On this day 30 years ago, Hale Mohalu — "The House of Comfort" — appeared anything but comforting.

The Pearl City complex, home to former Kalaupapa patients suffering from Hansen’s disease, had been in a state of disrepair for decades.

The roof leaked. There was no medical care. Utilities, at times, were turned off. Residents cooked on camp stoves.

Still, a select few patients considered Hale Mohalu home, and they wanted nothing more than to stay there.

The state, however, had other plans.

The first eviction notice came in 1978 and was met with strong resistance from the remaining 13 residents. Hawaii haggled in court with the holdouts for years while patients died, gave in to transfer to Leahi Hospital near Diamond Head or resorted to homelessness.

The five-year legal battle ended in 1983 when the state got word from a federal appellate court judge that it could close Hale Mohalu for good.

In came handcuffs and bulldozers.

"I remember singing that morning as the arrests were just about to begin," recalled John Witeck, one of 16 supporters taken into custody during the raid.

Songs such as "Hawaii Aloha" and melodies penned by Bernard Puni­kai‘a, one of two remaining residents at the treatment center, rang through the reception area as 30 to 40 Hale Mohalu defenders waited with Puni­kai‘a and Clarence Naia for the inevitable.

"Sept. 21 is an important date, I think for me, but especially for the patients at Kalaupapa or for other people who believe in human rights," Witeck said.

Anticipating a police raid, activists held an all-night vigil on the night of Sept. 20 and huddled around Puni­kai‘a and Naia as the state health director marched in with a bullhorn announcing that the group had 10 minutes to leave.

"We were read this notice that we had to leave, and Bernard … gave a very eloquent response about how the patients did not want to be moved" and would not comply, Witeck said. "Shortly after that the state police officials began arresting people or taking them outside in handcuffs and taking them to paddy wagons."

Officers physically carried Puni­kai‘a and Naia out of the building, and Witeck’s recollection of their arrests hasn’t wavered.

"It was a little rainy that morning, and as I was being led off, I noticed they were down on the ground and they were being handcuffed" with their faces on the ground, Witeck said. "They were treated like they were dangerous criminals of some kind, and it was really disconcerting to see them treated in that way."

A supporter who was guarding the gate of the grounds when state officials came to seize the property said it was powerful to watch "the courage of people who were at one time considered outcasts of society because of their disease" and "the courage that they displayed in their convictions."

"They said, ‘No matter what, we’re not leaving on our own,’" Wally Inglis said. "It was a place they felt comfortable, which is why they didn’t want to move."

Not long after 11 men and seven women were arrested for trespassing, bulldozers rolled in and turned the dilapidated buildings to dust. All but one of those arrested were eventually cleared of charges.

"The chapel, which for years had comforted people, was torn down," Witeck said. He noted that valuable and sentimental items such as pho­to­graphs and glass plates with memories from Kalaupapa or Hale Mohalu on them were spared by supporters, but everything else "was just destroyed by bulldozers."

About a year later, Inglis said, the state leased the land to the nonprofit Pearl City Youth Athletic Association.

Punikai‘a fought hard against what he regarded as such a trivial use of his former home.

"Some of us who were the Hale Mohalu ohana challenged that, you know, we went to court," Inglis said. The final resolution was to split the land and lease half of it to the Coalition for Specialized Housing, a nonprofit Inglis helped set up to developing affordable housing for seniors where Hale Mohalu once stood.

The coalition, under Inglis’ leadership, finally was able to complete and open a 210-unit senior housing complex on the land in 1996 — more than a decade after the raid. The three buildings are named in honor of Hansen’s disease patients who died in the struggle.

Nearly another decade went by as the other half of the land remained empty, but Inglis worked to change that.

"We were able, finally, to persuade the state to lease that five acres to our coalition, and that’s how we were able to build what we dedicated last month," he said.

After five years of planning, the coalition broke ground on a $40 million first phase of Hale Mohalu II in April 2011. The two-building, 163-unit affordable-housing complex for seniors, which Inglis said is not yet occupied, was dedicated Aug. 23 in a ceremony that also served as a groundbreaking for a third building to assist low-income families. A fourth building, also for families, will complete Hale Mohalu II once more financing is secured.

The two recently completed buildings will bear the names of Puni­kai‘a and Naia, who fought tirelessly for human rights until their respective deaths in 2009 and 2006.

Witeck, who now works as a human resources specialist at the University of Hawaii-Manoa, said the struggle he took part in 30 years ago was one in his life that gave back more passion and energy than he put into it.

"For them this was not an easy thing to do — to stand up in public and to oppose the government who had provided them room and board and medical care … to stand up in the public with their disabilities and infirmities," he said.

"It was a privilege to be able to go to jail with two of these patients, two of the leaders."