When I was writing Closed Ranks, I used to think about this day as a marker. December 2, 2025 would be the 50th anniversary of the killing of Bernard Whitehurst, Jr.— an unhappy anniversary, certainly not something to celebrate, but a day to mark when the time came. I learned about this story and began researching it in the fall of 2013, when his death was thirty-eight years in the past. It was an informal goal of mine to have the story recognized and acknowledged by the 50th anniversary, which is today. The book was published in late 2018, just prior to the 43rd anniversary, and seven years later, the story of the Whitehurst Case has still not received the attention it deserves. Nor has his family gotten the justice they deserve. I knew that my book would not give them that justice, but I have hoped that it could be a stepping-stone toward greater recognition.

For those unfamiliar with the Whitehurst Case, Bernard Whitehurst, Jr. was a 33-year-old married father of four, who worked primarily as a janitor, when he was shot and killed by a Montgomery, Alabama police officer on December 2, 1975. Whitehurst, who was African American, was known to police. He had a significant criminal record, which went back to the mid-1960s, and a documented history of mental illness. On the day he was killed, a small grocery store had been robbed, and in the search for the robber, the police found Whitehurst walking nearby. His clothes did not match the description that the store owner gave, but he was pursued because he ran when he saw police officers. Whitehurst’s movements through a west Montgomery neighborhood sent the foot chase into a backyard of an abandoned house on Holcombe Street, where an officer shot him. Other officers were close behind but did not witness the shooting. Whitehurst died there, near a back fence among tall grass and discarded trash. The officer who shot him claimed that Whitehurst shot first, and soon, a pistol was located in the weeds near his right hand.

The situation quickly became more significant when rumors began to swirl that Whitehurst was not armed that day, that the gun found near his hand had a convoluted history, and that it may have been placed there by the police. At that point, “The Whitehurst Case” became a thing. Throughout 1976 and into the spring of 1977, its significance grew. The details of the case, which are complex, can be found in Closed Ranks, but I can share the results here in simpler terms. The district attorney worked the case, state’s attorney general intervened, nearly a dozen police officers either resigned or were fired, the police chief resigned, and the mayor resigned. Yet, the Whitehurst family’s federal lawsuit failed both in a lower court and on appeal. No one went to jail, and no monetary compensation was paid. Those facts were true in 1977, and they are still true today.

Almost everyone associated with public scandal of the Whitehurst Case has passed away. But the victim’s brother, his widow, all four of his children, and many grandchildren are still alive. So are other friends and relatives. So are many Montgomerians who never knew Whitehurst or his family but were living here to witness a troubling episode in our local history.

So, you may be asking, what has been done? In recent years, two different historical markers have been erected. The first came in 2012 across from City Hall, before I began working on Closed Ranks. Then another was placed at the site of the shooting, on Holcombe Street, in 2018. More recently, in October 2020, a mural was unveiled downtown on Montgomery Street, near the Rosa Parks Museum.