Justice is messy. Sometimes it’s just plain broken. When people talk about 40 Years a Prisoner, they usually mean the visceral HBO documentary directed by Tommy Oliver. But the film isn't just about a guy making a movie; it's about Mike Africa Jr. and his grueling, decades-long fight to get his parents out of a jail cell. It’s about the 1978 Philadelphia shootout that almost nobody remembers correctly.
You’ve probably heard of the 1985 MOVE bombing. That’s the one where the city literally dropped a bomb on a row house. But the 1978 incident is the prequel that set everything in motion. It’s where the "MOVE 9" comes from. Mike Africa Jr.’s parents, Debbie Sims Africa and Michael Africa Sr., were part of that group. They were sentenced to 30 to 100 years. Think about that number. One hundred years. For a shootout where the evidence of who actually fired the fatal shot was, frankly, a disaster.
Honestly, the whole thing feels like a fever dream when you look at the archival footage.
The 1978 Siege and the Shot That Changed Everything
The standoff happened at a house in Powelton Village. The city wanted MOVE out. MOVE—a radical, back-to-nature anarcho-primitive group founded by John Africa—refused to budge. On August 8, 1978, the police moved in. It wasn't a conversation; it was a war zone. Thousands of rounds were fired. Water cannons blasted the building. In the chaos, Philadelphia Police officer James Ramp was killed by a single bullet.
Here is where it gets weird. The police claimed the shot came from the basement where the MOVE members were hiding. MOVE members claimed they didn't even have functional guns or that Ramp was hit by "friendly fire" from his own colleagues in the crossfire.
The trial was a circus. Judge Edwin Malmed sentenced nine members of MOVE to massive prison terms. He basically admitted he didn't know which individual fired the shot. He sentenced them as a collective. It’s the kind of legal logic that makes modern defense attorneys pull their hair out. If you weren't there, it's hard to grasp how much Philadelphia hated MOVE back then. Or how much MOVE provoked the city. It was a toxic loop.
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Mike Africa Jr.’s Relentless Search for the Truth
40 Years a Prisoner follows Mike Jr., who was actually born in a prison cell. Imagine that. Your first moments of life are behind bars because your mother is an inmate. He spent his entire adult life trying to piece together what happened that morning in 1978. He wasn't just looking for emotional closure; he was looking for legal leverage.
The documentary uses a ton of archival footage from local news stations. You see the sheer aggression of the police. You see Delbert Africa being beaten by officers on live television—a moment that remains one of the most brutal pieces of film in Philly history.
Mike Jr. didn't just sit around moping. He became a self-taught investigator. He tracked down witnesses who had been silent for decades. He pressured the parole board. He worked with lawyers who specialized in the tangled web of Pennsylvania’s carceral system. It's a story of bureaucratic exhaustion. The system is designed to wait you out. It waits for you to die or give up. Mike Jr. did neither.
Why the Parole Board Kept Saying No
Pennsylvania’s parole system is notorious. For the MOVE 9, the board's reasoning often felt like a moving target.
- They were told they hadn't shown enough remorse.
- They were told they were still a "threat to society" despite being in their 60s and 70s.
- They were punished for the actions of the organization they belonged to, not just their own behavior in prison.
The nuance here is important. To the parole board, "remorse" meant admitting they killed James Ramp. But if they believed they were innocent, admitting guilt would be a lie just to get out. That’s a hell of a choice. Debbie Africa was finally the first to be released in 2018. Mike Sr. followed shortly after.
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The Footage the City Forgot
The documentary thrives on the "lost" media of the era. We see a younger, thinner Frank Rizzo—the legendary and controversial Philadelphia Mayor/Police Commissioner. Rizzo was a "law and order" guy before the phrase was a cliché. His rhetoric toward MOVE wasn't just tough; it was arguably genocidal. He wanted them gone.
Seeing the 1978 footage today is jarring. The police are wearing regular clothes, suits, or basic uniforms while wielding heavy weaponry. There’s a lack of tactical discipline that would be unthinkable in modern SWAT operations. It looks like a street brawl with high-caliber rifles. This lack of "clean" procedure is exactly why the conviction of the MOVE 9 remained so contested for forty years.
A Legacy of Fire and Brick
We can't talk about 40 Years a Prisoner without acknowledging the 1985 bombing. While the film focuses on the '78 incident and the aftermath for Mike Jr.'s parents, the shadow of the Osage Avenue bombing hangs over everything. Eleven people died in '85, including five children.
The city’s decision to drop a bomb on its own citizens is the extreme conclusion of the tension that started in '78. If the 1978 siege was the spark, 1985 was the explosion. The documentary helps bridge that gap, showing that the MOVE 9 weren't just random prisoners—they were the survivors of a decade-long war between a city government and a radical fringe group.
The Human Cost of 40 Years
What does forty years do to a person?
It steals their prime. Michael Africa Sr. went in as a young man and came out an elder. He missed the entire digital revolution. He missed seeing his son grow up. He missed the mundane reality of life.
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The film captures the awkward, beautiful, and painful moments of reunification. It’s not a Hollywood ending. It’s a quiet one. It’s a family trying to figure out how to be a family when they’ve only ever known each other through glass partitions or brief, supervised visits.
Misconceptions About the MOVE Organization
A lot of people think MOVE was a religious cult. Others think they were a black power paramilitary group. The truth is somewhere in the middle. They were "on-move-on," hence the name. They were against technology, believed in raw food, and lived in communal houses with a lot of dogs and a lot of compost.
They were also loud. They used megaphones to blast profanity-laced tirades at neighbors for hours on end. This is a detail often glossed over in purely sympathetic portraits. They were incredibly difficult neighbors. But being a difficult neighbor shouldn't lead to a 100-year prison sentence or your house being firebombed. That’s the core tension of the MOVE story.
How to Watch and Learn More
If you want to understand the full scope, you have to look beyond the headlines.
- Watch the Film: HBO's 40 Years a Prisoner is the primary source for Mike Jr.’s journey.
- Read the Commission Report: The 1986 MOVE Commission Report is a scathing critique of the city's actions. It's public record.
- Listen to the Podcasts: Several long-form investigative podcasts have covered the '78 and '85 incidents, providing more context on Officer James Ramp’s life and the internal dynamics of MOVE.
Actionable Steps for Understanding Systematic Justice
If this story moves you, don't just stop at the credits.
- Research Local Parole Laws: Many states have "geriatric parole" or "compassionate release" programs that are rarely used. Look into how your own state handles elderly prisoners who have served decades.
- Support Archival Preservation: Stories like this only come to light because local news stations and independent journalists kept their tapes. Support local media archives.
- Investigate Restorative Justice: Look into organizations like the Innocence Project or Pennsylvania Innocence Project. They deal with cases where the "collective guilt" used in the MOVE trial might be keeping people in prison today.
- Contextualize Modern Policing: Compare the 1978 footage with modern footage of civil unrest. Notice the differences in equipment, rhetoric, and media coverage. Understanding the history of police-community relations in cities like Philly is vital for understanding today’s headlines.
The case of the MOVE 9 is a reminder that the "truth" is rarely a straight line. It’s a jagged, ugly thing that sometimes takes forty years to surface. Mike Africa Jr. proved that persistence is the only thing that can break a system designed to stay closed. It wasn't a miracle that got his parents out; it was a four-decade-long grind.