After twenty-some odd years have gone by since the case came to national attention, the murders of the three little boys in West Memphis Arkansas has almost faded into obscurity. But at the time of the murders, I was a young mother, deeply sensitized to the topic of children, and shocked that something so horrifying had happened so close to home. When I first saw the three men accused of the crimes, I remember thinking of Damien Echols as a cocky little wise ass, scoffing at the lawyers, the police officers, the press, and figuring himself far too sophisticated to be concerned with the hillbilly soap opera playing out around him. Since I've gotten older, I look back at those clips of him schlepping into the courtroom with the bad Prince Valiant haircut and wide, bored eyes, and think, "he was just a kid himself."
In the years that ensued, I watched each successive documentary that one filmmaker after another cranked out about the trial and all of its players. "Paradise Lost," then "Paradise Lost: Revelations," then finally, "Paradise Lost: Purgatory." When I thought that was the end of it, another surfaced called "West of Memphis." In the first two documentaries of the original trilogy, Mark Byers, the stepfather of one of the murdered boys, raved and ranted in a forest clearing, bellowing out plans for the demise of all three of the young men accused. His anger certainly matched the viciousness of the attacks on the three children, and illustrated, beyond a doubt, of the "eye-for-an-eye" religious mentality of the community in the little village of West Memphis, AR. Meanwhile, attorneys eager for a career-boosting victory, showboated and swaggered, a man with a mail-order Ph.D. in "Occult Studies" gave testimony based on information presumably gathered from reading sensationalist novels and tabloids in the local checkout aisle. A child with an I.Q. of 75 was berated for hours by police officers who planted confessions in the boy until the boy himself grew too weary resist and confessed to playing a role in a crime he didn't fully understand. His attorney tells the story of Jessie Misskelley pointing to the word "Satan" written on a slip of paper and asking, "What is satin?"
There was no material evidence that linked these teenagers to the murder of Stevie Branch, Michael Moore, and Chris Byers. All they had were rumors, hearsay, and the assumption of guilt for a boy in a black trench coat and a notebook full of symbols representing nothing more than typical, adolescent curiosity in beliefs other than the fundamentalism he'd been inculcated with since birth. Then a smug police detective is at a press conference. When a journalist asks, him, on a "scale of one to ten, how sure are you that you have the right men?" Gitchell stopped jawing his gum long enough to say, '"leven.'"
"The West Memphis Three" L-R: Jessie Misskelly, Damien Echols, and Jason Baldwin
I was embarrassed to be a Memphian. Even though this circus was playing out on the other side of the bridge, I could hear the nation laughing. For the last several decades, the South has been regarded as the cradle of ignorance, and this event, with all its players, had cemented that image in the nation's imagination permanently. Then, Damien Echols is elevated as the sacrificial lamb. Hollywood, the music industry, and every prominent member of left-wing society flocked to Arkansas in support of the "West Memphis Three." However, the center of their focus was always Echols. While they bleated and moaned over the injustice that had been wrought, Jessie and Jason suddenly began to fade into the background. While they denounced the fact that the legal forces at work had made Damien their scapegoat, the real murderer got away--and three little boys were dead.
Yet, while Damien is steadily achieving celebrity status with the help of the Dixie Chicks, Eddie Vedder, Johnny Depp, Hank Rollins and Margaret Cho--and a nonprofit group that rushed to his aid, the murderer is still out there, and three little boys are dead. The very fact of their deaths eclipsed by the efforts to secure the freedom of one young man.
I have since changed my attitude (some) about Echols. I heard him admit that his actions in the courtroom twenty odd years ago were inappropriate, arrogant, and self-annihilating. He's grown into a rather well-spoken, respectable man with a wife and a new life in NYC. I am actually glad--or at least feel some satisfaction and forgiveness for the guy, and I never believed he was guilty of anything other than childish arrogance. Still. Three little boys are dead. Three little boys who would, had they lived, been in their thirties now with families, careers, homes in manicured cul-de-sacs and two-car garages, if it hadn't been for someone evil who walks free to this day.
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