An explosion rocks Harvard Medical School—but was it terrorism or something far less sinister? In a world on edge, every blast raises alarms, yet this incident, while alarming, appears to lack the political undertones many initially feared. Here’s the full story, packed with details that might just surprise you.
Early Saturday morning, a blast shook the fourth floor of a research building in Boston’s Longwood area. Miraculously, no one was injured, and property damage was minimal. Yet, the event quickly grabbed national headlines, especially given the current political climate. Universities, including Harvard, have been at the center of heated debates, from policy clashes with the Trump administration over alleged bias against conservatives to student protests demanding universities sever ties with Israel over its actions in Gaza. But here’s where it gets controversial: despite the tense backdrop, the FBI’s seven-page affidavit reveals no apparent political motive. US Attorney Leah Foley echoed this, urging caution as the investigation remains in its early stages.
During a press conference, Foley drew parallels to the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing, highlighting the fear such incidents can spark. “Anxiety levels naturally rise when the public learns that an explosion was intentionally caused,” she noted, adding, “Those levels may rise even higher in the Boston area.” Authorities, however, assured the public there’s no ongoing threat.
Two individuals, identified as Cardoza and Patterson, were arrested but released on conditions, including staying away from Harvard and avoiding dangerous weapons—yes, even fireworks. Their attorneys argue the case boils down to property damage, not federal charges. And this is the part most people miss: the pair’s night began with Halloween festivities, not a calculated attack. According to the FBI’s timeline, they spent the evening socializing before ending up near the medical school campus in the early hours of November 1.
Surveillance footage paints a bizarre picture: one man in a balaclava, brown sweatshirt, tan pants, and white Crocs; the other in a blue mask, dark jacket, and plaid pajama pants. Around 2:24 a.m., they set off Roman candle fireworks outside the building. Minutes later, they climbed a fence, entered a construction area, and scaled scaffolding to reach the roof. At 2:45 a.m., the explosion occurred on the fourth floor, home to a neurobiology lab.
What followed was a chaotic escape. Cardoza ditched his plaid pants in a trash bin, while Patterson returned to Wentworth Institute of Technology, frantically running between buildings. The pair later reunited with a third individual, not charged, and attempted to enter a dorm before heading to the Massachusetts College of Art and Design campus. By afternoon, they were en route to the University of Massachusetts Amherst to continue partying.
Here’s the twist: as news spread, Wentworth students came forward, revealing Patterson had bragged about setting off a cherry bomb in the Harvard building. One witness claimed the pair chose the building because it “looked abandoned.” No motive beyond this was provided in the affidavit. FBI Special Agent Docks praised public cooperation, stating, “We could not have gotten to this point today so quickly without their help.”
Since the incident, Harvard officials confirmed no structural damage, and the fourth floor has resumed normal operations. The university has long been vigilant about security, even covering expenses for Harvard Hillel, a Jewish campus organization, amid fears of antisemitic violence. In a separate 2023 incident, a man brought a hoax device to Harvard’s Science Center Plaza, later revealing he was recruited via a Craigslist ad in a cryptocurrency extortion scheme.
Now, the big question: Was this a reckless prank or something more? While the lack of political motive is clear, the incident raises broader questions about security, accountability, and the fine line between mischief and danger. What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s keep the conversation going.
