Joseph Robert McNair

Age 27

A Black steelworker and father of six

Pelahatchie, Mississippi

November 6, 1965

Joseph Robert McNair, a 27-year-old Black man, was an employee of the Mississippi Steel Company and a father of six children. On the night of November 6, 1965, McNair was outside of a juke joint in Pelahatchi, Mississippi. Rankin County Constable Luther Steverson and three other officers reportedly were out looking for McNair, to serve him with a warrant for nonpayment of child support. They spotted him outside the juke joint.

What happened next is disputed. According to Constable Steverson, he approached McNair and told him he was under arrest. McNair then allegedly tried to knock down the officer and fled. Steverson gave chase, and when he caught McNair, McNair allegedly came at the officer with a knife and threatened to kill him. Steverson says he then fired his .22 caliber pistol in self defense, fatally shooting McNair in the chest.

Other witnesses claim McNair was fleeing from Steverson, not attacking him, when the officer fired at least two shots, killing McNair.

Initial Investigation

Soon after McNair’s death, the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party called on the FBI to investigate the shooting.

Contemporaneous news reports and witness statements recorded in a Department of Justice memo referenced an investigation by local authorities and interviews conducted by the FBI. But the same memo noted the FBI was unsuccessful in finding official documentation of either a local or a federal investigation.

The memo cited witnesses who said no knife was found at the scene, as well as a local embalmer, who saw McNair’s body at a funeral home and said McNair died of a single gunshot wound to the chest. In a footnote, the DOJ memo also said the coroner delayed his report on McNair’s cause of death, and according to a witness, he was not convinced of Steverson’s story.

A 2011 Clarion Ledger article reported that Steverson was cleared of wrongdoing in a hearing before a justice of the peace.

Till Act Status

In 2009, the FBI initiated a review of McNair’s death. They reinterviewed many witnesses, including Steverson, and reviewed news reports from the time of the case.

Steverson maintained he shot McNair once, in self defense. Several other witnesses reported that Steverson fired multiple times and that McNair was either on his knees or fleeing when Steverson fired the fatal shot or shots. The FBI also interviewed witnesses who alleged that Steverson killed McNair due to a dispute over a Black woman.

The FBI sought documentation from the Pelahatchie Police Department, the Rankin County Coroner’s Office, the district attorney’s office, the circuit clerk, the Mississippi Department of Public Safety and the Mississippi Attorney General’s Office. They found no relevant records.

Although the DOJ memo stated the FBI found no official local or federal files on the shooting, it also noted that Steverson was listed in other FBI reports, in relation to potential Ku Klux Klan involvement.

Citing insufficient evidence to refute Steverson’s claim of self-defense, as well as a statute of limitations, the DOJ closed the case in 2011.

After the DOJ closed the case, the Associated Press continued to investigate. Reporters found six additional witnesses who claimed they were present either at the shooting or in the immediate aftermath and had not been contacted by the FBI. While these witnesses offered slightly divergent accounts of what happened, their statements generally supported the claim that Steverson fired at McNair at least twice. Some witnesses also stated that McNair was fleeing, not attacking Steverson.

In a 2011 Clarion Ledger article, McNair’s family members called for an autopsy, to determine if McNair had been shot once, as Steverson claimed, or at least twice, as others claimed. The article quoted a pathologist saying an autopsy could and should be done to provide that clarity.

Un(re)solved

Begin the full experience

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)