I write mysteries…usually murder mysteries. Stories that, while fiction, have characters, clues, a crime, a resolution, justice and an ending – usually a happy one. The story that follows has all the above except a resolution, justice and an ending – or at least not one that makes any sense.

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It all happened almost 70 years ago – in another century. And, as shocking as the crime was, it really didn’t get much attention – or at least the attention it deserved. A man was murdered, a black man and a respected member of the black community. His wife was accused and even confessed to his murder. It should have all been simple…but it wasn’t.

I suspect it would have all been forgotten, just another crime that was never solved because nobody really cared. It was better left alone – sweep it under the rug and move on to something else.  Besides, it was possible that a resolution might actually be worse than the crime itself.

So it all went away for a few years – only mentioned by the locals in whispers and rumors. People wanted to forget, and eventually did…for a while anyway.

But, unfortunately the crime had all the juicy makings of a story that Hollywood loved to tell. It had sex, adultery, white/black conflict, murder, ignored clues and obvious attempts by authorities to cover up the facts of the crime.

Then came the book.  Then came the movie. And suddenly everybody began to remember. But what they were remembering was far from what actually happened - and more resembled the novel and Hollywood’s version of the murder of a black undertaker in a small southern town.

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I was nine in 1955, in the third grade, and had absolutely no knowledge regarding how the events outlined on the following pages unfolded.  Like others, my later memories about what happened were formed from a book I read and a movie that Hollywood made about the murder. All very interesting, because they told the story of a racially charged murder that occurred in the town where I grew up. It was fiction, of course. The story didn’t use real names, and even changed the name of the town from Humboldt to Somerton. But, the story that was told in the book and movie soon became fact, and if/when the incidents surrounding the crime were ever discussed, that’s what was heard.

An opportunity was recently presented which allows me to share some research, and to document what really happened in May 1955 and the months/years that followed. I’m glad it came along.

Whether you’re interested in an unsolved murder or not, I think it’s important to make sure that truth and facts are presented.  The reader can then compare them to the many stories, books, rumors and movie regarding the murder of James Welton Claybrook – an ‘Undertaker’. The reader can come to their own conclusion…as I did.

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