When Lin (better known to friends and enemies alike as “Spit”) Newborn and Daniel Shersty were murdered by neo-Nazi skinheads in the early hours of July 4, 1998, it shook our little community of artists and activists in Las Vegas. It’s not that the violence on behalf of white supremacists was shocking–racist skins were always stirring up trouble at shows and parties and Spit had been targeted and assaulted before. It’s the fact that this was methodically planned, that Spit and Dan were lured out to the edge of town by young women under the pretense of doing a little early Fourth of July partying in the desert (not atypical for us young people in Vegas back then), only to find John Butler and his crew of Independent Nazi Skins waiting, armed and ready not for a fight, but an execution. Spit–being not just Black but perhaps the most prominent anti-racism activist in Southern Nevada at the time–was the target, but the fact that Dan, a white U.S. Air Force serviceman, was taken out too (whether because he was considered a “race traitor” or just because it would have been too risky to let him live) demonstrates the “scorched Earth” approach these neo-Nazis had taken.
Five years ago, as the 20th anniversary of their murders approached, I was thinking about Spit and Dan, and how what happened to them felt even more tragic in the face of what was happening contemporaneously in the Trump era. The global rise of neo-fascism. The xenophobic and anti-immigrant sentiment that was felt most sharply in Europe but creeping up in the United States as well. The growing prominence and platforming of the “alt-Right” and groups like the Proud Boys. Charlottesville. The MAGA movement. The both sides-ism that was being applied to white nationalists and anti-fascists. It all just made the unintentional sacrifice made by Spit and Dan feel all the more hollow.
I actually first registered with the WGAW a proposal for a documentary called Murdered on the Fourth of July in April 2018, two months before I even started shooting Parkway of Broken Dreams. I knew I wanted to tell the story of what happened as a documentary of some form. I knew it was, sadly, topical. But then the Parkway train gathered full steam and “Murdered” was put on the backburner–but always simmering. As I was shooting interviews for Parkway, inevitably, the subject of what had happened to Spit and Dan kept coming up. Along with a few other tragic incidents–deaths of friends by overdose, the kidnapping and murder of dancer Ginger Rios, the shooting of poet John Emmons–Spit and Dan’s deaths signaled the end of an era of progress and creative prosperity for the underground cultural scene in Las Vegas. For many, it was the final straw that influenced their decisions to leave the city altogether.
When I was doing press for Parkway, I was often asked what I was going to work on next (as if I had to work on something new!). I knew it was going to be a documentary about the circumstances surrounding what happened to Spit and Dan. I knew it was going to be called “Murdered on the Fourth of July.” But I wasn’t ready to announce it, to talk about it, to be held publicly accountable for getting it done and getting it right. Plus, I was just burnt out after finishing the release and promotion of my last film. I needed time.
Over the last year, I’ve been working mostly quietly in the background, gathering footage and photos, conducting interviews, requesting police reports, preparing materials, and assembling a small team to support the telling of this story. And today, on the 25th anniversary of losing Spit and Dan, I’m finally ready (I think!) to announce that work on my next feature documentary, Murdered on the Fourth of July, is officially underway.
We have a lot of work to do (and I do mean “we”–I’m not going it alone this time, and among the crew being assembled, I am thrilled to have on board the talented filmmaker Roudi Boroumand as a co-producer on this project), and a lot of money to raise to give this story the visual treatment it properly demands (more on that in coming weeks), but this is a glimpse at what’s to come. If you’re interested in learning more, sign up for updates at the film’s official website, and if you’re interested in contributing to the project, either by sharing your stories, donating videos or photos, or making a financial contribution to help get this thing made, reach out and let me know.
This isn’t an emotionally easy endeavor, but hopefully it’s one that brings a sense of closure for a lot of people. And for others, an awareness of the cyclical nature of hate that we must always be vigilant in standing against. Because on the Fourth of July, we’re supposed to celebrate freedom from tyranny–and that should include the tyranny of white supremacy.