





October 24, 2009
FIGHTING THE LAW
In 2003, Eric Stukel’s class put together a tenth-year reunion
album in which former students, age twenty-eight or so at this
point, were able to write a brief blurb about their lives.
Stukel began his blurb: “Well, I fought the law.”
Is that how he really sees himself, as a modern-day Robin Hood?
I remember watching a modern-day telling of Robin Hood. Ten
minutes into the film, somebody I loved more than any breath I
ever took introduced me to something about a cold body and
cold slab!—ugliness that, at that time, I couldn’t come close to
understanding—the message so deviant, so disturbing, so
horrendous…so prophetic even?
I knew Eric Stukel had a hideous side—I’d seen streaks of
sadism in him and his friends before—but I couldn’t fathom
that his fantasies so ghastly would become reality.
I live with that every day…and sometimes, forgiving me
becomes the hardest thing.
But then I remember Eric Stukel and his fighting “the law.”
Some might argue that I’m taking Stukel’s words out of
context, but in what other context could I possibly take them:
how did Eric Stukel exactly fight the law?
I think most reasonable people would want some
exemplification here.
How did he fight the law?
By turning to his parents and their lawyers to bail him out?
By rolling on the floor of an interview room crying like a baby,
about to confess when his father and lawyer walked in the
room to stop these voluntary proceedings?
(Stukel was never under arrest at this point. He was there of
his own volition.)
By cleaning his car “real good”?
By lying on the stand? (Science backs that up.)
By recruiting friends to beat up those who simply mentioned
his past?
What courageous act has Eric Stukel done to make him think
he had “fought the law”?
The rest of Eric Stukel’s tenth-reunion blurb involved a
laundry list of his hobbies.
So…he fought the law and he has hobbies now?
What about Tammy, Eric?
What about this person you supposedly loved so much?
I’m not trying to pick a fight—I just really want to understand.
I want to be able to walk a minute in Eric Stukel’s shoes and
understand how he could possibly think this way, that he
“fought the law.”
What makes him feel like such a wounded soul (or is it
arrogance?) that makes him think he actually made any
attempt to fight the law?
If I’m innocent of a crime, I’m not really fighting the law, am I?
I’m just defending myself against wrongful accusations.
The law should be on my side, shouldn’t it?
How did the law not work out in Stukel’s favor?
(Wasn’t it a supposed lack of evidence and a technicality about
jurisdiction that set him free?)
A few defenders of Stukel have said, “Well, he’s innocent—the
jury decided.”
Is that the only evidence his defenders have to come to their
conclusion?
There have been many instances where justice has not been
served in the courtroom—I have to believe that this is one of
them.
Twelve people can be lazy, can be wrong—and in some cases
“the sword of justice” can slip past the head of somebody
rightfully accused.
If you disagree, dear reader, please take the time to look at
every one of my August and September Un-Blogs…and if you
don’t believe me, please find independent confirmation of the
facts. Go to the Cedar County Courthouse and look at the
courtroom proceedings. The evidence is solid against Eric
Stukel, despite what that jury decided.
The evidence is out there…I beg you, if you don’t believe, go
further than my conclusions.
Eric Stukel…
You are no Tom Robinson. You are no Mockingbird accused
falsely, without evidence, charged guilty because of prejudice
and hate. You are no martyr, no Robin Hood.
You did not fight the law.
You were not a victim of the law.
In fact, what you did was this!
You fantasized about killing somebody. These are your words.
You were with her at the time she died. This is what science
tells us. You failed a polygraph. Your fluids were found on her
body without reasonable explanation. You knew where her
body lay all those days after she went missing. Your behavior
at the crime scene backs up this. While you were under the
influence, you confessed to an innocent bystander.
All this evidence, like blood spilt, screams out against you…but
all we hear now is silence...from you and your friends.
I got your message... the email sent from your sister's
computer, telling me that, after all this time, I'm more
responsible for Tammy's death than her real killer could
possibly be...telling me that I should watch my back, so I don't
end up in the ravine myself.
How deranged could anybody be to think this way?
How sick!
I almost feel pity for you.
Eric Stukel!
You did not fight the law.
But you did get exactly what you wanted.
You sat before a lazy jury who thought you looked like (and I
quote from a juror) a sweet boy.
You sat before a lazy jury, who let you walk away a free man…
They didn't want to be in that courtroom any more than you.
That's fine.
Few want to do jury duty.
I truly have to believe, based on their verdict and the
statements they made to the press, they fell for the fallacy of
absence of evidence.
Absence of evidence works like this: “Nobody has come
forward saying they witnessed the crime. There’s no smoking
gun in his hand, no video surveillance. Our suspect does have a
cover story, flimsy as it is, but, gee-whiz Aunt Bee, we may
actually have to engage our brains and our hearts and our souls
for this one and make some tough decisions here in the town of
Mayberry. We may have to convict a sweet-lookin' boy."
The evidence points in one direction, but can we find any
“gaps” to help us look the other way?
How could we get out of this one and keep our consciences
intact?
In many ways, I believe the small-town jury failed by simple-
mindedness.
I'm not trying to make fun.
If I had sat on that jury, I might have done the same the same
thing.
In hindsight, some on that jury do regret the verdict they made.
Based on the evidence presented to them though, based on what
was expurgated from the records through supposedly legal
processes, I’m guessing that jury had few alternatives.
I think their collective hand was forced toward the verdict
they made.
I think back to the meeting that happened in South Dakota
before the trial, involving several members of the law
enforcement community, involving those who investigated and
those who might have made a case of it in South Dakota --
people appointed to prosecute criminal wrongdoing.
According to what I have been told (and I was not a direct
eyewitness) the order to put together the case against Eric
Stukel was made like this, “We’ll set it up so Stukel looks like
the lone guilty party, but we’ll set it up in such a way that
nobody will really get in trouble—hey, kids go out and have fun
and these things happen.”
I do paraphrase and do admit I wasn't a witness to this
meeting. I take all of this from a source I consider reliable.
According to some, murder just happens—not a big deal to get
at the truth of the situation.
I have spent my adult life trying to understand the complexities
of what happened to Tammy that night.
Eric Stukel…
You and your friends did a halfway decent job of covering up
the crime.
That doesn’t mean you actually fought the law.
And then there’s Tammy.
My lifeline through high school.
The only reason I decided to stick around through those
troublesome years.
The one who sang with me that day before I left for the Army.
(Granted, we sang a bit off key.)
The one who sat with me when I was terrified about leaving.
The one who let me know it would be okay...
That I would have the strength to make it through
The one who said, "just come home and it will all be okay."
The one who loved me unconditionally.
The one let me weep on her shoulder...
Because I was so afraid.
The one who was all heart and all soul.
The one you could never possibly understand.
The one who was beyond you in every way.
I want to hate you so much...
But, instead, I pity you, Eric Stukel!
I wish you could feel that kind of love, maybe even have to live
with that kind of love in your heart...
I wonder what that would do to your soul.
I hope it would set you free.
Do you feel anything for Tammy?
Where does her life and death fit into your fighting of the law?
Your trial was a fraud from the start.
You were protected from the start.
Again, what about Tammy?
Some of us still miss her…we shed no crocodile tears.
Do you even dare utter her name?
Or do you, like Hamlet’s uncle-father Claudius, get fright’d by
false fire!
Do you plot and ploy when someone has written a "counterfeit
presentment" of your crime?*
Your instinct to answer me was to send a death threat, in
which you blamed me for Tammy’s death—simply because I
brought your actions to light.
I’m the one to blame now?!
How does that logic work?
In the words of Hamlet: “What? Fright’d by false fire!”*
Many have asked me if I’ve found forgiveness.
Most days, yes, I have.
Today, I may be a little worked up.
Yet all I spew are words...
No threats.
No actions.
Just words.
Imperfect as they might be.
In the end, I still try to fathom “the divine providence in the
fall of a sparrow.”*
I admit I still struggle with this.
Many have tried to point the finger at Tammy...
I just can't accept this.
Yet, I try to forgive.
The process of writing The Homecoming was brutal enough to
beat most of that rage out of me. I must admit, though, I do
have a few days when, “like a whore, I must unpack my heart"
I miss Tammy so much, so, so much…
She was more to me than I could ever express in words.
Some don't understand...and I feel pity for them.
Not to know true love -- unconditional love -- what a horrible
tragedy!
In the end, some just didn’t know Tammy, and many others,
who did know Tammy, or should have taken the time (not just
those involved in the cover-up, but judges, jurors, a few
members of law enforcement even) just didn’t think she was
worth doing the right thing.
More is the pity.
How they are missing out!
In short, expedience won the day…
Like Pilate, many simply washed their hands of Tammy’s death.
I say this: Tammy was and is worth the love and the time of
these questions, even some seventeen years later.
m.c. merrill
* Hamlet tries to prove his uncle's guilt in his father's murder
by staging a reenactment of the crime. When Claudius sees this
"play within the play" he panics and screams for light. Hamlet
responds by shouting, "What, fright'd by false fire!" Hamlet,
however, has a hard time avenging his father and instead beats
himself up in long monologues, and in one, accuses himself of
unpacking his heart like a whore. This is not to say I am a
Hamlet and Stukel is a Claudius. What a tragic joke that would
be! There is no nobility in any of this -- just a few poor souls
trying to get at the truth and a few other sad souls trying to
keep that truth from finding its way into the light.

