girlfriend again.

 

The message to the captain that I read at my desk reported that Bean, who was left unattended in a prison kitchen for only a moment, died of self-immolation, having doused himself in cooking oil and then set himself on fire. He died horribly as he was engulfed in searing flames as he fell to the floor.  

Some thought it was a fitting death for a man who had committed murder by fire.   

© 2024 Paul Davis 




Note: You can read the other posted chapters of my crime novel Olongapo via the below links:

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Butterfly'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Salvatore Lorino'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: The Old Huk

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: Join The Navy And See Olongapo

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Boots On The Ground'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The 30-Day Detail'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Cat Street'

Paul Davis On Crime: Chapter 12: On Yankee Station

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Cherry Boy'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Hit'

Paul Davis On Crime: A Look Back At Life Aboard An Aircraft Carrier During The Vietnam War: 'The Compartment Cleaner'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Admiral McCain'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Hit The Head'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'A Night At The Americano'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Missing Muster'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Barracks Thief'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The City of Bizarre Happenings'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Refrigerator Thieves'

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Go Forth, Goforth'

Saturday, May 7, 2011