“Woke” has become a racist trope that should be abandoned.
Kenneth Whitted is now an aspiring actor and screenwriter in sunny California, but for most of his career he worked as a federal prosecutor. Most of his best work was in narcotics cases. A few months ago, I contacted Whitted with questions about the David … Continue reading Please Lie to Me: The David Black Story (Part 5)
David Black has now spent a full quarter century in federal prison for a crime he did not commit. On a cool Sunday afternoon in February of 1997, an elderly Chinese-American woman was gunned down on the 400 block of K Street in Washington DC. … Continue reading The David Black Story: An Introduction
This is the fourth segment of the David Black Story. Please check out segments one, two, and three before continuing. Hours after Alice Chow was pronounced dead at Howard University Hospital, Jeff Mayberry and Joe Fox, homicide detectives with the Metropolitan Police Department, came knocking … Continue reading Gaslighting: The David Black Story (part four)
Joseph Fox probably didn’t utter a syllable of that message. He didn’t have to. It might as well have been chiseled into the wall behind him.
Everyone in the Hundred Acre Wood knew Owl was a big-talking show-off with a reputation for embellishing stories–or making them up altogether. But Rabbit wanted to know what “Gon out Backson” meant, and Owl’s account was the only answer at his disposal.
When you take a careful look at the details of the official story presented at David Black’s trial, it crumbles to dust. It’s all impossible.
For every wrongfully convicted person who is exonerated, a dozen more languish in prison. David Black is one of them.
The first part of this day was dedicated to Curtis Flowers; the second half to Fannie Lou Hamer. This was by design. I came to Winona, Mississippi to spend some quality time with Curtis, and to attend the unveiling ceremony of a new plaque commemorating … Continue reading A day of reckoning in Winona, Mississippi: Why Fannie Lou Hamer and Curtis Flowers are forever united in a corner of my mind
I spent June 8, 2022 driving to Winona, Mississippi. In the past, I have always driven the interstates, but yesterday I opted for Highway 82. That’s the road Fannie Lou Hamer and her friends were traveling when they stopped in Winona on June 9, 1963. That night, Hamer was beaten so badly in her prison cell that she couldn’t move. Her entire body was as hard as steel. She and Euvester Simpson survived the night by singing gospel songs.
The men who assaulted Hamer and her friends were untouched by the Mississippi criminal justice system. There wasn’t a DA in the state who would dream of pressing charges against a white assailant if the victim was Black. Federal charges were filed, but an all-white jury quickly acquitted the defendants.
But Hamer got the last word. At the 1964 Democratic Convention, she told the entire nation what happened to her in Winona. President Lyndon Johnson was so afraid of her testimony that he ordered the networks to cut away from her remarks. But, to Johnson’s dismay, Hamer’s testimony was replayed on the evening news.
Johnson wasn’t opposed to a victim of abuse having her say. But he was a child of the South. He knew there would be backlash. He was right.
And yet, even in these fraught times, Winona is changing. A group of local organizers headed by Vickie Roberts-Ratliff talked local white leaders into formally acknowledging the crimes committed against Hamer and her fellow civil rights activists in 1963. That is an amazing accomplishment!
This afternoon, I will be attending a memorial event at the site of the old County Jail in Winona. I will be with Curtis Flowers, the man tried six times for a heinous murder he did not commit. Hamer and Flowers have always been associated in my mind. When Ray Charles Carter, part of the legal team representing Flowers back in 2008, asked me to intervene on his client’s behalf, he reminded me that Winona was the town where Fannie Lou Hamer was beaten half to death back in 1963. I had heard Hamer’s name before, but had no clear idea of who she was.
As I researched the Flowers case, I found myself driven back to the fight for civil rights in the Mississippi Delta. Ms. Hamer was from Ruleville, in Sunflower County, just down the road from Winona. She was a gospel-singing sharecropper-turned-voting rights activist. A woman of indominable spirit and endless courage. What happened to Curtis Flowers in Winona was, I realized, simply the latest expression of the Winona justice that took years off Hamer’s life.
As I drove across Arkansas and Mississippi, signs of religious fervor were everywhere. Even in parts of the country that were hurting economically, big, flashy Baptist churches dominated the landscape. Shortly after crossing the Mississippi, I passed a cotton gin sporting huge American and Christian flags. An hour later, when I pulled up to the Winona Holiday Inn, I remembered the huge metal cross constructed right next to the hotel. The cross is surrounded by dozens of granite signs covered with copious quotations from the Bible. In front of the cross, there are two bits from the book of Romans. The first begins, “The wages of sin is death;” the second reads, “If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”
Fannie Lou Hamer knew all about the wages of sin. Like Jesus and the Apostle Paul she bore the marks of sin and death on her own body. And, like Jesus and the Apostle, she didn’t suffer for her own sin. She bore the sin of Winona, Montgomery County, the state of Mississippi, and these United States of America.
And now, if the Washington Post is to be believed, Winona has acknowledged her sin. At least in part. Will it take another 60 years for this small Mississippi town to acknowledge what it did to Curtis Flowers?
I was looking forward to seeing the mighty Mississippi. But when I approached the bridge, the wind came up and an angry cloud dominated the horizon. By the time I made my crossing, the rain was falling so hard, the traffic had slowed to a crawl. Was this a warning? I choose to think not. Even the angriest of storms eventually pass. May it be so in Mississippi!
Why would anyone confess to a crime they didn’t commit?