91茄子

Local activists are scrambling to stop the construction of a self-storage facility on Bethesda land that could be part of a historic African cemetery.

The Bethesda African Cemetery Coalition filed a lawsuit in August 2024 to bar developers 1784 Capital Holdings LLC from building on property the coalition says could have hundreds of enslaved people鈥檚 bones. Montgomery County Circuit Judge Carlos Acosta ruled in late August that the coalition has until February to finish discovery so court hearings can proceed on schedule.

鈥淭his, just like every case that comes here, is an important case. It鈥檚 not just important to the parties involved. It鈥檚 important to a lot of people in the community,鈥� Acosta said at an August court hearing.

Acosta denied a motion by the Arizona-based developers to dismiss the lawsuit, calling it 鈥減remature.鈥�

The developers maintain there is no evidence of human remains on the property.

鈥淚t鈥檚 just rhetoric,鈥� said Jarvis Stewart, who owns a communications firm that represents 1784.

鈥淚t鈥檚 just vicious, calling my client the most horrible names 鈥� racists and bigots 鈥� with no proof.鈥�

Stewart said the company recovered multiple bone fragments during the excavation process, but archeologists they hired determined they were animal bones.

The discoveries were removed from the site, stored for over one year, then tested for human DNA multiple times, Stewart said.

During the DNA testing process, the bones were destroyed.

To test for human DNA, according to a court affidavit, a forensic analyst smashed the bones “into a fine powder.”

Marsha Coleman-Adebayo, who founded the Bethesda African Cemetery Coalition, called the removal and subsequent destruction of the bones 鈥渙ne of the crimes of the century.鈥�

She said the bones are human and belong to Bethesda鈥檚 African ancestors.

鈥淭hat was their only means of communicating with future generations, with their bones. Those bones would have told the story of what happened to them,鈥� she told 91茄子.

鈥淲hen you assume the arrogance of destroying someone’s ability to tell their story, that is vile and despicable.鈥�

Bethesda鈥檚 African history

In the early 1800s, nearly 50% of the people in Montgomery County were enslaved African Americans, Bethesda historian Hank Levine said.

After the U.S. emancipated slaves, many African Americans left Bethesda.

Some stuck around.

鈥淎fter the Civil War, free Black people were able to purchase land in some areas, including along River Road. That becomes a Black neighbor,鈥� Levine said. 鈥淭hey built a church. It’s still there.”

That church is Macedonia Baptist Church. It is the only remaining building from the Black neighborhood on River Road.

Coleman-Adebayo鈥檚 husband is the pastor. She said that鈥檚 how she first learned of Moses African Cemetery.

One of the congregation members, Harvey Matthews, said he used to play at the cemetery as a little boy in the 1950s.

The developers don鈥檛 argue that the cemetery existed, but there is debate over where the boundary is.

Developers discover bones on property

The developer 1784 originally bought multiple adjacent parcels of land for $11 million in 2017, according to Montgomery County land records.

In the early stages of construction, the company found 鈥渁rtifacts鈥� and other things 鈥渞elated to early 1900s grave sites鈥� on one parcel, Stewart said.

The company deeded that land back to the county.

Construction continued on the adjacent section of property and is ongoing today. That鈥檚 the piece of land where 1784 recovered what company officials said were 鈥渁nimal bones.鈥�

Boyd Sipe is an archeologist at Wetland Studies and Solutions Inc., the company 1784 hired to oversee the archeological excavation on site.

In a sworn court affidavit, he said 鈥渘o human remains or funerary objects were found on the property.鈥�

Multiple archeologists have examined the recovered bones.

In an email to Sipe, Towson University professor Dana Kollmann, a forensic archeologist, said she could not conclude that recovered bone fragments were 鈥渃onclusively non-human” without DNA testing.

Coleman-Adebayo said that is important evidence that points to needing more conclusive examination.

After that email, 76 of the 132 recovered bones fragments were tested for human DNA.

Of the 76 bone samples tested, 74 had DNA levels 鈥渂elow the limit of detection,鈥� according to court fillings from March.

Of the remaining two samples, only one showed evidence of human DNA, according to a report from Benetta George, the DNA analyst who did the testing. She attributed the trace amounts of human DNA to possible contamination during the transportation and testing process.

That鈥檚 not conclusive for Coleman-Adebayo. The recovered bones are likely human, she said.

So far, experts paid by the developers have done all the DNA testing on recovered artifacts. Court filings said 1784 spent $331,058 on archeologic services from Wetland Studies.

Coleman-Adebayo said the coalition needs access to what is left of the recovered bones so they can perform their own analysis.

She said there might be a different kind of test that can produce conclusive results with the trace amounts of DNA left on the bone fragments.

The land being built on had the perfect conditions to be a mass grave, Coleman-Adebayo said.

鈥淭hat was swamp. It was just an incredible amount of water. Because it was agriculturally unproductive, it was environmentally perfect to be used as a mass burial because you couldn’t do anything else with it,鈥� she said.

She said the bodies of Africans who were kidnapped and brought to the U.S. to be slaves were likely thrown in that mass grave.

The coalition recovered over 30 鈥渇unerary artifacts鈥� from construction site dirt, Coleman-Adebayo said, which builders dumped at a landfill.

Those artifacts include scraps of fabric and bottles, which Coleman-Adebayo said points to funeral activity because African cultures often place bottles on grave sites to protect the spirit of the dead.

Tammy Hilburn, a cultural property crime expert, volunteered to monitor the construction site with the Bethesda African Cemetery Coalition. During those observations, she said there was minimal oversight from the developers’ archeologists.

She observed an object on top of a 鈥渇reshly excavated鈥� pile of dirt and took a photo. Later, when reviewing her pictures, she said 鈥渋t was evident … that object was a tombstone,鈥� according to court documents filed by the coalition.

Stewart said anything recovered from the site is normal waste from 鈥減eople living their lives,鈥� not an indication of funeral activities.

鈥淭he property we are currently building on does not have any artifacts or any tombstones and all this other stuff that the coalition is suggesting,鈥� he said.

What happens next?

Although the judge granted Bethesda African Cemetery Coalition until February to prove there are human remains on the development site, construction doesn鈥檛 have to stop.

Stewart said the projected completion date of the project is Spring 2026.

The company recently filed a countersuit in Montgomery County Circuit Court against the coalition to stop the group from interfering with construction. Judge Acosta postponed that ruling until after discovery is finished.

Stewart said the company recognizes Montgomery County鈥檚 history of 鈥渉ighly regarded, highly respected African American communities.鈥� That鈥檚 why 1784 promised $250,000 to paint a mural honoring Bethesda鈥檚 African American population on a retaining wall near the storage facility.

The coalition isn鈥檛 interested in compromise, Stewart said.

鈥淭hey want the land. They鈥檝e wanted the land from the very beginning,鈥� he said.

Coleman-Adebayo said winning the court battle would 鈥渟top the ongoing desecration鈥� of Moses African Cemetery.

To prove the land is part of the cemetery, the coalition will hire its own experts to survey the property and examine any recovered artifacts. That will include DNA testing of the bones 1784 recovered from the site, Coleman-Adebayo said.

Ideally, she said, the coalition and Macedonia Baptist Church would partner to control the land and build a museum telling the history of the River Road community.

鈥淲e鈥檇 like to turn that area into a sacred space where people from all over the world can come, not to store their refrigerators and couches, but to understand the horror of what we call European barbarism,鈥� Coleman-Adebayo said.