Series Puts Cold Cases on Front Burner
'Murder' Seeks Justice for Victims Of Jim Crow Era
|
Discussion Policy
Comments that include profanity or personal attacks or other inappropriate comments or material will be removed from the site. Additionally, entries that are unsigned or contain "signatures" by someone other than the actual author will be removed. Finally, we will take steps to block users who violate any of our posting standards, terms of use or privacy policies or any other policies governing this site. Please review the full rules governing commentaries and discussions. You are fully responsible for the content that you post.
|
Monday, October 6, 2008; Page C07
On July 25, 1946, in the clear light of day, two young black couples were slain at an isolated bridge near Monroe, Ga. Roger and Dorothy Malcom and George W. and Mae Dorsey, sharecroppers all, were shot about 60 times at close range by a group of white men who didn't bother to disguise themselves.
The gruesome killings drew the condemnation of President Harry S. Truman and a five-month inquiry from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. But despite the testimony of 100 witnesses, a nearly all-white grand jury in Georgia declined to indict a single suspect on murder charges.
Some of those murder suspects are still alive, however, and their prosecution is the ambitious goal of "Moore's Ford Bridge," the first installment of "Murder in Black and White," an hour-long documentary television series airing four consecutive nights on TV One. (The series, which debuted last night, continues tonight. The first episode will be telecast again at 10 p.m. Thursday.)
Executive producer and director Keith A. Beauchamp describes the project, his first television venture, as "part 'Unsolved Mysteries,' part 'America's Most Wanted.' "
"Let me tell you, I'm more interested in justice than I am in filmmaking," says Beauchamp, 37, who aims to collect fresh evidence with the help of television viewers -- and the FBI.
Beauchamp's research for his 2005 documentary feature film, "The Untold Story of Emmett Louis Till," unearthed vital new information that led to the FBI reopening of Till's case. Till, a black teenager, was killed in Mississippi in 1955. A white woman had accused him of flirting with her.
FBI Special Agent Dale Killinger, speaking by phone, calls the filmmaker's spirit of teamwork "an ideal template for future investigations." Beauchamp, though, says there is another, more delicate reason why his new television program might prove effective.
"Look, black people don't usually want to talk to the FBI," he says, also by phone, from his office in Brooklyn. "In the Till case, I would win the confidence of the witnesses, then act as intermediary. That's what I'll be doing here."
Till's case remains unsolved, but two weeks ago, the Senate passed the Emmett Till Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Act (HR 923) by unanimous consent. If it is signed by President Bush, the legislation will provide $13.5 million for the investigation of unsolved civil-rights-era slayings.
For Beauchamp, the groundswell of government attention is gratifying; his program was created with the help of the FBI's Cold Case Initiative, which was first announced last year. But he laments the fact that many of the witnesses in the decades-old crimes have died, and that the remaining ones -- often silenced by shame or a deeply entrenched fear of retribution -- represent the rapidly diminishing chances to convict the killers.
He draws inspiration, though, from Edgar Ray Killen's 2005 manslaughter conviction in the killing of three civil-rights workers in 1964, as well as from a grass-roots community of "crime-fighting citizens" such as activist Bobby Howard of the "Moore's Ford Bridge" case.
Howard, a Georgia native who lives 20 miles from the site of the slayings in that case, has steadfastly pursued the killers since 1967 -- when he first saw photographs of the four horrifically mutilated corpses. On-screen, Howard, 66, quietly details the fear that has paralyzed his community. "I've seen old black men cry when they describe their lives," he says by phone from his home.



