Milton Leon Scott
Age 21
A young Black father of two with a pregnant wife
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
July 18, 1973
"I can see your dad in you because the things that he wanted to do and didn't get a chance to do, you made up for it."
Beverly Shabazz & Milton Scott
Widow and Son of Scott
START
MS: Mom, can you tell me about my dad. What was he like?
BS: Your dad loved to dance. He was literally called the dancing machine because he could dance and dance and seemed like he never got tired. He didn’t talk a lot, but he loved to draw. And he wasn’t very tall, but he was packing a six pack—he was very lean. He said he got like that because of the dancing.
Once he became a Muslim, he was totally and completely dedicated to the religion that he was in.
MS: Can you walk me through the day the FBI agents showed up at your door—July 18th, 1973.
BS: That day is still etched in my mind and it will be there until I close my eyes for the last time. There was this real loud knock. These two white men were at the door and they asked him, “Are you Milton Scott?” “Yes. Who wants to know?” “We came to get you for desertion of the army.”
He said, “The army? I’ve never been in the army, man. What y’all talking about?” Milton said, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He slammed the door. They kicked the door open and they were coming in the house with the guns drawn. He was unarmed. He didn’t have any shoes on. So the fight started and they were just fighting so fiercely. He got them out of the house, down the steps, down the sidewalk, and finally, they were in the parking lot. Milton had been saying, “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar,” which in Arabic means, “God is the greatest.” And those were the last words that came out of his mouth before he was shot.
It pierced my soul to see him take his last breath in my arms. It wasn’t too long afterwards that they said the man who they thought was Milton Scott was actually locked up in San Quentin prison. But none of that could bring Milton back.
MS: So many of the stories that you’ve told me about my dad, I think he was really a great man. And I would have appreciated to have been able to spend time with him and get to know him.
What would he think of me? Would he be proud of the kind of man that I am, of the moral compass that I try to follow? When I got married, when I became a parent, what would he think of my kids? So I think about all the interactions that have been missed. And I’ve thought about that for as long as I can remember. Why am I named after my father?
BS: I had to keep his name going to know that there was still a Milton Leon Scott that was destined to do great things. And I find that in you. I can see your dad in you because the things that he wanted to do and didn’t get a chance to do, you made up for it. I’m so proud of you and what you’ve become and so proud to have you as my family.
END
Photo of Milton by Jourdan Christopher Stories. (Left) Photo of Beverly by Rolovision LLC. (Right)
Twenty-one-year-old Milton Leon Scott was at his home in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, with his pregnant wife and their two children on July 18, 1973, when two FBI special agents knocked on the door. The agents wrongly believed Scott had deserted the Army, and they had come to arrest him.
According to FBI statements to the media at the time, Scott told the agents he had never been in the military and would not go with them, and then he closed the door. The agents began kicking the door. Exactly what happened next is a matter of dispute. Scott’s widow said the agents dragged him from the house and, after a short scuffle, shot and killed him. She said she saw the agents kick her husband as he lay dying on his front lawn. But according to a recent Department of Justice memo on the case, the agents said Scott attacked them after they kicked in his door, and one of them shot him in self-defense. The DOJ memo states that three sanitation workers witnessed part of the incident, but none had a clear view of what happened.
After he was shot, Scott and the agents continued to fight, the DOJ memo states. The agents subdued Scott and alerted local police. Scott died at the scene.
The agents later told investigators they were fearful of Scott because they said he had yelled “Allah Akbar,” which they interpreted as a sign he intended to attack them, the Justice Department memo said. (“Allahu Akbar” is an Islamic phrase meaning “God is Great.”) One agent claimed that Scott, who was Black, had said, “Mohammed teaches that white devils should be dead.”
Initial Investigation
The FBI conducted its own investigation into what occurred and within days acknowledged it had the wrong man. Scott’s identity had been stolen by another man Scott had met years earlier. That man had used Scott’s name to enroll in the army before deserting. The impersonator was serving a seven-year sentence at San Quentin Prison in California when the agents approached and killed Scott. Nonetheless, the FBI concluded that killing Scott was justifiable because the agents had acted in self-defense.
The case was also investigated by the Baton Rouge Police Department and by the East Baton Rouge Parish District Attorney’s Office. The DOJ memo states that a grand jury convened “as a routine procedure” and was “reportedly provided with the FBI’s investigation,” but apparently did not hear testimony from the special agents. No state charges were filed.
According to news reports and documents associated with the case, several local Black leaders met with the special agent in charge of the FBI’s New Orleans office to ask about the case. Shortly thereafter, the Black leaders called for his removal from the case, saying his views were tainted by racism. The FBI declined to remove the agent.
Separately, an organization called the Baton Rouge Council on Human Relations sent a letter to the Louisiana attorney general requesting a commission of inquiry into Scott’s death. No such commission was established. The head of the Louisiana NAACP asked the U.S. attorney general to investigate the incident, but the attorney general apparently declined. The American Civil Liberties Union asked the FBI to suspend the two agents who had been involved in the shooting, but the FBI kept the men on.
The following year, Scott’s widow filed a federal civil suit, stating his death was a “direct and proximate result of the negligence, carelessness and unlawful conduct” of the FBI agents. The U.S. asked for the case to be dismissed, because at that time the federal government and its agents could not be sued for assault and battery. The district court dismissed the case. That decision was appealed, but the DOJ memo states, “The Fifth Circuit opinion, if it was issued, is not available.”
Till Act Status
The Department of Justice reviewed the case beginning in 2012, after receiving a complaint from a surviving family member of Scott’s. The family claimed the agents had misled authorities when they said they had acted in self-defense.
On May 8, 2019, the FBI closed the case, stating the statute of limitations on any federal civil rights crime had expired. Although the memo notes that the agents reported being afraid of Scott due to his use of an Islamic phrase, the memo also said there was no evidence the killing was racially motivated or that any of Scott’s civil rights were violated when the agents killed him.
Case Status closed
Closed 05/08/2019
Themes
- Closed Cases
- Closed with Living Subject
- Deaths Involving Law Enforcement
- Men
- 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)