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American Gothic
Insight on the News, March 27, 2000 by Stephen Goode
The sequel to an HBO documentary about a grisly triple murder in Arkansas reviews the evidence that resulted in the conviction of three teen-agers -- and finds the evidence suspect.
In 1993, someone murdered three 8-year-old boys and left their horribly mutilated bodies in a ravine near West Memphis, Ark. The three teen-agers who were convicted of the crime -- Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley -- were into "gothic": They wore black and listened to heavy metal, habits that seem to have underlined their guilt. Prosecutors styled the grisly murders as part of a satanic ritual, although the chief evidence against them was a 45-minute recorded confession to police made by Misskelley. He received life plus 40 years; Bald win got life without parole; Echols was sentenced to death.
In 1996, Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky produced their documentary Paradise Lost, an account of the West Memphis murders, that aired on HBO. The film won Emmy and Peabody awards and was named Best Documentary by the National Board of Review. Now Berlinger and Sinofsky have teamed up for a sequel -- Paradise Lost 2: Revelations -- as striking a film as the first documentary, which became a cult classic and led to the formation of the West Memphis Three Support Group, whose members come from all over America.
Like the first film, Paradise Lost 2 casts doubt on the three teen-agers' guilt. Misskelley, whose IQ is 72 (70 and below is considered retarded), confessed to the crime after 12 hours of police questioning, only the last 45 minutes of which was taped. In this new documentary Misskelley claims: "Finally, I ... just said something where they would just leave me alone." Police investigator Gary Gitchell maintains that Misskelley at no time was coerced and that his confession remains valid.
The filmmakers also question the lack of blood and evidence in the ravine in which the murders were supposed to have taken place. How could such grisly murders and mutilation leave no trace? Police say evidence was washed away by water in the ravine. Criminal profiler Brent Turvey, a member of the documentary team but not of the police investigation, contends that bite marks left on one victim's body did not match Echols, Baldwin or Misskelley. Bite marks, argues Turvey, can be as defining an identity as fingerprints.
If Echols, Baldwin or Misskelley, who were kids in the first film and now are grown men, didn't kill the victims, who did? Some point the finger at John Mark Byers, the stepfather of one of the murdered boys. Byers, a giant of a man at once both extraordinary and grotesque, visits his stepson's grave in the film and declares his hatred for the three convicted of his son's death. But he's not a sympathetic figure. Byers himself has been convicted of writing bad checks and stealing. A restraining order was placed on him for striking another neighbor's son with a fly swatter. And his wife, Melissa, died in her sleep in 1996 -- of "undetermined" causes. Byers can't be tested for bite marks because his teeth have been removed -- prior to the grisly murders, according to Byers, but afterward according to a dental surgeon consulted by the documentary team.
The new documentary takes the trio through an appeal for a new trial, which they lose. It shows Byers getting a lie-detector test that he passes (at the time he's heavily dosed with several prescription drugs). Misskelley and Baldwin remain in prison and Echols on death row. His execution by lethal injection may take place as early as May of this year if he's denied a federal habeas corpus appeal.
Revelations, which airs Monday, March 13, at 10 p.m. on HBO, as part of the America Undercover series, is beautifully paced and filmed, with moving interviews with the mothers of Baldwin and Echols and with the three convicted murderers themselves. It ends with Byers singing a Christian hymn of his own composition.
Never do filmmakers Berlinger and Sinofsky belittle the people in this documentary. On the contrary, they painstakingly allow each person to have his or her say in their own way, which in Byers' case is probably enough to have most viewers wishing they never have anything to do with him.
Altogether, the documentary presents a way of life in small-town America that's far more gothic than any black garments worn by Misskelley, Echols or Baldwin, or any music they may have listened to.
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