Devil's Knot_ The True Story of the West Memphis Three - Mara Leveritt [158]
John Mark Byers derided his former neighbors in the mountainous north Arkansas region, calling them “backward,” “narrow-minded,” and “banjo-picking hillbillies.” He said, “I was railroaded up there.” But mostly Byers bemoaned the loss of his wife and child and the good life he said he’d once had. “This is a deep story,” he said. “I was a thirty-second-degree Mason. I went from my big fine home and being a respectable citizen to feeling like I’m just an outcast thrown to the bottom of a pit.” More than once he reminded the reporter, “I am the victim here. Let’s not forget that.” As for the murders of Christopher, Michael, and Stevie, Byers had this to say: “Anyone that takes anyone’s life has got to be someone that’s very depraved and very twisted. Not retarded sick, mean sick. They must have some type of problem that’s deeper than I can imagine.”
Wrong Number
Byers’s tale of woe soon grew longer, however. Just as trouble followed him from West Memphis to Cherokee Village, it followed him to Jonesboro. There, in June 1998, in the same courthouse where Judge Burnett had sentenced Damien and Jason, another judge convicted Byers on a misdemeanor hot-check charge. But again, no punishment ensued. According to court records, Byers received only a twelve-month suspended sentence, despite the assurance he’d been given upon his banishment from the adjoining district that he’d face prosecution as a habitual offender if he committed another crime.
It appeared that Byers was not only “judgment-proof,” as he claimed, but incarceration-proof as well. But then, on April 19, 1999, Byers dialed a wrong number.
At about 9:20P.M ., an Arkansas State Police trooper was standing beside a car he’d stopped, issuing a citation, when his personal cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the caller’s voice, but he became intrigued when the caller invited him to “come by his house and buy some more stuff.” The trooper later said he thought it was one of his buddies “messing” with him, but he was cautious enough to ask, “What kind of stuff?”
“Pot,” the caller replied. “Good stuff.” Now the trooper was certain that the caller had no idea whose number he had dialed. But by the same token, the trooper had no idea who the caller was. According to the trooper’s report, he was able to find out the caller’s address by claiming that he was “busy with a girl” at the moment and couldn’t come himself; he asked if he could send a friend, a guy by the name of Jeff. The caller chuckled and agreed. Then, feigning a bad memory, the trooper said he couldn’t remember the name of the streets that led to the caller’s house, which he’d need to give Jeff directions. The caller helpfully outlined the route to his door. The trooper said Jeff would be right over. He hung up, then contacted undercover narcotics officers working in Jonesboro. A few minutes later, they showed up at the address. Byers was waiting outside. One of the officers, who introduced himself as Jeff, later reported that he’d “made a purchase of narcotics from the subject,” after which Byers was promptly arrested. The trooper said that after hustling Byers to the police station, the officer called him back. The trooper laughed. “He said, ‘You should have seen the look on his face when we told him who he’d called.’”357
Byers was charged with selling Xanax, a controlled prescription drug. He appeared again in circuit court, where, once again, he was convicted. This time he was sentenced to five years in prison. But as usual, he was not sent to prison. According to the circuit clerk’s records, the judge358suspended the five-year sentence. Byers was placed on twenty