Case File | The Road to Jonestown

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In 1999, a young man with a bright future was tragically murdered at his workplace in Bismarck, North Dakota.

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From Airship, I'm Jeremy Schwartz, and this is American Criminal.

When you ask people to describe Harvey Milk, you might expect to hear words like trailblazer, icon or hero.

Makes sense.

He was a man who, for all his faults, had a well-meaning heart and a drive to prove the bastards wrong.

At a time when America was sharply divided over the so-called perversion of the gay community, Harvey stood up, again and again, to prove the collective social, financial, and political power of that perverted community.

And then he asked people to vote for him, to trust him as a leader.

But Harvey's fight wasn't just about the rights of gay and queer people to exist and thrive.

He was a hippie at heart, after all, so he opposed war, believed in the value of young people and the elderly.

He sought to end discrimination against people of color and felt that representation for all was vital for true progress.

In this, Harvey Milk, trailblazer, icon, hero, was not alone.

At the exact same time that Harvey was growing up, figuring out his sexuality, learning what his values were, and finding the passion to fight for them, another young man was going on an eerily similar journey of discovery.

Like Harvey, this man developed a deep passion for social justice.

Although his wasn't motivated by his life long status as an outsider, it was inspired by the teachings of the Bible.

While Harvey Milk searched for belonging in New York and Texas and Florida, the Reverend Jim Jones grew his flock in Indiana by preaching peace and charity and love for your fellow man.

Eventually, their paths would lead both these men to San Francisco, where they would each leave huge, vastly different impacts on the city.

And although their stories diverged sharply, their lives would both end just ten days apart in November of 1978.

Harvey Milk's death would be met with an outpouring of grief like nothing San Francisco had ever seen.

As for Jim Jones, his demise inspired a far more complicated response, raising questions that people continued to ask over four decades later.

Today, describing Jones brings to mind much darker words than the ones people reach for when describing Harvey.

Paranoid, megalomaniac, killer.

So how did these two men, whose journeys were so similar in many ways, carve out such different legacies?

From humble beginnings to a horrific end, this is an episode from Wondry's American Scandal about the journey of an ambitious preacher who began with peace and love and ended in mass murder.

Reverend Jim Jones.

It's the morning of November 19th, 1978, in Guyana, a country on the northern coast of South America.

A soldier and about a hundred other members of the Guyanese military are trudging through a dense jungle in the remote northwest region of the country.

The air is thick and humid, and the soldier is worn down from marching all night, pushing through an endless canopy of trees full of poisonous snakes and insects.

With the ground so soggy from rain, it feels like the soldier is walking through a puddle of glue.

And the long night hasn't only been physically exhausting.

Just yesterday, dozens of Americans were attacked at a local airstrip and five were killed.

One of the victims was an important politician back in America, a United States congressman, and rumor has it that the people responsible were members of a fringe religious group living in a settlement carved out of the jungle.

The Guyanese soldier and the other members of the military were dispatched to the airstrip in order to investigate, and when they arrived, they discovered a site of unspeakable carnage, people gunned down in cold blood, a small airplane riddled with bullet holes, and a number of survivors crying out in pain, begging for help.

Some of the soldiers stuck around to watch over the airstrip and coordinate the evacuation of survivors, but the rest of the group continued marching forward, making their way to the religious group's settlement, and they were given the instruction to restore order and take whatever steps were necessary to bring the murderers to justice.

The soldier pushes through another grove of trees and undergrowth and catches up to one of his fellow troops.

After everything they've seen in the last 24 hours, he wants to share some of his concerns about this mission and see if anyone else thinks they should try to get the attention of one of their superiors to change course.

Hey, hey, can you hang back a second?

I want to ask you something.

The other troop slows down.

Yeah, what's up?

I can't stop thinking about all those bodies back at the airstrip.

Ah, nightmare.

That's why we gotta get these guys.

These Americans are mad, man.

Yeah, but that's what I'm worried about.

I feel like we're walking into an ambush.

There's only a hundred of us, but reports say there's 900 of them.

Oh, come on, we've got weapons.

But so do they.

You've heard the rumors, they're stockpiling guns.

And if threatened, they're gonna start shooting.

Well, we'll shoot back.

No, no, why are we risking our lives over Americans fighting Americans?

Why don't we let them deal with it?

It's not our business.

It is our business whenever something happens on Guyanese soil.

But they haven't shot at us.

They're just crazy Americans in the jungle.

Now, I know we have orders, but why don't we talk to one of the officers?

It's not too late to turn back.

The other troop comes to a stop.

They haven't shot at one of us yet, but the man they're following, their leader, sounds like he's lost his mind.

And what happens if he is building an army?

Do you think he's no threat?

No, look, I don't like this mission, not one bit.

And I'm not happy we're being put on some cleanup.

The Prime Minister has known about these people for a long time.

It's not a new problem, but we can't just stand around and do nothing.

You saw the bodies at the airstrip.

So either we take care of this, or it's going to happen again.

And that's the end of the discussion, because right then a commander orders the line to halt.

The soldier scans left and right, trying to see through the gauzy morning mist, but he can't make out anything beyond the dozen or so soldiers closest to him who now stand gripping their rifles.

The commander then gives an order to assemble for attack.

The soldier falls in with his comrades and they assume a V formation, with his superior officer at the tip of the V.

He silently waves them forward and they all begin stepping carefully through the mud and brush.

With every step, the soldier girds himself for the shrill sound of gunfire.

But a moment later, again from somewhere up ahead, one of his fellow troops cries out in horror.

Another soldier begins howling and then another and another.

The soldier marches forward, heart pounding, finger hovering over the trigger of his rifle.

He still hasn't heard a single gunshot and can't understand why so many of his comrades are screaming and shouting.

When he catches up with the others, he sees it too and falls to his knees.

They have arrived at the American settlement called Jonestown and stumbled onto a horror so complete and so unspeakable that all the soldier can do is bring his hands together and pray.

From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal.

In November of 1978, the United States was rocked by news from South America.

Over 900 Americans had been found dead in the jungles of Guyana, at a religious settlement known as Jonestown.

Jonestown was meant to be a utopia, a community founded on principles of egalitarianism and social justice.

There, in the jungle, far from what the group believed to be the tyranny of American capitalism, the residents would share resources and labor and show the world that a truly just and equal society was possible.

But the people living in Jonestown would only end up showing the world something else entirely.

As images of the massacre found their way back to the US, the American public was left with a series of haunting questions.

How could a community so devoted to social justice end in such carnage, and why had nobody seen it coming?

In the decades after 1978, Jonestown grew into one of the most infamous stories about American cults and the dangers of blind faith.

This tragedy even gave the public the phrase drinking the Kool-Aid.

But the story of Jonestown is about much more than a group's unquestioning belief in its leader.

It's about the limits of a community built on an earnest but rigid political ideology, and leaders in government who, guided by their own self-interest, looked the other way when problems began to surface.

This is Episode 1, Reverend Jim Jones.

It's the late 1930s in Lynn, Indiana.

A six-year-old boy stands barefoot in the middle of a gravel road.

He curls his toes in the dirt, and the late afternoon sun beats down on his dark black hair.

To his right are a handful of modest, single-story homes.

To his left are a bank of empty woods.

The road is quiet, though the boy can hear a train approaching a few blocks away.

Young Jimmy Jones kicks around some pebbles, trying to figure out what to do with the afternoon.

In the past, he used to go straight home after school, but things recently have changed.

His mother took a job at a factory and has to work until the evening.

She doesn't want him waiting alone in the house, but Jones' father spends his days and nights lingering in the pool hall.

So, every day after school, Jones wanders through the streets in town, daydreaming.

And as he's wandering aimlessly today, staring up at the sky, a nearby door opens and a tall thin woman with hunched shoulders calls out, inviting Jones over to her house.

She says if he wants, she's got a treat for him.

Jones smiles at the offer.

Ever since he started wandering the streets in the afternoon, he's been taken in by a lot of nice ladies in town.

Usually they give him snacks and a glass of water, and Jones never turns down the offers.

So he nods and goes over to the woman, who says her name is Mrs.

Myrtle Kennedy.

She tells Jones to come on inside, because she has a pie cooling on the window sill.

Jones enters the house and takes a seat at the dining room table.

Mrs.

Kennedy sets down an apple pie, with cinnamon and brown sugar oozing up through the crust.

Kennedy cuts a large slice for him, and as Jones begins shoveling down a bite, he notices a thick book sitting on the kitchen table.

Jones asks what it is, and Kennedy raises an eyebrow.

She says, that's the Bible.

Doesn't he know that?

Jones nods, he's heard of the Bible, but he confesses he doesn't really know what's in it.

Mrs.

Kennedy sighs and says she's heard the stories that Jones' mother doesn't take him to church on Sundays.

For a moment, Jones worries that Mrs.

Kennedy is upset and that she might take away the pie.

Instead, she starts smiling sweetly and pats Jones on the head.

She says it's never too late to start learning about God.

So Mrs.

Kennedy begins reading a passage about clothing the naked and feeding the hungry.

And she tells Jones the reason why she always keeps an apple pie on the window sill is so she can care for her fellow man.

That's the way of Jesus.

It's about seeing everyone is equal and helping one another, no matter who someone is or what they've been through.

In fact, she says, Jesus was an outcast known for wandering the world in search of something just like Jones as he wanders the streets of town.

And Jesus loved everyone so much, he was willing to sacrifice his own life for their sins.

Jones sets down his fork and wipes his mouth.

And as Kennedy continues reading from the Bible, Jones begins to feel something stirring inside him.

It's the same feeling he gets whenever he's wandering by himself after school and one of those old ladies from town invites him over and takes care of him.

It's a good feeling and he doesn't want it to come to an end.

So Jones says he wants to hear more about Jesus and how he lived.

He asks if Mrs.

Kennedy will keep reading and if it makes her feel better, he'd be happy to eat a little more of her apple pie.

Mrs.

Kennedy laughs and cuts another slice.

Then she says if Jones finds Jesus interesting, she could take him to one of the Nazarene church services in town.

He'd learn a lot more about the Bible and the way of Jesus there.

So very shortly after, Jones starts attending Sunday services with Myrtle Kennedy.

And it's here in the small town churches of Indiana that Jones discovers he has an unusual gift.

He's able to memorize large portions of the Bible with relative ease, and he impresses church elders with his ability to recite lengthy passages verbatim.

Jones' mother always told him he was special, that he was destined for greatness.

And now, as he performs his recitations at the Nazarene church, that conviction grows stronger, and Jones begins to feel like he's found a calling.

Soon, Jones' appetite for church expands beyond the services at the Nazarene church.

He attends revival meetings and Methodist churches, and sits in on services with the disciples of Christ and the Quakers.

His allegiance isn't to any particular church, but to the sense of community and approval he gets from every congregation.

And increasingly, Jones gets the sense that, like Jesus, he might be able to use his special gifts to help others.

So Jones decides he wants to be a preacher, and he begins practicing his craft, even if his preaching style proves to be a bit untraditional.

It's the early 1940s in Lynn, Indiana, and Jimmy Jones is leading a group of kids to a nearby warehouse.

It's the middle of the weekend, and even though the sun has gone down and fireflies have begun drifting through the air, Jones has convinced this group of children to stay out for another hour past curfew.

Breaking a rule here and there is certainly one way to have fun in rural Indiana, but Jones has a more important goal for the evening, one that's worth whatever punishment he might receive from his mother when he gets home.

Jones wants to become a preacher.

He can sense there's something in him that's special and different, but you can't get followers if you don't learn how to work a group.

So, tonight, Jones is going to try to lead some kids from town through a ceremony.

He's going to see if he can turn an unusual setting into an event that's spiritually moving.

Jones continues leading the way, and when they reach the warehouse, he pushes through an unlocked door and tells the other kids to follow.

They all begin streaming into the warehouse, cavernous open space that's only lit by the pale glow of the moonlight.

Once inside, the boys begin horsing around, shouting boo and trying to scare each other.

Jones plays along, trying to fit in, but he's mainly focused on the sermon he's about to deliver and the ceremony the other boys don't see coming.

In the shadows of the dark warehouse is a row of ornate wooden caskets.

Jones turns to the other boys and tells them they should get in.

The boys look at each other and scoff.

What is he talking about?

Climb into a coffin?

By this point, they've all already humored him enough.

Jones has previously held bizarre animal funerals and preached about dead raccoons.

Playing in the woods, he rambles on and on about God, and now he wants them to climb into caskets?

But Jones remains solemn and undeterred.

He has to practice being a preacher, even if his friends think he's strange.

So Jones begins the sermon he's been working on all day.

He tells the boys that death will eventually come for all of them, but what if they got their chance to glimpse at what's on the other side, bring themselves closer to the Almighty?

Jones announces that this is their chance, but first they need to get into the coffins.

Some of the boys step away looking wary, but one of them puffs out his chest, saying he doesn't care, he'll do it, and climbs right in.

Another boy looks at Jones and says he'll do it too, but aren't coffins only for dead people?

Will he die if he climbs in?

Jones puts a hand on the boy's shoulder and says, God will protect you through me.

The boy hesitates for a moment, but then climbs into another of the open caskets.

The other boys stand around waiting.

One of the kids in the caskets asks what now?

He doesn't feel anything.

Jones takes the boy's hand, trying to project an air of authority while guiding the boy through a religious experience.

But the other boys grow antsy, and the ones lying in the caskets hop out and start horsing around again.

Jones tries to save face and tells them that they did a courageous thing.

They face death, but the boys just chuckle and head for the door, saying they've got to go home.

The warehouse empties out, but there's one boy who hasn't left yet, one of the kids who got into the casket.

And when he approaches Jones, he says that sure, he knows most of the other kids think Jones is crazy.

But when he was lying there in that coffin, he felt something, something different, like Jones had some kind of power.

Over the next 10 years, Jones fully embraces his dream to become a preacher.

He's often seen walking around his hometown, toting a Bible under his arm, and Jones continues to practice giving sermons.

But as Jones begins to feel more comfortable with his path, his home life is suddenly shaken up.

Jones' mother leaves his father and moves with Jones from his small town to the city of Richmond, Indiana, while Jones is still in high school.

And it's here in Richmond that Jones has his first political awakening.

Back in the small town of Lynn, everyone more or less knew each other and looked out for one another.

But in Richmond, Jones witnesses how black Americans face persecution from the city's white citizens, people who claim to believe Jesus' teaching that all men are equal in God's eyes.

He also sees how much people around him are struggling.

Unlike in his hometown, the residents of Richmond aren't looking out for each other.

They aren't feeding the hungry and clothing the naked.

They're ignoring Christ's commandments, but still calling themselves Christians.

Jones sees this as a blatant hypocrisy and finds it intolerable.

But he also starts to understand why things work the way they do outside his small hometown.

The Cold War is in full swing, and the idea of Christian giving from each according to his ability to each according to his need is also the core principle of socialism.

Jones finds those beliefs compelling, but with the stigma around socialism, he can't discuss his newfound philosophy.

But he does find a way to act on his beliefs.

At 17 years old, Jones is hired as an orderly at Reed Memorial Hospital.

He works night shifts, doing the dirty work of mopping the floors, disposing of medical waste.

But even while he does, Jones goes out of his way to connect with patients and families, regardless of the color of their skin.

And it's while working at the hospital that Jones also meets Marceline Baldwin, the woman who will change the course of his life.

The two fall in love and quickly get married.

But while Marceline comes from a devout Methodist family, Jones' increasingly strident socialist beliefs in equality and justice begin to put the relationship to the test.

It's a cool afternoon and Marceline Jones is trying to remain calm as she pushes open the screen door of her parents' home in Indiana and steps out onto the porch.

Marceline can't believe what just happened at the dinner table.

Her mother and her husband, Jim, got into a near-shouting match.

It was a predictable fight about race and politics, and Marceline had hoped that once they both said their peace, cooler heads would prevail.

But now her husband is storming toward the car with a suitcase in each hand.

Marceline walks across the front lawn, hoping she can talk Jim down a bit.

Jim, sweetie, you don't have to leave.

No, sorry, Marceline, but I am getting out of here.

That woman in there is throwing around the most foul word you can use for black people.

That woman in there is my mother, Jim, and she didn't mean it that way.

Then how did she mean it?

Look, she's from a different time.

Her mind isn't open to new ideas about America.

That is no excuse.

Maybe not, but Jim, she is my mother, and you and I are married.

We have to figure out a way to make these kind of situations work.

You can't just storm out of someone's house whenever they disagree with you.

You've got to be a good Christian about this.

You know what's not very Christian, Marceline, hypocrisy, saying you believe in Jesus and then spewing some racist tirade like that.

I don't agree with her, but she just doesn't think interracial marriage is very Christian.

She has different beliefs.

Her beliefs are wrong and harmful.

Marceline takes Jim's hand.

Jim, you need to build bridges.

Otherwise, all you'll have in the world are enemies.

I don't give a damn about having enemies.

Jim breaks free, throws his suitcase in the car, and slams the trunk.

I am never going to sit across from your mother again for as long as I live.

So Marceline, you're going to have to choose.

It's me or her.

Marceline is stunned by the ultimatum, and she doesn't know how a marriage can survive these kind of conflicts, a fracture between her own family and the man she loves.

But Jim's conviction is one of the things she loves most about him.

He has a deeply ingrained sense of right and wrong, and Marceline trusts him.

So with a heavy heart, Marceline says she'll go grab her bags, they'll take off together.

Jim just has to promise that she is not going to regret this.

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Even as a child, Jim Jones knew he wanted to be a preacher.

But now, in 1952, as a 20-year-old, Jones has begun to sour on Christian churches.

He goes to Sunday services with his wife, Marceline.

But can't accept that a white churchgoer would clap through a service about compassion toward their fellow man only to embrace racial segregation in their neighborhood.

Jones can't ignore what he sees as rank hypocrisy.

And with his conviction in Christianity now on the wane, Jones feels displaced and wonders whether preaching might not be the right path for him after all.

So Jones tries his hand at college, studying at the University of Indiana, taking a variety of classes while still working at night.

But a formal education isn't the right fit either.

Jones continues searching for a sense of meaning, community and purpose, but they're elusive until 1952 when Jones has a breakthrough.

The Methodists, the denomination his wife belongs to, announce a new emphasis on social justice, including the alleviation of poverty, the right of collective bargaining, free speech, prison reform, full employment and racial integration.

The Methodists' new platform matches many of the Socialists' beliefs Jones has held sacrosanct for years.

And so it's on a Sunday morning in the summer of 1952 while pacing in the back hallway of Somerset Methodist Church that Jones begins to sense he might find a new home in a Christian church after all.

But he's nervous.

The church's lead minister has finally given Jones the chance to deliver a Sunday sermon, an opportunity that Jones as a student pastor has never been offered before.

And while Jones has sermonized to friends and people on the street, this is a first, stepping in front of a real congregation and proving he has what it takes to be a preacher.

Finally it's time and Jones steps out in front of the congregation and heads up to the pulpit.

As he looks out at the church pews, he can see the congregants are surprised, even upset, to see Jones tasked with the Sunday sermon.

But the lead minister remains standing in the back of the room and signals for Jones to go ahead.

Jones sets down a handwritten sermon and smooths out the paper.

He had a different vision for this talk.

He wanted to spend some time on the recent headlines, discussing problems like America's nuclear weapons and the Korean war.

But the minister told Jones the congregants are looking for something uplifting on their weekends, not a political diatribe.

So Jones tempered the message, but it's still an impassioned speech that begins with a warning that each of us faces the allure of conflict, that humans are pushed toward division instead of coming together to be of service to one another.

Jones begins to work himself up, saying it's up to them as Christians to fight against this pull toward division.

They have to draw from the goodness in their hearts.

They must work together toward common goals and dig down within themselves to find a different way to live, to help each other with repairs at home or with errands, to lend a hand with child care after school.

Jones scans the crowd and sees he has their attention.

A few congregants are even smiling.

Jones concludes the sermon by telling his audience that they must embody the change they long for, one small step or leap of faith at a time.

That is the only way to live in God's image.

Jones folds up his notes and thanks the congregation for letting a young student pastor speak about the glory of God.

Then he walks down from the pulpit and hears the first few claps, and soon the congregants offer a polite but steady applause.

Jones smiles as he makes his way to the back.

He feels good.

He finally preached in front of a real congregation in a real church.

The format was rigid and the crowd was at first skeptical, but Jones proved to himself and the church's community that he's capable of being a preacher and he has a bright future ahead of him.

Jones' first sermon is a milestone in his development as a young pastor, but it doesn't take long before he begins to feel stifled by Somerset Methodist Church.

As a student pastor, he doesn't have an official position.

He's only considered a volunteer and the work is unpaid and often menial.

Jones does get more opportunities to preach from the pulpit, but he feels constrained here too by the rigid format of church services, and everything Jones preaches has to be approved by the lead minister.

Jones has been heartened to see that the Methodists had adopted a platform based on social justice, but he still long for the freedom and spontaneity of other modes of preaching and the ability to speak his heart without any constraints.

So on weeknights, Jones begins driving to small towns, both in Indiana and neighboring states, searching for revival meetings, events involving preaching, music and prayer, meant to compel the audience to follow the ways of God.

Here, in tents off the side of dirt roads, worshippers gather together regardless of their denomination.

They bask in the power of the Almighty, electrified by the evangelical messages of revivalist preachers.

Jones had seen these kind of meetings when he was a boy, and found them fascinating.

But now, as a young man, aspiring to be a serious pastor, he begins studying the techniques used by revivalist preachers, taking note of what seems to draw emotional reactions from the crowd.

The most dramatic moments tend to be the healings.

Preachers drawing on the power of the Lord offer worshippers an instant cure for disease and cast out the devil from people in the audience.

When preachers start in with these healings, people often break down and weep.

And even more important, the collection plate makes the rounds and fills up with money.

It's an alluring sight for Jones.

His work as a student pastor isn't paying the bills.

So he decides to try his hand at healings, practicing in small crowds in the rural areas outside Indianapolis.

At first he stumbles, but then in 1953 in Detroit, Michigan, he finds his footing.

Jim Jones is walking through a church packed with hundreds of Protestant ministers.

The men come from a range of denominations and have traveled across the Midwest for a religious seminar, one almost like a professional convention.

As Jones looks around, he sees some of the most famous preachers from across the region.

And he can't help but feel envious.

Jones has been making some progress as a preacher on the revival circuit, but he's nothing like these guys, ministers with large followings and outsize reputations.

Jones couldn't even manage to book himself a slot as one of the speakers at the seminar.

Still, he's hoping that in a break from one of the lectures or group prayers, you'll get a chance to deliver a sermon.

Doing so could bolster his reputation among all these luminaries, and maybe with their support, he'd have a better chance of becoming a serious preacher back home.

So Jones takes a seat and bides his time, watching as a well-known evangelist from California takes the stage.

That minister tells the crowd that he's clairvoyant.

He has the power to perceive all the physical pains the people in the audience are suffering through.

The minister then starts working the crowd, looking as though he's been possessed.

His face grows ruddy, and his voice trills as he reaches an emotional climax.

But sitting out in the audience, Jones isn't impressed.

This preacher doesn't have him convinced, and Jones senses that, if he were up there on stage, he could do a lot better.

So, Jones gets up and speaks with a woman organizing the event.

He convinces her that when the other minister is done, he should head to the pulpit and give a ministry of his own.

Jones is grateful for this opportunity, and doesn't doubt himself.

He's always been told he's special, and he's been practicing for years.

But Jones is still a bundle of nerves.

These are some of America's most respected preachers, and as he prepares to take the stage, Jones feels himself breaking out into hives.

His lips grow swollen, and his eyes feel heavy.

But he pushes through the physical and emotional discomfort, knowing that he has a plan.

Earlier today, while weaving through the crowd, Jones eavesdropped on the conversations of people at the seminar, and memorized details about their lives.

He's going to use that information to put on a show.

So when the preacher from California wraps up, Jones takes the stage.

He introduces himself as a Methodist, and then he begins to call out into the crowd.

Jones points at members of the audience and tells them what they have in their bags.

He cries out their phone numbers and their names, along with medical conditions and other ailments.

People in the crowd gasp at what appears to be a God-given power of clairvoyance, and Jones feels as though he's brimming with spiritual ecstasy.

He's never had people so enthralled, never had such command over a crowd.

Sweat is now pouring down the back of his neck, and after Jones makes his final pronouncement about the Lord, he steps down from the pulpit and finds a man and woman waiting to speak with him.

Well, it's a pleasure to meet you both.

I hope you liked what I had to say.

Liked it?

Son, I'm the Reverend over at Elmwood Temple.

We're a Methodist congregation in Cincinnati, and now I've been doing the Lord's work for many years, but I have to tell you, I have never seen a ministry quite like that.

Reverend Wilson, I'm flattered, but I don't deserve an ounce of credit.

I'm just a vessel.

There's no question about that.

The accuracy of everything you said, all the details about people's lives, this was the voice of the Holy Spirit.

The Lord has given me the power of sight, but I'm afraid in that small amount of time, there was a lot I couldn't profess.

Like what?

Are you a soothsayer?

You know the future?

Jones pauses, unsure whether to raise a potentially divisive topic.

There's just a lot the Lord wants me to say about the political situation in America.

Oh, tell me, what have you been dwelling on?

Well, I believe staunchly in the new Methodist platform that we ought to address issues of poverty, racism and integration.

It's our Christian duty.

I agree with all of that.

You do?

Sure I do.

Look, sometimes people of faith can turn a blind eye towards what's right in politics.

It's easy to ignore the teachings right there in the Bible, but it's our duty.

Jesus was a man of justice after all.

Reverend Wilson, that's what I've been saying for years, and it seems like no one wants to listen.

Well, you keep at it.

You keep spreading the message, and you will find a very large flock.

I've never been so convinced of anything in my life.

Jones and Wilson exchange phone numbers and promise they'll stay in touch.

And as Jones makes his way to watch another sermon, he gets a dawning sense that Wilson might be right, that Jones could build a very large flock.

Jones had to bend the truth when he was standing behind the pulpit.

And of course, he does not actually have the divine power of clairvoyance.

But maybe that's the strategy.

He'll put on performances that get an emotional reaction from the crowd and earn more and more followers.

And with enough people listening, he'll have a large captive audience for his message of social justice, for his message of the truth.

In 1954, a year after performing his acts of clairvoyance in Columbus, Indiana, Jim Jones finally loses his patience with Somerset Methodist Church.

He's tired of their all-white congregation and its relatively conservative worldview.

Instead, he dreams about preaching to a fully integrated church where black and white congregants can worship side by side, a church where Jones can preach about ending war and the values of socialism.

So, Jones parts ways with Somerset Methodist Church and takes the money he's made preaching on the revival circuit and uses it to rent a small storefront church in Indianapolis.

He calls it Community Unity and begins spreading leaflets throughout the neighborhood.

Jones focuses on recruiting black residents, building a church that will be racially integrated and far different from the other congregations in the area.

And that's why an elderly black woman is ignoring her aching joints and the stale musty air inside Community Unity.

She's heard a lot from friends about a young white man who's been preaching and she wants to see him in action.

As she gazes across the church, looking at the few dozen other people who've shown up, she notices that like her, they're mostly older and black.

But they all turn and stare with rapt attention as the young white reverend takes the stage.

The woman studies the preacher a bit puzzled.

He can't be more than 23 years old.

He has soft cherubic cheeks and black hair slick to one side, with pieces dangling in front of his eyes.

He doesn't look like a real preacher.

He doesn't sound like one either, pacing back and forth, beckoning to the audience asking, what's bothering you?

The crowd around the old woman mutters quietly, so Jones repeats himself.

He wants to know what kind of worldly day to day problems they're dealing with.

This elderly woman has a whole laundry list of issues, including the regular slight she suffers from some of the white residents in town.

But something that's really been grating her is the problem with the electric company.

And without realizing what she's doing, the woman raises her hand and lays out the issue.

She hasn't had a reliable electricity for months.

She's called the company, telling them they need to come fix her electricity and she wasn't willing to pay any of the bills until they take care of it.

But the company said if she wasn't willing to pay, then they're in their right to come turn off her electricity for good.

The old woman tells this young preacher that her whole family lives with her, including her grandkids who are trying to keep up in school.

They need to keep the lights on, but she doesn't know what to do.

The young Reverend Jones grows quiet and turns inward for a moment.

The elderly woman fully expects him to respond the same way most preachers do, by telling her to pray and talk with God.

Instead, he calls her up on to stage.

She'd rather stay seated, her knees are killing her, but the Reverend urges her to come up and join him.

So she rises and slowly walks to the stage.

Then the Reverend asks his wife, a white woman in the front row, to get a pen and paper.

He then begins dictating a letter to the electric company on behalf of the elderly woman.

He outlines the issues and calls out to the audience asking for suggestions.

The woman watches in awe as Reverend Jones passes the letter around the crowd encouraging every person attending to sign it.

Then he vows to bring the letter to the company himself, saying he'll do it tomorrow and he'll get them to fix her electricity.

The room breaks into applause and the elderly woman blinks, trying to take in what just happened.

This young white preacher did not just tell her to pray on her problems.

He's actually taking action.

And while this small storefront church is not the most comfortable place for an old woman, she decides she'll be back.

And she's going to tell her friends too.

They have to come see this strange young white preacher.

By the fall of 1954, Jim Jones' star is on the rise.

He spends part of his time running Community Unity Church in Indianapolis.

But Jones also hosts his own revival meetings and big tents and auditoriums on the road.

Crowds grow increasingly large, with thousands of worshipers showing up to see Jones work his miracles on the revival circuit.

Performing healings proves to be lucrative, but it's only a means to an end.

In 1956, having saved enough money, Jones is finally able to buy his own church, a real house of worship and not just a rented storefront, a place where he'll have the chance to spread a message that weaves together Christianity and radical politics.

Jones settles on a name for it, one that reflects his goal of integration.

He calls it the People's Temple.

And for Jones, it's not enough to preach about social ideas.

He needs to take action and put his radical politics into practice.

So he and the People's Temple congregation get to work opening a cafe that offers free meals to thousands of impoverished people every week.

Jones then opens a nursing home that provides the best care in the area and organizes clothing drives for the poor.

And to push for racial integration, he orchestrates demonstrations and works with policy makers on legislation.

Jones even turns his own family into an example of racial harmony.

Jones and his wife, Marceline, adopt three Korean orphans named Stephanie, Suzanne and Lou.

They have a child of their own named Stephen, and they become the first family in the history of Indiana to adopt a black baby, a boy they named James Jr.

But leading such a busy life with a large family and a growing church begins to take a toll on Jones.

He grinds his teeth so badly at night, he ends up needing dental surgery.

He's not sleeping well, and arguments with his wife, Marceline, get so bad, she almost files for divorce.

And things really come to a head one night in 1961, when Marceline stirs awake in bed.

There are voices outside, and it sounds like some kind of dispute.

She puts on a robe and heads to the kitchen, where she gazes into the front yard, and out there on the grass is her husband, Jim, talking with a man who looks like a police officer.

Marceline tenses up, something must have happened.

Maybe something bad.

She steps outside and begins to listen in on the conversation.

Jim is telling the officer that no, he didn't get a look at the gunman.

Marceline is confused.

A gunman?

The officer then gestures to a pillar on the front porch, where there's a small explosion of splintered wood.

Marceline squints, trying to get a better look.

It appears to be a bullet hole, and the police officer says something about a bullet coming from the house to the street.

Jim and the officer talk for a few moments, and then the policeman gets in his car and drives away.

Jim steps back into the house, and Marceline rushes over.

Jim, what happened?

I don't know.

I couldn't sleep, so I tried to catch up on the news and read the paper.

But then I heard a car screech up.

Some guy said something, and then there's a gunshot outside.

I can't believe it didn't wake you.

Do you think this is some sort of random thing?

No, Marcy, I told the officer this was targeted.

Someone's trying to kill me, for sure.

And here you were this entire time, thinking I was crazy for buying all those guns.

I didn't think you were crazy.

What are you talking about?

Why would someone be trying to kill you?

The things I'm doing out here.

Talking about ending war and oppression.

This was bound to happen, I told you.

Some bigot trying to shoot me down, coming for our family.

I guess that's possible, but it's hard to believe it really happened.

It did really happen, but thank the Lord we're all okay, and that must be a sign.

The world needs me, Marcy.

There's no question you're important to a lot of people, and thank God you are okay.

Marceline reaches over and lays a hand on Jim's shoulder, trying to comfort him, but suddenly she's hit with a thaw.

You know, Jim, the police officer, he said the bullet looked like it came from inside the house, that it was fired into the street.

How did that happen?

I mean, were you shooting?

Jim narrows his eyes.

You don't believe me.

You don't think I'm in danger.

No, no, and that's not what I'm saying, because you know I would never lie to you, Marceline.

Of course you wouldn't.

Pfft, I can't believe this.

I sincerely hope you believe me.

I believe you, Jim.

I do, I promise.

Jim heads back to the bedroom, but Marceline remains standing near the front door trying to process everything that happened.

Jim was adamant that he would never lie to her.

At the same time, Marceline knows her husband has a give-and-take relationship with the truth, especially when he has an audience.

Still it's never gone this far, faking an attempt on his own life.

Whatever happened tonight must have been real.

So Marceline pushes any doubts to the back of her mind and presses her hands together, praying to God that no one will hurt Jim or anyone else in their family, and that no matter what kinds of threats they may face, nothing will stop her and Jim from building the People's Temple and spreading a radical message of justice.

From Wondery, this is Episode 1 of Jonestown for American Scandal.

In our next episode, Jim Jones moves the People's Temple out west, but as Jones finds a larger following, privately he begins to unravel.

If you'd like to learn more about Jonestown, we recommend the book, The Road to Jonestown by Jeff Gwynn, Raven by Tim Reiterman, and the San Diego State University Special Collection, Alternative Considerations of Jonestown and People's Temple, available online.

This episode contains reenactments and dramatized details.

And while in most cases, we can't know exactly what we're saying, all our dramatizations are based on historical research.

American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship.

Audio editing by Christian Peraga.

Sound design by Molly Bond.

Music editing by Katrina Zimrak.

Music by Lindsey Graham.

This episode is written by AJ.

Marischel.

Edited by Emma Cortland.

Produced by Andy Herman.

Fact checking by Alyssa Jung Perry.

Our senior producer is Gabe Ribbon.

Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lara Beckman and Marsha Louie for Wondering.

If you wanna hear the rest of the series on Jonestown, search for and follow American Scandal wherever you listen to podcasts.

American Criminal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Jeremy Schwartz.

Sound design by Matthew Filler.

Music by Thrum.

This episode is written and researched by Joel Callan, managing producer, Emily Burke.

Executive producers are Joel Callan, William Simpson and Lindsey Graham.