A Backyard Sinkhole Revealed Secrets Behind a 1923 Mass Disappearance in Florida

Levy County, Florida. September 22, 2010.

Derek Thompson thought he was finally living his dream. After six months of relentless renovations—new roof, new foundation—his old house felt like home. But after a historic storm, Derek found himself staring into an eight-foot-wide sinkhole in his backyard. He expected mud, rocks, maybe a broken pipe. What he found instead would unravel a century-old mystery and change his life forever.

The Discovery

The rain had been relentless, flooding Derek’s backyard. When the ground collapsed, Derek called his friend Tom Bailey, a structural engineer, to assess the damage. Tom climbed down into the muddy hole, swept away some dirt—and froze.

“Derek, you need to call 911. Right now.”

Within the hour, the yard was swarming with police, detectives, and forensic experts. Detective Raymond Cole led the team. As they began excavating, Derek watched in disbelief. Five bodies became forty, then sixty, then one hundred. The final count: 147 human remains, layered together, hidden beneath decades of quiet suburban life.

A Forgotten Town

As the investigation unfolded, forensic analysis revealed that all the victims were African American, their clothing and personal items dating back to the 1920s. Historian Dr. James Hartwell traced the land’s history and found a vanished community: Cypress Grove. Founded by freed slaves in 1890, Cypress Grove was a thriving town with a church, school, and general store. By 1930, it had disappeared from all records—erased as if it had never existed.

What happened to Cypress Grove? Why did its people vanish?

Piecing Together the Past

Dr. Hartwell and Detective Cole dug through old newspapers and census records. The clues were sparse: a brief mention of a “civil disturbance” in Levy County in January 1923, the same month as the infamous Rosewood massacre. Land records showed Cypress Grove was seized for “unpaid taxes” just months after the disappearance. The land sat empty for 42 years until a developer built the subdivision—right on top of the lost town.

As word spread, the neighborhood unraveled. Families packed up and left; those who stayed wouldn’t speak to Derek, as if he were to blame for the tragedy beneath their feet.

The Survivor

Then, a breakthrough: Dr. Hartwell located Ruth Washington, a survivor of the massacre, now 97 and living in a Jacksonville nursing home. Ruth was ten years old when Cypress Grove burned. She described a day of terror—men on horseback, gunfire, flames, and families fleeing into the swamp. Ruth hid for three days before a sympathetic farmer rescued her. She changed her name, buried her past, and never spoke of Cypress Grove until Derek’s discovery brought the truth to light.

Ruth’s testimony gave faces and stories to the nameless dead. Pastor Isaiah Freeman, Martha Freeman, Dorothy Hayes, Samuel Bennett, the Wilkins family—names, ages, dreams, all cut short.

The Toll of Memory

As the excavation continued, more descendants came forward—bringing photos, family stories, and the weight of generations searching for answers. Derek, overwhelmed by grief and responsibility, struggled with nightmares and isolation. “You’re not responsible for what happened 90 years ago,” his therapist told him, “but you are responsible for what happens now.”

For weeks, forensic teams carefully cataloged the remains. The evidence was grim: gunshot wounds, blunt force trauma, burns. Sixty-three victims were children. The massacre had been systematic, deliberate, and covered up by local authorities.

Justice and Remembrance

The state condemned every house in the subdivision. The land would become a memorial park. On November 7, 2010, the community gathered for a funeral at the site of the old church. A granite monument was unveiled, inscribed with 112 names—those identified through historical records and family testimony. Thirty-five would remain nameless, but not forgotten.

Ruth Washington, frail but resolute, spoke: “For 87 years, I have carried their names in my heart. For 87 years, I have been afraid to speak the truth. But I am not afraid anymore. Their names are carved in stone. Their story is being told. Their lives mattered.”

She called Derek to the podium. “This man lost everything to tell our story. He didn’t have to care. He could have walked away—but he didn’t. He made sure we were remembered.”

Legacy

Derek’s story became part of Dr. Hartwell’s book, “Cypress Grove: The Town That Was Forgotten,” now required reading in Florida schools. Students, teachers, and descendants learned that justice sometimes depends on ordinary people refusing to look away.

Every January 15th, Derek visits the Cypress Grove Memorial Park. He sits beneath the old oak tree, reading the names, remembering the lives lost. He knows he can’t change the past, but he can ensure it’s never erased again.

Sometimes, in the quiet, he feels a sense of gratitude—a peace that comes from knowing the truth is finally known, and the forgotten are finally remembered.

147 lives lost, but not forgotten. One man’s backyard sinkhole gave them back their names, their dignity, and their place in history.