ORANGEBURG -- A granite marker on the campus of South Carolina State University gives the facts no one can deny about what has come to be known as the Orangeburg Massacre.

On the chilly night of Feb. 8, 1968, highway patrolmen opened fire on a civil rights protest at the historically black school, killing three students and wounding 27 others, some of them shot in the back.

But much of what led up to the violence that night remains in dispute. No state investigation was ever conducted, testimony from the federal trial of nine troopers only clouded the case, and the aging former governor who called out the National Guard to restore order has taken a vow of silence.

"South Carolina has done one masterful job of keeping it quiet and keeping it covered up," said state Sen. Darrell Jackson, among seven black legislators who have introduced a resolution that would have an independent panel investigate the incident.

The lawmakers said an investigation makes sense after Gov. Mark Sanford formally apologized last month on the 35th anniversary of the shooting.

Senate President Pro Tem Glenn McConnell is studying other panels that have investigated racial incidents from long ago. He promises to give the issue serious consideration before bringing the resolution up for a vote.

"It's not an easy thing to do decades later," he said. "But in my opinion, there are these lingering questions that prevent us from getting to some point of closure."

The proposal could face stiff opposition.

"There's no question what happened was a tragedy," said state Sen. John Hawkins. "The governor has apologized for it, and I think it's unfortunate some people want to take the governor's apology and drive a Mack truck through it by having some sort of political investigation."

The shooting at what was then called South Carolina State College was the culmination of three days of unrest that started when some black students decided to protest a bowling alley that refused to allow blacks inside.

Many shooting victims say the definitive history is told in the book, "The Orangeburg Massacre," by Jack Bass, who covered the incident for The Charlotte (N.C.) Observer, and Jack Nelson, a reporter for the Los Angeles Times.

But others believe the authors exaggerated the police's role and downplayed some of the more unsavory actions by the students.

Two days before the shooting, several students were beaten by police during a confrontation with officers in the bowling alley's parking lot. Police said they were trying to control a crowd of 300 to 400 that gathered when several of the protesters were arrested for trespassing.

After the clash with police, students carrying rocks and bricks broke windows at a half-dozen businesses and damaged cars at a dealership.

That led then-Gov. Robert McNair to send 250 National Guard troops to Orangeburg to join more than 50 troopers and 25 other agents in an effort to keep the peace.

During the next two days, community leaders met with the students to try and diffuse the situation while authorities closed the main highway in front of campus because cars were being hit by rocks and bottles thrown by other students.

On the night of Feb. 8, 1968, students built a bonfire. Authorities decided to send a fire truck to extinguish the blaze, but its arrival agitated students. Troopers, guns drawn, protected the firefighters. The students retreated, then returned, and some rocks were thrown.

A large piece of wood was hurled and struck a patrolman in the face. His colleagues first thought he was shot. An ambulance was called.

An uneasy peace continued for about five minutes, with students cursing gun-toting officers.

Then dozens of shots cracked. In less than 10 seconds, three students were dead and 27 others were wounded. Many of the patrolmen had loaded their rifles with buckshot instead of smaller birdshot, which likely would have caused less severe injuries.

What exactly touched off the shooting remains in dispute. Sgt. Henry Morrell Addy testified that the students were a threatening mob, charging the troopers, throwing bricks and firing small guns.

The book by Bass and Nelson says only a few rocks were thrown and students were standing their ground, not charging at the police. No spent bullet cartridges were found where the students gathered. No other troopers were seriously injured.

The book said a trooper fired into the air, meant as a warning to the students. More than a dozen of his colleagues reacted.

While no state probe was ever conducted, an FBI probe led to charges against nine troopers. When a federal grand jury refused to indict the troopers, prosecutors decided to try the troopers anyway. A jury of 10 whites and two blacks acquitted all the defendants a little over a year later, finding they acted in self-defense.

Only one man ever went to prison for his role in the incident. Cleveland Sellers, a South Carolina native, had ties to a national black power organization and was labeled an agitator.

A state jury convicted Sellers of inciting a riot. He was sentenced to the maximum of one year in prison and a $250 fine, but he only served about seven months.

Sellers, who was wounded in the shoulder in the shooting, received a pardon 25 years later. He now teaches African-American studies at the University of South Carolina.

He has wanted an independent investigation since the day of the shooting.

"We don't need to look for any kind of additional scapegoats," he said. "I'm not particularly interested in punishing anybody. What I'm interested in is justice. That may sound too idealistic, but that's the era I grew up in."

A historical marker commemorating the Orangeburg Massacre sits on the edge the campus, where every Feb. 8, the school hosts a ceremony to remember the dead and injured.

The book by Bass and Nelson suggests Orangeburg is largely forgotten because of a shift in the civil rights movement: The influence of Martin Luther King Jr., who would be assassinated later in 1968, was waning; race riots in several northern cities left white supporters of the movement shaken.

Former Gov. McNair, now 80, refuses to speak on the subject. He has told his story to historians assembling an oral history but ordered his interview sealed, only to be opened after his death.

No South Carolina governor acknowledged what happened in Orangeburg until Feb. 8, 2001, when then-Gov. Jim Hodges attended the memorial ceremony marking the 33rd anniversary and expressed his deep regret on behalf of the state.

"Even today, the state of South Carolina bows its head, bends its knee and begins the search for reconciliation," Hodges said. However, he never used the word "apologize."

But Sanford did. In a two-sentence statement last month, he said: "We just don't regret what happened in Orangeburg 35 years ago -- we apologize for it."

Sanford hasn't spoken about the incident again. And spokesman Chris Drummond expressed no support for a new investigation. "The apology was delivered, and it is time for us to move on."

The resolution to create the independent commission to investigate the shooting currently sits in the Senate Judiciary Committee. No similar resolution has been made in the House.

Opposition to the measure runs deep. Some worry a thorough investigation will cost too much money in a tight budget year. Others wonder whether a new investigation is worth opening up old wounds.

"The wound can never heal until it is completely learned what has happened," Jackson said. "It is still a very dark period in the history of South Carolina."

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