Frank Andrews
Age 27
A Black Alabaman out for a drink with a friend
Lisman, Alabama
November 28, 1964
Frank Andrews was a 27-year-old Black man from Choctaw County, on the western edge of Alabama.
One Saturday evening in November 1964, Andrews and his friend Charlie Jackson were walking to Jackson’s truck outside a cafe frequented by the Black community in Lisman, Alabama, when they were approached by William Elmore “Bo” Clark, a sheriff’s deputy, and Quinnie Donald, chief deputy, both white. Donald and Clark later said they were there to investigate the possession and consumption of illegal whiskey. Exactly what happened next is a matter of disputing accounts, but within moments, Donald shot Andrews in the back, according to a Justice Department memo about the case. The officers took Andrews to a county hospital, where he died later that evening.
Initial Investigation
The case was investigated by the deputies’ home agency, the Choctaw County Sheriff’s Office. The sheriff and Choctaw County district attorney then presented at least eight witnesses to a grand jury. At the end of the two-day presentation, the jury voted not to indict Donald. No records from the investigation nor transcripts from the grand jury proceeding were preserved, according to the Justice Department memo.
Within days of Andrews’ death, the FBI launched its own investigation into the shooting. The FBI interviewed Donald, who told agents he and Clark had stopped at the cafe because it was known to have illegal whiskey. He said they’d found whiskey in a jar near the cafe and were trying to find out who it belonged to when Jackson and Andrews left the cafe, heading to Jackson’s truck. Clark approached them, questioned them and told them they were arrested. Then, Donald alleged, Andrews pulled out a knife and took a step toward Clark as if to attack him, so Donald shot Andrews in the back. Clark’s account mostly supported Donald’s. Jackson, however, had a different account: He said Donald had searched Andrews then walked behind him and, without saying a word, shot him in the back. He said he did not see Andrews move toward the deputies nor pull a knife from his pocket. A knife was recovered from Andrews’ pocket at the hospital that night.
After Andrews’ killing, J.L. LeFlore, a veteran civil rights worker and the director of casework at the Citizens Committee of Mobile, investigated the shooting, asked for an autopsy and urged the Department of Justice to arrest Donald. According to a 1964 story in the Mobile Beacon–Alabama Citizen, LeFlore noted that Andrews had been shot in the back and, according to his investigation, had not advanced at the deputy with a knife, as Donald had purported, “in defense of this dastardly and culpable shooting, which represents another of the tragic ironies of race hate.”
Despite conflicting accounts of the incident and calls from the civil rights community, the FBI closed its 1964 investigation without prosecution.
Till Act Status
The FBI opened a review of Andrews’ case in 2008. Agents interviewed several people, including Andrews’ friends and family members, but were not able to identify any new eye-witnesses, according to the Department of Justice memo. The FBI also re-interviewed Donald, who offered information that conflicted with what he told investigators in 1964. In the 2008 interview, he said he had shot Andrews by accident, rather than in response to an attack. The FBI also interviewed one of the original local investigators of the incident, who also said the shooting may have been accidental.
Despite Donald’s conflicting statements, the Department of Justice concluded that there was no way to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Donald had lied, as there remained no other known living eye-witnesses. Citing this reasoning, the FBI closed Andrews’ case in 2013.
Case Status closed
Closed 11/13/2013
Themes
- Closed Cases
- Closed with Living Subject
- Deaths Involving Law Enforcement
- 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)