The Justice Department in a report released Friday concluded "no avenue for prosecution exists" for the crimes carried out during the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre, one of the deadliest series of murders in U.S. history.

The big picture: The findings come roughly three months after the DOJ launched its first-ever federal probe into the coordinated attack that left an estimated 300 Black residents dead and decimated the thriving Greenwood community, also known as "Black Wall Street."

• The event is widely regarded as the worst race massacre in U.S. history.
• The DOJ noted in its report — which corroborates survivor testimonies and existing research — that its conclusion was "despite the gravity of the department's findings." It was also the federal government's first comprehensive acknowledgment of the massacre.
• The report confirms that the massacre was not just mob violence but a coordinated military-style attack that involved systematic arson, looting, and killings carried out by white residents, some of whom were deputized by the Tulsa police.

What they're saying: Assistant Attorney General Kristen Clarke of the Justice Department's Civil Rights Division called the massacre "a civil rights crime unique in its magnitude, barbarity, racist hostility and its utter annihilation of a thriving Black community."

• "Until this day, the Justice Department has not spoken publicly about this race massacre or officially accounted for the horrific events that transpired in Tulsa," she said.
• "This report breaks that silence by rigorous examination and a full accounting of one of the darkest episodes of our nation's past."

Zoom out: The DOJ report says prosecution is no longer feasible because the youngest potential defendants would now be over 115 years old and relevant statutes of limitations "expired decades ago," leaving no legal avenue for federal charges.

The DOJ report found:

• Coordinated Attack: The DOJ found that — depending on how you define participation — up to 10,000 white residents of Tulsa devastated Greenwood.
• Government Complicity: Local law enforcement disarmed Black residents, detained survivors in camps, and participated in arson and murder. Tulsa hindered recovery by imposing restrictive fire codes, rejecting aid, and resisting rebuilding efforts.
• Legal Failures: The DOJ acknowledged that civil rights laws could have allowed hate crime prosecutions, but in 1921, no such protections existed and federal laws were unenforced, leaving survivors and descendants without justice.

Between the lines: While the report recognizes its historical significance and documents the trauma and loss suffered by Greenwood's residents, Rev. William Barber of the Repairers of the Breach expressed frustration at the limitations imposed by expired laws.

• "Isn't it a tragedy that we have a statute of limitations on the murdering of an entire community?"
• "If the Justice Department says the statute of limitations is a law, then there ought to be a campaign for new legislation that says, when the government has participated in political murder, this country will not allow a statute of limitation to prevent justice."

The bottom line: Barber stressed the need to reframe such events in historical narratives, because we "can't let these stories be told incorrectly."

• "We must not use the language of 'riot.' Whether it was Springfield, Illinois; Wilmington, North Carolina; or Tulsa—they weren't riots. They were murders, bombings, and insurrections."
• "The Justice Department's findings must be built upon, and this moment must stir action, even if the results take time. Sometimes what you do in one moment has an impact in another."

More from Axios:

• 1st Tulsa Race Massacre victim identified in mass grave honored with memorial
• Uncovering the Tulsa Race Massacre after 100 years
• 100 years after Tulsa Race Massacre, last living survivors urge U.S. to not forget

President Biden is being pressured to grant a posthumous pardon for Marcus Garvey — a Black nationalist who was influential to Malcolm X, Nelson Mandela and later generations of Black Panther Party activists.

Why it matters: The Jamaican-born Garvey was convicted of mail fraud on June 21, 1923, in a case that supporters have long said was politically motivated and aimed at discrediting his growing popularity among Black Americans amid lynchings and racial violence.

The big picture: The pardon request comes as lawmakers push for more clemency actions before Biden leaves office and after the president's unpopular decision to pardon his son, Hunter Biden.

• Last month, President Biden commuted the sentences of 1,500 Americans in home confinement during the pandemic and pardoned 39 others, setting a record for clemency in one day, according to the White House.

Catch up quick: Part of the Congressional Black Caucus, led by Rep. Yvette Clarke (D-N.Y.), sent a letter in late December urging President Biden to exonerate Garvey.

• Garvey's 91-year-old son, Dr. Julius Garvey, has also publicly urged Biden to grant the pardon, which he and others have sought since 1987.
• They say a pardon would correct a century-old injustice.
• "His name needs to be cleared. The purpose of the pardon is really to exonerate, " Dr. Garvey, a retired cardiothoracic and vascular surgeon, told Axios.

Flashback: The elder Garvey founded the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) in 1914, which championed Black pride, economic independence and Pan-Africanism.

• He advocated for Black-owned businesses and a "Back-to-Africa" movement envisioning a unified Africa led by Black people.
• Seen as a hero in Jamaica, many of Garvey's ideas about economic empowerment and global unity remain relevant today.
• Some Black critics, including W. E. B. Du Bois, denounced his Black separatist views and his relationship with the Ku Klux Klan, who shared Garvey's goal of racial separatism.

Garvey was convicted of mail fraud for promoting stock sales for his Black Star Line shipping company with allegedly misleading materials, including an image of a ship the company had not yet acquired.

• Garvey's prosecution was closely tied to the efforts of J. Edgar Hoover, who later became the first director of the FBI. Hoover's actions are seen as a systematic effort to undermine Black leaders.
• Garvey served two years in prison before President Coolidge commuted his sentence in 1927, but he was deported to Jamaica, and his conviction was never overturned. He died in London in 1940 at the age of 52.

What they're saying: "Biden pardoned his son, which is something that he claimed he wasn't going to do because his son was found guilty and pled guilty to tax evasion charges," Dr. Garvey said.

• "So it's a no-brainer—why couldn't he pardon Marcus Garvey? Or why wouldn't he pardon Marcus Garvey?"
• "We don't know that there's any specific reason why he shouldn't, except the general attitude, which is systematic.

The Biden administration did not respond to requests for comment to Axios.

Between the lines: "This isn't just about Marcus Garvey—it's about correcting history," Justin Hansford, a professor at Howard University's School of Law and executive director of the Thurgood Marshall Civil Rights Center, told Axios.

• Hansford, who first learned about Garvey while reading "The Autobiography of Malcolm X," said he was surprised to discover that Malcolm X's parents were Garveyites.
• Hansford has dedicated years to studying Garvey's case, authored a book about him, and has relentlessly advocated for his exoneration through legal means. He was deeply affected by Garvey's legacy.
• "He was painted as a fraudster and a con artist by those who sought to silence him," the professor said.
• "History is the lens through which we see the world," Hansford explained. "If we don't correct these wrongs, we teach our children that the fight for freedom is something to be punished—not celebrated."

The bottom line: Dr. Garvey emphasized that the fight to clear his father's name will continue regardless of who is in the White House.

• "We haven't asked (President) Trump before, but it was raised by Roger Stone, one of Trump's supporters, some years ago," Garvey said. "We'll see how it goes, but it's important for me that my father's name is cleared. We'll continue our efforts—whoever is president."

James Lindsay, the founder and CEO of Rap Snacks, has carved out a unique niche in the consumer goods industry by merging his passion for snacking and hip-hop culture.

The big picture: A native of Philadelphia and an alumnus of Cheyney University, Lindsay's entrepreneurial path reflects roughly 30 years of dedication, creativity and guidance.

• Starting with a $40,000 loan from friends and family, Lindsay has built a debt-free multimillion-dollar company fueled by the fastest-growing convenience store potato chip brand in the U.S.

Driving the news: In 2025, Rap Snacks will celebrate its 30th anniversary, continuing its legacy as a cultural staple in the era following hip-hop's monumental 50th anniversary.

What they're saying: "Hip-hop was on the rise then (1995), and I saw an opportunity to merge snacking with music," Lindsay told Axios.

• "I wrote down the idea for Rap Snacks one night and called a manufacturer the next day. Despite knowing little about the snack industry, I developed the product, sold 800 cases in two months, and the rest is history."

Catch up quickly: While working as a sales rep for Johnson Products Company, Lindsay developed a love for consumer goods and learned about product distribution under George E. Johnson, the founder of Johnson Products, a mentor who significantly influenced his entrepreneurial journey.

• "I didn't even know I was being mentored back then, but working with Mr. Johnson, I learned so much about business and persistence."
• Then, Lindsay noticed that snack products in local corner stores didn't represent Black culture or resonate with urban youth.
• "Mentors taught me about product distribution, packaging, and marketing—skills I didn't have when I started."

Zoom out: Rap Snacks has featured major artists like Cardi B and the Migos, but the original packaging had a generic mascot, "MC Potato," until Lindsay pitched Universal Music Group, offering to feature their artists on his bags.

• "They loved the concept and even paid us to advertise their artists," he said. "Over time, we expanded partnerships to include artists. These collaborations made Rap Snacks a cultural phenomenon."
• In 2010, he worked with Meek Mill to connect his brand with corporate America. They secured partnerships with companies, such as Puma, Monster Energy Drink, and Ciroc.
• "That experience showed me the power of leveraging hip-hop culture to create value in the corporate world."

Zoom in: In 2017, Rap Snacks expanded into other food categories, including noodles, cereals, rice, candy, and even honey buns.

What's next: Lindsay owns several brands, including Mr. G Snacks and a better-for-you line called "Do the Right Thing," which offers vegetable-based snacks. He's also launching a new brand to compete with Takis.

• "My goal is to have a presence in every store aisle," he said.

Lindsay says his climb to success proves that cultural representation and business savvy can reshape industries—and he hopes to inspire the next generation of entrepreneurs to dream just as boldly.

• "We're setting an example for other brands to embrace diversity without fear that it won't sell," Lindsay said. "Our products not only resonate culturally but also deliver superior taste, ensuring repeat customers."

Asked what advice Lindsay would give aspiring entrepreneurs, he said, "love what you do," treat people with respect and don't rush.

• "If you're only in it for the money, sustaining the energy needed to overcome challenges is hard," he said.

At just 19, Judea "JuJu" Watkins appears to carry the world's weight, yet the USC phenom — who shattered records in her first season — seems to hold it all easily.

Why it matters:  Watkins is a rising star in women's college basketball — a new six-episode documentary series dives deep into her life and journey.

The big picture: Watkins balances her fearless alter ego on the court with her playful and humble side as a teenager who enjoys playing Connect Four and relies on her mom to perfect her pregame bun during her senior year at Sierra Canyon.

Zoom out: "On the Rise" starts with her decision on where to play college ball and dips into the family structure that gives her the scaffolding she needs to support superstardom.

• Hailing from Watts, Watkins, 19, in her first season, became the all-time leading scorer among Division I freshmen and propelled USC to its first Elite Eight appearance in 30 years.
• Described by ESPN as "the next big thing in college hoops" and the Los Angeles Times as "your favorite basketball player's favorite basketball player."

Zoom in: The series premiered Nov. 23 on NBC and Peacock, with new episodes available on Peacock and NBC Sports FAST Channel throughout the season.

• The documentary, produced by 4.4Forty Media, Uninterrupted and State Farm, collaborates with sports storytelling heavyweights.
• LeBron James, Maverick Carter and Rich Paul are executive producers alongside Watkins, the show's star and executive producer. This approach empowers athletes to own their narratives.

What they're saying: Danny Barton, 4.4.Forty Media executive producer and Klutch Sports VP of sports content, says this has been "a passion project for me and the team since JuJu was a senior in high school."

• "From the start, we wanted to capture her story authentically — from choosing her college to navigating life with her family's support and the community around her," he said of Watkins who has been in the national spotlight since seventh grade.

The documentary offers viewers an in-depth perspective as the 6-foot-2 guard was recruited two years ago by Dawn Staley, the legendary coach who has led the University of South Carolina Gamecocks to three national championships, and Lindsay Gottlieb, the women's head coach for the USC Trojans, a historic franchise with a tremendous opportunity.

• The appeal is real as Watkins and her family spend quality time with Staley and the team. The cameras capture a moment when Watkins stares at a statue of standout A'ja Wilson in front of Colonial Life Arena.
• During her visit, Gottlieb, the Trojans coach, treats Watkins like royalty, providing her with a throne on the court for photos. However, Watkins — the Naismith Girls High School Player of the Year — desires to share this experience with her team.

Ultimately, the appeal of being at home — and maybe to create history — won out. The Trojans have started the season with high interest and expectations, including being ranked No. 3 in the Associated Press Top 25.

• Last week, Watkins dropped 24 points in a 74-61 loss, their first of the season.
• The team has bounced back and will face Oregon, their next ranked opponent, on Dec. 7.

Barton notes that this story "isn't just about basketball; it's about JuJu's roots in Watts, her dedication, and her humility, which we felt had to be documented in a way that shows her whole experience."

What's next: Barton says we are "in an amazing moment for women's sports," and they are in talks to continue the story.

• "JuJu's journey is just beginning, and there's a lot more to tell as she progresses in her career."
• "Women athletes, especially Black women, have powerful stories that deserve platforms like this."

Go deeper: JuJu Watkins is college basketball's next ambassador

President-elect Trump has picked Cabinet members who vowed to remove "woke" influences from the federal government. They aim to fight against everything from DEI mandates and transgender rights to school curriculum choices.

Why it matters: "Woke" exploded into the American vernacular after the murder of George Floyd, and has been used to describe an awareness of other cultures and social inequities. But it's also been weaponized by conservatives, who have redefined the term as a threat to traditional values and cultural/racial norms in the U.S.

• Beyond Washington, the redefinition also has fueled the far-reaching fight against racial diversity policies in academia and corporate America.

State of play: Conservatives now slap "woke" on countless views they find offensive. Attacks on transgender rights helped some conservatives win elections, and now President-elect Trump is declaring war on "woke" — from Pentagon hiring to college admission policies to health issues.

• Progressives worry this anti-woke momentum threatens gains made over the six decades since the Civil Rights Movement.

But now, even some Democrats are using the term in post-election critiques of their party's left wing.

• "When the woke police come at you," Rahm Emanuel, President Biden's ambassador to Japan, told New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd, "you don't even get your Miranda rights read to you."

How woke and wokeism began

Martha S. Jones, a history professor at the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Agora Institute at Johns Hopkins University, said that woke has its roots in African American vernacular English.

• Its earliest known usage dates to the mid-20th century and concerns social and racial justice tied to movements driven by inequities. References to "stay woke" can be traced back to activist Marcus Garvey.
• Over the past decade, "woke" gained prominence during the Black Lives Matter era, with Colin Kaepernick's anthem protests and the global demonstrations after Floyd's murder cementing its tie to racial justice.
• It typically has referred to an individual becoming more aware of social injustices, including bias, discrimination and double standards.
• "It was a term 'for us, by us,' long before the world cared about our language or explanations," Jones says.

The intrigue: The term gained momentum after the summer of unrest in 2020 and appeared on social media, in music, movies, and protests.

• To be "woke AF" meant to be keenly aware of systemic racism that has largely been overlooked or ignored in U.S. society.
• Scholars have compared it to a simplified expression of critical race theory — which holds that racism is baked into the formation of the nation and ingrained in our legal, financial and education systems.

The backlash

The 2020 protests saw multiracial, multiethnic coalitions topple statues of figures connected to slavery, Native American removal, or segregation.

• Some demonstrators yelled, "Abolish the police," while others pressed for transgender rights.
• Public school teachers introduced lessons about systemic racism to students while they were home on Zoom classes during the pandemic.
• After the Black Lives Matter movement, several brands reevaluated and changed names or logos associated with racial stereotypes.
• Corporate America briefly united to address workplace racial disparities, pledging to increase hiring and promotion of Black and underrepresented employees.

The other side: Conservative parents grew angry about the protests and the anti-racist movement within the education system and fought back by crowding school board meetings.

• They demanded an end to teaching critical race theory in schools — where it's rarely taught outside of graduate and law school — and called for bans on certain books about racism and LGBTQ topics.
• Moms for Liberty, labeled an extremist group by the Southern Poverty Law Center, got several red states to pass bills reducing discussions of race, gender and sexuality in the classroom or school material.
• Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis even named his state's law the "Stop WOKE Act." Teachers and educators across the country reported receiving death threats amid debates over what to teach, and how.

Zoom out: Last summer's Supreme Court decision limited affirmative action, causing many companies and universities to reexamine their diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) strategies.

• The Supreme Court's decision to curtail affirmative action raised questions about other corporate diversity initiatives aiming to bolster representation.
• Democrats are arguing among themselves whether the focus on equity has focused too much on transgender rights while scaring off moderate voters — claims that critics say are transphobic.
• Now, Trump is vowing to dismantle the U.S. Department of Education at a time when the nation's public schools are as diverse as they've ever been but are returning to racial segregation levels of the 1960s.

The bottom line: Jones says the weaponization of "woke" and other political dog whistles, like "states' rights" and "law and order" have allowed leaders to speak about race indirectly, rallying a supportive base.

• "Language is power," she says. "When terms like 'woke' are hijacked and weaponized, they're used to delegitimize the very movements and communities that gave them life."