The Case Of The West Memphis Three
I remember watching Paradise Lost: The Child Murders At Robin Hood Hills. It was 1996. My hair had just about grown out the way I wanted it. It was about shoulder-length and I was giving serious thought to dyeing it black for the first time. I've always worn black clothing, listened to metal, giving a sneering middle finger or a quick kick to the sternum to anyone who dared stand in my way or attempt to intimidate me. I was scrawny then and many of the bumpkins at the school I had attended showed their pride for country western music by their pathetic attempts at strongarming me.
My reputation for being a so-called "devil worshipper" were snowballing in the town's most popular rumors. Small town mentality. Oddly enough, the older and more quiet I become, the worse they get. There was a time I tried to prove them wrong but now, I figure it's what they want and it's entertaining for me to see people squirm. They created the monster, they must deal with it, I say.
Understand, there were no words of sorrow, shock or horror that could have expressed the mixture of my own when the jury returned a guilty verdict on Damien Echols and Jason Baldwin. I sat there, jaw agape, staring at the screen. Jessie Misskelley Jr. had been convicted in another trial and sentenced to life. Jason Baldwin had been sentenced to life as well and Damien Echols now faces possible lethal injection.
The whole thing was saddening. It was a crippling blow and a shining exemplification of how maybe there really are other times when some people should do something conducive to stimulating their intellect...like reading a fucking book.
Three eight-year-old boys had been brutally murdered and then, three others wrongfully convicted.
I watched in terrible horror.
That could be me in that courtroom, on the stand, I thought, there was not even so much as any evidence to convict! There was reasonable doubt! Who the fuck selected this jury?
I was angry afterwards, my muscles seething with tension as my jaw clenched shut. It was the only way to keep from throwing up in disgust.
Faced with what HBO had just shown me, I thought that there was only one thing I could do about it...I told others about the case. I spent years talking about it. Now, things are different, I want a more active role in the thing. I want others to know these guys didn't murder those little boys. I want people to know that there's something you can do to help.
http://www.wm3.org/
Enter the WM3 Website. I'd seen the occasional Free The West Memphis Three t-shirt pop up on TV and the question of "Who the hell are those guys?" would pop up amongst my peers. I would forever inform them, go rent the movie (Blockbuster used to look forward to my near-weekly visits to pick it up and they always had a copy reserved) and then I'd show it to these clowns who never took anything serously...until they saw that documentary. Opinions would formulate early...then, by the time the movie was over, minds were changed. A group of guys who never took shit seriously began to sit up and take notice. Now, I know where the shirts came from. I'm a sucker for black t-shirts but knowing that this could have been me, I snagged that and a set of dog tags from the site. It's about time I donated some money to those guys, then I wrote letters knowing that the cavalry was coming. Lisa, a friend of mine, created the first myspace site (http://www.myspace.com/freethewestmemphis3) and I conducted an interview. I've done so with a lot of great responses. Now, the more active role I'd wanted has really come along. After being off of this case for so long, I'm back to talking about it and, my oh my, how people...LISTENERS...have flocked to it like flies on shit.
I had given thought to giving up the DJing gig. Let's face it, I haven't been able to post a really good blog lately. I've been overworked but, leave it to Bara, the bastard wouldn't let me.
"I'm seriously considering fulfilling what obligations I have to the rest of these bands and just vanishing," I said, "I don't know if I have the stomach for this shit."
I was getting sick of talented DJs being let go. Bara and his co-host, Pet, had been two of my favorites, they'd run a helluva morning show and Bara was the Junk Yard Dawg of Morning Net Radio. Drama, however, had seen to it that he was ixnayed rather unceremoniously and my attempt at rallying support toward them backfired horribly, destroying any humorous notion of actually getting them support.
"You can't do that!" he said.
"Why the hell not?" I asked, completely enthralled...I had to hear this.
"You've already set yourself a calling," he said, "You're the one who's giving a voice to those who don't have one."
Stop, let's get a few facts out there. First, I'm a net radio DJ. I have no college degree in anything unless you count my B.S. in B.S. and secondly the only one who has any right to a delusion of grandeur is me and that's only when I'm on the air.
"I dunno," I said. I won't go any further. Basic point of it was that he wanted me to stay. Later on I'd find out simply how bad it was.
Then Lisa comes along and I find my senses renewed. There's another reason to keep pushing and fighting, gnawing and clawing, ripping and shredding. I've been given new reason to scream and curse and fire a few more Fuck You Cannon Rounds to deserving targets.
Damien Echols. That man's been sitting on Death Row for nearly 13 years and he still keeps fighting the corrupt legal system in Arkansas. His friends, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Miskelley Jr. are staring down the barrel of life sentences and they still maintain a tight friendship despite the shit and they still fight together.
What the fuck excuse did I have? None at all. Me quitting? That was a delusion in and of itself.
I decided not to disappear after all. As tired of shit as I am, I still have to do my part. I still have to help inform people that otherwise normally wouldn't hear about these guys. I can't stop pushing for them with the rest of the supporters until they're out. I won't add the "or else" in there...that's not an option.
If you're reading this, take the time and go check it out, read up on the case, get educated, see the documentaries, read Devil's Knot, read Damien's book Almost Home. Do whatever you have to do but whatever you do...
FREE THE WEST MEMPHIS THREE!!!
My reputation for being a so-called "devil worshipper" were snowballing in the town's most popular rumors. Small town mentality. Oddly enough, the older and more quiet I become, the worse they get. There was a time I tried to prove them wrong but now, I figure it's what they want and it's entertaining for me to see people squirm. They created the monster, they must deal with it, I say.
Understand, there were no words of sorrow, shock or horror that could have expressed the mixture of my own when the jury returned a guilty verdict on Damien Echols and Jason Baldwin. I sat there, jaw agape, staring at the screen. Jessie Misskelley Jr. had been convicted in another trial and sentenced to life. Jason Baldwin had been sentenced to life as well and Damien Echols now faces possible lethal injection.
The whole thing was saddening. It was a crippling blow and a shining exemplification of how maybe there really are other times when some people should do something conducive to stimulating their intellect...like reading a fucking book.
Three eight-year-old boys had been brutally murdered and then, three others wrongfully convicted.
I watched in terrible horror.
That could be me in that courtroom, on the stand, I thought, there was not even so much as any evidence to convict! There was reasonable doubt! Who the fuck selected this jury?
I was angry afterwards, my muscles seething with tension as my jaw clenched shut. It was the only way to keep from throwing up in disgust.
Faced with what HBO had just shown me, I thought that there was only one thing I could do about it...I told others about the case. I spent years talking about it. Now, things are different, I want a more active role in the thing. I want others to know these guys didn't murder those little boys. I want people to know that there's something you can do to help.
http://www.wm3.org/
Enter the WM3 Website. I'd seen the occasional Free The West Memphis Three t-shirt pop up on TV and the question of "Who the hell are those guys?" would pop up amongst my peers. I would forever inform them, go rent the movie (Blockbuster used to look forward to my near-weekly visits to pick it up and they always had a copy reserved) and then I'd show it to these clowns who never took anything serously...until they saw that documentary. Opinions would formulate early...then, by the time the movie was over, minds were changed. A group of guys who never took shit seriously began to sit up and take notice. Now, I know where the shirts came from. I'm a sucker for black t-shirts but knowing that this could have been me, I snagged that and a set of dog tags from the site. It's about time I donated some money to those guys, then I wrote letters knowing that the cavalry was coming. Lisa, a friend of mine, created the first myspace site (http://www.myspace.com/freethewestmemphis3) and I conducted an interview. I've done so with a lot of great responses. Now, the more active role I'd wanted has really come along. After being off of this case for so long, I'm back to talking about it and, my oh my, how people...LISTENERS...have flocked to it like flies on shit.
I had given thought to giving up the DJing gig. Let's face it, I haven't been able to post a really good blog lately. I've been overworked but, leave it to Bara, the bastard wouldn't let me.
"I'm seriously considering fulfilling what obligations I have to the rest of these bands and just vanishing," I said, "I don't know if I have the stomach for this shit."
I was getting sick of talented DJs being let go. Bara and his co-host, Pet, had been two of my favorites, they'd run a helluva morning show and Bara was the Junk Yard Dawg of Morning Net Radio. Drama, however, had seen to it that he was ixnayed rather unceremoniously and my attempt at rallying support toward them backfired horribly, destroying any humorous notion of actually getting them support.
"You can't do that!" he said.
"Why the hell not?" I asked, completely enthralled...I had to hear this.
"You've already set yourself a calling," he said, "You're the one who's giving a voice to those who don't have one."
Stop, let's get a few facts out there. First, I'm a net radio DJ. I have no college degree in anything unless you count my B.S. in B.S. and secondly the only one who has any right to a delusion of grandeur is me and that's only when I'm on the air.
"I dunno," I said. I won't go any further. Basic point of it was that he wanted me to stay. Later on I'd find out simply how bad it was.
Then Lisa comes along and I find my senses renewed. There's another reason to keep pushing and fighting, gnawing and clawing, ripping and shredding. I've been given new reason to scream and curse and fire a few more Fuck You Cannon Rounds to deserving targets.
Damien Echols. That man's been sitting on Death Row for nearly 13 years and he still keeps fighting the corrupt legal system in Arkansas. His friends, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Miskelley Jr. are staring down the barrel of life sentences and they still maintain a tight friendship despite the shit and they still fight together.
What the fuck excuse did I have? None at all. Me quitting? That was a delusion in and of itself.
I decided not to disappear after all. As tired of shit as I am, I still have to do my part. I still have to help inform people that otherwise normally wouldn't hear about these guys. I can't stop pushing for them with the rest of the supporters until they're out. I won't add the "or else" in there...that's not an option.
If you're reading this, take the time and go check it out, read up on the case, get educated, see the documentaries, read Devil's Knot, read Damien's book Almost Home. Do whatever you have to do but whatever you do...
FREE THE WEST MEMPHIS THREE!!!
posted by Lord Genocyde at 5:47 AM
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