This story is part of an ongoing collaboration between the Institute for Public Service Reporting and WKNO-FM public radio.
In 2023, troubling videos of five Memphis police officers beating motorist Tyre Nichols stirred outrage across the nation. Nichols died three days after the encounter.
Emotions flared again when state and federal prosecutors failed to convict officers on the most serious charges, including second-degree murder. Recently, a new federal trial has been ordered because of alleged judicial bias. For Tyre Nichols’ mother, RowVaughn Wells, each verdict reopened wounds.
“And when they read that verdict yesterday, that was them taking my son’s life away from me again,” she said at a rally at the National Civil Rights Museum.
Police killings, past and present, make true healing a multi-generational effort.
For Daryle Hatley and his brother Solomon Hatley, a house on Harrell Street in the Binghampton neighborhood of Memphis held a family secret. Both had grown up nearby during the 1970s and ’80s. Daryle had even done carpentry work next door a few years ago.
What they didn’t know until recently was that just behind the house, in 1939, their grandfather was shot and killed — by a Memphis police officer.
“The people on the next street knew the story,” Solomon said. “But the immediate family wouldn’t tell. It was like a family secret or taboo to tell, you know?”
But it wasn’t a secret in 1939. Phillip Hatley’s death made numerous headlines. At the time of his killing, he was a 43-year-old Black veteran and mill laborer living right outside of the Memphis city limits.
Elena Kuran, a graduate of Northeastern University School of Law, came across the case last year as part of the Civil Rights and Restorative Justice Project. Students investigate racialized killings or lynchings from the Jim Crow era, then try to flesh out more of the story.
“Mr. Phillip Hatley’s case had a lot of documentation,” Kuran said.
Newspapers report that it was an early Sunday morning in January when two Memphis Police officers, both first-year patrolmen, arrived at Hatley’s residence. They were drunk, according to multiple witnesses, including other officers.
“And it was under the pretense that they were investigating a robbery in the neighborhood,” Kuran said.
Elmer F. Broens and Roy G. McElroy pulled Hatley from his house and put him in the squad car. A neighbor testified that Broens acted like a “wild man.” He beat Hatley, then shoved a pistol in his mouth.
“And Mr. Hatley managed somehow to escape the patrol car and he ran back into his house and one of the officers, Broens, pursued him,” Kuran said.
He was fleeing out the back door when the officer opened fire.
“And so Mr. Hatley was hit once and then he continued to flee, was shot two more times until he fell dead over a wire fence on a neighbor’s property,” Kuran said.
The killing of Black residents by police was rarely punished in that era.
But journalist Otis Sanford said this time was different.
“Most people didn’t really care all that much when a Black person was killed back in that day,” said Sanford, who also serves as chairman of the advisory board to the Institute for Public Service Reporting. “In this particular case, it was the fact that they were drunk, off duty, the circumstances of it beating this man, all of that made the city leadership say, no, we can’t have this.”
The police commissioner at the time, Clifford Davis, a former Ku Klux Klansman, called the shooting inexcusable. “Drinking,” he said in the papers, “will not be tolerated on the police force.”
In 2023, the death of Tyre Nichols also raised red flags in government. For Micaela Watts, a reporter at the Commercial Appeal at the time, the first clue something was wrong was Nichols’ gentle demeanor being at odds with how officers reported the incident.
“And from there, it blew up faster than I’ve ever seen any story in Memphis,” said Wats, now a journalist at The Institute.
It was later uncovered that the officers were part of a special police task force — the SCORPION unit — full of inexperienced officers with inadequate supervision who were often excessively aggressive.
“And while they don’t have extra special permissions on the books, they do in their minds,” Watts said.
The Department of Justice later uncovered a litany of malpractice by MPD, including habitually failing to investigate complaints against officers. Watts called it “an awful perfect storm.”
Last December, under President Biden’s Department of Justice, a report revealed MPD had a pattern of violating Memphians’ civil rights — from unlawful traffic stops to racial discrimination, to “troubling” practices against children. It recommended federal oversight of the department.
In May, the Trump Administration retracted those findings. And then last month, President Trump announced the Memphis Safe Task Force.
A range of federal agencies including the national guard are now working with MPD and state troopers with hopes to reduce crime in the city. Amid concerns about potential civil rights abuses, Attorney General Pam Bondi told task force leaders that the Trump Administration wanted — “cops to be cops again.”
On a recent Saturday, Hatley family members gathered at Solomon’s house for a meeting. It’s a regular event now — an ongoing effort to correct an injustice.
Why did Phillip Hatley’s story disappear from family memory?
Maybe it started with the outcome. The officer who killed him was found not guilty.
Phillip Hatley’s great-grandaughter Tyra said it’s how people deal with pain.
“I feel like there’s a lot of similar storylines for a lot of Black families in the U.S.,” Tyra said, “where it’s like someone was killed in the family, and because of that, the rest of the lineage just wasn’t able to keep up with their ancestry and a lot of their history just gets lost to time because of that.”
But now they’re remembering: in poems, visits to Phillip Hatley’s grave and by starting a family foundation. It’s helped the family to heal, said Daryle Hatley.
“My thing is this: not only to share what happened in the past, but to stand strong today so that the children of the future don’t have to deal with this.”
That, he says, is justice within reach.
Listen to our extended three-part podcast, “Undue Process,” or check out our previous Civil Wrongs episodes here.
(Story published from the Institute for Public Service Reporting Memphis
