Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row Read online

  ALSO BY DAMIEN ECHOLS

  Life After Death

  Almost Home

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Echols, Damien.

  Yours for eternity : a love story on death row / Damien Echols, Lorri Davis.

  pages cm

  ISBN 978-1-101-63483-7

  1. Love. 2. Death row 3. Capital punishment. 4. Man-woman relationships. 5. Echols, Damien. 6. Davis, Lorri. I. Davis, Lorri. II. Title.

  BF575.L8E365 2014 2014009058

  364.66092—dc23

  [B]

  Penguin is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the authors’ alone.

  Version_1

  For Cally, Nicole, Jacob, Fran, and Capi

  Our unsung heroes

  contents

  also by damien echols

  title page

  copyright

  dedication

  July 11, 1996

  authors’ note

  April 1996

  April 1996

  postscript, 2014

  postscript, 2014

  April 10, 1996

  April 13, 1996

  April 1996

  April 23, 1996

  April 26, 1996

  May 1, 1996

  May 2, 1996

  May 6, 1996

  May 5, 1996

  May 3, 1996

  May 1996

  May 14, 1996

  May 1996

  May 21, 1996

  June 14, 1996

  June 17, 1996

  June 17, 1996

  June 18, 1996

  June 25, 1996

  June 1996

  June 27, 1996

  June 1996

  July 1, 1996

  July 1, 1996

  July 1996

  July 8, 1996

  July 9, 1996

  July 11, 1996

  July 15, 1996

  July 15, 1996

  July 18, 1996

  July 22, 1996

  July 23, 1996

  July 24, 1996

  July 24, 1996

  July 29, 1996

  July 29, 1996

  July 31, 1996

  August 1, 1996

  August 3, 1996

  August 5, 1996

  August 7, 1996

  August 8, 1996

  August 12, 1996

  August 13, 1996

  August 14, 1996

  August 14, 1996

  August 15, 1996

  August 16, 1996

  August 19, 1996

  August 20, 1996

  August 24, 1996

  August 29, 1996

  September 3, 1996

  September 4, 1996

  September 4, 1996

  September 6, 1996

  September 6, 1996

  September 10, 1996

  September 12, 1996

  September 12, 1996

  September 17, 1996

  October 1, 1996

  October 2, 1996

  October 3, 1996

  October 3, 1996

  October 4, 1996

  October 7, 1996

  October 11, 1996

  October 18, 1996

  October 21, 1996

  October 30, 1996

  November 1, 1996

  November 5, 1996

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  November 7, 1996

  November 7, 1996

  November 14, 1996

  November 21, 1996

  November 29, 1996

  December 6, 1996

  December 23, 1996

  December 26, 1996

  January 9, 1997

  January 9, 1997

  January 13, 1997

  January 22, 1997

  January 29, 1997

  February 3, 1997

  February 10, 1997

  February 12, 1997

  February 28, 1997

  February 28, 1997

  March 3, 1997

  March 27, 1997

  April 1, 1997

  April 1, 1997

  April 7, 1997

  May 2, 1997

  May 13, 1997

  June 30, 1997

  July 10, 1997

  July 24, 1997

  August 5, 1997

  August 14, 1997

  August 19, 1997

  September 11, 1997

  September 19, 1997

  October 6, 1997

  October 6, 1997

  October 7, 1997

  October 16, 1997

  October 29, 1997

  November 10, 1997

  November 24, 1997

  December 23, 1997

  December 29, 1997

  February 5, 1998

  February 6, 1998

  February 1998

  February 1998

  March 9, 1998

  March 11, 1998

  April 11, 1998

  April 17, 1998

  April 29, 1998

  May 6, 1998

  May 9, 1998

  June 2, 1998

  August 3, 1998

  August 3, 1998

  August 4, 1998

  August 6, 1998

  September 1, 1998

  October 9, 1998

  October 13, 1998

  October 26, 1998

  October 27, 1998

  November 2, 1998

  November 12, 1998

  November 24, 1998

  November 30, 1998

  March 22, 1999

  March 29, 1999

  April 1999

  April 27, 1999

  April 28, 1999

  May 19, 1999

  May 25, 1999

  May 26, 1999

  June 2, 1999

  June 18, 1999

  June 1999

  July 27, 1999

  August 6, 1999

  August 19, 1999

  October 18, 1999

  November 12, 1999

  December 6, 1999

  December 7, 1999

  December 9, 1999

  December 22, 1999

  December 23, 1999

  December 29, 199
9

  January 11, 2000

  January 12, 2000

  January 13, 2000

  January 18, 2000

  January 27, 2000

  March 2000

  March 15, 2000

  March 22, 2000

  May 3, 2000

  May 10, 2000

  August 2, 2000

  September 7, 2000

  September 19, 2000

  September 19, 2000

  October 17, 2000

  November 2000

  November 17, 2000

  December 1, 2000

  December 18, 2000

  January 2, 2001

  January 25, 2001

  February 6, 2001

  February 21, 2001

  February 2001

  April 4, 2001

  April 10, 2001

  April 26, 2001

  May 7, 2001

  May 14, 2001

  May 30, 2001

  June 8, 2001

  June 14, 2001

  September 25, 2001

  October 9, 2001

  October 31, 2001

  November 13, 2001

  December 14, 2001

  December 18, 2001

  December 21, 2001

  January 3, 2002

  January 15, 2002

  January 23, 2002

  January 24, 2002

  June 6, 2002

  June 28, 2002

  July 5, 2002

  July 9, 2002

  September 12, 2002

  September 18, 2002

  October 1, 2002

  October 2, 2002

  October 3, 2002

  October 5, 2002

  December 5, 2002

  January 13, 2003

  January 15, 2003

  February 4, 2003

  March 5, 2003

  March 19, 2003

  March 25, 2003

  April 1, 2003

  May 7, 2003

  May 15, 2003

  May 22, 2003

  October 14, 2003

  November 18, 2003

  December 4, 2003

  December 10, 2003

  January 21, 2004

  February 3, 2004

  February 17, 2004

  March 6, 2004

  March 16, 2004

  March 24, 2004

  April 6, 2004

  April 13, 2004

  April 21, 2004

  April 29, 2004

  June 17, 2004

  June 28, 2004

  August 2, 2004

  August 5, 2004

  September 14, 2004

  September 16, 2004

  October 19, 2004

  December 2, 2004

  January 19, 2005

  January 20, 2005

  February 26, 2005

  May 11, 2005

  June 21, 2005

  August 4, 2005

  November 2, 2005

  December 29, 2005

  [Undated]

  january 2014

  acknowledgments

  about the authors

  July 11, 1996

  Dearest Lorri,

  I was thinking about what you said about hating to have to go to work, and not being able to concentrate on it while you’re there, and I’ve come to a conclusion. As soon as I am out, you have to quit your job, so we can leave and go to who knows where. Trust me, it’ll be fun, and we’ll have tons of strange, wonderful adventures. It’ll be great, and you won’t have to worry about going to a job you don’t like. I will hear no argument on it. I’m dead serious, so I want you to agree to it. We’ll meet all kinds of people, go anywhere we want, and not do anything that we don’t want to (I’m not eating any vegetables). So what do you think? You have to say yes, because I’ll just keep bugging you until you do. The first place we have to see is that town where you grew up, you have to show me everything. Then I’ll show you West Memphis. After that, we can decide where to go by flipping a coin, or throwing darts at a map, or any other way we can think of. It’ll be strange, and beautiful, and magick. What do you think?

  Sending love forever to my dear one,

  D.

  One morning, about four o’clock, I was driving my car just about as fast as I could. I thought, “Why am I out on the highway this time of night?” I was miserable, and it all came to me: “I’m falling in love with somebody I have no right to fall in love with. I can’t fall in love with this man, but it’s just like a ring of fire.”

  JUNE CARTER CASH

  authors’ note

  When we began our journey together, now nearly twenty years ago, we hadn’t a clue what was in store for us. A young man on death row in Arkansas caught up in a terrible sequence of events and wrongful convictions. A woman in New York City who loved to go to the movies. Fate drew us inexplicably together—and we’ve spent the rest of our lives trying to explain the hows and whys of falling in love and building a life. There’s no easy answer for why we wrote those first letters—why a young, successful woman writes a letter to a man in prison—and most especially why we kept on writing those letters. Except that the more we helped each other deal with pain and fear, the greater our hope for freedom and joy grew. There were terribly dark days, months, and years, and yet we survived—as many married people do, regardless of their circumstances. The moments of ecstasy, romance, humor, and companionship burned brighter for the obstacles we faced. Again, like any married couple has faced.

  We wrote thousands and thousands of letters to each other between 1996 and 2011, when Damien was released. Sometimes five or six a day. It was a daunting task to reread and select the ones that best told our story, not to mention the occasional letter that we came across unopened—either one of us must have saved it to read later, and received a second or third letter that day and forgotten about it. We spoke too often to keep track. We didn’t always date the letters, so we’ve gone by postmarks here rather than the day they were written, and some span the course of several days before they were mailed. We have hundreds of mailmen to thank for keeping our love alive, and for bringing us both the words we needed to live by every day.

  Lorri Davis and Damien Echols

  April 1996

  Dear Damien,

  I really wanted to wait until you had a chance to reply to my letter (if you wanted to) before I bombarded you with another, but I have so many thoughts running through my head—I have decided to write them all down.

  By the way—if I am encroaching on your privacy in any way—and you don’t want me to write—please don’t hesitate to let me know. Like I have mentioned already a few times—I don’t know why I feel compelled to have contact with you—I just do—so I will write until you tell me to stop. I found an article in the New Yorker that you might find interesting—I don’t know what your legal situation is—the film doesn’t go into much detail about your appeal—what is happening? I have a friend whose father knows Kevin Doyle—I would like to make your case apparent to him—but only with your permission. I don’t even know what would happen—but I figure the more people who know—the more will be done. I know the movie will help when it comes out—but in the meantime I will tell everyone I know about you.

  How far away from West Memphis is Tucker? Do you get many visitors?

  In the movie, your family and girlfriend (wife?)—that wasn’t clear—she says you asked her to marry you—but that’s all—they came across as very caring, compassionate people. I hope you have a lot of support from them. I hope you get to see your son. How long have you been incarcerated? What are your days like—do you share a cell with someone? Please excuse my ignorance, I just want a semblance of what your life is presently.

  I hope it doesn’t freak you out to have someone t
hat you don’t even know mooning over you so much. It kind of freaks me out that this is happening to me. I cry about it a lot. I am fortunate enough to have a job that allows me to listen to music and draw all day—but since I have become “acquainted” with you it’s difficult—because I think about your situation all the time. I’m trying to figure out a positive way to deal with it. If I don’t—well, I already have, right? I honestly believe that undying hope can do wonders in this world. Damien, I can’t say that I believe in “God”; but something has brought you into my life, and as daunting as it is to me sometimes, I know it’s a good thing.

  I hope with all my heart you are O.K.

  I am sending you a photograph of the place Father Damien had his colony on the island of Molokai. Isn’t it beautiful? Such a beautiful place for such misery at one time.

  The original King Kong was filmed on that rock in the center of the photograph.

  That dark figure to the right is me. I was a little reluctant to send you a photograph of me—but I suppose it is only fair.

  The graveyard has an empty grave where Father Damien was buried, but his body was eventually shipped back to Belgium.

  O.K. I’ll stop for now.

  As I said before and will continue to say—let me know if I can send anything in particular to you. If you don’t tell me I’m going to start sending you Danielle Steel novels and really nasty-smelling aftershave and sardines in mustard sauce, and pieces of red string that I find on the street, and last but certainly not least—a large pod of some sort.

  I will, too.

  Bye,

  Lorri

  April 1996

  Dear Lorri,

  Believe me, I in no way think that my privacy is being invaded and I do not mind being “bombarded with letters.” I just sent off another letter to you a couple days ago, which you should have gotten right before this one. I can’t remember if I enclosed those articles I was telling you about or not, so if I forgot, just remind me, and I’ll get them out to you.

  Thank you for the article from the New Yorker. I had read it a couple days before; I have a subscription to the New Yorker. I love the little cartoons they print.

  I certainly don’t mind you making my case known to Kevin Doyle. I would not object to anything that could possibly help.

  Yes, I’m sure the film will convince a lot of people in other states of my innocence, but what worries me is whether or not the people of Arkansas will pay attention. They refuse to look at the evidence and they refuse to listen to reason. All they want is to see somebody die for those crimes and a “freak” like me is just as good as anyone. The whole attitude scares the hell out of me.