Copyright Charleston Post and Courier
ST. HELENA ISLAND – Starting his Sunday morning service, Philander McDomick spoke briefly about the rainy weather that recently arrived to this Sea Island of tomato fields, shrimp docks and roads shaded by live oaks. The associate minister of historic Brick Baptist Church then stopped the small talk and dropped a bombshell: a deadly shooting had occurred just hours earlier, only a half mile away. “We had some tragedy down here, right on the corner, if you haven’t heard about it,” McDomick said. “Latest news: 20 people injured at this time, at Willie’s club. Four people dead.” The small congregation murmured in surprise. Worshipers at nearby churches heard similar messages from their ministers that morning of Oct. 12. The faithful of St. Helena had woken to greet God but instead received reports of neighborhood slaughter. McDomick urged worshipers to give thanks. “We don’t take it for granted that we are here today, because even in our community, some people are missing,” said the minister, emphasizing the unpredictability of life. “A bullet ain’t got no name on it. You could have been passing by and still become a victim.” The mass bloodshed was foreign to St. Helena, a relaxed and picturesque place with a unique legacy in the realm of freedom and civil rights. The rural island outside of Beaufort is celebrated as the home of the Penn School, one of the first places to educate freed Black slaves during the Civil War, as well as its successor institution, the Penn Center, which became a hub and respite for civil rights activists in the 1960s, including Martin Luther King Jr. A road and park here are named in honor of the minister and civil rights leader who famously preached nonviolent resistance as the best way to battle injustice. In one sense, the early morning carnage occurred right before King’s eyes. The shooting unfolded on Martin Luther King Jr. Drive and directly across from Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Park, as hundreds of people gathered at Willie’s Bar and Grill following a local high school homecoming reunion. A poster with King’s image hangs in the park, and his visage essentially bore witness to one or more people spraying bullets into the crowd and inciting panic. No doubt King would have been appalled by the scene, where broken eyeglasses, dropped car keys and a trampled wig sat unclaimed on the ground beside four still bodies. Killed were Ashantek Danielle Milledge, a 22-year-old woman from Burton; Kashawn Smalls-Glaze, a 22-year-old man from Port Royal; Chiraad Smalls, a 33-year-old man from Beaufort; and Amos Ramon Gary, a 54-year-old man from St. Helena. News of the deaths ricocheted around the island that Sunday morning, especially after the break of church services, when people reached again for their phones. When Marquetta “Queen Quet” Goodwine first heard rumors of the shooting, she had hoped the casualty count was overblown. As the founder of the Gullah/Geechee Sea Island Coalition, Goodwine is extraordinarily protective of her birthplace. She has deep family roots on the island and has devoted a lifetime to the preservation and understanding of Gullah-Geechee culture, which developed among enslaved people brought from West Africa to the Sea Islands and coast of the Carolinas, Georgia and Florida. When the death toll became official, Goodwine worried that the shooting, which has yet to result in any arrests, might affect how people view the St. Helena community. “Black people have died unnecessarily in a place that has always been known as a safe place for Black people,” Goodwine said. Despite the shocking violence, she said the incident should not redefine the island or its Gullah culture. “We're saying that we love the culture and the community of St. Helena Island, which is peaceful; which is filled with love; which is filled with rich history; which is filled with legacy,” Goodwine said. “St. Helena is a place of victory. It's not a place of victims.” Experiment on the island About 500 years ago, Native Americans called the Escamacu likely had their first interactions with French and Spanish explorers who arrived to St. Helena. English settlers landed in 1659. They built indigo plantations that were tended by enslaved people originally taken from West Africa. These plantations remained profitable in the ensuing decades, even as indigo was replaced by other cash crops, including cotton. Then came the Civil War. After Union forces captured nearby Port Royal in 1861, plantation owners fled from St. Helena. Black residents who remained were liberated and allowed to make use of abandoned land. Predictably, some of the fleeing Confederates were appalled. “A planter paradise was almost wholly turned over to (Blacks),” said one “unrepentant Confederate” quoted in “Tombee,” Theodore Rosengarten’s acclaimed biography and journal of St. Helena cotton planter Thomas B. Chaplin. Said another: “An old established civilization was replaced by an experiment.” While these Southern men bemoaned their lost fortune, two Northern women came to St. Helena in 1862 and opened Penn School to teach Black freedmen. The school, which started in a plantation house and soon moved down the road to the Brick Baptist Church, was part of the Port Royal Experiment, a larger movement to provide academic and vocational training to freedmen. In 1948, the school shuttered and transformed into Penn Center. The organization’s mission shifted to advancing civil rights and the preservation of Gullah culture. In 2017, parts of Penn Center and Brick Baptist Church were included in the creation of the federal Reconstruction Era National Historical Park. Penn Center’s campus is located just south of the intersection of the island’s main highway, U.S. 21, and Martin Luther King Jr. Drive. Known as The Corners, the area is the heart of the community and home to a handful of businesses and attractions, including Willie’s, a gas station convenience store, and the King memorial park, also known as The Green. On the campus is a marshside cottage that served as a quiet retreat for King, who strategized there with other civil rights leaders of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. He visited at least five times, including four months before he was assassinated in 1968, to rest, write and plot strategy. Robert Adams, Penn Center’s executive director, has invoked King’s legacy frequently following the shooting. He called on the community to come together to address gun violence. “We cannot stand by while violence continues to plague our community. For 163 years, we have stood united with the residents of St. Helena Island and Beaufort County, and we firmly believe that our collective strength and resilience will guide us through these dark times,” he said in a written statement. Some islanders had already acted on his plea. The day after the shooting, a group of musicians set up on a small stage in The Green. These were the Dirty Island Boyz, a local hip-hop act fronted by JB “B.I.Z.O” Holmes, a St. Helena native and cousin to Gary. Their music explores topics like Black power and life in the Lowcountry. The song “Hwy 21” focuses on St. Helena and other places in Beaufort County, from Fripp Island to Gardens Corner and Yemassee. Holmes drops names of local roads and places, such as Seaside, Dulamo, Tombee and Eddings Point, hardly sparing a spot on the island. Holmes said his ancestors would cry about what happened at Willie’s and how it runs counter to their efforts to be free, to make their own lives on the land and raise future generations. “We can’t just wipe away all the blood, sweat and tears they spilled to have this,” he said, pointing to the crime scene across the street. “We are about the culture, the evolution and building on what our ancestors started. We don’t stand for all that bloodshed.” Same old place Relatively little has changed on St. Helena in the last century, especially compared to a neighboring island across the Port Royal Sound. St. Helena is roughly the same size as Hilton Head, and the histories of the two islands developed largely in parallel after Europeans arrived. Those paths diverged in the 1950s, when the first bridge to Hilton Head was built. Soon, the 5,200-acre gated community of Sea Pines was developed. Today, Hilton Head is noted for its golf courses, beachfront resorts and high-end communities, which 2 million tourists visit each year. St. Helena residents have long feared that similar development might obliterate their island’s rural nature and Gullah heritage. In response, a citizen-driven zoning amendment was adopted in 1999 to try and preserve the island’s unique character. "We were trying to prevent what was happening on Hilton Head, an island that was developing rapidly, threatening the way of life of Gullah people," said Emory Campbell, a Hilton Head native, a Gullah elder and the former director of Penn Center. "That's what we're trying to protect, a culture and a way of life." The Saint Helena Island Cultural Protection Overlay prohibits golf courses, gated communities and resorts. For more than 20 years, it did its job without a challenge. That changed around 2022, when a developer purchased a 500-acre plot on the north shore of St. Helena with aspirations to build a golf resort. The property — known to many as Pine Island — generated stiff public opposition. Over a three-year battle, scores of residents packed public meetings and spoke against the plans. So far, county officials have voted against the proposal. Still, development remains on many islanders’ minds. Across a small bridge from St. Helena is Lady’s Island, where there are large shopping centers and a high school. St. Helena has none of those things. Instead it’s home to a cider and coffee stand, a handful of restaurants, two gas stations, some art galleries and a Dollar General. Yet on weekday evenings, a rush hour of sorts is discernable as a steady stream of vehicles return from off island. Islanders who know St. Helena best say that everything is not like it used to be, notwithstanding rural appearances. Take William Smith of the Beaufort County school board. As a boy, he remembers farming his family’s land and pulling bass and trout from the creek. His relatives taught him some finer points of farming, like how to protect freshly picked tomatoes and the proper way to plant corn. He canned okra and tomatoes at the end of summer so his family could fully celebrate winter holidays, or have emergency rations in case they were in a financial pinch. “Our culture tells us that you put up for those rainy days,” Smith said. It’s imperative, he added, that these ways of life are preserved. “Our Gullah tradition is the heartbeat of the island. It’s not just the history, it’s how we live. It’s the way we speak. It’s how we gather,” Smith said. “We sing. We have church programs that brings everyone together. We farm, we fish, we do basket weaving … It’s part of our daily lives.” For Michael Rivers Sr., some of his most vivid childhood memories are of growing crops and operating a farm truck, which led to his first job as a school bus driver. The state representative lives in a yellow house that his family bought 92 years ago. He said he feels a duty to his home, meaning both to the local people as well as to his family’s land. He is the last member of his family on the island. “My parents did so much for me … and not only them, but the people who raised me, older people. I have an obligation to fight for St. Helena,” Rivers said. During a walk with Rivers around his house, he pointed out remnants of an old hog pen on one part of his property, as well as a former horse stable. Then he stepped into the backyard of an adjoining property, where Amos Williams lives. “Neighbor!” he bellowed. No one answered. Rivers said he is close with Williams, and the two often converse about their sons. Since Oct. 12, Rivers has felt especially obliged to lend an ear to his neighbor, who has called seeking comfort over his slain son. Amos Gary had been working as a security guard at Willie’s when he was shot dead. Williams couldn’t hold his son that night, he told Rivers, as authorities prevented him from entering the crime scene. The kids are not alright Cierra Jones has lived up and down the East Coast, but so far has always returned to her St. Helena home. The slower, quieter pace suits her, and an interconnectedness among the people keeps her coming back. Jones acknowledged shootings happen on St. Helena, where 12 of Beaufort County’s 61 homicides in the last three years have occurred. But the violence at Willie’s seemed different; this incident scared her. “That’s something we don’t have here. I’m almost 40 years old, and we’ve never had anything like that as far as I can remember,” she said. Jones posited a reason for such violence: a lack of resources for St. Helena’s younger generation. Organized sports, clubs and other activities seemed more plentiful when she was a child. “To me, when you have nothing to do, it’s nothing but trouble,” Jones said. Anita Singleton-Prather also frets about local youth. After the shooting, which claimed the life of her son’s friend, the 68-year-old prayed for wisdom. “Lord, tell me what we’re doing wrong.” she said. “I feel like we’re failing them.” Singleton-Prather grew up in Beaufort and founded the Gullah Kinfolk, a musical performance group in which she portrays the character Aunt Pearlie Sue. She has spread Gullah culture through her artwork, co-producing “Circle Unbroken: Gullah Journey from Africa to America,” which was broadcast on PBS. Singleton-Prather used to teach, including in schools for troubled kids, where she directed theatrical performances and assigned students to play inspirational historic figures like Dred Scott, Mansa Musa and Frederick Douglass. In her lessons she tells children they don’t need to make a fist or pick up a gun. She encourages them to be their “brother’s keeper.” “When I see them shooting and killing each other like this, that tells me they hate who they are,” she said. Adams, the director of Penn Center, also sees a need to engage the local youth. While reflecting on the violence at Willie’s, Adams paraphrased King, saying that riots are the expression of the unheard. “Violence is a symptom of a larger, unmet need,” said Adams. “The violence in the county, not just on the island, is a reflection on the systems that serve young people.” Setback for victory On Oct. 25, after holding their grief for two weeks, the family of Amos Gary filled the center pews inside Bethesda Christian Fellowship. They wore indigo and shouldered sorrow. The choir, clad in black and two dozen strong, projected voices that matched the thunder of the pulpit. Amens echoed. Palms stretched high. People rose from their seats, swaying with song and spirit. The minister shared part of what is known as the Parable of the Prodigal Son, from the Gospel of Luke. Throughout the Biblical tale of unconditional love, mercy and forgiveness, he wove Gary’s life story from childhood, through choices and consequences, to final days, when Gary again lived his faith. Praise will change your circumstances, Bishop Kenneth C. Doe told the more than 200 people in attendance. Like Brick Baptist Church, Bethesda stands along the short stretch of Martin Luther King Jr. Drive between Penn Center and the crime scene. “When things seem hopeless, you got to reach out for a praise,” Doe said. “You can make it if you can get ahold of a praise. A praise will bring you out. Hallelujah. Amen. Turn tears of sadness, anger… into tears of joy.” As the family filed out of the sanctuary, the choir belted out a rendition of the uplifting hymn “Victory is Mine.” “Victory is mine, victory is mine Victory today is mine I told Satan to get thee behind Victory today is mine” Outside the mourners exchanged handshakes and hugs under a clear blue sky. Behind the old church next door, wrens and robins chirped as children’s voices and light laughter carried off past the small graveyard and toward the surrounding marsh. Though the dead have been laid to rest, hard work remains. Survivors will try to get their lives back on track. Police will continue to investigate the crime and look for suspects, hoping witnesses will come forward. And the community will do what it has always done to survive, said Goodwine, also known as “Queen Quet.“ People will come together, engage with one another and begin healing. “That's how our ancestors survived during chattel enslavement, or there would be no Gullah-Geechee culture,” she said. “That's how our elders had to survive during the Jim Crow era, or there would be no Gullah-Geechee culture.” This week is Heritage Week at Penn Center, when community members will gather for three days to celebrate St. Helena and its culture. This year, attendees also will ponder the shooting at Willie’s, both its cause and aftermath. While the tragedy doesn’t eclipse St. Helena’s long and proud history, locals are hurting over the violence. Smith, the school board member, had trouble speaking about what he saw at the crime scene that night. He longs for a return to normalcy, and, like others, is worried about the mark the shooting could leave on St. Helena. “We don’t deserve a black eye,” said Smith. “Right now, we’re going through a storm.”
