Ladislado Uresti

Age 47

A Mexican-American night watchman

San Antonio, Texas

April 22, 1953

On the night of April 22, 1953, Ladislado Uresti, a Mexican-American man employed as a night watchman for a plumbing company in San Antonio, Texas, had been working on a pump in an isolated section of a park. Uresti reported that two white men attacked him, whipping his head with long iron chains.

Covered in dirt and blood, Uresti managed to walk to a nearby door. He asked the person who answered it, first, to call the plumbing company and tell them he was quitting because he was afraid to work and then to call the police. When the police arrived, Uresti told them he fought his attackers with a flashlight. An ambulance took Uresti to the hospital, where he lost consciousness, and doctors discovered he had a fractured skull, among other injuries. He died five days after the assault, following an unsuccessful surgery to stem a brain hemorrhage.

Initial Investigation

At the scene, San Antonio police found Uresti’s bloody sock, shoe, watch, flashlight and an unopened pocket knife. They also found a cap and a pack of Philip Morris cigarettes that did not belong to Uresti. Witnesses said Uresti had cashed his paycheck earlier that day, but no money was found at the scene or on his person.

News reports at the time said Uresti had gotten into a dispute the day before with union plumbers, who were mad about “having to work behind a non-union Negro” in the park. This account was partially corroborated by a witness, interviewed by the Bexar County district attorney, who said the dispute involved a union agent upset that “a good operator” wasn’t allowed to work on a specific machine.

Despite these details, a local investigation did not identify any suspects.

Till Act Status

The FBI began reviewing Uresti’s case in 2009. Agents found that police officials quoted in newspaper accounts from the time of the killing had since died. They were unable to obtain any relevant records from the Bexar County Medical Examiner’s Office, the Bexar County Sheriff’s Office, the Bexar County District Attorney’s Office or the Texas Department of Public Safety. Agents interviewed family members and friends of someone associated with Uresti, but those people did not have firsthand information.

On April 20, 2010, the FBI closed the case. A memo reported that, in order to qualify as a federal civil rights violation, the government would have had to prove the victim was assaulted due to his race or nationality. But in its review, the FBI had found no clear evidence that Uresti’s race had motivated the assault.

DOJ documentation lists the victim’s last name as “Ureste.” The spelling has been corrected here based on a death certificate and a draft card.

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)