Devil's Knot_ The True Story of the West Memphis Three - Mara Leveritt [151]
The Web site founders produced T-shirts featuring pictures of the three Arkansas inmates and the rallying cry “Free the West Memphis Three.” They urged supporters to write to Arkansas’s governor, Mike Huckabee, asking that he press for a reexamination of the case. A support fund was established to offset costs of maintaining the site.330The site tried to personalize the inmates by publishing current photographs and offering glimpses into their lives in prison. In a neatly formatted 1996 “one-minute interview” with Damien, for instance, he responded to the question of what he’d like to do if he were released. “I would love to eventually own a secondhand bookstore,” he said. “I love to read, and it would be pretty peaceful.” Jason was reported to be working as an office clerk at his unit, while Jessie, like the majority of Arkansas inmates, worked outdoors on his unit’s hoe squad.
By 1997, the site reported that although the inmates’ direct appeals had failed, all three still had postconviction petitions pending before the Arkansas Supreme Court. As the Web site became increasingly sophisticated and its founders’ understanding of the legal processes deepened, documents from the case were posted, links to relevant Arkansas Supreme Court’s rulings were established, different discussion boards flourished (one for newcomers seeking information and another where the converted could discuss strategies), and an archive was developed.331
While officials in West Memphis dismissed both the documentary and the Web site as the work of misguided and misinformed would-be do-gooders from out of state—people who didn’t know what hadreally happened—the movement to “free the West Memphis Three” had struck an unusual chord in America. It hummed with reminiscences of ostracism, with passion for recognizable justices, and with a commitment to freedom of expression—whether it be artistic, intellectual, or religious.332
AsParadise Lost aired again on HBO, continued to play at small theaters, and moved to video, the interaction between viewers and the Web site expanded. In Arkansas, the public effect was muted, but personal responses were often intense. One video rental store in Little Rock allowed the film to be checked out for free, because the store’s owners believed Arkansans should see it.333Almost the entire audience stayed for two hours afterParadise Lost was shown at the annual documentary film festival in Hot Springs, Arkansas, for a discussion with the producers and some of the lawyers who’d represented the West Memphis teens. In 1998, a woman from Jonesboro who’d attended part of the second trial said that after she’d seen the film she’d gone straight to her computer. “I did a search,” she said. “I typed in a name andbam, there was the site. And I thought, ‘Damn, I didn’t think anybody would give a rip. And it amazed me no end that anybody besides myself would care.’”334
Fame in Prison
The three inmates at the heart of the mounting attention were not allowed to seeParadise Lost . E-mails flew back and forth about them, but they could not send or receive them. The case was discussed in newspapers, but the major media in Arkansas, and across the river in Memphis, paid it scant attention. For Damien, Jason, and Jessie, prison still consisted, day after day, of bad food, iron bars, and boredom. Still, the documentary and the Web site would affect their lives. For one thing, mail began to pour in.335Among the letters sent to Jason was one from a seventeen-year-old high school student in Little Rock. Sara Cadwal lader later recalled, “I saw the documentary on HBO and knew I wanted to write to them. I guess I picked Jason because he was the youngest one.”
In an interview in 1996, Damien reported that among hundreds of other letters, he’d received one from Sister Helen Prejean, the author ofDead Man Walking . He recalled later that the