MICHELLE MAJOR
Co Director & Executive Producer
What drew me to the story of the shooting death of a black teenage boy at the hands of a white police officer in the racially harmonious town of Teaneck was that, although the defining event took place over 30 years ago, its timeliness was undeniable. This story is not just the story of one town, but also the story of our entire nation’s complicated relationship to race. It’s my hope that recounting the events surrounding Phillip Pannell’s killing, and the ensuing trial of the police officer who shot him, will bring about change and healing for the individuals involved, for the town of Teaneck and for our country. It’s easy to take sides quickly along traditional lines of race, religion, and affiliation; however, I ask the audience to suspend the inclination to prejudge. Whatever you think going in, allow yourself to consider the other side and, instead of pointing fingers, think of how you can personally contribute to a more tolerant and inclusive world.
DANI GOFFSTEIN
Co Director & Executive Producer
I grew up in a strange little town outside of New York City—Teaneck, New Jersey. Teaneck is a special place that proudly touts the diversity of its constituency. In any of Teaneck’s commercial districts or public facilities—parks, restaurants, shopping centers, etc.— the town’s diverse racial and ethnic makeup is on full display. But when you return home to your group’s “section of town” (mine was known as the “Hebrew Hills,” where the Jews resided), all your neighbors look exactly like you.
As a kid, I remember learning about Jim Crowe in history class and thinking that it didn’t sound all that different from what I experienced growing up. For example, Teaneck has two separate Little Leagues: White kids join the Teaneck Baseball Organization, and Black kids play in the Teaneck Southern Baseball League. On Queen Anne Road, there are two barbershops next to each other: “Chubby’s,” where White people get haircuts, and “The Chop Shop,” where Black people get haircuts. For an integrated community, Teaneck always felt oddly segregated.
I began connecting the dots one Saturday afternoon when I was eleven years old. While walking home from synagogue, my father pointed out a small yellow house on the corner of Intervale and Teaneck Road and said, “You know, a cop shot a boy in that backyard.” My father went on to tell me about the incident that had sent my hometown up in flames just two years before I was born.
After my parents divorced, the aimless, angst-ridden rebel in my thirteen-year-old self sought to expand its cultural horizons. One day, I decided to cross the “color line.” When my mother dropped me off in front of Chubby’s for a haircut, I walked over to The Chop Shop. I started getting my haircuts there, and for the first time in my life, I made friends with people who were Black. I became consumed with Black culture, and even studied the precepts of the 5% Nation of Islam when I wasn’t in yeshiva learning Torah.
I soon learned that Martyse, the owner of The Chop Shop, was a friend of Phillip Pannell, the boy who had been killed behind the yellow house. Martyse was affiliated with Pannell’s tight-knit group of friends known as “The Violators.” I’d hear firsthand accounts of what it was like during the “suburban race war.” The riot. The marches. The walkouts. The trial. The event that sparked a national discussion.
I began developing this story in 2017, doing initial interviews with friends of Phillip Pannell, police officers, residents, journalists, Rev. Al Sharpton, and eventually the Pannell family. Then this past summer, following the killings of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery, the story suddenly took on a whole new life. I returned to my hometown of Teaneck to capture how the national outrage would manifest, given the town’s unique history with such issues. The Pannell’s granted me permission to document them at a critical juncture—from June through October of 2020— when they felt compelled to share their story publicly for the first time in thirty years, willing to relive their tragedy to fight for systemic change.
What I uncovered during this time was the story of a “forgotten family,” whose Black Lives Matter began thirty years ago, seeking closure and justice in the current zeitgeist; their story exposed a town fragmented over how its history should be written.
It’s heartbreaking at times and inspiring at others. But most of all, it’s a story that has never been more important than at the current moment. For Phillip Pannell, Teaneck, and our fractured nation, now is the time to share this consequential piece of forgotten history.
TYGER WILLIAMS
Executive Producer
Tyger Williams is a film and television writer best known for the critically acclaimed urban drama, Menace II Society. The film debuted at the Cannes Film Festival as part of the Directors’ Fortnight section, was nominated for an Independent Spirit Award for Best First Feature and went on to win the MTV Best Movie of the Year award.
Currently a Co-Producer on the FX series Snowfall, his previous credits include romantic thriller, The Perfect Guy and the Netflix series Self Made: Inspired by the Life of Madam CJ Walker.
A longtime Creative Advisor with the Sundance Institute Screenwriting Labs, Williams is also an Adjunct Professor in the Writing Division at the USC School of Cinematic Arts and the UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television. He attended the University of Utah and California State University Long Beach, where he studied film, television and marketing. He is a member of the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences and the Writers Guild of America, West.
So Why Model America? And why now? Anyone who has experienced the year 2020 should understand “Why now?” While the death of Phillip Pannell might be called case “Ground Zero” in terms of the shooting of innocent Black men by police, we know that, historically, this isn’t entirely accurate. Although there may not be any camera footage or witnesses willing to go on the record, Black American men, women and children alike have been randomly killed by White law enforcement officers and mobs for decades. The duration of these crimes is in part my answer to “Why now?”
I was barely out of my teens when the incident with Phillip Pannell happened. I recall some mention of it, as I was in California at the time. I don’t remember if the coverage was heavy, or if I was just too busy being a young man and living my life.
I’ve had a few encounters with the police, and almost all of them have taken place over traffic stops, mistaken identity, suspicious behavior, etc. Any one of those interactions could have ended my life. I’m thankful none of them did, but when thinking about the Pannell case, I am sharply reminded that I am he and he is me. As Black kids, we both waded through youthful prepubescent, adolescent, and teenage years. I made it to adulthood. He did not… And so many others have not.








