Edwin Pratt
Age 38
An influential Black equal-rights advocate and desegregator
Shoreline, Washington
January 26, 1969
Edwin Pratt lived in Shoreline, Washington, near Seattle, with his wife and their young daughter — one of only two Black families in the area. The 38-year-old had a master’s degree in social work and in 1961 took over the Seattle Urban League, a social service organization now known as the Urban League of Metropolitan Seattle, where he cultivated a reputation as an influential leader, strategist and negotiator. “His potential was unlimited,” a close friend once told the Associated Press.
Pratt was also a leading advocate for racial equality. He worked to desegregate Seattle Public Schools, led an initiative for equal housing and spoke out against discriminatory hiring practices in the construction industry. The family reportedly received at least one death threat over his efforts.
On January 26, 1969, an icy Sunday night, the Pratts settled in at their suburban Shoreline home. Edwin, who had spent the day playing in the snow with his daughter, sat in his favorite chair, clipping race-related newspaper stories as he watched TV, the Seattle journalist Rick Anderson later reported. A sound like snowballs hitting the house roused Pratt from his chair, and he opened the front door to investigate.
His wife, peering through a bedroom window, saw two men crouched in the couple’s carport with what appeared to be a shotgun. Too late, she tried to warn her husband. The men shot Pratt in the face, killing him instantly, then fled in a waiting car.
Initial Investigation
King County police investigated Pratt’s murder with help from the FBI and Seattle police. Several months after the shooting, one detective reportedly said, “there’s nothing to go on,” and that it was the most frustrating case of his 14-year career. Local businesses pooled a $10,500 reward for information, which went unclaimed.
Pratt’s funeral, meanwhile, drew more than 2,000 people to St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral. His widow left Seattle within the year. Multiple sites in Seattle have since been named for Pratt, including the Pratt Fine Arts Center and Edwin T. Pratt Park.
Over the decades, King County gradually released information from police reports in response to demands, including from politicians, journalists and Pratt’s grown-up daughter. Theories circulated about the murderers, but no one was ever prosecuted.
Till Act Status
Pratt’s name appears on a list of civil rights era cold cases reviewed by the federal government under the Emmett Till Antilynching Act. As of 2019, the case had not been officially closed.
About the Project
This multiplatform investigation draws upon more than two years of reporting, thousands of documents and dozens of first-hand interviews. FRONTLINE spoke to family and friends of the victims, and witnesses, some of whom had never been interviewed; current and former Justice Department officials and FBI agents, state and local law enforcement; lawmakers, civil-rights leaders and investigative journalists, to explore the Department of Justice’s reopening of civil rights-era cold cases under the 2008 Emmett Till Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Act.
In addition to an examination of the federal effort, the project features the first comprehensive, interactive list of all those whose cases were reopened by the Department of Justice. Today, the list stands at 151 names. Among the victims: voting rights advocates, veterans, Louisville’s first female prosecutor, business owners, mothers, fathers, and children.
The project consists of a web-based interactive experience, serialized podcast, a touring augmented-reality exhibit, documentary and companion education curriculum for high schools and universities.
A project like Un(re)solved would not be possible without the historic and contemporary contributions of universities, civil rights groups, and the press, particularly the Black press, who have ensured the ongoing public record of racist violence in the United States. To pay homage to these groups, the web interactive begins with a quote from journalist, activist and researcher Ida B. Wells, one of the first to document with precision the horrors of racial terror in America. “The way to right wrongs,” she wrote, “is to turn the light of truth upon them.”
At the outset of the project, FRONTLINE forged a relationship with Northeastern University’s Civil Rights and Restorative Justice Project (CRRJ), bringing them on as an academic partner. Launched in 2007 by Distinguished Law Professor Margaret Burnham, CRRJ is a mission-driven program of interdisciplinary teaching, research and policy analysis on race, history, and criminal justice. Their work has expanded beyond the names on the Justice Department’s list, archiving documents in over 1,000 cases of racially motivated homicides.
With support from the CRRJ, FRONTLINE reporters gathered what could be known about the individuals on the list, conducting interviews with family, friends and witnesses, delving into newspaper archives and gathering documentation including headstone applications, draft cards and archival photographs.
At the heart of the project has been a drive to center the voices of the families of those on the list. FRONTLINE partnered with StoryCorps to record nearly two dozen oral histories with victims’ next of kin, which are featured both in the web-based interactive and traveling AR exhibit. These oral histories will also be archived in the National Library of Congress.
To lead the creative vision for the web experience and installation, FRONTLINE partnered with Ado Ato Pictures, a premier mixed reality studio founded by artist, filmmaker, and technologist Tamara Shogaolu.
Shogaolu rooted the visuals in the powerful symbolism of trees. In the United States, trees evoke the ideal of liberty, but also speak to an oppressive history of racially motivated violence. In Persian myth, trees are humanity’s ancestors, while in Toraja, Indonesia, they serve as sacred burial sites.
“I was really inspired by looking at the role of the tree as a symbol in American history” Shogaolu said. “It’s been looked at as a symbol of freedom, we look at it as a connector between generations, and also there’s the association of trees with racial terror.” When designing the creative vision for Un(re)solved Shogaolu wondered whether she might be able to reclaim the symbol of the tree. “As a person of color, we’re often terrified of being in isolated places in the woods. And I thought it was kind of crazy that there are natural environments that instinctually give great fear because of this connection with racial terror and I wanted to reclaim that — to turn these into beautiful spaces.”
Un(re)solved weaves imagery of trees, which also recall family ties, into patterns and textures from the American tradition of quilting. Among enslaved African Americans forbidden to read or write, quilts provided an important space to document family stories. Today, quilting remains a creative outlet rich with story and tradition for many American communities.
We invite you to enter this forest of quilted memories — a testimony to the lives of these individuals, and the multi-generational impact of their untimely, unjust loss.
(Credits to come)