When young Emmett Till first received his father’s ring, it was too big for him. By the summer of 1955, it finally fit snuggly on his middle finger. He wore it proudly during his trip from Chicago, Illinois, to Money, Mississippi. During his visit with relatives in the deep, unforgiving South, the symbolic reminder of his paternal predecessor remained on his hand.
Ten days after his arrival, when the 7th grade boy’s disfigured and decomposed body was pulled from the Tallahatchie River, his father’s ring was still there.
Till, whose nickname was “Bobo,” deserved a chance at a full life.
He did not deserve to die, less than a month after his 14th birthday.
Yet, when his body was found – so badly mutilated that he was unrecognizable – it was the ring bearing initials “L.T.” and an inscription of “May 25, 1943,” that helped his uncle identify him.
Louis Till had the ring made in Casablanca, Spain, while serving in the Army during World War II. After being found guilty of “general misconduct,” in 1945, the Army executed the accused soldier.
The ring, his sole possession, was returned to his estranged wife, who gave it to her son. It was the only connection young Till had to his father – a man he would never come to know; who perished as a result of the same subjugation that ultimately led to his own demise.
Unlike his father, whose death is not memorialized in photographs and news clippings, Till’s death was a stark manifestation of the deep racial hatred recorded in history books.
The same racial hatred fuels dehumanization and systemic violence against Black people even now.
70 years later, the nation is staring down the barrel of the same smoking gun, wondering when the brutality will come to an end.
A Thousand Words
The photo of Emmett Till in his final state is a cryptic reminder that whispers a thousand silent words. It represents the countless lives lost to brutality and hatred, from captivity to current affairs.
The way the young boy was murdered represents more than just physical torment. Each wound embodies the institutionalized racism that has denied Black Americans basic human rights and dignity.
The FBI autopsy results, released nearly half a century later, detail a broken skull and wrist; a gunshot wound to the head; and an eye torn from its socket. The bridge of Till’s nose was broken; and only two of his teeth remained in his mouth.
His right ear was nearly cut in half when one of the murderers used a hatchet to chop through the top of his head from ear to ear. After enduring beatings on his back and hips, his killers tried to cover their crimes by strapping a 75-pound, barb-wired cotton gin fan around his neck, before throwing him into the river.
The injuries that led to Till’s death were an overt expression of the hatred that permeated through the South. They illuminated the depth of inequality in America.
The subsequent failure to bring his murderers to justice was a catalyst for the Civil Rights Movement and a demand for national attention. When his mother, Mamie Till-Mobley, made the courageous decision to hold an open-casket funeral in Chicago, she told the funeral director, “Let the people see what I’ve seen.”
Justice Unserved
Thousands of mourners visited the Roberts Temple Church of God in Christ on Chicago’s South Side to pay their respects. The sight of Till’s mutilated body left them horrified. Those who couldn’t attend were invited to review the photos in newspapers and magazines.
The image of Till’s body, published by Jet magazine on Sept. 15, 1955, became one of the most iconic photographs in American history.
Only 12 days after his death, Roy Bryant and his half-brother, J.W. Milam, were acquitted by an all-white, all-male jury after 67 minutes of deliberation.
In 1956, the pair sold their story to Look magazine for $4,000. They bragged about Southern justice and its usefulness in protecting white womanhood. Their reason for abducting Till from his great-uncle’s home was the claim that the young boy whistled at Bryant’s wife, Carolyn.
Their acquittal was an unmistakable message that Black lives could be tortured and disposed of without consequence.
“What could I do? He thought he was good as any white man…I’m no bully: I never hurt a n***ah in my life. But I just decided it was time a few people got put on notice,” Milam said in a statement to the magazine.
“As long as J. W. Milam lives and can do anything about it, n***ahs are gonna stay in their place. N***ahs ain’t gonna vote where I live. If they did they’d control the government. They’d tell me where to stand and where to sit. They ain’t gonna go to school with my kids. And when a n***ah even gets close to mentionin’ sex with a white woman, he’s tired o’ livin’ … I’m gonna kill him.”
Tired o’ Livin
During the trial, Carolyn Bryant testified under oath (but not in front of the jury) that Till had propositioned her and physically touched her hand, arm and waist while they were both inside the store.
Reportedly, in 2007 – some 60 years later – she confessed to Duke University professor Timothy B. Tyson that her accusation was a lie.
Both her husband and Milam lost battles to cancer – Bryant in 1975 and Milam in 1980 – but the notorious liar was never held responsible.
According to a press release from the U.S. Attorney’s Office in the Northern District of Mississippi, even if she recanted her testimony, the federal government could not prosecute her for perjury. Perjury in state court is not a federal offense, and the statute of limitations for state perjury offenses expired in 1960.
The unchecked arrogance shows the lengths to which white supremacy goes to assert control and terrorize Black communities. The injustice exposed a systemic failure, allowing violence to go completely unchecked.
Igniting a Fire
Emmett Till deserved to be 84 years old this year, which marks seven decades since his death.
The ripples of the tragic lynching resonated deeply in the growing struggle for civil rights. The images of his disfigured body sparked a wave of outrage and activism, igniting a fire inside Black Americans like Rosa Parks.
Parks, who would later become known as the iconic figure of the Montgomery Bus Boycott, was personally moved by Till’s death. In November 1955, she attended a mass meeting at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church to hear a speech by Dr. T. R. M. Howard, a lead organizer and activist who participated in efforts to bring justice for Till’s murder.
According to notes from the Library of Congress, Jesse Jackson asked Parks why she refused to move to the back of the bus.
“I thought of Emmett Till and I couldn’t go back,” she replied.
A Man Was Lynched Yesterday
The effort to pass an anti-lynching bill gained momentum after the murder of George Floyd in 2020. However, it would still be another two years before a significant breakthrough with the passage of the Emmett Till Antilynching Act, which made lynching a federal hate crime.
The Equal Justice Initiative (EJI) has documented nearly 6,500 racial terror lynchings in America between 1865 and 1950. In a 2015 report titled “Lynching in America,” the organization recorded 4,500 lynchings between 1877 and 1950.
Additionally, their 2020 report, “Reconstruction in America,” uncovered nearly 2,000 more lynchings between 1865 and 1876, bringing the total number of documented lynchings to nearly 6,500.
The 1890s saw the highest number of lynchings, with each subsequent decade witnessing a decrease in frequency. The acts, however, often became more brutal.
The Emmett Till Antilynching Act was introduced by U.S. Representative Bobby Rush (D-Ill.), who was about 10 years old when he saw the photograph of Till’s mutilated body. The moment shaped his understanding of racial injustice.
The legislation passed with an overwhelming vote of 422-3, with only Reps. Andrew Clyde (R-GA), Thomas Massie (R-KY) and Chip Roy (R-TX) opposed.
Notes on the bill state that nearly 200 anti-lynching bills were introduced to the U.S. Congress during the first half of the 20th century – a period that coincides with peak lynchings during the Jim Crow era.
“It’s never too late to repudiate evil,” Rep. Rush said when the historic piece of legislation was signed.
Terror at Home
On Nov. 21, 2020, the Colorado Lynching Memorial Project (CLMP) unveiled a historical marker in remembrance of Preston John Porter Jr., a 15-year-old Black boy who was arrested, interrogated and tourtured in Denver in 1900. In a story similar to that of Till, his death was connected to the brutal assault of a 12-year-old white girl.
Tensions rose in Denver after a local press outlet declared the crime was “obviously committed by a Negro,” fueling racial animosity and calls for vengeance.
Within eight days, Porter and members of his family were arrested and transferred to Lincoln County, where a mob of nearly 300 people awaited them. On Nov. 16, the mob chained the 5-foot 2-inch teenager to a railroad stake and burned him alive.
No one was held accountable for the horrific murder. The CLMP collaborated with EJI and Denver city officials to install a marker at the site of the former Denver jail, as a glimpse of hope and a reminder of the need for continued social advancement.
Around the country, there are 138 national monuments related to Till’s story. One is located at Graball Landing along the Tallahatchie River near Glendora, Mississippi, where his body was found. Another, is at the Tallahatchie County Courthouse in Sumner, Mississippi, where his killers were acquitted. The third is in Chicago, at the church where the devastating funeral was held.
A Watchful Eye on History
Under the guidance of United States President Donald Trump, budget cuts and efforts to dismantle diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives could jeopardize the continued memorialization of Till and others.
In June 2025, a legal opinion from the United States Justice Department affirmed the president’s ability to revoke or shrink national monuments. This and other political developments draw attention to the need for education centered around history.
The painful truth is that Black boys continue to face disproportionate violence and racial injustice in America. Systemic and institutionalized racism has long shaped the lives of Black Americans; and despite decades of activism, there is a growing need for organizational programming that keeps these and other stories alive.
How Many More?
On April 6, 2025, in Amite County, Mississippi, 10-year-old Jordan Hill was struck and killed by a pickup truck while riding an ATV. The driver, Cody Rollinson, known for having flying Confederate flags at the entryway of his property, fled the scene. With the case not yet resolved, Rollinson was released on a $41,000 bond. His charges include possession of marijuana and leaving the scene of an accident.
Hill and Till are connected by incidents occurring seven decades apart, highlighting the troubling reality that injustice for Black boys is not confined to history.
Modern movements protesting the ongoing devaluation of Black life are fueled by a sordid, centuries-long record of racial violence. With stories like Hill’s continuing to make headlines, it is crucial to support grassroots efforts around systemic equity and education.
The Fight for Freedom
Till’s story is important to remember. The circumstances surrounding his death, though decades old, remain relevant today. They frame the Black community’s ongoing struggle to heal from the deep wounds of racism, and the tremendous weight of an enduring fight for justice.
We should remember him and countless others whose stories are not recorded in history books – like that of his own father – as a symbol of resilience, and a rallying cry for those who fight on. His life and death will forever be a part of the collective memory of America’s fight for freedom and dignity for all its citizens.
Till deserved to come home after visiting family 70 years ago. He deserved to dream, to build, to love and to live on in pursuit of happiness.
He deserved justice in his time, not merely remembrance after his death.
