The West Memphis Three have been released from custody for just over a week now.  I’ve been meaning to write this post for that same amount of time.

Usually, when I come up with a post, I hit the idea, sit down, and fling it out there.  But, really hasn’t enough shit been flying anyway?  Or has the news flashed in the pan and left Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin, and Jessie Misskelly to seek out their lives in a much changed world?  I would like to think that it has, but at the same time, don’t they deserve just a little more of our time?  They’ve certainly had enough of their own time taken away from them.

And what of the lives that might have been for Steven Branch, Christopher Byers, and Michael Moore?  Don’t they deserve more time, more thought, and more investigation?  My heart clenches and my stomach does flips when I think about the terror that filled them during the last minutes of their lives.  I know some people forget about those boys when they talk about the injustice of this case.  I can assure you that I never forget the victims.

I considered digging up a copy of the documentary HBO made, Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills. and re-watching it, but I couldn’t stomach it.  I have little physical tolerance of the websites for the same reason.  It just doesn’t sit right.  I’m grateful that there are celebrities aiding the cause, lending their names, money, and support, but when I dig down into the information about the case, I can only think of villagers with pitchforks.

What good is a witch hunt if no one actually finds a witch?  Do witches look different?  Do they act different?  Do they float?  It seems as if there was a needle in the poppet, one that was sewn deep long before it saw the inside of a courtroom.  And the poppet drew blood.  Just like Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, it seems like a witch must be found.

Intolerance must be burned at the stake.