Samuel O'Quinn
Age 58
A prominent Black entrepreneur, husband, and father of 11
Centreville, Mississippi
August 14, 1959
Samuel O’Quinn was a prominent Black businessman in Centreville, Mississippi. The entrepreneurial 58-year-old father of 11 was not only a certified plumber, electrician and carpenter; he also ran a funeral home, developed real estate, farmed and ran a cafe in town with his wife, Ida.
On the night of August 14, 1959, O’Quinn left the cafe and drove home, pausing to open the farm gates. Before O’Quinn could get back in his car, someone shot him twice in the back. O’Quinn died as his family rushed him to the hospital.
Initial Investigation
Both state police and the FBI investigated O’Quinn’s murder, although neither agency was able to find the killer. Theories circulated about the motive, with some suggesting O’Quinn was shot for his involvement with the NAACP. But according to a later Department of Justice memo about the case, “the limited information available from the FBI’s original investigation indicates that O’Quinn may have been murdered by a person or persons interested in obtaining his land and that the murder was not connected to any of his political activities.”
In a 2008 story for Colorlines magazine, the O’Quinns recalled that a white glove was found at the crime scene, possibly a calling card of the White Citizens’ Council, at the time the largest and most influential white supremacy organization in the state. Several years later, the family learned about a deathbed confession by someone who had been friends with O’Quinn. This person reportedly said he had committed the murder for $500 and a car.
Till Act Status
The FBI opened a review of the case in 2008 and interviewed numerous people from Centreville, including O’Quinn’s relatives, current and former law enforcement officers, court and NAACP officials, as well members of the local media.
Two of the interviewees shared secondhand information about who may have killed O’Quinn. One said he had been told that a Black man named Willie Taplin had confessed to the crime on his deathbed. The White Citizens’ Council had allegedly paid Taplin for the murder. The other interviewee said O’Quinn had been killed “because the white people felt he was bringing about ‘black awareness’ in the community,” according to the DOJ memo. The second interviewee named two Black men, Frank Robinson and someone with the last name Talbin who had confessed on his deathbed. The FBI deduced that Taplin and Talbin were the same person, and that he was no longer alive. Likewise, Robinson was believed dead.
As no known suspect was believed to remain alive, the Department of Justice closed the case in 2012.
Case Status closed
Closed 05/04/2012
Themes
- Closed All Subjects Deceased
- Closed Cases
- Men
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)