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When I first traveled to Valdosta for the AJC I was under the impression that something was amiss, that Kendrick Johnson’s death was no accident. But I found no evidence supporting foul play. That certainly would’ve been the juicier story, one a good many people still believe. It’s just not supported by any facts.

Karen Bell is resigned to the fact many people believe she raised two cold-blooded killers.

“They don’t know all the facts. Some don’t want to know,” said Bell, whose boys are now in their 20s, starting families of their own.

Three investigations – local and state, with the most recent one wrapping up at the end of 2022  – found no evidence linking Brian Bell and his older brother Branden to the death of Kendrick Johnson, whose lifeless body was discovered more than 11 years ago in a rolled up gym mat on the Lowndes High School campus. Investigators with  the Lowndes County Sheriff’s Department and the GBI determined the affable 17-year-old’s January 2013 death was a bizarre, if not unprecedented, accident. 

Using a set of bleachers as a starting point, KJ, as he was known to family and friends, ventured, head-first, into a vertically stacked mat to retrieve an extra pair of sneakers resting at the base, six feet below. At some point, he got stuck, according to investigators. Any calls for help would have been muffled by the foam padding.

That official account remains unsatisfactory to Kendrick’s parents, Kenneth and Jackie Johnson, who have insisted from the beginning their son met with foul play at the hands of the Bell boys. A federal probe, prompted by the Johnson’s suspicions, seemed to follow the template of the Duke lacrosse case in which three men’s lacrosse players were falsely accused of rape. The feds eventually admitted there was  "insufficient evidence" that anyone "willfully violated Kendrick Johnson's civil rights" or committed any other crime." But the Bell brothers remained targets; a 2021 documentary, laced with sensational innuendo implicating the Bells, argued the Deep South setting -- and Valdosta in particular -- was confirmation enough that racism played a role in  KJ's death. 

On the surface, the counter-narrative, fueled by familiar tensions, makes more sense. KJ was Black, from a working class family, far removed from the levers of power. The Bells are everything he wasn’t: White, affluent,  well-connected.

Those advantages, the Johnsons allege, made possible a conspiracy of epic proportions orchestrated by Brian and Branden's father, former FBI special agent Rick Bell. A wrongful death lawsuit filed by the Johnsons in 2016 claimed the Lowndes sheriff at the time, the superintendent of schools and even the superintendent’s daughter participated in the ruse. The Johnsons filed another  lawsuit last fall accusing the Lowndes sheriff and GBI of orchestrating a cover-up.

Though it strains credulity, the grand conspiracy, or a variation thereof, has kept the murder theory alive. Any compelling evidence to the contrary must’ve been manufactured, say those who continue to push it. How else to explain away video surveillance, backed by eyewitnesses, that places the Bell brothers far away from the old gymnasium at the time KJ was last seen alive?

Only someone with influence could manufacture such a plot. As Brian Bell once said, he would’ve never been a suspect had his father been a plumber. 

According to Ashley Paulk, the Lowndes County sheriff who concluded the final probe into KJ’s murder and the investigations that followed, the Bells are victims, not perpetrators, of a malevolent scheme. Paulk was not in office when KJ died.    

"Coercion, bribery, intimidation, you name it," said the sheriff, who combed through 17 file boxes of evidence the DOJ fought to withhold. He also reviewed grand jury testimony off-limits to the public and a trove of emails, inadvertently sent, that offered a rare window into the prosecutors’ mindset.

"This was a witch hunt, plain and simple," said Paulk, who has pledged to give $500,000 of his own money to anyone who can prove KJ was murdered. The Johnsons welcomed Paulk’s probe; now, they call him a liar.

"You didn´t find nothing in 17 boxes? That´s the craziest lie you could have told,' Jackie Johnson told WSB-TV. 'We already knew what team you were on. You are not on the team of righteousness."

Paulk recommended Kendrick's mother face charges for allegedly fabricating evidence of a confession by Brian Bell. A grand jury considered the allegations in June but concluded a criminal case was unnecessary. Jackie Johnson, through a family spokesperson, denies any involvement.

“I feel for anyone who lost a child but that doesn’t excuse trying to frame an innocent man,” the sheriff said. 

The emails delivered to Paulk  also reveal, at best, a stunning lack of protocol by federal investigators. Witnesses were promised favors by prosecutors in exchange for their testimony. An autopsy review was altered. Former federal prosecutor Tom Withers said the findings “border on the criminal.”

Most of the prosecutors involved with the case have either retired or left the Department of Justice and are unlikely to face charges.

“It would have to come from the DOJ and I doubt they are eager to revisit this case,” Withers said. 

Initially, there were legitimate questions about Johnson’s death and the investigation that followed, exacerbated by gaps in the school’s surveillance footage and poor communication with the county coroner. And there was a second autopsy, commissioned by the family, that contradicted the state’s finding. A Florida pathologist, William Anderson, suggested KJ was killed by blunt force trauma.

Anderson also discovered Johnson’s organs were missing, removed during the first autopsy. The gruesome finding only perpetuated the conspiracy, though it offered no concrete evidence about Kendrick Johnson’s death.

Proof that Brian and Branden Bell killed KJ has never existed. There are no witnesses placing them at the scene of the crime, just video showing them elsewhere. Branden Bell was on a bus to Macon for a wrestling tournament. His little brother was on the other side of Lowndes High's sprawling campus, his presence captured on a school surveillance camera.  

So why, more than a decade later, do so many people still think the Bell brothers, who’ve received numerous death threats, are responsible for Kendrick Johnson's death?

The messenger

Fred Rosen saw himself as a voice for the voiceless. His resume was impressive, rising through the ranks to become an Arts and Leisure columnist for the New York Times. It's a career track that rarely detours into the sensational world of true crime novelist. 

In a 2019 interview on the “True Murder” podcast, the Brooklyn-born author said he was asked by a publisher to write a book about physicians who have sexually abused or mutilated their patients.   

“Do I do this? Because it wasn’t something I was necessarily looking to do. It was an opportunity and I went with it,” said Rosen, who died in December 2020 after suffering a debilitating stroke.

“Doctors from Hell” kicked off a prolific new career for Rosen, whose later works included “Lobster Boy,” "When Satan Wore a Cross,” “Gang Mom and the Mad Chopper” and “Flesh Collectors: Cannibalism and Further Depravity on the Redneck Riviera.”

In the 2019 interview, he recalled a conversation with a prosecutor friend to whom Rosen had complained about burnout. 

“ ‘Fred, we speak for the dead,' " said Rosen, quoting the prosecutor. "That changed me.”

Rosen was no stranger to controversy. In 2010, on assignment from Hustler magazine, he was roundly criticized for requesting crime scene and autopsy photos of Meredith Emerson, a 24-year-old University of Georgia graduate decapitated by Gary Michael Hilton, later convicted of three other murders.  

Georgia House Speaker David Ralston called the request "vile" and "disgusting." The GBI refused to release the materials, and it was unclear how this served the public interest. Hilton gave a detailed confession to investigators, telling them he killed Emerson with a car jack, cracking her skull then severing her head.  

There were no suggestions that Hilton manufactured  his account, or was coerced by authorities.   

Rosen heard about KJ's death from private investigator Beau Webster, hired by the Johnsons’ attorney, Chevene King. He immediately saw the potential in the story, writing on Facebook that it would be the subject of his next novel. 

That book would never be written. In fact, Rosen's articles about the case, which appeared on Ebony magazine's website beginning in late 2013 and continuing into 2014, have since been removed by court order. 

Rosen was, in essence, the Johnsons’ Boswell, transforming their suspicions into a compelling tale of small-town justice denied. His audience included Michael Moore, the former U.S. Attorney for the Middle District of Georgia. 

Webster had already done much of Rosen's leg work. He said an atmosphere rife with fear and intimidation permeated Lowndes High School, according to students -- provided by the Johnson family -- he interviewed. They told the investigator that KJ was lured into the old gym, ambushed,  and killed. None of them had witnessed it, nor did they know of anyone who did, Webster acknowledged. 

But they had heard the gossip. Webster later admitted he had not reviewed the Lowndes sheriff's case file, including crime scene photos. 

Rosen chose to ignore the the lingering questions. Moore, with the power of the federal government behind him, would soon follow suit. 

The prosecutor's decision to investigate followed months of lobbying by the Johnsons. Still, it was a surprising move, as, just a few months earlier The Department of Justice's Civil Rights Division had declined to pursue a case, citing insufficient evidence.

Did he know something the civil rights division didn't?   

Public pressure, said Withers, the former federal prosecutor, should not be a pretext to an investigation. It's unusual enough that the feds took over a case already investigated on the state and local level, he said. 

"What is the federal interest at the time?" Withers said. "It can't be based on rumor and conjecture. Was there reasonable belief that the investigation had been mishandled or corrupted?”

Webster's claim that his investigation paved the way for the federal probe is confirmed by emails obtained by Paulk. Rosen and Moore, said the sheriff, were on a first-name basis, regularly exchanging information about the case. When federal investigators first came to Valdosta, they followed claims provided by the Johnsons and their advocates.

Later, Rosen would report "exclusive information" he had obtained from Moore or someone involved with the federal probe. 

"If there's a pending grand jury investigation and you're talking to a reporter, let alone collaborating with them, that's highly unusual," Withers said. "It's hard to believe, honestly."

Cover-up or frame-up?

In his first two articles, Rosen wrote about a murder without any suspects. But for the story to have legs, he needed a villain, or villains.  

In November 2013, Rosen introduced Ebony readers to brothers Chris and Clark Martin, thinly disguised pseudonyms for her sons, Karen Bell said.

"It was clear he was referring to Brian and Branden," she said.  "That's when the story went national, and the harassment started."

The Bell brothers would emerge as the lone suspects in KJ's death, with a motive that Rosen traced back to 2011, more than a year before KJ’s death. Witnesses said KJ and Brian Bell -- Chris Martin in the Ebony story --  had tussled while traveling on a bus to a road football game. No one questions whether the fight actually occurred, 

Johnson won the face-off decisively, Rosen writes, a victory that would set the stage for his death.

Enter Rick Bell, Martin's father, unnamed in the story. According to Rosen, the elder Bell, an FBI special agent who investigated local law enforcement agencies and officers accused in corruption cases, was apparently so chagrined by his the fight's outcome that he personally challenged KJ to come to his home for a rematch with son Brian. 

"Did Chris Martin and his older brother,  Clark, hold a grudge?"  Rosen wrote. "Did they in some way lure Johnson into a trap at that old gym? And who delivered the fatal blow?"

Rosen could say, as many journalistic provocateurs do today, that he was just asking questions. But he never addressed the reason for the fight. And he never bothered to explore why the alleged killers stuffed the body in a gym mat where it was easily discoverable. 

Paulk, who interviewed students and coaches, said Bell was urinating in a cup when KJ playfully shoved him. The push caused Bell to pee on himself, and he responded with a punch. KJ returned a jab before the the teammates were separated.  

Witnesses said the animus ended there; "in fact, they later did a class project together," Paulk wrote. 

There were other errors in Rosen's account. Brian and Branden Bell had never talked to police, as Rosen claimed in his article (though in future articles he suggested the brothers had something to hide because they had refused to sit down with investigators). 

Rick Bell denies he ever spoke to KJ about a rematch. The source was a second-hand claim by Kenneth Johnson, who said he heard it from his late son.

While the federal probe didn't pursue all the wild claims presented by the Johnsons, the mission was the same, and the targets were the Bells. 

Doubts surface

Leigh Touchton welcomed the federal probe. She said so publicly, at a rally supportive of the Johnsons’ push for a wider investigation. 

Touchton was something of an anomaly – a top NAACP official who happened to be white. But her bona fides as a social justice crusader were well-established. She lost her job as a biology professor at Valdosta State University when she participated in protests supporting a living wage for campus workers. Touchton eventually received a $100,000 settlement from the university and the Board of Regents. 

In the spring of 2013, Touchton, at the time a member of the Valdosta NAACP’s legal redress team, was asked by local SCLC President Floyd Rose. acting at the Johnsons’ behest, to conduct a separate investigation into KJ’s death. Rose had long been the pre-eminent voice of Valdosta’s civil rights movement and had stood with the Johnsons from the beginning. 

When Kendrick's parents were arrested in April 2013 for blocking the entrance of the Lowndes County courthouse during a rally, Rose put up his own home to pay their bond. 

The following month, he organized a fundraiser headlined by the Al Sharpton. More than $8,000 was raised for a reward for information about KJ’s death. But the family never followed through and the reward was eventually withdrawn. Rose was flummoxed. 

Meanwhile, Touchton found no evidence supporting the murder theory. She ended her investigation after a 2013 conference call with the Johnsons and their attorney Chevene King. 

“They were saying things that just weren’t true, saying they’d been denied access to information that I had right in front of me,” Touchton said. “And I was not about to start calling people murderers when there was no evidence any crime had been committed.”

Touchton resigned her post with the NAACP. She was now viewed as a turncoat by some in the civil rights movement – an outcast much like Liz Cheney with the GOP. 

“It’s almost like a cult,” Touchton said of the Johnsons and their supporters. “Question their account and suddenly you’re the enemy.”

Rose also broke ties with the Johnsons, going public with his doubts about their crusade. 

“By my count, you would’ve had to have 17 people involved in the conspiracy to cover up a murder that they haven’t even proven,” Rose told me in a 2014 interview. “If this was the 1950s, I might have believed it. But why would all those people risk their jobs, risk going to prison? I just don’t see it." 

Valdosta's permanent stain 

"His body remained tied to the tree branches for two days. Curious white people came from miles around on Sunday to look upon his corpse. On Monday, the body of Hayes Turner was cut down and buried by men serving time in the county jail." 

-- from "Elegy for Mary Turner: An Illustrated Account of a Lynching," by Rachel Marie-Crane Williams

After publicly denouncing the murder of her husband, accused of killing a white planter, 19-year-old Mary Turner, an African-American woman, was abducted from her home by a white mob. They dragged Turner, eight months pregnant, to the banks of the Little River, just across the Lowndes County border, her fate already determined.

 A crowd gathered to watch the execution, held on the Pentecost, the day Christians believe the Holy Spirit empowered the Apostles to speak God's message of love in all languages.

Ankles tied together, Turner was hung, upside down, fro\ęm a a sturdy oak tree. Members of the mob doused her body with gasoline and oil collected from nearby automobiles, then lit by a match.  Her clothes were burned off her body, but Turner was still alive. 

She would not survive the hog splitting knife used by a citizen to slice open her abdomen, springing Turner's unborn baby to the ground. The screaming child was soon silenced, stomped to death by an onlooker. No one objected, and no one was ever arrested. 

Turner's death became a focus of the NAACP’s anti-lynching campaign. Valdosta, a town of about 55,000 citizens divided almost evenly by Black and white, will always bear the scars of that savagery. Most who live here agree that race relations have improved, but there's still a long ways to go.   

Turner's death features prominently in "Finding Kendrick Johnson," which claims that little has changed in this town otherwise known as a high school football powerhouse. Black residents remain under "a constant state of terror," the film claims.  There are also parallels to the 1955 murder of 14-year-old Emmett Till, killed for allegedly flirting with a white woman. 

Yet there's no allegation of a racial motive in KJ's death, not even by the parents. Federal investigators, meanwhile, had zeroed in on a new theory. It wasn't the fight on the bus that drove Brian Bell to kill. It was a girl.  

Rosen introduced the revised motive in Ebony. He wrote about a  female Lowndes High student who had a dalliance with KJ. He withheld Taylor Eakin's name, referring to her as the girlfriend of Chris Martin (Brian's psuedonym). Now Eakin was a major character in the saga, accused of luring KJ into the gym and to his death.  

Two years earlier, Eakin, then 16, had been summoned the appear before a grand jury convened during the federal investigation. She had no idea what to expect. It soon became evident that prosecutors believed she had lured KJ into the gym, as alleged by the Johnsons in their civil lawsuit. 

Prosecutors asked Eakin if Brian Bell was abusive? Were they sexually active? 

And how well did she know Kendrick? Would she ever date an African-American? Were they more than friends?

In a 2016 interview Eakin told me she didn't start dating Brian until three months after KJ's death. She did not know Kendrick and said she had never slept with him. 

Paulk said the FBI reported there was no truth to the rumors about Johnson and Eakin and there was no evidence of any telephone communication between the two. Eakin is nowhere to be seen when Johnson enters the gym for the last time

Moore had already sent Rick Bell and his sons letters identifying them as targets of the grand jury's investigation into Johnson's death. According to the U.S. Attorney's Manual, a “target” is a person “to whom the prosecutor or the grand jury has substantial evidence linking him or her to the commission of a crime and who, in the judgment of the prosecutor, is a putative defendant."

A new witness had emerged with an explosive claim linking her boyfriend, also a Lowndes High student, to the alleged murder. She said the new suspect,  Ryan Hall, had sent her a text acknowledging "Brian and them did it." 

Hall, a friend of Brian Bell, admitted sending the text but said it was taken out of context. The girlfriend, unnamed since her disclosure surfaced in secret grand jury testimony, kept pestering him about KJ's death, he said, and so he finally gave her the answer she apparently wanted to hear. Hall insisted he was being sarcastic and had no information that Brian and Branden Bell were in any way linked to Kendrick's  death.

But as prosecutors were tightening the screws, the FBI, which leads all civil rights investigations, was about to provide evidence that effectively exonerated the Bell brothers and Ryan Hall.

In September 2014, a FBI video analysis determined “(Kendrick Johnson) and both persons of interest were in different areas of the LHS campus during the time in question,” the FBI report, dated Sept. 9, 2014, states. Hall, according to investigators, was seen in the school's parking lot heading towards another wing of the campus.

Reviewing surveillance cameras from across the Lowndes High campus, the report adjusted differing times between multiple video systems used by the school that had not been synchronized. Those discrepancies had been a major part of the Johnson conspiracy. 

A month later, one year after Moore announced the federal review, the FBI agents assigned to the case told the U.S. attorney the Bell brothers and Ryan Hall were in no way involved in Johnson's death.  

Moore, according to multiple accounts, wasn't having it. Maybe KJ was killed at night, he wondered aloud. 

The FBI told Moore they would no longer investigate the case. 

"At that point it should've been over," Withers said. "Virtually every case is handled that way."

But Moore was far from finished with the Bells. 

He would first need to find a new investigative team. He enlisted officers from the Washington, D.C. police department. Moore enticed them by saying this case could "make them famous," a claim Paulk said he discovered in the files sent to him by the DOJ.

"This is just nuts," Withers said. "Clearly someone had lost their way."  

It's unclear what Moore, who often appears on CNN as a legal expert, actually thought. According to Benjamin Crump, former legal counsel to the Johnsons, the prosecutor told the parents he believed the Bells were involved. But Valdosta's former police chief, Brian Childress, said Moore told him he was being pressured from above to prosecute the Bells.

I posed these questions to Moore, who has declined repeated interview requests. He wrote in an email, "I have passed along your inquiry to DOJ.  I assume the other US Attorneys who oversaw the investigation have done the same." 

The DOJ has not responded. 

The case falls apart

At 3:30 a.m. on a muggy July morning in 2015, the Bells were awakened by about 30 armed U.S. marshals,  flanked by an armored vehicle -- a  show of force typically reserved for suspects who pose a physical threat to officers. 

For the next five hours, federal officers, armed with machine guns, combed through the Bell's home. Cellphones and computers were seized. 

Similar raids were carried out that day at Brian's dorm room and Branden's apartment. Eakin said she was awakened at 5 a.m by 15 men in SWAT gear. Her parents home was also raided. 

The raids were a bust, said Paulk. Sources close to the investigation had shifted to Rick Bell; affidavits used to secure the search warrants claimed he was guilty of witness tampering. Paulk said the affidavits were rife with errors that “never would have been approved by most judges."

Still, the skeptics are unmoved.

But if, as they allege, Rick Bell was being protected, why were the raids conducted in the first place? Were the U.S. marshals also part of the cover up?

According to the wrongful death lawsuit filed by the Johnsons in 2016, Bell had allies in every law enforcement agency that worked on the case. It should be noted Rick Bell’s duties with the FBI included investigating claims of corruption lodged against local law enforcement agencies.

In their suit, the Johnsons claimed Bell enlisted Lowndes County’s school superintendent and the sheriff to aid in the cover-up. They helped him roll Kendrick’s body in the gym mat in hopes of making his death appear accidental. And it was no coincidence, the suit implied, that the superintendent's daughter discovered Johnson's body.   

The suit was eventually dismissed. The Bells countersued and a judge ordered the Johnsons to pay attorney's fees for both sides. The Johnsons admitted, in deposition, they had no evidence linking the Bell brothers to the crime. But Kenneth Johnson didn't back down. 

"I believe ... Brian and Branden had a lot to do with my son's death," he testified. 

In his ruling, Lowndes County Superior Court Judge Richard Porter accused the Johnsons and their attorney, Chevene King, of falsely implicating the Bells.

"Their testimony shows they had no evidence to support their claims that the Bells killed Johnson or that any of the other defendants engaged in a conspiracy to conceal the cause of manner of Johnson's death, " Porter wrote.

The Bells also sued Ebony magazine for defamation, eventually settling for $500,000. By that point, the Johnsons had distanced themselves from Rosen. 

Moore would leave the case soon after, resigning to go into private practice. The case was transferred to veteran D.C. prosecutor Deb Sines, who continued to convene grand juries hoping to find something that would implicate the Bells.  

According to Paulk, the prosecution routinely defied legal norms. While reviewing the grand jury testimony, the sheriff discovered one witness had expressed an interest in attending law school. A prosecutor, unnamed by Paulk, offered to help. 

"It sounds like bribing the witness," Withers said. 

The sheriff also said he uncovered a text message instructing a witness to lie on the stand. 

"The person who sent this text was never even questioned about it," Paulk said. 

A review of autopsies by the GBI and Anderson, conducted by the Office of the Armed Forces medical examiner, initially attributed Kendrick's death to positional asphyxia, matching the initial findings. That conclusion was later amended to be "inconclusive"; a female prosecutor, believed to be Deb Sines, bragged in an email that she made the medical examiner “feel like a man so he would be open to talking.” 

Paulk said DOJ documents revealed that prosecutor had developed a "close relationship" with the man who reviewed the autopsies.   

As for the missing organs, Paulk could not determine what happened but figures the GBI disposed of them because of “advanced decomposition.” Others have pointed the finger at the funeral home that handled the body. 

'That's just what I feel'

Childress, the former Valdosta police chief, recalled a conversation with Sines after it became clear KJ had not been murdered in the school gym. 

“She told me maybe he was killed somewhere else,” Childress said. “No evidence. She said, ‘That’s just what I feel.’ “

“Either something happened or it didn’t,” he said. “I lost all faith in the DOJ that day.”

Sines, who has since retired, could not be reached for comment.  

Legally exonerated, Brian and Branden Bell have tried to put the KJ saga behind them. But it's not easy. 

Every time interest in the Johnson case dies down, something emerges to revive the story. There have been false confessions (three, at last count). 

The "Finding Kendrick Johnson” documentary claims never-before seen evidence links Brian Bell to KJ’s murder. 

The film replays a 2015 TV interview in which Bell said he didn’t see Kendrick on the day of his death. School surveillance video, uncovered by the filmmakers, showed Bell and KJ – hours before the latter’s entrance into the old gym – just a few feet away from each other in a breezeway on campus. 

It's possible Bell didn't see him, or didn't remember seeing him. The filmmakers say the FBI hid the evidence to protect Bell. But it's hardly a smoking gun. 

Karen Bell said her sons have come to terms with the likelihood that the case will follow them for the rest of their lives. 

“We left Valdosta because of the threats,” she said. “We lost friendships. (Brian and Branden) have lost out on jobs because of this case.”

Citing Moore’s investigation, Florida State University withdrew a football scholarship to Brian Bell, who was ranked among the top 50 high school football players in his class by Rivals.com. Bell was now toxic, eventually landing at Akron University, regarded as a leader in polymer science but an afterthought in the world of college football. 

Family spokesman Marcus Coleman said the Johnsons will "never give up their fight for justice." He acknowledged past mistakes from their team, saying while he believes KJ was murdered it may have been a mistake to go all in on the Bells.

"That was a decision by their former attorney," Coleman said. "Not everyone agreed that was the best way to go."  

Another investigation is unlikely, barring any new evidence. But the Johnsons persist, crisscrossing the country to lobby for support. Jackie Johnson holds frequent fundraisers online.  

There are legal bills to pay -- in 2017 a judge ordered them to pay nearly $300,000 to cover lawyers' fees stemming from their unsuccessful lawsuit. And they still have plenty of supporters, confident, in Jackie Johnson's words, they are "on the side of righteousness."  

"They will not be silenced," Coleman said. 

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