Untying the Knot: John Mark Byers and the West Memphis Three

by Greg Day

  Suffice it to say that there were more stories going around about Byers’s teeth than were worth dealing with when one considers there were never any bite marks on the boys to begin with, but it didn’t end there for the defense. Misskelley’s former attorney Dan Stidham called the bite mark report “exciting,” saying it “excludes the three defendants who’ve been convicted of this crime.” The effect of Brent Turvey’s opinion is dramatic on film because he is presented as an expert, and there is no rebuttal. It isn’t court; it’s a movie. It’s up to the viewer to decide what weight to give to his opinion. Since he had testified that he was not an expert on human bite marks (also not shown in the movie), one wonders why he got the podium again. Maybe it’s because Turvey was willing to make statements like this on-screen: “The bottom line here is that this is not legal trickery; this is hard, physical evidence of somebody else committing this crime.” Unless, of course, it wasn’t a bite mark.

  The Rule 37 hearings, spread over ten months and two courthouses, concluded on March 19, 1999, thus ending Damien Echols’s petition for relief due to ineffective assistance of counsel. It would be six months before Judge Burnett would render his decision: petition denied.

  The Leeza Deal

  In December 1998, Mark Byers traveled to Hollywood to tape an episode of Leeza, the talk show hosted by Leeza Gibbons. Pam Echols; Gail Grinnell; Brent Turvey; Richard Ofshe, a nationally recognized expert on false confessions; and Dan Stidham followed a few days behind for a separate taping. Echols and Grinnell refused to appear in the studio with Mark Byers. Mark’s taping was in an essentially empty studio; only cameramen and other crew members were present. Things were different in the West Memphis 3 supporter camp. Some of the audience members for that taping were previous converts, according to Bakken, whereas others were fresh meat. Berlinger and Sinofsky were there to capture the events for Revelations.

  The panel of guests, starting with the mothers of Echols and Baldwin and finishing with the experts, were interviewed by Leeza, with snippets of the Byers segment shown on video screens at various times during the taping. They saw him, but he never saw them or heard any of what they said.

  It was apparent during a post-taping get-together filmed for Revelations that all on the supporter side felt that the taping had gone well and that they had converted everyone in the audience. Bakken is shown holding court on the deck of a hillside Los Angeles area home (hers?), with Stidham and Turvey appearing to hang on her every word. “Oh, I think it went really well,” she gushes. “You could hear people in the background who didn’t know anything about the case; you could hear them coming along as they presented stuff. Like the first—well, the mothers were out there, and you could hear them talking, and no one was sure whether to believe it or not, and then as more and more came out, and you guys were talking more, you could hear people starting to get angry.” The conversation continues.

  Stidham: What was the audience reaction when they learned that all three defendants had been excluded from making the bite marks?

  Bakken: It’s like, match the bite mark, find the killer. I think everybody got that. It was like, okay, so the kids [convicts] don’t match the bite marks; that means that the guy . . .

  Turvey: The kid shouldn’t have a bite mark on his face. He didn’t leave home with a big fat bite mark on his face [laughing].

  Bakken: If they missed that, what else did they miss?

  Turvey then adds without a hint of relevancy that Byers wasn’t wearing his teeth at the interview. “What happened to his teeth, do you know?” he asks.

  “Well,” Stidham volunteers, “there are several versions of what happened. The first version I heard was that he got ’em knocked out in a fight.” At this point, Bakken and Turvey start going through ancient history about how Mark came to have dentures in the first place, which is obviously not the question here. Dan finally explains that Sauls and Pashley told him that Byers claimed to have lost his teeth somewhere and didn’t have them for the taping. These teeth are more famous than George Washington’s.

  The last story—that Mark had lost his teeth before the taping—is, in fact, what happened. He had inadvertently left them at a restaurant the night before, and they had subsequently been thrown out when his table was cleared. The restaurant was closed when the limo came to pick him up for the show, so he had to do the taping without his dentures.

  He ended up having to dumpster-dive for them after the show. After all that he’d been through, after all his sister had done for him, after all the controversy that had arisen regarding alleged bite marks, he damned sure wasn’t leaving Los Angeles without those teeth He eventually found them, but not before an LAPD patrol car pulled up and watched in amazement as the six-foot-six Byers, dressed in a three-piece suit and cowboy boots, climbed out of the dumpster.

  “Good god, what are you doing in there?” the patrolman asked. “Where are you from?”

  “Arkansas,” Mark answered, “and I’m lookin’ for my teeth.” He gave the officer the whole story, about how he’d lost his teeth, the Leeza taping, and the plane he had to catch. “That’s my limo waiting out front.”

  The patrolman glanced skeptically toward the black Lincoln and shook his head, saying, “Please be gone when I get back!”

  The Leeza show, which was supposed to air in January 1999, never did, and no one seems to know why. What is known is that the transcript from Mark Byers’s taping has been available all over the Internet for years. Since no one has come forward with the transcript of the second taping, it is easy to speculate that something happened in the studio that the network didn’t like—a legal issue, perhaps—and that it was quashed. Leeza went off the air sometime in 2000, and the WM3 segment was supposed to air after Leeza went into reruns. Attorney Dan Stidham was allegedly told by the show’s producers that the taped material was too graphic for daytime television and needed to be edited to suit its intended audience. It is also possible that the show was not as riveting as Bakken’s review would indicate and that the producers decided not to air it for quality reasons. As with so many aspects of the case, the answer may never be known.119

  As part of an attempt to convince Revelations viewers that he had no part in the murders of his wife and son, Byers volunteered for a polygraph examination, which he passed. Whether or not the producers were disappointed with the result—after all, they’d spent a considerable amount of time making him appear to be a suspect—they felt the need to qualify the exam for viewers. The following message appears on-screen:

  Mark Byers is taking the following mood-altering medications during this test:

  Xanax, Zoloft, Sinequan, Halodol, Depakote

  But the filmmakers fail to inform the audience that the polygraph examiner had been made aware of which drugs Mark was taking ahead of time, and the test was interpreted accordingly. This is common practice in the industry, and it is hard to imagine that the filmmakers were ignorant of this, given that the test was conducted at their expense. Is it possible that they didn’t want anyone to think Mark Byers was telling the truth?

  Bruce Sinofsky, Joe Berlinger, Mara Leveritt, Kathy Bakken, Burk Sauls, Grove Pashley, Dan Stidham, Brent Turvey—it seems that an inordinate number of people were trying to cast aspersion on one man. Was it necessary to their stated goal of advocacy? Just as Berlinger and Sinofsky postulate in the commentary, on film Dan Stidham suggests that perhaps the prosecution has gone too far to admit that they’ve made a mistake. There is nothing particularly insightful or prescient about this. What district attorney would admit reversible error, particularly in a triple child murder case that has withstood eighteen years of intense scrutiny by all manner of people, professional and otherwise, as well as the dismissal of multiple appeals?

  A third installment of the series, Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory, was created because the state of the case demanded it. The film made the film festival circuit and finally aired on HBO on January 12, 2012. Berlinger and Sinofsky have said it’s their last. If, how
ever, as HBO producer Shelia Nevins believes, there is a fourth documentary to make, it would be refreshing if the fourth film were to use a more factual and less theatric method of getting the filmmakers’ point across, and if they could do it without besmirching another innocent man. Given recent developments in the case, there may be a new lamb to sacrifice.

  Joe Berlinger once told Chris Champion of Telegraph Magazine that he denied any negative impact of his films. “I am acutely aware that [the victims’ families] were expecting a film that confirmed the guilt of these kids. I feel bad for them emotionally that they believe the wrong thing. But I feel even worse when someone is put to death for a crime that they didn’t do. But I think that is the collateral damage one must accept as a journalist if you feel like there’s a greater injustice happening” [emphasis added].120 Collateral damage. In the Paradise Lost films it appears as if one life is being traded for three others. Perhaps the filmmakers believed that it benefited the greater good to sacrifice the reputation of Mark Byers for the cause of liberating the West Memphis Three, and who’s to say they were wrong? But was it their decision to make? Perhaps. But they appear to be practicing a form of mob justice and trampling on the law. Berlinger’s assertion that he is a “journalist” may be valid, but is it ethical to accept “collateral damage,” particularly in a case involving three eight-year-old victims?

  It is beyond question that the films of Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky had the intended effect on their audience; the rise of the Free the West Memphis Three movement is testament to that, and the most recent events would seem to vindicate their activism.

  In the final scene in Revelations, Mark Byers is sitting alone at the kitchen table of his efficiency apartment in Jonesboro. There is a small stereo cassette player on the table, and as he presses the “play” button, he begins to semi-lip-synch the lyrics to a recording he made of himself singing a spiritual song that begins,

  Amazing Grace will always be my song of praise

  For it was Grace that bought my liberty

  I do not know just why He came to love me so

  He looked beyond my hope and saw my need

  As Mark finishes his song, he lights up a smoke and kicks back, and one final text screen appears:

  Mark Byers was arrested on June 2, 1999 for selling prescription drugs to an undercover narcotics officer. Sentenced to 8 years in an Arkansas Corrections Facility, he is eligible for parole in October 2000.

  According to Mark’s criminal record, he was arrested on January 9, 1999, for the sale of a controlled substance, the antianxiety drug Xanax. Mark was on probation at the time of his arrest; it was revoked on May 26, 1999, and off he went to the East Arkansas Regional Unit at Brickeys to begin serving his eight-year sentence. He was still incarcerated when Revelations: Paradise Lost 2 premiered on HBO in March 2000.

  Map of Robin Hood Hills and surrounding neighborhood

  Christopher’s second grade class picture.

  Happier times at the grill at 1400 East Barton.

  Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie

  Misskelley, June 3, 1993

  Mark’s parents died within three months of each other after fifty-two years of marriage and are buried in Marked Tree, Arkansas.

  The tool shed at 1400 East Barton where Mark was doing jewelry repair until Christopher’s murder. His store in West Memphis had closed three years earlier.

  Christopher’s Decree of Adoption. Christopher’s biological father, Ricky Lee Murray would claim that he never gave his consent to the adoption, and journalist Mara Leveritt suggested that the boy had been buried under an ‘illegal’ name, which, she said, was a “felony.”

  Dana Moore stood in this spot and watched Michael, Stevie and Christopher disappear around this bend heading north on 14th Street. They couldn’t hear her calling after them. She never saw Michael alive again.

  Todd and Dana Moore sit with West Memphis Police Inspector Gary Gitchell (right) as the guilty verdict is read in the murder trial of Jessie Lloyd Misskelley Jr. The Moores have never wavered in their belief that the West Memphis Three killed their son.

  Police surveillance photo of Terry Wayne Hobbs at Stevie’s funeral. May 13, 1993

  January 23, 2008. Terry Hobbs in reflection. When asked by a reporter in 2007 how he thought Hobbs might feel, Mark Byers said, “I can’t imagine what it would feel like knowing you’re guilty of killing three children and that the hounds are on your tail.”

  Christopher’s grave near Memphis, Tennessee. After he adopted the boy, Mark gave him his own middle name.

  Melissa is buried just a few feet from Christopher, dying only three years after her son. The absence of Mark’s name on the grave marker testifies to the animosity that existed between Mark and his in-laws.

  The contrast between Mark’s intake photo for the Arkansas Department of Corrections (top) and his parole ID card (bottom) fifteen months later couldn’t be more stark.

  Byers speaks to the media at the August, 2009, Rule 37 hearings of Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley.

  Supporters outside the 2nd Circuit Courthouse in Jonesboro holding signs that proclaimed the newfound stranglehold Lorri Davis and her team had on the court. Despite all the forensic testimony from renowned experts, in the end it would be strong allegations of juror misconduct that forced the state’s hand.

  Damien’s sister, Michelle and her daughter Stormy outside the Arkansas State Supreme Court September 30, 2010. Michelle has not seen her brother in many years, and not at all since his release from prison. Stormy wasn’t born when her infamous uncle was arrested and has only met him once when she was very young.

  “This is a travesty!” John Mark Byers was on hand in Jonesboro the day the West Memphis Three were released. He was furious that Echols, Baldwin, and Misskelley had to plead guilty to murdering his son in order to be freed from prison.

  Damien Echols and wife Lorri Davis at the premier of West of Memphis at Sundance in 2012. The film was backed by Sir Peter Jackson (Lord of the Rings), directed by Amy Berg (Deliver Us from Evil), and produced by Echols and Davis. In many ways the film overshadowed the concurrent release of Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofky’s Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory.

  Mark finally greets Damien Echols at Sundance, the first time Mark has actually seen him since the Rule 37 hearings in 1999.

  Weaver Elementary School Memorial Reading Grove. The commemoration on the plaque is heart wrenching in its brevity. “Do your Best.” Their memory has often taken a back seat in the effort to Free the West Memphis Three

  CHAPTER 5

  Summer Camp

  Justice is the constant and perpetual will to allot to every man his due.

  —Domitus Ulpian, Roman jurist (100-228 CE)

  Prison saved my life.

  —John Mark Byers

  By the end of 1998, Mark Byers’s life was teetering precariously on the verge of collapse. He was living alone in a small rented apartment with nothing but his thoughts. In many ways, he had not been allowed to move normally through the grieving process. The film Paradise Lost not only had made life difficult for Mark in and around Jonesboro, but its not-so-subtle innuendo regarding his possible complicity in the murders had left him an emotional mess as well. Melissa was gone, Ryan was gone, and his family was left to helplessly watch him deteriorate mentally, emotionally, and physically. Unable to cope with the past and what had become of his life, he tried, without much success, to deaden the pain with pills, booze, and pot. If he could just feel nothing, that would be better than what was happening inside him. His trip to rehab in 1996, along with all the medication that had been prescribed to him upon his release, had temporarily relieved any overt suicidal tendencies along with the crippling depression symptoms he’d been suffering. Left in the place of such feelings, however, was a hollow, emotional void, interrupted by periods of blatant self-destructive behavior. From day to day, and in between disability checks, Mark Byers simply existed.

  Things in Jonesboro had become
very monotonous. By 1997 Mark had lost his car and driver’s license, and his world suddenly became very small. He walked everywhere he went, and aside from the time he spent hanging out with James Lawrence in Marked Tree, there wasn’t a thing going on in his life. His stay in rehab had come only six months after the release of Paradise Lost and only three months after moving from Cherokee Village, and after his release from the George W. Jackson center, he had quickly resumed the booze, pill, and pot lifestyle he had been living prior to his stay there.121