Death of Innocents

I recently became aware of a documentary film made in 1996 by HBO, and was immediately compelled to check it out from even just the brief description I heard. It's called Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills.

Back in the early 90s, the bodies of three young boys, all around age 8, were found murdered in Arkansas. The killings were horrifying enough at just that, that children so young were victims; the particulars of the crime took it to an even more chilling level. The body were all hogtied, stripped, and mutilated -- some in ways I don't care to describe here in detail.

But that's only the "back story" of this documentary. Instead, the film focus on the trials of the three teenagers (ages 16 through 18) arrested for these crimes. In short, the state in which the victims had been found led police to suspect "Satanists" were responsible. And so attention turned to one aloof teenager who seemed to fit the bill: he dressed all in black, had a strange haircut, listened to Metallica, and read Stephen King. There also happened to be no substantive physical evidence linking him to the crime... which for a month, kept him only a suspect under investigation.

That all changed when another teenager who knew him gave a statement claiming he'd witnessed this prime suspect -- and his best friend -- perform the murders, and even acted himself as an accomplice. But this confession came after hours of possible coercive interrogation. And this witness was mentally disabled, thus more easily manipulated. And his confession was filled with inconsistencies both with itself and with several established facts in the case.

Nevertheless, it was enough. Confession, fear of Satanists, a desperate need to avenge brutal slayings, and people who look abnormal. (I mean, look at the picture on the DVD -- it's honestly chilling all on its own.) This is the subject of the documentary, an in depth look at the trials and the miscarriage of justice in this case. And it's a very well put together film that stirs up a plenty of emotions and intellectual quandaries.

Never for a moment does this documentary want you to actually believe these teenagers are guilty. That issue isn't even on the table. But you are constantly forced to face the anguish of the parents of the murdered boys. You can absolutely understand their grief; you might even understand their own sort of bloodthirst when it comes to these suspects (even if that's not in your own nature). And yet it blinds them all to obvious truths.

Watching the film, you're faced with a lot of cliches of "Rednecks from Arkansas." In one scene, two parents actually give an interview to the documentary makers, sitting in their decades-old recliners, one smoking a cigarette, both nursing alcohol in their foam beer cozies, neither sounding remotely intelligent. Part of you wants to grab them and shake them; all of you feels intellectually superior; and yet, you must feel compassion for them. They're still people, you can still identify what they're going through.

The prime suspect in this case, Damien Echols, takes to the stand in his own defense. You feel such sympathy for his situation, given the utter lack of evidence. You feel the unbridled bloodlust of everyone around him, out to see him executed, and you want to root him on. And yet he often comes across himself like an impossible-to-like punk of a teenager who almost defiantly seems to not want to help his own cause. He doesn't deserve his fate, and yet you wish he'd appear to take things more seriously!

The documentary runs rather long at two-and-a-half hours, but it throws these tough contradictions at you the entire time. A good watch, if you can stomach it. I'd rate it a B. I was enthralled enough to dig into further information about the case -- which included learning of a sequel documentary made by HBO (which I'll probably also watch), and watching a recent episode of 48 Hours Mystery that is still trying to bring more attention to this case even all these years later.