which was consistent with the blood of Chris Byers. The results also stated this blood was consistent with eight percent of the population. The knife was given exhibit number E178.”
With Jessie on trial for his life, his attorneys, Stidham and Crow, were focused on events in the courtroom. But now the remarkable news of the FedExed knife became a serious distraction. As the lawyers waded into the trial, Lax worked outside of court, trying to learn what he could about the mysterious knife. Bit by bit, he managed to find out that it had been sent to Gitchell by the New York filmmakers Sinofsky and Berlinger. The two later explained how the knife had come into their possession—and why they’d sent it to the West Memphis police. It was a remarkable tale.
“A few days before Christmas,” they wrote,
Mark Byers gave a member of our crew a used hunting knife as a gift. We later discovered that the knife appeared to have traces of blood on it. Naturally, we were shocked and found ourselves in an extremely difficult situation. We felt it was strange that Mr. Byers had given us a used knife that seemed to have blood on it. However, it could have easily been an innocent gesture of friendship, so we did not want to carelessly hand it over to police, creating controversy for Mr. Byers, particularly in the local press.
On the other hand, since the investigation had yet to recover a definitive murder weapon, and since it was Byers’ stepson who had been castrated with a knife, we had no way of knowing if the knife was involved in the murders. We had to weigh our responsibility as journalists against our moral and civic responsibilities. We didn’t want it to create the false impression that we were manipulating the outcome of our film, nor did we want an innocent man to be falsely accused. And, on a practical level, we feared that the tremendous access and trust that people had placed in us would be destroyed if we turned over the knife—the press might play it up, and if the knife did not play a role in the case, our subjects might not trust us any longer. But the most important consideration kept floating to the top: if there was even the remotest possibility that the knife was involved in the case, we had a moral obligation to turn it over. After several meetings with HBO on the subject, we decided to turn it over to the local police. 199
The sudden appearance of a knife—one owned by John Mark Byers and bearing traces of blood that was consistent with Christopher’s—was the most significant development in the case since Jessie Misskelley’s contorted confession. Its connection to people related to the crime was clear. Unlike the knife police said they’d taken from the lake, which they claimed linked two of the defendants to the murders, this knife had indisputably belonged to the father of one of the victims. And blood on it was consistent with the blood of his murdered stepson.
For the defense attorneys and Lax, the timing of the knife’s appearance could hardly have been worse. The knife cast serious suspicion on Byers. But until now, no one on the defense had ever focused on him as a suspect. That was partly because of the size and condition of what they called “the discovery mess.” It was partly because, despite Fogleman’s assurances to Judge Burnett that “everything” would be turned over to the defense by the end of August, notes of the interview detectives had conducted on May 19 with Byers had not been released until the middle of November. And it was partly because other records, such as those concerning Byers’s activities as a drug informant and his conviction for threatening to kill his ex-wife, had never been released at all. Now, faced with the startling appearance of the bloodstained knife, Lax and the defense lawyers felt handicapped by all they did not know about the stepfather of the castrated victim.
For Stidham and Crow, who were already deep into Jessie’s trial, the situation was
With Jessie on trial for his life, his attorneys, Stidham and Crow, were focused on events in the courtroom. But now the remarkable news of the FedExed knife became a serious distraction. As the lawyers waded into the trial, Lax worked outside of court, trying to learn what he could about the mysterious knife. Bit by bit, he managed to find out that it had been sent to Gitchell by the New York filmmakers Sinofsky and Berlinger. The two later explained how the knife had come into their possession—and why they’d sent it to the West Memphis police. It was a remarkable tale.
“A few days before Christmas,” they wrote,
Mark Byers gave a member of our crew a used hunting knife as a gift. We later discovered that the knife appeared to have traces of blood on it. Naturally, we were shocked and found ourselves in an extremely difficult situation. We felt it was strange that Mr. Byers had given us a used knife that seemed to have blood on it. However, it could have easily been an innocent gesture of friendship, so we did not want to carelessly hand it over to police, creating controversy for Mr. Byers, particularly in the local press.
On the other hand, since the investigation had yet to recover a definitive murder weapon, and since it was Byers’ stepson who had been castrated with a knife, we had no way of knowing if the knife was involved in the murders. We had to weigh our responsibility as journalists against our moral and civic responsibilities. We didn’t want it to create the false impression that we were manipulating the outcome of our film, nor did we want an innocent man to be falsely accused. And, on a practical level, we feared that the tremendous access and trust that people had placed in us would be destroyed if we turned over the knife—the press might play it up, and if the knife did not play a role in the case, our subjects might not trust us any longer. But the most important consideration kept floating to the top: if there was even the remotest possibility that the knife was involved in the case, we had a moral obligation to turn it over. After several meetings with HBO on the subject, we decided to turn it over to the local police. 199
The sudden appearance of a knife—one owned by John Mark Byers and bearing traces of blood that was consistent with Christopher’s—was the most significant development in the case since Jessie Misskelley’s contorted confession. Its connection to people related to the crime was clear. Unlike the knife police said they’d taken from the lake, which they claimed linked two of the defendants to the murders, this knife had indisputably belonged to the father of one of the victims. And blood on it was consistent with the blood of his murdered stepson.
For the defense attorneys and Lax, the timing of the knife’s appearance could hardly have been worse. The knife cast serious suspicion on Byers. But until now, no one on the defense had ever focused on him as a suspect. That was partly because of the size and condition of what they called “the discovery mess.” It was partly because, despite Fogleman’s assurances to Judge Burnett that “everything” would be turned over to the defense by the end of August, notes of the interview detectives had conducted on May 19 with Byers had not been released until the middle of November. And it was partly because other records, such as those concerning Byers’s activities as a drug informant and his conviction for threatening to kill his ex-wife, had never been released at all. Now, faced with the startling appearance of the bloodstained knife, Lax and the defense lawyers felt handicapped by all they did not know about the stepfather of the castrated victim.
For Stidham and Crow, who were already deep into Jessie’s trial, the situation was
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