One of the most surprising things I discovered about Mark is that even after all that has happened, he is so trusting, one of the most open and direct people I have ever met. I submit to the reader that it was at least partly this trust, this innate belief in the goodness and honesty of most people, that caused Mark much of the heartbreak and disappointment that characterized the years between his son’s death in 1993 and his incarceration in the Arkansas Department of Corrections in 1999. Offsetting that trusting nature, however, is a certain cynicism, a semi-repressed bitterness, even a cunning forbearance that makes it hard for him to forgive the people who have caused him so much grief, said such cruel and insensitive things about him, and used him for their own financial gain, fleeting fame, or whatever they could get out of him. Some say that it was greed that motivated Mark during those years after the murders, that he was somehow interested in profiting from the deaths of three small boys. If this was the case, he failed miserably. Mark has lived in relative poverty since 1993, though he did enjoy some modest success painting houses for several years after his release from prison, before his health forced him to cut back his workload. In the end, though, it is not money, but the love and support that Mark receives, and always has, from his family - his wife, sisters and brother - that form the lifeline that keeps him from drowning in a world that will probably never accept him.

*******

As critical as this book often is of the HBO films, one thing can be said for certain: were it not for Paradise Lost, the case of the West Memphis Three would most likely have been filed away with hundreds of others whose perpetrators claimed innocence. That it wasn’t, that things today are the way they are, is the result of three Californians who were in the right place at the right time, another twist of fate in a story with so many. When she previewed Paradise Lost in early 1996 during the ad campaign her firm was working on, Los Angelino Kathy Bakken was shocked by what she saw. Surely there was some kind of mistake. There was no evidence against the three boys; how could they have been convicted? She enlisted friends Burk Sauls and Grove Pashley, and together they started gathering information on the case. After creating a website to make public their findings, things took on a life of their own. The second Berlinger/Sinofsky film was, in Berlinger’s words, "just us observing the West Memphis Three support group", and was instrumental in getting high profile musicians, actors, and comedians to take notice of the case and contribute their time, talent, and most importantly, their money to prop up the depleted defense coffers. The founders have nurtured the movement along, and have quietly, but persistently, gone about the business of keeping the public focused on the case.

Paradise Lost, the first film, documented the trial of Damien Echols and Jason Baldwin, and the separate trial of Jessie Misskelley, Jr., but one would be hard pressed to see it as anything but an advocacy film. Yes, the film told the story of the trials with actual courtroom footage and behind the scenes "action" , but it also used a series of staged scenes and creative editing - plus a healthy dose of the histrionics of John Mark Byers - to further the agenda of the filmmakers, who had become convinced of the innocence of the West Memphis Three during filming. Along with advancing the cause of the movement to free the three, the films dragged Mark Byers, already heading for disaster, down into an abyss that would take him years to pull himself out of. During the years following the releases of Paradise Lost and Revelations, he has been unable to rise above the suspicion that he was somehow involved in the crime. He was never charged in the case, and was only briefly considered a suspect by police. Nevertheless, in the films he was held out as the prime alternate suspect, not only in the killings of the three boys, but also - in Revelations - in the unexplained death of his wife, Melissa, who died in her sleep three years after the murders. What has sustained this suspicion of Mark Byers for so long? Are there really as many unanswered questions as his detractors contend, or have they simply been unwilling to accept the answers that have been given? If Mark Byers was actually involved in the killings, how has he managed to escape justice? Undoubtedly, his gregarious and often abrasive persona and bombastic style - along with his menacing six-foot-six-inch physical presence - have fueled the suspicions of those inclined to believe in his guilt. His actions and demeanor in the months and years following his son’s murder, it was claimed, were inappropriate for a grieving parent. His past history of brushes with the law, domestic violence, and brief stints as a confidential informant for the Memphis, Tennessee, and West Memphis, Arkansas, Drug Task Forces simply provided more fodder for the ever-hungry media covering the crime and its aftermath. That Mark seemingly never met a microphone he didn’t like did nothing to endear him to his detractors, or to reduce his growing legacy. When he was imprisoned in 1999, few were surprised - or particularly sympathetic, if the truth be known.

Along the way we will explore the movement to free the West Memphis Three, and the two camps that were divided on the issue of the guilt or innocence of the convicted men. The most vocal of the two, by necessity, are those termed simply "supporters." In this book the term refers to the totality of those who believe in the innocence of the West Memphis Three, including not only the unknown number of everyday people moved to activism, but also the celebrities that have become associated with the cause - Eddie Vedder, Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder, Margaret Cho, The Dixie Chicks, Jack Black, Will Ferell, Henry Rollins, and Metallica, to name a few - and who provide the still growing star power that propels one of the most persistent mobilizations of its kind in recent years. Supporter legions are such that they merit significant attention, and thus the reader will find references to them throughout this book. Persistent, noisy, unapologetic - they are the foot soldiers who feed the internet message boards with information and opinion, organize local fund-raisers, attend rallies, and trek to Arkansas whenever an appeal is filed or a hearing is held. More significant, however, is that during his wanderjahr - his journey, which is what this book is about - Mark Byers did the unthinkable: he became one of them. There is no overstating the impact this change had upon his life, the belief that he had been wrong, that everything he thought he knew about the murder of his son was being called into doubt, and that three innocent men were in prison. This unprecedented coming together of the legal and forensic talent hired by Lorri Davis that has given the West Memphis Three their best chance to finally bring their case to true justice, also gave Mark Byers a chance to put away his hate, and channel his anger into the pursuit of the man he believes is his son’s killer.

This point in time marks a moment in the history of criminal law that now has the whole world watching. As the supporter ranks have spread to England, Australia, New Zealand, France, Denmark, Germany, and even to Israel, pressure to free the three has been brought to bear on court and government officials, and shows no sign of abating. Meanwhile, the police, prosecutors, and the circuit court judge who has controlled the appeals with an iron fist, continue to stonewall the defense team of Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin, and Jessie Misskelley digging in their heels against the ranks of supporters who relentlessly breathe down their necks.

It is impossible to separate Mark from the things that have happened to him. In a life already spiraling downward, the unimaginable tragedy of May 5^th, 1993 was a point of crystallization, a defining moment of a life that would read like a novel even if that day had been just like any other. If we are to know and understand, within the limits that constrain human beings from totally comprehending each other, how the events of that day changed him, then we must incorporate elements of the violent death of his son into our understanding of what drives and sustains a man like John Mark Byers. What we offer here is, as Paul Harvey used to say, "the rest of the story", the pieces that other accounts have necessarily left out in order to reach the conclusions they set out to reach. This is not a story about an angelic human being, totally misunderstood by society. On the contrary, Mark’s criminal history is what it is. He was already in a very precarious place in his life when Christopher was murdered. The ensuing public attention was paid to all three families, Todd and Dana Moore, as well as Terry and Pam Hobbs. Why didn’t they react as Mark did to the attention? How can Mark’s on-camera "antics" be explained in the face of what should have been devastating grief? Our intent is to separate truth from fiction and let the reader decide for himself what to make of Mark Byers.

 
We must also address the issue of memory, Mark’s as well as others’. Fifteen years have passed since the murders, and with the passage of time comes an increased potential for error. For example, one day while we were discussing his late wife Melissa, Mark stated that the date of Melissa’s death was incorrect on her tombstone (March 28^th, 1996 instead of the 29^th.) We had visited the cemetery together in the fall of 2006, and I was sure that one of us would have noticed and mentioned such a flagrant mistake. I had taken a photograph of the grave and later checked the date on the marker; it was, of course, correct. How could he not know this? I sent a copy of the photograph to Mark, who just said, "Guess I must’ve been dreaming." This was an instance where, as bizarre as it may seem, Mark’s memory simply failed him. For someone as controversial and intently scrutinized as Mark Byers, however, memory faults such as these are magnified into the realm of self-serving perjury. Rather than attempt to spin these instances to suit our purpose, we endeavor only to put them into perspective.

Mark has often been described as mercurial, a changeling who can instantly morph from one character to the next, switching masks, hiding his true nature, but this description is usually the result of too much reliance on the surface-skimming media and supporter-generated innuendo. To get beyond these superficial observations, it is necessary to look at his life in toto, macroscopically and microscopically, and hopefully come to the realization that, as our common sense should tell us, things are not always as they seem. During the writing of this book, I often found myself face-to-face with what at first glance were glaring contradictions, many of which had their genesis in what I used to think I knew about Mark. These impressions came from the two HBO documentaries and two books, The Blood of Innocents, and Devil’s Knot, as well as from the internet message boards and discussion forums that spread like a cough in a classroom in the wake of the extensive media coverage afforded to the case and trials. To overcome the prejudices I had, I needed to accept the fact that in so many ways, Mark was exactly what he seemed to be, one-on-one, when taken without rolling cameras or quote-baiting by reporters.

It is no secret that Mark has often worked against his own best interests. He gave interviews he shouldn’t have given and made public statements he shouldn’t have made. In
those instances where common sense should have prevailed, it was often absent. When the situation called for silence, he spoke loud and clear. When temperance was demanded, he was frequently self-indulgent. Many people maintain that he got, to some degree, what he deserved. Mark maintains that, as an inmate at the Varner Unit wrote in a recent letter to me, "I know the difference between what I deserve and what nobody deserves." Was Mark treated with kid gloves by law enforcement, as Mara Leveritt contends in Devil’s Knot? Did he really have friends inside the West Memphis Police Department, friends who would have risked their careers to "protect" him? How did he avoid prison time for so long? We will deal with all these questions. Our intent here is to simply tell the story with as much objectivity as possible, which is no small feat. Mark is nothing if not charismatic and engaging, with the ability to make people feel that they are something special, the proverbial lone person in the room. He can put people at ease with a few stories, some homespun humor, and some good natured, country-boy ribbing. He can be polite to a fault, often showing the gentility of a true southern gentleman. Coincidentally, these are also the ideal traits of a successful con man, and therein lies the dilemma. Is Mark Byers a con man, an actor shedding "crocodile tears" over the deaths of his son and wife as more than one reviewer has charged, or is he a man who was beaten into the ground by the tragedies of his life, succumbing to the rage and grief that wracked his soul day after day? Will he ever be able to dispel the persistent doubts regarding his complicity in the events of so long ago?

What follows is the only account of the case of the West Memphis Child Murders from the perspective of the man arguably most affected. This is not to minimize the suffering of Pam and Terry Hobbs, and Todd and Dana Moore, who lost their sons on the same awful day that Mark and Melissa Byers lost Christopher, and their lives have been altered forever as well. Nor can we ignore the suffering of the families of the convicted, who have been deprived of their sons as well as their dignity. Perhaps - time will tell - those who have borne the heaviest burden of all are the three men who have been imprisoned for a crime they may not have committed. If Damien Echols’s case is tossed out of court for good, another death warrant will be issued. Could the unthinkable happen? As repulsive as the thought is, logic tells us that other cases of wrongful execution exist. In this case, however, will the state of Arkansas continue to hold out against an outraged world demanding new trials for the three?

Yes, all those just mentioned have suffered immeasurably, but Mark Byers holds a unique position in the annals of this case as one who has undergone the highest degree of scrutiny, and is the only person, other than the three convicted men, who, until very recently, has been directly as well as indirectly accused of wrongdoing. A book has been written, two movies made, and countless blogs annotated with that not-so-hidden indictment. It has truly been a "witch hunt", similar to that which supporters maintain was conducted against the West Memphis Three. If investigators of the crime had "Damien Echols tunnel vision", as attorney Val Price and the wm3.org founders have insisted, then the rest of the supporter community had "Mark Byers tunnel vision" when looking for a scapegoat of their own. If you have trouble understanding Mark Byers at the end of this book, you might be looking too hard, or perhaps not hard enough. Human beings don’t fit neatly into the little psychoanalytic compartments we try to squeeze them into. They aren’t rational, and all attempts to understand them as such are bound to fail. Mark Byers is no exception. Remember, though, as stated in the opening paragraph, this is an extraordinary story, and such stories always require considerable reflection - sometimes even a suspension of belief - before a judgement can be made. I think it’s worth the time, and it’s as close to the truth as we’re ever likely to get.

*******

Among other things, Mark Byers is known for his frequent taunts on the various message boards across the internet. "The wind is blowin’ ", he’d gibe. "Can you hear it?" He has a message. His unique position as a suspect - defense investigators still had him as their prime suspect as recently as 2006 - has led him to an epiphany, finally freeing him from the hatred that had him trapped for fifteen years. In a very real sense, he was as much a prisoner as the West Memphis Three. His story is intertwined with theirs, and as such, this book cannot separate them. Their journey is in lockstep with his, though where Mark’s life since the murders was characterized by grief, anger, and hate, the message of the West Memphis Three has been one of hope and forgiveness. It is here, where this merger of opportunity coincides, that we can begin to tell the story of six boys who lost their lives - three never to return - and one man who has grown and changed, and most of all, survived.

This is their story. . .