Shadows of Doubt – The Atlanta Child Murders and a Legacy of Distrust

Between 1979 and 1981, Atlanta lived through one of the darkest chapters in its history: the Atlanta Child Murders. At least 29 young Black children and 2 adults were brutally killed. Wayne Williams, a young Black man, was convicted of two murders of adult men (who were eventually connected to the case). Authorities then hastily attributed 22 other murders—including those of the missing and murdered children—to Williams and declared the cases closed. To this day, many in Atlanta’s Black community remain unconvinced.

The doubts run deep because Williams was never formally tried for the child murders. Instead, his conviction rested on circumstantial evidence, fiber analysis, and witness testimony—tools many argue would not withstand today’s forensic scrutiny. What’s more, the decision to pin nearly two dozen cases on him without trial, closing investigations in the process, left families without the closure of due process and fueled suspicions of a cover-up.

This suspicion is amplified by the context of race. In the late 1970s, Atlanta had elected its first Black mayor, Maynard Jackson, and city resources were being redirected to uplift Black businesses and communities. Rumors circulated at the time that the Ku Klux Klan had threatened to kill a Black child every month in retaliation. Yet, that angle was quietly swept aside by law enforcement and the mainstream press. Instead of exploring the possibility of racially motivated terror, officials pursued—and ultimately convicted—a lone Black man.

Let keep it a buck, serial killings in America are “ white men’s crime.” The sudden attribution of nearly 30 murders of Black children to Wayne Williams strained credibility in the eyes of many. To them, it seemed too neat, too convenient, and too dismissive of the climate of racial violence simmering in Georgia.

Decades later, those doubts remain. In 2019, the City of Atlanta reopened the investigation, acknowledging the need to revisit evidence with modern technology. That decision alone speaks volumes: it is an admission that the story, as told in 1981, may not be the full truth.

The Atlanta Child Murders are not just about Wayne Williams—they are about trust, power, and race in America. The failure to transparently pursue every lead, particularly the Klan’s rumored involvement, compounded the pain of grieving families and cemented a sense that Black lives were not given the same protection as others.

Until every unanswered question is confronted, the Atlanta Child Murders will remain not only a tragic memory, but a symbol of the deep chasm between Black communities and the institutions sworn to protect them. The truth—whatever it may be—deserves to be told in full.

Remembering The Village Post

Coconut Grove has always been a community with a unique spirit, one that thrives on creativity, diversity, and storytelling. In the 1960s and 1970s, that spirit found its voice in The Village Post, a local newspaper and magazine that gave a platform to Grove writers, artists, and residents. A vintage 1968 issue still circulates among collectors, reminding us of the publication’s role in chronicling the culture and character of the Grove at a pivotal moment in its history.

Though The Village Post eventually folded, its influence lingered. In the 1990s, the name re-emerged briefly as a neighborhood newsletter, keeping alive the tradition of local storytelling. Today, echoes of that legacy occasionally appear on the here in the Robert Hall Report (blog,) where it is honored as a tribute to the original magazine.

While the Grove’s news today comes from established outlets and community platforms, the memory of The Village Post reminds us that local journalism is more than just headlines—it is the preservation of community identity, the stories of the people who live here, and the art of capturing a neighborhood’s voice. In a time when local reporting struggles to survive, we would do well to remember the example set by The Village Post and ensure the Grove never loses its voice again.

Africa Launches Continental Internet Exchange (CIX) to Cut Costs and Assert Digital Independence

September 2025 – In a major step towards digital sovereignty and economic empowerment, African governments and tech companies have jointly launched the Continental Internet Exchange (CIX), a pan-African infrastructure initiative aimed at reducing internet costs and dependency on foreign tech giants.

Unveiled at the beginning of September, the Continental Internet Exchange marks a turning point in the continent’s digital development. Unlike traditional internet exchanges that often rely on foreign-owned infrastructure—most notably operated by companies like Microsoft, Amazon, and Google—CIX is entirely owned and operated by African governments and local private enterprises.

“This is about Africa owning its future,” said Dr. Amina Sefu, Director of the African Digital Sovereignty Initiative. “By keeping data and traffic within the continent, we not only reduce costs, but also enhance security, performance, and innovation.”



Cutting Costs, Increasing Access

One of the primary goals of the Continental Internet Exchange is to dramatically lower internet costs across Africa. Until now, much of the continent’s internet traffic has been routed through data centers in Europe, North America, or Asia, driving up latency and costs due to international bandwidth charges.

With CIX, data can now be exchanged locally across African borders, allowing for faster, more affordable, and more reliable internet access for individuals, businesses, and institutions. This change is expected to benefit not only urban hubs but also rural and underserved communities that have long struggled with expensive or unreliable connectivity.

A Vision for 4 Billion Users

While Africa currently has a population of around 1.5 billion people, the initiative’s backers see enormous potential in the future. With ongoing population growth, digital transformation, and increasing mobile penetration, the CIX aims to support over 4 billion users on the continent in the coming decades—positioning Africa as a global leader in digital infrastructure.

The project also includes investments in regional data centers, fiber-optic backbones, and localized cloud services, laying the foundation for homegrown tech innovation and entrepreneurship.

Challenging Big Tech Dominance

By creating a self-sufficient digital ecosystem, African leaders hope to reduce reliance on multinational tech companies that have historically controlled much of the internet infrastructure. While partnerships with foreign firms will continue in various capacities, CIX represents a shift towards a more balanced and equitable digital landscape.

 “We’re not closing our doors to the world,” said Samuel Kofi, CTO of WestNet Africa. “We’re simply making sure Africa is at the table—not just as a consumer, but as a creator and controller of digital infrastructure.”



Looking Ahead

The successful launch of the Continental Internet Exchange could serve as a model for other regions seeking to reclaim control over their digital futures. As implementation scales and adoption increases, CIX is poised to play a critical role in transforming Africa from a digitally dependent continent into a digitally empowered one.

Why Artists Get Canceled but News Outlets Don’t

In today’s world, an artist can say or do the wrong thing and instantly face backlash. Social media, fans, and corporate sponsors are quick to “cancel” them, often cutting off opportunities overnight. But when it comes to local news outlets—institutions that shape how communities see themselves and each other—the same level of accountability doesn’t apply.

For decades, many local news stations have thrived on a harmful formula: crime leads. When viewers tune in, they are more likely to see mugshots of young Black men than balanced coverage of the community. Crime is not a cultural event, yet outlets repeatedly frame it as if it were tied to race. This creates and reinforces damaging stereotypes, casting entire communities as dangerous while ignoring broader systemic issues.

Now, with gentrification changing the face of many urban neighborhoods, those same areas once portrayed as “crime-ridden” are suddenly painted in a different light. Coffee shops, breweries, and yoga studios replace decades of headlines about violence. The question is: where did all that crime coverage go? Did the crime disappear—or did the story just stop fitting the narrative once new, wealthier residents moved in?

News outlets have a responsibility to report accurately and fairly. Public safety matters, but so do stories of resilience, creativity, and progress that exist in every community. Continuing to operate under the outdated assumption that news is for white men aged 35 to 65—an audience that supposedly doesn’t want to see white crime or uplifting stories from Black neighborhoods—is both lazy and harmful.

If we’re quick to cancel artists for their words, then news outlets should be held to the same standard for the images and narratives they push daily. If they continue to fall short, maybe it’s time for them to cancel themselves.

The Village Post

Coconut Grove: Where Miami’s Roots Took Hold


MIAMI — Before the Mayfair, CocoWalk, and Dinner Key Marina, Coconut Grove was a wild, sun-drenched frontier—a crossroads of cultures, smugglers, seaplanes, and early settlers. Often called Miami’s oldest neighborhood, its history is a rich mosaic of indigenous roots, Black Bahamian resilience, and early entrepreneurial spirit.

The story begins with the indigenous black Indians called  TheTequesta people, South Florida’s original inhabitants, who lived in the region for thousands of years. Their deep connection to the land laid the foundation for what would become Coconut Grove.

In the 1870s, Black Bahamian immigrants began arriving in South Florida, many of whom were skilled carpenters, stonemasons, and sailors. They built much of Coconut Grove by hand, from humble homes to community churches—and even the famed Peacock Inn, founded in 1882 by English settlers Charles and Isabella Peacock. The inn became a magnet for naturalists, artists, and explorers drawn to the Grove’s untamed beauty.

Just years earlier, in 1873, Dr. Horace P. Porter, the area’s first postmaster, had officially named the community “Cocoanut Grove”—an antiquated spelling that stuck for decades. While Porter contributed to the Grove’s development, he’s also remembered for an attempt to defraud Isabella Beasley, a local widow whose husband, Edmund Beasley, built one of the area's first homesteads in 1868.

By the 1920s, Coconut Grove took on a new role—this time as a key player in the high-stakes world of Prohibition-era rum-running. Enter Gertrude “Cleo” Lythgoe, known as the “Queen of the Bootleggers,” who used her connections in the Bahamas to smuggle alcohol into the United States. Bahamian laborers, already familiar with the waterways and terrain, were hired to ferry illegal shipments into hidden coves and quiet docks around the Grove. The proximity between the Bahamas and Coconut Grove made it a natural hub for illicit trade—and the Grove's tangle of mangroves and unpatrolled shores made enforcement nearly impossible.

Not far from the smuggling routes, another transformation was taking shape—one that would redefine international travel. In the late 1930s, Pan American Airways selected Coconut Grove’s waterfront as the base for its flying boat operations. The airline built its seaplane terminal at Dinner Key, where massive Clipper planes ferried passengers across the Caribbean and Latin America. Today, the terminal lives on—repurposed as Miami City Hall, a civic landmark that once buzzed with the energy of international air travel.

Through it all, Coconut Grove remained a magnet for visionaries and eccentrics. From the Coconut Grove Playhouse to the Popular Goombay Festival , tand the Art festival,  he neighborhood has long nurtured a spirit of creative rebellion.

But the Grove has also wrestled with its contradictions— from Red lining, and tge new red lining ie, gentrification has erased parts of its past. Longtime residents, particularly from the Black community, and long time business in the Village have seen their neighborhoods transformed or displaced in the name of progress.

Still, the spirit of Coconut Grove endures. It’s a place where seaplanes once soared, rum-runners once hid, and where the streets still echo with the stories of those Bahamians who built it.