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Teresa Kintner Gunderson
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- Justice has been tossed in a trunk and thrown out to sea. Free the West Memphis Three
I had the dubious fortune of living in Memphis, Tennessee for three years, beginning in October, 1993. That May, three beautiful boys were murdered in West Memphis, Arkansas, right over the state line. While I lived in Memphis three innocent young men were tried and convicted for these crimes, based on little or no evidence whatsoever.
This travesty of justice has left two young men (Jesse Misskelley and Jason Baldwin) in prison for life, and one young man (Damien Echols) on death row. They sit in prison after almost two decades, waiting for someone, somehow, somewhere to undo the mess made of the trials and free them.
Jason Baldwin's significant crime was wearing hard rock t-shirts. Jesse Misskelley erred by being borderline retarded and being forced to confess by the police. Damien wore black and flirted with Wicca, the Goth lifestyle, and listened to heavy metal and rock and roll. These things obviously made him a suspect for something, anything, and this crime was as good a match for his wild ways as the police in the area were able to find. There was no other evidence linking them to the crime - just Jesse's error-ridden confession (extracted after twelve hours in interrogation, only a fraction of which was recorded) and the testimony of a few flaky kids who were said to have overheard Damien confess.
The cast of characters includes a crazy drug-addled stepfather of one of the murdered boys, himself a pretty nice looking addition to the "person of interest list", although he never was investigated. There was the bloody, mumbling man in a restaurant bathroom the evening of the murders, who the police refused to investigate at the time, but looked into a few days later. There was the cocky Chief Investigator who refused to consider there might have been a different murderer. There was an initial FBI profile that said they were looking for a Vietnam veteran based on the patterns of wounds on the children. There was the newspaper reporter who decided that since it was close to a "pagan holiday" (May 1, the murders happened on May 5th or 6th) and a full moon, it must have been a Satanic Ritual Murder. There was the local woman in trouble with the law who tried to get her young son (a friend of the murdered boys) to testify that he'd seen the whole thing from the woods. The same woman later convinced Jesse Misskelley to go to the police to give a similar story. There were the countless people in Arkansas and the surrounding area who allowed Satanic Panic to fill their hearts and make them grab at the first possible suspect: a kid who wore black and his friends.
Most of the trials hinged on the testimony of Jesse Misskelley. Jesse, with an I.Q. of 72, was subjected to God knows what by the police during those twelve hours. We know that he took and passed a lie detector test, yet was told by the police that he'd failed. An expert on coerced confessions heard the fraction of Jesse's interrogation that was recorded, and testified that it was a "classic example" of police coercion*. Jesse gave wrong piece of information after wrong piece - virtually everything he said that was right was coerced and led by the police officers. There was no physical evidence linking any of the three young men to the crime: in fact, the police department destroyed most of the physical evidence by incredibly improper crime scene behavior. There were no credible eye witnesses. There was no motive. There was nothing beyond the Satanic Panic and the rush to justice of the people in West Memphis. Nothing, yet three young men have had their lives stolen, not unlike those three young boys who were murdered.
The three were recently denied new trials despite new DNA evidence, and now they are in the midst of trying to raise over $30,000 to fund their latest appeals. It seems that the court system is bound and determined to make these men pay for something they so clearly did not do.
I was not a mother when this happened, I had at the time no interest in children, yet every day as I read the Memphis Commercial Appeal I cried at the photos of those beautiful baby faces. I still cry, especially now that I look at my son, who is not that far from the age of riding a bike and hanging out with his buddies. I cry now, for the babies, for the people who love them, and for the young men in prison and their families. I cry because I think of six lives destroyed by this travesty, and so many others touched and ripped apart forever.
I don't understand why there isn't more outrage about this. I don't know if people haven't heard of it, I don't know if people are just jaded to yet another example of perverted justice. I don't know if it's just "old news" now, after 17 years. It breaks my heart.
Please, if this raises any of your hackles, investigate it on your own. The website is full of information regarding the case including recent news and transcripts, and two different synopsis of the case, one by an interested and devoted supporter of the WM3 (Burk Sauls) and another by one of the attorneys for the case. There are also two excellent HBO movies made, Paradise Lost and Paradise Lost 2 which I highly recommend. Both are available at Netflix. I can direct you also to an extensive Crime Library article regarding the case, and there is a new book (Devil's Knot) that is highly recommended as well.
All that I ask is that, if you are so inclined, you share this with other people and help put this case out before the public in hopes that someday, some way something will happen to fix what has been broken. Meanwhile, say a prayer, light a candle, hold your thumbs - whatever it is you do, for the souls of the three boys, and the lives of the three men.
*1. From page 2 of Burk Sauls' case synopsis
Original TIBU publication date: 9/25/2007. Presented here with edits.1 day on
The Cosmic Motor - Questions from a Fat Girl This was written in response to a piece of fiction about fat girls who never get dates and are lonely and miserable. Girls who overeat because they were miserable and heartbroken. It made my heart hurt because I've had friends who went through that kind of torment on a regular basis and ended up scarred deeply from the experience.
It left me wondering though... what about us fat chicks that are the farthest from that? Why doesn't anyone hear about us? Or is it that we try to get our story out and no one believes us?
I'm fat. Yeah, really overweight - it crept up on me over the years. I was a little heavy coming out of puberty, then there was the 'Freshman 15' in college. Then I broke my foot running and that helped... 10 pounds a year over a course of years and *boom* here I am. Yes, I love food but... I don't use food as a drug. I don't use it to salve my feelings. Naturally, like all human beings once in a while some ice cream or a plate of pasta does help pacify an emotion, but it isn't any more of a problem for me than any skinny folks I know - in fact, I know some very skinny people who "emotional eat" constantly. They just have a very different metabolism than I do.
I'm not lonely. I never have been - I've had a lifetime of really sweet, good looking men who were crazy about me at every stage in my weight gain. Not because of the weight, but with it, through it, beside it. Not "in spite of" either. Yes, I've screwed up a few relationships and I've ended up with a few major duds - but none of those situations had the slightest bit to do with my weight. Only once in my life has a man given me a problem about my weight - but that was my husband (now ex) of 13 years who knew what buttons to push. I knew that he, in his right mind, thought I was lovely and sexy and amazing - it was the crazy cruel deluded person in him who knew that he could knife through my heart by cutting me with the one blade I never dreamed he'd pull out of his arsenal.
I'm not alone. I'm married to the best man ever (really, not just because he'll probably read this). I'm mother to an amazing little human and I have a treasure trove of friends, some of whom have been in my life for 40 years. Being fat has never challenged these things, has never compromised them.
I am not unhappy because I'm fat. I'm unhappy that I'm fat, but that's a totally different story - that's because I worry about my health and my ability to keep up with the Bundle. I know it's bad for me, I know I need to drop these pounds. I do sometimes down on myself because of my weight, but that's more of a habit of self-deprecation that predates the weight by years... I'm as likely to down myself because of my intellect, or my clumsiness, or my forgetfulness.
I'm not unhappy that I'm fat because I think I'm less than human, or that I think people constantly judge me for it. Yeah, maybe someone at Sizzler is thinking asshole thoughts when I go up to get a plate of food - but that's really not a worry for me. Most of the guys that I hear making comments about women being overweight are grossly fat themselves - which is a completely different rant, fat guys who say "no fat chicks"... nothing could be more amusing.
So what about it girls, am I the only person who hasn't had her life destroyed, altered or marred for the single fact of fat? Am I an anomaly or am I one of many that just don't get heard, or believed?
Originally published at TIBU on: 1/30/2008. Presented here with edits.1 day on
The Cosmic Motor - Fear This week's Facebook mission is to confront a fear. Talking about fear always reminds me of the Dune books, and the Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear:
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
It is true, fear kills a lot of a person. If you're frightened enough of something you can create an entire lifestyle out of avoiding that particular thing. You can shroud yourself in so many protective layers that not only do you never touch the thing you fear, but you don't touch anything else. You spend so much time planning things out to keep yourself safe that you never live.
I had a conversation with a surgeon friend of mine a few weeks ago. He mentioned a guitarist he'd done a workshop with some years before, a man who is considered one of the fastest guitarists in the world. Apparently the musician has certain ways of playing that he feels have kept his hands free of carpal tunnel, and continues to play fast and practice to hone his technique. My surgeon friend and I then wandered into a discussion of making a living with your hands, and protecting them. He said that many of his friends and family over the years had cautioned him to not do this or that to save his hands. He has always shrugged these admonitions off because he believes you cannot live in fear of life, even to protect your own livelihood. Caution is healthy, fear that cripples you from living is not.
So, what fear can you face? Start off slow, there's no reason to jump into the serious phobias first. You might need help with the bigger ones, don't be afraid (there's that word again!) to seek out a professional when facing fears is challenging. Meanwhile, choose something you avoid because you are uncomfortable. Meditate on it, pray about it. Assess your life to see what impact this fear has on it, and do an old fashioned pen and paper "Pros and Cons" list. Consult your therapist, talk to trusted friends, seek out wisdom and comfort on the path. Let's all try to make our lives as fear-free as possible so that we can live fully.3 days on
The Cosmic Motor - This is not a poem Who am I?
I am a goddess, a whirlwind of light and life and vitality. I am this by my very nature, by my very humanity.
I am beautiful, I am stunningly beautiful even as I am short, tall, fat. skinny, gorgeous, homely. I am beautiful because I draw breath and smile and love and believe.
I hold the world in my arms, I push the world away with a gesture. I move, I sway, I dance, I eat, drink, laugh and am merry, I pulsate with the rhythm of ten billion hearts.
I cry. I weep the tears of the world from my two eyes. I hold the souls of children, men, women, animals, the unborn, the never born, the lost, the friendless, the desolate. I gather their souls about my skirts and climb the skies to heaven, descend the depths to hell, wade the vast limitless ocean of the the universe and carry them home, home, home.
Who am I?
I am the pocket of God, I peer out from His shoulder like a frail bird, I peek out from His eyes like the wanton earth.
I am fearsome; I am the thunder and lightning; I am flood, famine, death and destruction. I reap the fields with a sharpened scythe; I take the sheaves of wheat to the thresher, and grind them into meal.
I sing. I call the world into being with my song; I call the world to dusk, and bring the night on with my verses and rhymes.
Who am I?
I am a goddess. I am you, I am me. I am the universe, forever and ever, world without end. Amen.
-tdkg
Original TIBU publication date: 9/26/20078 days on
The Cosmic Motor - Missions From time to time I've been doing a little thing on Facebook that I'm calling "Missions". I've had fun with it, but I think I should use this blog to explain a bit more about each one. I'll start with today's, and probably do a blog entry for the older ones I've done.Your mission for this coming week is to follow the advice of Mikao Usui... (my interpretation of a vast variety of translations and interpretations):
Just for today try to live without anger.
Just for today be grateful for what you receive and do not worry.
Devote yourself to each thing you do. Be kind to yourself and everyone else.
Spend time each day in prayer and meditation.
Remember these words in your heart and with your lips.
I am a Reiki Master/Teacher. I began my study of Reiki when I had a chance to take a local class from a non-traditional Master in my home town about ten years ago. When both my Mother and Father were diagnosed with cancer, I decided to take my study farther and obtained a traditional Reiki Level One and Reiki Level Two. The work I did and the amazing help it seemed to give myself, them and anyone else (including my cats) that needed it convinced me that I needed to branch out and obtain a Master/Teacher Level so that I would be able to hand out this incredible gift to others. I think part of the reason that I found myself so taken with Reiki were the words of Master Usui. A translation directly from his own journals is found on his memorial:
...when it comes to teaching, first let the student understand well the Meiji Emperor's admonitory, then in the morning and in the evening let them chant and have in mind the five admonitions which are:
Don’t get angry today.
Don’t be grievous.
Express your thanks.
Be diligent in your business.
Be kind to others.
I'd like to think my version is faithful, but reflects my own personal Reiki interpretation. I hope that it gives you something to think about, and possibly helps you in your day-to-day life.11 days on
The Cosmic Motor
