Jesse W. Cano
Age 43 or 44
A reported unionizer and rock miner of Mexican descent
Hernando County, Florida
January 1, 1965
Jesse W. Cano was a man of Mexican descent who worked in rock mines in Brownsville, Florida, according to a Department of Justice memo. In 1965, when he was approximately 43 years old, he was reportedly attempting to help unionize miners and was “black balled” in the mining community. He went missing at some point that year and has never been found.
Initial Investigation
Based on the DOJ’s memo outlining the case, there was seemingly no formal investigation into Cano’s disappearance when he went missing.
In 1999 a woman contacted the Hernando County Sheriff’s Office to report that Cano had been missing since 1965 and that she believed he may have been killed by Ku Klux Klan members active in the county at the time.
The DOJ memo is heavily redacted, and as such, the relationship between the woman who contacted the sheriff’s office and Cano is unclear. The memo stated, however, that an allegation was made that a local member of the Klan admitted to killing Cano and placing his body on railroad tracks to cover up the murder.
Someone interviewed during that investigation said Cano received a mysterious phone call on the day he disappeared. And an interviewee claimed Cano was in a volatile relationship at the time of his disappearance.
The Florida Department of Law Enforcement took over the case later in 1999. They re-interviewed the witness who claimed to have knowledge of the local Klan member who admitted to killing, and they ran the victim’s fingerprints through Florida’s identification system. According to the DOJ memo, both the Hernando County Sheriff’s Office and the Florida Department of Law Enforcement closed their investigations without pressing any charges.
Till Act Status
In 2008 the FBI initiated a review of Cano’s case. The FBI obtained the original 1999 sheriff’s office and Florida Department of Law Enforcement files. Agents also searched relevant medical databases for a record of Cano’s death but found none. Social Security records revealed that, in 1973, Cano was declared dead by the Social Security Administration, following a petition by his family.
According to the DOJ memo, the FBI conducted at least one interview, in which the witness denied Klan affiliation and suggested that perhaps Cano had disappeared of his own accord.
Citing insufficient evidence that Cano was the victim of a racially motivated murder, as well as a statute of limitations, the case was closed again in 2011.
Case Status closed
Closed 06/03/2011
Themes
- 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)