After days spent living in a cloud of apprehension and fear following Monday's bomb attack at the Boston Marathon, the city's residents celebrated the capture of suspect Dzhokhar Tsarnaev on Friday night. He was caught hiding in a boat in the backyard of Watertown resident David Henneberry.
U.S. security officials have been warning for years that one of their biggest challenges is detecting homegrown terrorists — extremists who grow up in America, or have lived here for years, know the customs, speak the language, blend in easily and can fly below the radar of law enforcement.
As details of Boston bombing suspects emerge, reports point to two young men of Chechen origin who had been in the U.S. for up to a decade and were seemingly fully integrated into American society.
Originally published on Sat April 20, 2013 2:43 pm
With Boston Marathon bombing suspect Dzhokhar Tsarnaev in police custody at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center and his brother and fellow suspect Tamerlan Tsarnaev dead after a shootout, many questions now focus on how these two young men arrived at this point.
This is WEEKEND EDITION from NPR News. I'm Scott Simon. Isn't it nice to be able to say time for sports?
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)
SIMON: The country was focused on tragedy and mayhem this week, but sports abides, including some remarkable tributes to Boston. And the NBA playoffs begin today and run until, I don't know, I think December. Can anyone beat the Heat? For now we're joined by Howard Bryant of ESPN.com and ESPN the Magazine. Howard, thanks so much for being with us.
While many universities try to win national attention with their sports programs, one school is dominating a lesser-known competitive arena: speech teams. Bradley University in Peoria, Ill., will defend its U.S. title again this weekend at the National Forensic Association tournament in Huntington, W.Va. Jonathan Ahl reports.
JONATHAN AHL, BYLINE: Cecil Blutcher is on stage, practicing his poetry recitation in front of his fellow speech team members.
CECIL BLUTCHER: Now my face is stuck to lamppost, glued to plate-glass windows.
This is WEEKEND EDITION from NPR News. I'm Scott Simon. The city of Boston has been through an extraordinary string of challenges this week. The city's famous race was bombed, killing three people, injuring scores of others. The city was locked down for nearly a full day in order to search for the killers.
And of course last night, many Bostonians cheered the news that the second suspect in the marathon bombings had been captured. While the backdrop is tragic, residents across the city permitted themselves a moment of celebration. People were also expressing relief that the lockdown of the city was officially over.
NPR's Chris Arnold visited a lockdown party in Boston and filed this report.
People in Boston can speak for themselves. And do. Loudly, bluntly and often with humor that bites.
It's a city that speaks with both its own broad, homebrew, local accent — although no one really pahks thea cah in Havahd Yahd — and dialects from around the world. It is home to some of America's oldest founding families, and fathers, mothers and children who have just arrived from Jamaica, Ireland, Bangladesh and Ghana.
There are people in Boston who dress in pinstripes and tweeds, and tattoos and spiked hair. Sometimes, they are even the same person.
How do you write something like Partita for 8 Voices, the a cappella vocal piece that is this year's winner of the Pulitzer Prize for music?
"Very late at night," says the composer, Caroline Shaw, speaking with NPR's Scott Simon. "Sometimes it comes from having a sound in your head that you really want to hear, that you've never heard before, and struggling to make that sound happen in any way you can."
Al Neuharth died Friday at his home in Cocoa Beach, Fla.
He was 89.
Al's name may not be familiar to you, but this blogger hopes that you are acquainted with the newspaper he willed to life in 1982: USA Today.
From 1984 to 2009, I was either a reporter or editor — and sometimes both — at McPaper (a nickname that critics bestowed upon USA Today, but which those of us who were there in its best days adopted with the pride of underdogs).