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Mark Anthony DUKE
By Sara Foss - DailyGazette.com
Friday, June 20, 2008
As a reporter, you’re always learning. It’s not
always clear how useful the information you accumulate is — does it help
you in Trivial Pursuit? does it make you better at the crossword? — but
you do develop an ability to talk about anything, with almost anyone,
which at least gives you the ability to survive a dinner party. My
moment of triumph came a couple of years ago, when a friend was
complaining about her boyfriend’s tinnitus — a persistent ringing in the
ears — and how she can never hear anything he says. “I just wrote a
story on tinnitus,” I announced, as my friend Ed practically fell over
with disbelief. “The problem is, there’s no cure.” You know you’ve
reached some weird pinnacle in the accumulation of random information
when you can discuss tinnitus with your friends. And not just discuss it,
but discuss it with authority.
This week I began researching a story that will run
in Sunday’s Gazette about the juvenile justice system and why certain
crimes are prosecuted in adult court. (The article is inspired by the
Albany 15-year-old who allegedly fired a gun and killed a 10-year-old
girl.) As I surfed the web and looked for information, I began thinking
about Mark Anthony Duke.
Duke, a resident of Shelby County, Ala., was
sentenced to die for killing his father, father’s girlfriend, and the
girlfriend’s two young daughters. His 1999 trial, which lasted a week,
was one of the first things I covered in my job as a reporter at the
Birmingham Post-Herald, my first newspaper. I don’t think about Duke
often, but occasionally he pops into my head, like the name of a book I
never finished, and I wonder: Whatever happened to Mark Anthony Duke?
I’d never tried to answer this question, but this
week it became impossible not to. One of the people I interviewed for my
juvenile justice story mentioned a 2005 Supreme Court decision barring
the execution of 16 and 17-year-olds. When I took a look at it, there he
was, Mark Anthony Duke.
The details of his case were outlined in grim detail,
and I scanned through them. I’d forgotten how awful it all was, how Duke
enlisted several friends to help him (one of the friends, 19-year-old
Brandon Samra had already been convicted and sent to death row; he
testified against Duke during one of the more riveting days of trial),
how he told these friends he planned to kill his father and that he
would kill the girls to eliminate witnesses.
Duke and Samra (the other two friends didn’t enter
the house, which is why they received lengthy prison sentences but
didn’t end up on death row) found the 6-year-old hiding in the shower
and slit her throat. Then they found the 7-year-old hiding under a bed
and slit her throat. They shot the adults, and ransacked the house to
make it appear as though a burglary had occurred. Why did Duke decide to
do this? The only explanation we heard in court was that he was angry
because his father wouldn’t let him borrow the truck.
Duke never said a word at trial, though several
people testified in his defense, saying he wasn’t all that bad. His
mother and sisters attended the trial, but didn’t speak on his behalf.
One of the more surreal aspects of covering a capital murder trial day
in and day out is hanging out in the courthouse.
Many trial articles duly note that relatives and
friends of the victim sit on one side of the courthouse, while relatives
and friends of the defendant sit on the other side, but this observation,
delivered in terse newspaper-style, fails to convey how truly bizarre
this dynamic is. On one side you have people who want the defendant to
live, and on the other side people who want the defendant to die, but
for the most part everybody manages to ignore each other and keep things
civil. At least, that’s what they did during this trial, though it was
certainly tense and uncomfortable, even painful, particularly when the
bloody photos from the crime scene were displayed. I remember several
people leaving the courtroom. When the jury was charged, we knew it
wouldn’t take long. We milled around in the hallway, and after about a
half hour we were called back into the courtroom, where we learned that
Mark Anthony Duke had been found guilty.
Duke is not a famous person, but this week I found
myself recalling the facts of his case and discussing them with people.
“Oh, yeah,” I said to one person. “I remember they attended the movie
“Scream” the night of the murders to establish an alibi.” Because of the
Supreme Court ruling, Duke will not be executed, but he will spend the
rest of his life in prison. I found some information about him on a
website about juveniles on Alabama’s death row. After the Supreme Court
ruling, he was moved to a state prison in Atmore. In a photograph on the
site, he is grinning — I don’t think he smiled once at trial — and it
says: “Mark has been incarcerated since he was 16 years old. He welcomes
new penfriends and encourages the more mature correspondent to contact
him at ...” The website invited me to visit Duke’s website, but when I
tried to pull it up I found that it had been removed. Still, I was
satisfied. My question had been answered.
So that’s where Mark Anthony Duke is, I thought. In a
state prison in Atmore. For some strange reason, it was information I
was glad to have.