John Wesley Wilder

Age 32

A Black man outside a cafe with friends

Ruston, Louisiana

July 17, 1965

John Wesley Wilder, a 32-year-old Black man, was outside a cafe in Ruston, Louisiana, with a group of other Black men on the night of July 17, 1965. According to a newspaper article from the time, Ruston Police Officer Edward Nugent was on patrol when he reportedly heard “shouting and obscene language” from the group.

According to Nugent, Wilder approached Nugent when he got out of his car and asked what he was doing there. When Nugent asked Wilder his name, Wilder reportedly refused to answer, as did another Black man, Billy Williams. Nugent then attempted to arrest both men, both of whom he said had been drinking.

Bystanders gathered to watch. What happened next is disputed, but Nugent ultimately drew his pistol and fired five shots, fatally wounding Wilder.

Initial Investigation

In the days following the shooting, the Ruston Police Department issued a statement saying that Wilder had attacked Nugent while resisting arrest. The police department also said more than 100 bystanders had jeered and thrown rocks and bottles at Nugent and another officer who arrived as backup.

An inquest by the Lincoln Parish Coroner ruled the killing a justifiable homicide, determining the officer had fired in self-defense. The coroner, who questioned officers and three Black witnesses, said Wilder had his hand on the officer’s neck when he was shot.

Wilder’s brother Emzie said he’d heard from witnesses that Wilder hadn’t resisted arrest, and that there had only been about 15 bystanders that evening. In an interview with the Associated Press, Emzie said, “In the event Ruston police does not do something, I will have to seek help from the NAACP, CORE and other groups anxious to move in to make sure my brother did not die in vain.”

Till Act Status

In 2008, the FBI initiated a review of the circumstances surrounding Wilder’s death. According to a Department of Justice memo on the case, Nugent issued a statement of his version of events through an attorney, maintaining that he was exonerated in 1965.

The FBI sought records from the Lincoln Parish Coroner’s Office and the Lincoln Parish Police Jury, but neither agency maintained any records of the shooting.

Citing insufficient evidence to contradict Nugent’s account that he had fired in self-defense, and further citing a statute of limitations, the FBI closed the case again in 2011.

Un(re)solved

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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)