– Families of 1980 Liberian Coup Victims to Dedicate Mausoleum and Research Centre on July 1st
Monrovia —Womenvoices Newsroom – Relatives of officials executed during Liberia’s brutal 1980 military coup have announced plans to establish a public mausoleum and research centre at the Baptist Seminary Compound. The project aims to preserve the memory of those lost and foster national reconciliation through truth and education.
In an exclusive interview, Cllr. Dr. Yvette Chesson Gibson, daughter of the late Justice Minister Joseph Jefferson Francis Chesson, and spokesperson for the “April 22nd Memorial Group,” shared the motivation behind the initiative.
“Our fathers were denied lawyers and the right to appeal; they were summarily executed for offenses that did not carry the death penalty,” Gibson said. “We want the Liberian people—especially the younger generations—to understand what happened. Our aim is to ensure it never happens again.”
The Tragedy of April 22, 1980
By the end of April 1980, most of the cabinet members of President William R. Tolbert Jr.’s administration had been put on trial in a kangaroo court and sentenced to death. Thirteen officials were publicly executed by firing squad on April 22 at a beach near the Barclay Training Center in Monrovia. The victims included:
– Frank E. Tolbert — Brother of the president and President pro tempore of the Senate
– Richard A. Henries — Speaker of the House of Representatives
– E. Reginald Townsend — National Chairman of the True Whig Party
– P. Clarence Parker II — Chairman of the National Investment Council and Treasurer of the True Whig Party
– James A. A. Pierre — Chief Justice of the Supreme Court
– Joseph J. Chesson Sr. — Minister of Justice (father of Yvette Gibson)
– Cecil Dennis — Minister of Foreign Affairs
– Cyril Bright — Former Minister of Planning and Economic Affairs
– John W. Sherman — Assistant Minister of Commerce and Trade
– James T. Phillips — Former Minister of Finance and Agriculture
– David Franklin Neal — Former Minister of Planning and Economic Affairs
– Charles T. O. King — Deputy Minister for Agriculture
– Frank J. Stewart Sr. — Director of the Budget
Cecil Dennis was the last to be executed, reportedly staring down his killers and uttering a prayer. Journalist Larry C. Price described the scene as a “nightmarish scenario,” with screaming crowds witnessing the murders.
Only five members of the Tolbert administration survived the upheaval. Among them was Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, who later became Liberia’s President; Bennie Dee Warner, then Vice President; Florence Chenoweth, an agricultural minister who escaped to Sierra Leone; and Burleigh Holder, Minister of National Security. Sirleaf and Chenoweth would later return to active politics after the death of Samuel Doe.
The Aftermath and the Path to Reconciliation
Following the coup, Samuel Doe declared himself a general and formed the People’s Redemption Council, which ruled Liberia until his election as president in 1985. His governance was marked by allegations of authoritarianism and tribal discrimination. Doe’s rule ended violently in 1990 when he was murdered during the Liberian Civil War.
Today, Liberia continues to grapple with its past. Discussions about establishing a War and Economic Crimes Court are ongoing, but the families emphasize that justice and reconciliation are intertwined. “Whether or not prosecutions occur, the country still needs a place of memory,” Gibson stated. “Reconciliation is hollow without truth, and justice is incomplete without remembrance.”
The Memorial Project
Scheduled for dedication on July 1, 2025, the new memorial will comprise:
– A White-Stone Mausoleum inscribed with the names of more than 20 victims, including President Tolbert and his security detail, as well as Justice Minister Joseph J. F. Chesson, who was my father.
– The April 22nd Memorial Library & Research Centre, housing digitized archives, oral histories, and biographies of the victims—who helped draft Liberia’s laws, pioneered in sports, and contributed to regional judicial institutions.
– The Youth Discovery Hall, where students will access records, learn Liberia’s true history, and be inspired to uphold the rule of law.
The organizers are calling for photographs, personal papers, and artifacts, which will be collected via an online portal launching next week, with an estimated project cost of US$550,000—one-third already pledged by families and private donors.
Why Reconciliation Matters
Some question the focus on reconciliation when a future court might prosecute remaining perpetrators. Gibson responds: “Justice and reconciliation are not mutually exclusive; each complements the other. If we can lawfully convict even one living perpetrator, it sets a precedent—through fairness, not violence.”
She also challenges the oversimplified narrative that the 1980 violence was “Congo versus Country.” “Many of those executed had indigenous roots,” she notes. “The real divide was socioeconomic—between the elite and the marginalized. Turning it into an ethnic story obscures the deeper lessons about power and inequality.”
A Legacy for Future Generations
The memorial aims to teach Liberians that their heroes—those who drafted laws, organized Liberia’s first Olympic delegation, and helped establish regional courts—are giants on whose shoulders they stand. “Liberian children, whatever their surname or dialect, must learn they are descendants of pioneers,” Gibson emphasizes. “Giants fall only when the rule of law gives way to the rule of the gun.”
Looking Ahead
Groundbreaking for the project is scheduled for early July, with events including an inter-faith memorial service, a national symposium on due process, and a student essay competition titled “Justice: Liberia’s Shield.”
As Liberia faces its past, the memory of those lost on April 22, 1980, stands as a testament to the resilience and hope of a nation committed to truth and justice.
“A Nation’s Reckoning: Remembering, Reconciliation, and the Fight for Justice”
(A Narration from Cllr. Dr. Yvette Chesson Gibson, written by Helen Nah Sammie and Edited by Kebeh Sammie)
It was just before dawn on April 14, 1980, when a knock at the door shattered the quiet of Monrovia. Uniformed boys—most no older than I was—carried rifles that looked heavier than their small frames. They had a single command: “Bring the Justice Minister.”
That Justice Minister was my father, Joseph Jefferson Francis Chesson—a man who believed fiercely in Liberia’s laws and the rule of justice. His Christian name was Joseph; his calling was Justice. But in the improvised courtroom of the new regime, he was denied his rights—no counsel, no appeal, no voice. On April 22, without seeing a lawyer, without a trial transcript, he and twelve other officials were led to the Barclay Training Center beach and executed at sunrise. They were accused of crimes they did not commit—corruption, abuse of power, even—absurdly—leading Liberia to its first Olympic Games. None of those charges, even if proven, warranted the death penalty. Yet, under the shadow of gunfire, the statutes were rewritten in gunpowder.
Forty-five years later, the scars of that day remain etched in our collective memory. We—the widows, the children, the nephews, and nieces—call ourselves simply “the April 22nd Memorial Group.” We include families of the thirteen men executed that day, of President William R. Tolbert Jr. and his aides, who were killed on 12 April, and of public servants who disappeared amidst the chaos that followed. Today, most Liberians under thirty do not know our fathers’ names; many older citizens still do not know where their bodies lie. Silence has long been our country’s way of coping, but silence feeds repetition.
Our purpose now is not to reopen old wounds or seek vengeance. The graves have already taken most of the trigger-pullers. Our mission is remembrance, reconciliation, and a clear warning: never again must Liberians be killed because due process was inconvenient.
On July 1, 2025, we will mark a pivotal moment in our nation’s healing. We will dedicate three symbols of memory and hope on the very ground where those tragic events unfolded:
– A white-stone Mausoleum, inscribed with the names of over twenty victims—including my father, Joseph J. F. Chesson, and President Tolbert—ensuring their stories are never forgotten.
– The April 22nd Library & Research Centre, housing digitized archives of the victims’ lives—jurists, diplomats, economists, sports pioneers, security architects—and serving as a resource for truth and education.
– A Youth Discovery Hall, where students will read the trial records that were never conducted, and where history will be written by Liberians, for Liberians.
Some ask why we emphasize reconciliation amid discussions of establishing a War-and-Economic-Crimes Court. Our response is simple: justice and reconciliation are inseparable. Justice without truth is hollow; reconciliation without memory is incomplete. If a living perpetrator is ever lawfully convicted, it sets a precedent—through fairness and adherence to the rule of law, not the gun.
We also dispel a common myth—that 1980 was merely “Congo versus Country.” The reality is more complex. Many of those executed had indigenous roots or support; the real divide was socioeconomic—between the privileged few and the marginalized many. Liberia’s giants—those who helped draft laws, pioneered in sports, and built regional institutions—must be remembered. Our children need to learn that Liberia’s strength lies in its rule of law, not in the rule of the gun.
As we prepare for the July 1 ceremony, we honor the memory of those lost in the nightmarish dawn of April 1980—when thirteen men, including my father, were murdered in front of a jubilant crowd. Cecil Dennis, the last man to face the firing squad, reportedly stared down his killers and uttered a prayer. Their sacrifice, and the silence that followed, shaped our history in ways we are only beginning to understand.
This act of remembrance is our act of patriotism. It is a gift to Liberia—a firm affirmation that the rule of law must always be our guiding star. It is also a call to our young generation: you stand on the shoulders of giants. Liberia’s true greatness is rooted in justice, not violence.
When we raise the stone, open the archives, and speak the names, we reaffirm our commitment: memory is our act of patriotism; reconciliation, our gift to the future. Because only through truth and remembrance can Liberia truly heal and build the just, united nation we all aspire to be.
