3 1/2 Minutes, 10 Bullets: The Death of Jordan Davis

The documentary explores his parents’ anguish over the death of their teenage son and the reality that his blackness brought an end to his life.

Lucia McBath in a scene from 3 1/2 Minutes, Ten Bullets
Lucia McBath in a scene from 3 1/2 Minutes, Ten Bullets Sundance

When Michael Dunn murdered 17-year-old Jordan Davis in the parking lot of Gate gas station in Jacksonville, Fla., on Nov. 23, 2012, the bullets not only ripped through Jordan’s body but also tore open the hearts of his parents, Ron Davis and Lucia McBath, before finally slicing through the post-racial lie America pretends to believe about itself.

Director Marc Silver (Who Is Dayani Cristal?) drills into that volatile intersection where the personal crashes into the political with his award-winning film 3 1/2 Minutes, Ten Bullets.

Silver masterfully weaves the narratives of Jordan and Dunn—who is now 48 and serving life in prison without the possibility of parole for the murder of Jordan and the attempted murders of his three friends, Tevin Thompson, Tommie Stornes and Leland Brunson—crisscrossing between the two until they ultimately collide at Gate gas station.

The details of the fatal incident, sparked because Dunn couldn’t bear the disrespect of the black teenager blasting his “thug music” in the vehicle next to him, are well-known. The pacing of this film, however, explores in intimate detail the devastation that Jordan’s death leaves behind.

Yes, we see the strength of his parents. African-American parents who’ve had their children ripped from them by racists unable and unwilling to recognize their humanity are always praised for their strength when overcoming the unimaginable. But it is the undiluted, backbreaking grief of Ron Davis and Lucia McBath that guides this film. Their vulnerability is palpable as they grapple with the fragility not only of their own son’s life in the face of white rage and bigotry but also of black life as a whole in the United States.

Throughout 3 1/2 Minutes, the film painstakingly illustrates the powerful words of Neely Fuller Jr.: “If you do not understand white supremacy, what it is and how it works, everything else you know will only confuse you.”

From the barrel of Michael Dunn’s gun to the courtroom in Florida to the Senate Judiciary Committee (pdf)—where McBath faced down Texas Sen. Ted Cruz, who defended the right to bear arms instead of a black child’s right to live—3 1/2  Minutes, Ten Bullets exposes the quagmire of white supremacy that traps African Americans in its grip. During the film, Davis openly wrestles with that confusion and cynicism in the face of the respectability politics that failed him. With tears streaming, unchecked, down his face, he cries, “It wasn’t like he was in a bad neighborhood. He’s five minutes from home; it wasn’t late at night … he was with his good friends, all good boys … and I couldn’t protect him.”

The absence of race from the courtroom was glaring, particularly because Dunn never backed down from his assertion that Jordan had a weapon. His attorney, in fact, continued to argue that the phantom weapon Dunn claimed to have seen was never found because of shoddy police work.

According to a 2001 study, “Prejudice and Perception: The Role of Automatic and Controlled Processes in Misperceiving a Weapon” (pdf), “violent traits such as hostility, aggression and criminality are consistently included in White Americans’ stereotypes of Black Americans. To the extent that guns are semantically associated with violence and aggression, the race of the subject may influence White Americans’ judgments of what is and what is not a weapon.”