Thirty-five years ago this month, African-American children in Atlanta, Georgia were coming up missing or dead. Like an ominous vapor, the murders sent terror throughout the neighborhoods of poor and working-class black families. Before the reign of terror was over, a painful carnage of young children and young adults would bring untold suffering to loved ones, a black male suspect would be convicted, and lingering questions and criticisms of the process would persist. The infamous cases of Atlanta’s Missing and Murdered Children remain a psycho-social mystery and, for many, the unsolved crimes of the century.
The lives of black folks are devalued when they are alive and breathing. It should be no surprise that when we come up missing or dead, it’s hardly a blip on the radar screen. Our struggle for legitimacy is both in life and in death.
Because the Atlanta crimes involved children, I felt immediately connected. I was part of coalition that convened the local campaign whose main purposes were to raise awareness about the cases, to fundraise for legal and personal expenses and to mobilize people for a national event held in Washington, D.C. We were successful in doing all three but more importantly, it gave us access to some of the mothers who, still grieving for their loss, had been catapulted into the national spotlight as advocates for their children. Three of the victims mothers—Venus Taylor, Camille Bell and Willie Mae Mathis—formed the Committee to Stop Children’s Murders (STOP). We were able to hear first-hand their perceptions about what was going on and what was really happening in Atlanta.
Edward Hope Smith and Alfred Evans are thought to be the first of many victims. The young teens were friends but disappeared days apart. Edward had been shot and Alfred allegedly strangled. When their bodies were found together on July 28, 1979, it was no surprise when police suspected the youth were involved in drugs. Further investigation into their deaths was basically dropped.
Nine-year-old Yusef Bell, perhaps the fourth child to be found dead, was a promising and gifted student. His funeral was a major event, attended by city officials and other prominent leaders, and probably was the case that beamed light on the growing number of missing and murdered Atlanta children.
Kids were coming up missing, but it would be months before police authorities would be pressured by the black community to see an insidious pattern. The pattern was that black kids were coming up dead on a regular basis. The circumstances around their deaths were very different – some were shot, some were strangled and some were bludgeoned to death. The 1980 “Summer of Death” and the relentless pressure from STOP and its supporters finally forced the Atlanta police to take the murderous rampage serious; it set up a task force to focus their investigation.
Public criticisms of the police investigation continued to ring loudly. From media reports, the police had eliminated some 60 cases of murders of children and young adults for one reason or another during this same time frame. Many observers believed it was to quell the fears that were impacting convention and tourism dollars.
Eventually, the authorities put blame to Wayne Williams. The 23-year-old had no prior record and no history of violence. Williams was convicted for the deaths of two of the murders and sentenced to life imprisonment. Other children were reported missing or murdered after William’s arrest. While Williams continued to maintain his innocence, city officials and police authorities considered the case closed. Most STOP mothers did not believe Williams was guilty of the murders.
The Atlanta murders rocked the city and certainly impacted other communities of color across the country. What still persists is not only the uncertainty about Williams’ guilt but also the reality that there is no seriousness about missing African Americans 35 years later, especially black women.
The National Crime Information Center estimates that there are 64,000 black women alone missing in the U.S. This has prompted the creation of groups like Black and Missing Foundation to compare the overwhelming media attention on white missing women to the almost non-existent focus on women of color.
As we demand “Bring Our Girls Home” in reference to the Nigerian girls kidnapped by the Boko Haram, let us remember there are young women like Phoenix Caldon from St. Louis who need to be brought home as well as unsolved murders of young black males.
