Fred Robinson
Age 12
A Black 12-year-old who worked on a shrimp boat
Edisto Island, South Carolina
August 3, 1960
"Freddie died, but he didn't die alone. A piece of me died with him, so he would never be alone."
Charles Robinson & Alyssa Bass
Brother of Robinson and Emma Bowen Fellow
START
CR: Freddie and I was raised by our grandmother. Freddie was mischievous. He was the comedian of the family. Even though he was younger, he was just as big as I was. People thought we were twins because we would always wear the same clothes. Whatever our grandmother purchased for us, she would always buy in twos. I took pride in caring for him.
When he died, Fred was 12. He never did anything for anyone to want to harm him other than he was popular with the little white girls on the beach. And I think a lot of the white people didn’t take that lightly and so there’s a reason why we were thinking that there was some foul play.
AB: How did your grandmother deal with Freddie’s death?
CR: Oh, my goodness, my grandmother was just so hurt. She never forgave herself. She never got over it, and I think she died with a broken heart. My grandmother didn’t want the investigation to continue because during that time, segregation and racism was still at a high peak. Whites could get away with anything. So, my grandmother was afraid that something may have happened to me.
AB: How are you and your family members keeping Freddie’s memory alive today?
CR: Every time we get together, Freddie is the conversation. That’s how the conversation starts. And we enjoy laughing about some of the stuff that he did. Even though it was 60 years ago, I still think about him every day and I always think about what it would’ve been like if him and I was still together, how close we would be. We were always so close. Freddie died, but he didn’t die alone. A piece of me died with him, so he would never be alone.
END
On the afternoon of August 3, 1960, the Charleston County police received a call about a possible drowning on Edisto Island, South Carolina. When they arrived at T.J. Lybrand’s Shrimp Deck on the island, they were told Fred Robinson, a Black 12-year-old who was working on Lybrand’s shrimp boat that day, was missing. Two days later, unknown fishermen found Robinson’s body in the surf near Edisto Beach.
The Charleston County coroner ruled the death an accidental drowning, but according to a Department of Justice memo on the case, Robinson’s family and other members of the community believed Robinson might have been murdered. Reports at the time said Robinson’s head might have been bashed in. His family speculated the boy could have been killed because he was a great dancer and would teach white girls to dance at Edisto Beach, according to the DOJ memo.
Initial Investigation
The Charleston County Police Department searched for Robinson the day he went missing, interviewing nearby witnesses and visiting various juke joints to look for him. The Coast Guard dragged the nearby creek. Both the white owner of the shrimp boat and a Black dock worker said they had seen the 12-year-old standing near the water shortly before he disappeared.
After the coroner ruled Robinson’s death an accidental drowning, there was no immediate inquest. But a few weeks later, pressure from the community and the NAACP led to the exhumation of Robinson’s body. A doctor examined the body and reported that it did not show signs of physical trauma, other than those consistent with drowning, as the cause of death. He said the skull was intact, with no suggestion of a fracture.
Till Act Status
The FBI reopened the case in February 2009, reviewing police records, information from the Southern Poverty Law Center and old news coverage. A family member of the white man with whom Robinson had been shrimping on the day he went missing said the man had passed away. The Black dock worker who had been one of the last to see Robinson was also deceased. The Southern Poverty Law Center gave the FBI notes from conversations with Robinson’s family members, who continue to believe the boy was killed for racist reasons and then dumped in the water.
The FBI closed the case on February 2, 2012, after agents failed to find any additional evidence the boy had been murdered. The federal statute of limitations on such cases, requiring prosecution within five years of the incident, had also run out.
Case Status closed
Closed 02/02/2012
Themes
- Children
- Closed Cases
- Storycorps Stories
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)