More than a century after the infamous 1921 Tulsa race massacre, the U.S. Department of Justice has finally decided to take a closer look, proving that some cases truly do age like fine wine—very, very slowly.

In a move that only took a solid 103 years to materialize, the U.S. Department of Justice has launched a review of the Tulsa massacre, where white mobs wreaked havoc in the Greenwood neighborhood—dubbed 'Black Wall Street'—leaving behind a legacy of devastation and lost generational wealth for Black families. Set to be completed by year-end, this investigation, stemming from the Emmett Till Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Act, aims to unravel the events surrounding this infamous episode of racial violence, despite acknowledging there's little hope of holding any living culprits accountable.

The review will delve into the chilling details of what transpired beginning on May 31, 1921, when one ill-timed accusation led to chaos. A Black man was falsely accused of assaulting a white woman, an event that triggered a spree of violence resulting in the deaths of nearly 300 individuals, most of whom were members of the Black community. Such events certainly do not make for a cheerful history lesson, and the Department of Justice seems keen on finally documenting this dark chapter in American history—103 years late and perhaps with a slightly worn-out pencil.

Viola Fletcher and Lessie Benningfield Randle are the only two known survivors, and they must be congratulated for reaching such impressive ages by surviving not just that night, but the many years of being largely ignored. Their resilience serves as a testament to the broken promise of American society to uphold equality and justice. 'We have no expectation that there are living perpetrators who could be criminally prosecuted,' noted Assistant Attorney General Kristen Clarke. A veritable optimism suited for a very different occasion, perhaps, like announcing a new ice cream flavor rather than a review of a massacre.

The investigation will sift through historical documents, witness accounts, and research to cast some light on a massacre that has been, as many say, 'ignored for far too long.' Tiffany Crutcher, a descendant of one of the survivors, expressed her gratitude for this federal scrutiny, stating that the massacre has been largely under the radar for decades. Let’s be real: when the government finally decides to address historical injustices, maybe it’s indicative that those injustices are, at long last, becoming a bit too hard to ignore.

However, let’s not forget the recent legal hurdles that survivors have faced. In June, an Oklahoma judge shockingly dismissed a reparations case filed by descendants of the victims—as if history wasn’t painful enough, right? This litigious decision essentially told survivors to focus on their past traumas rather than any potential restitution. It’s comforting to know that while the bureaucratic clock ticks slower than the last contestant on a game show, it’s not all doom and gloom; at least the review is happening, just not the reparations.

While 35 square blocks were decimated and a vibrant community was torn apart, it remains a curious anecdote that only 10% of the complete story is known, as attorney Damario Solomon Simmons pointed out. If only the secrets and historical details of the past could share their insights like an overzealous family member at a reunion. "It only took 103 years," Simmons remarked, a line that could inspire a new motivational poster somewhere behind the scenes at the DOJ.

Kristen Clarke did not hold back in describing the event as 'one of the deadliest episodes of mass racial violence in this nation's history.' That’s certainly one way to put it—it sounds much more dignified than mentioning how a few bad apples caused a whole orchard's worth of destruction. Clarity around the narrative surrounding events like this is essential, albeit arriving a few generations overdue.

So as we await the results of this federal review, we’re left with a mixture of anticipation and a jaded sense of calculation on the timelines that government justice seems to adhere to. While more is unearthed, communities northeast of Oklahoma may be wondering if the wheels of justice, which have turned so slowly as to be nearly rusted solid, will continue to move at a painstaking crawl. Surely, this review seeking to shine light on the darkness of the past can only lead to cast shadows of its own.

In the end, it seems that the gears of justice are finally grinding, albeit at a snail's pace reminiscent of an intoxicated tortoise. Acknowledging the Tulsa massacre may be a step forward, albeit the kind of step where you feel the cobblestones underfoot and wonder if the city council even remembers where they placed the road signs for progress.