Was 14-year-old a killer?

Local resident doesn't believe it, wants 1944 case re-opened

Stinney

By SHARYN LUCAS PARKER
Special to The Item

It's been 65 years since a Clarendon County jury said 14-year-old George Junius Stinney Jr. killed two white girls and that the black Alcolu boy should die for the crime. His sister, Aime L. Stinney, like his other family members, didn't believe it then, and she doesn't believe it now.

"This isn't something that I just believe," the 72-year-old Newark, N.J., woman said from her home. "This is something that I know. I know my brother is innocent."

Aime Stinney has never wavered from her version of what she remembers about Friday, March 24, 1944.

That's the day authorities said 11-year-old Betty June Binnicker and Mary Emma Thames, 8, went missing and were murdered. Their bodies were found underwater in a creek the next morning. By midday, George Stinney had been arrested. He would die in the state electric chair 90 days after the crime. Many wrote Gov. Olin D. Johnston asking for clemency, state archive records show, including the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People and various labor unions.

Although Stinney's family members have proclaimed his innocence from the beginning, their accounts – as well as those of other possible defense witnesses – were never heard during his short trial that began at 2:30 p.m. on April 24, 1944, and concluded by 4:55.

And that is just one of the problems with the sensational case that has been the basis for books and at least one movie, says a Clarendon County man who is trying to have the case reopened in hopes that a new investigation will lead to Stinney's exoneration and an apology from the state.

"A Clarendon County jury came back with a verdict, but it was the state that killed George Stinney," said George Frierson, a member of Clarendon School District 3's Board of Trustees and a community activist.

Frierson, founder of the non-profit organization A New Day, said a new witness in the case has emerged and that person has given a statement that could clear Stinney. Frierson and members of his advocacy group are seeking pro bono legal representation to help them get the case into the right arena.

"We want to see if this merits reopening this case," Frierson said.

Family members say the real killer is dead, and Frierson says naming a suspect is not his goal.

"The thing is to establish the fact that this young man didn't do it," Frierson said.

About two years ago, Frierson began collecting newspaper articles, death certificates and other documents, as well as anything related to the case that he could put his hands on. He keeps the information inside a large orange binder he carries with him. He pulls it out and eagerly shares information with anyone he thinks might be interested or in a position to help with his cause. A friend recently warned him against becoming consumed with the case.

For Frierson, a 56-year-old father of four and an Alcolu native, that is easier said than done.

"I look at the sadness of this," he said. "This was a 14-year-old boy."

Aime Stinney said she found peace a long time ago.

"There is a God who sits high and looks low," she said. "I know that anyone who had anything to do with this will have to come before a just God."

Writers, reporters and activists have courted the case for decades – all promising closure and a rewrite of history. Aime Stinney said she is always leery of proposals and promises to reopen the case and has long given up hope that her brother's name will be cleared.

The spunky great-grandmother who still keeps in contact with family members in Sumter and Clarendon counties was widowed several years ago. She shuns publicity and only consents to interviews on the grounds that journalists use her maiden name.

"Enough is enough," she said. "I have nothing to hide, but it gets to a point where you want to move on with your life. I am happy with my life right now. If someone can get something done, great. If not, I'm OK with it. Rejection is something that I can handle. I have learned to accept the things that I cannot change."

Despite the dynamics of the case, the story that shook Alcolu – a small farming community about 25 minutes from Sumter — received little national attention. In fact, it is not easy finding information on the story. Most are archived, and new stories are usually filled with rehashed details.

"Almost everything said has been by word-of-mouth," Aime Stinney said.

Frierson said, "It's like taboo."

"All of these years later, no one really wants to talk about it," he said.

Authorities involved with the investigation maintained that they had the right guy. Critics have said George Stinney did not receive proper representation and point to the absence of defense witnesses. Many say authorities wanted to make a quick arrest during an election year.

"Someone has to be the scapegoat," Aime Stinney said. "My brother was the scapegoat."

Death penalty opponents often cite the case of the 5-foot-1, 95-pound boy who was electrocuted in the old Central Correction Institute in Columbia on June 16, 1944. At 14 years, seven months and 29 days, he was the youngest person legally executed in the United States in the 20th century. Reports that have made their way through history state that officers had a hard time strapping the small boy into the chair, which was built for adults. When the electric current was turned on, his convulsing body caused the mask to fall off, exposing his face to the approximately 40 people in the room — including the fathers of the two slain girls.

Their skulls had been beaten in. An autopsy revealed Mary Emma had been struck at least six times with a blunt instrument. Betty June received at least seven blows. A handwritten report from a Clarendon County deputy stated that George Stinney confessed to the crimes and led officers to the murder weapon — a 15-inch railroad spike.

Aime Stinney said she and her brother were playing along the railroad tracks and tending their cow, Lizzie, when the two girls walked by and asked if they knew where to find maypops, which are climbing perennial passionflowers with edible fruit. Aime Stinney said it was unusual for white children to be in that area.

"We noticed them right away," she said.

She said the girls continued on their way and that she and her brother went home. She said George Stinney worked on some homework and never left the house.

She said her brother was an "A" student who loved to draw pictures. Their lives, she said, revolved around church, school and family. It is those memories and her faith in God that have allowed her to move on.

"I've lived a long time with this," she said. "The only thing I want to do is get my soul salvation in order. My brother has been out of his pain and suffering for a long time."