Phillip Lafayette Gibbs

Age 21

A new Black father enrolled in pre-law studies at college

Jackson, Mississippi

May 14, 1970

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Phillip Lafayette Gibbs, the son of a Mississippi sharecropper, graduated near the top of his high school class in 1967 and enrolled in pre-law studies at the historically Black Jackson State College (now University), according to a New York Times article from 1970. Gibbs married his high school sweetheart, Del Adams. The couple soon had a son, whom they named for Gibbs during the young father’s junior year. 

On the night of May 14, 1970, Gibbs was on the Jackson State campus when violence broke out on Lynch Street, a main thoroughfare that bisected the school. For nearly a decade, Lynch Street had been the site of civil rights protests, and in the spring of 1970, tensions between students and law enforcement simmered. There were reports that Jackson State students and local youths had thrown rocks that night at white motorists on Lynch Street.

There was also a rumor circulating that Charles Evers, the brother of the murdered civil rights leader Medgar Evers, had been killed. Both Jackson city police and Mississippi Highway Safety Patrol officers responded in force to the escalating unrest, and the gathered crowd reportedly threw rocks and bottles at the officers.

Close to midnight, officers faced a crowd outside a women’s dorm and fired more than 150 rounds into the group and at the dormitory, according to a special report from a President’s Commission on Campus Unrest. The barrage lasted about 28 seconds, shattering windows and sending the crowd diving for cover. An FBI investigation found that nearly 400 bullets or pieces of buckshot struck the dorm, the report said. A dozen students were injured, and two young men died: James Earl Green, a high school student, and Gibbs. Gibbs’ body was found under a magnolia tree, with a gunshot under his eye. He was 21.

Initial Investigation

A local grand jury was convened, soon followed by a federal grand jury. According to a 1970 New York Times article, the federal grand jury was convened when local law enforcement refused to turn over physical evidence to federal investigators. 

The local grand jury declined to indict any of the officers involved in the shooting deaths. The officers claimed they had fired in self-defense and said there was sniper fire coming from Alexander Hall.

President Richard Nixon established the President’s Commission on Campus Unrest, which produced a lengthy report about the violence and said there was “conflicting evidence” about the officers’ claims. Issued in September 1970, the report said that “even if there was sniper fire at Jackson State” it was “completely unwarranted and unjustified” for officers to unload a barrage of gunfire at students. The report also called the local grand jury’s report “patently inadequate.” In further condemnation, the report states: “The Commission concludes that racial animosity on the part of white police officers was a substantial contributing factor in the deaths of two black youths and the gunshot injuries of twelve more.”

Despite the damning report from the commission, the federal grand jury, which reconvened in December 1970, also declined to indict any officers. 

Gibbs’ and Green’s families joined a number of injured students in suing the city and state. The victims and their families were represented by Constance Slaughter-Harvey, who had just become the first Black woman to receive a law degree from the University of Mississippi. A U.S. District Court jury in Mississippi ruled in favor of the defendants, and on appeal, the Fifth Circuit upheld the decision. The Supreme Court declined to hear the case. 

The fatal shooting at Jackson State occurred less than two weeks after members of the National Guard killed four students during protests at Kent State University in Ohio and received considerably less national attention. In honor of Green and Gibbs, Jackson State renamed the area where the two young men were killed the Gibbs-Green Memorial Plaza. The plaza is now a “hub of activity and activism for students,” such as voter registration drives, according to the school’s website. 

Till Act Status

Gibbs’ and Green’s names first appeared on a list of cold cases opened by the federal government under the Emmett Till Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Act in 2019. 

Case Status open

Themes

  • Incident on Campus
  • Deaths Involving Law Enforcement
  • Men
  • Open Cases

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)