Tuesday, November 25, 2003
It is not easy for those who lived or worked in Winston-Salem in the summer of 1984 to see pictures, headlines and stories that revive memories of the terrible events surrounding the rape and stabbing murder of Deborah Sykes. The murder of a bright, vibrant young woman who should have had a long life ahead of her would have been terrible enough in any case.
The circumstances of this murder made things worse: The victim was on her way to work at the newspaper office downtown early in the morning. The attack on her raised fears among other people who suddenly felt threatened as they went about their daily lives. The attack was especially brutal. Eyewitness accounts describing a white woman with a black man or men raised fears and stereotypes about race.
Once Darryl Hunt was arrested, race became an even greater factor. Some members of the community rallied to his defense. Others pressed for a quick conviction. There were, and still are, those who strongly believe that Hunt was involved in the murder even if he was not the rapist or the man who wielded the knife. There were, and still are, those who are convinced that Hunt was wrongly accused and convicted, in part because the white power structure wanted the case closed. Hunt's two trials, both ending in convictions, stirred deep divisions in Winston-Salem.
Many of those who were, if not pleased, at least relieved when Hunt was convicted probably would like nothing better than to try to forget the murder and divisiveness it aroused.
Some people, however, cannot hope to forget. The horror of what happened to Deborah Sykes will always haunt those who knew and loved her. And Darryl Hunt cannot hope to forget because he is in prison as a convicted murderer. If he was in any way involved in her death, then his fate is just. If he was not, then justice has not been served. Back in 1984, Hunt, then 19, and a part of what one juror has since called "the underbelly of Winston-Salem," was hardly an upstanding citizen. But the penalty for living on the fringes of the law is not usually life in prison.
What Phoebe Zerwick's series of articles in the Journal about Darryl Hunt makes clear is that the investigation into the murder of Deborah Sykes cannot be marked closed and filed away. Two juries convicted Hunt, but because of the flawed police investigation, questionable witnesses with changing stories and other problems, many unanswered questions remain.
Modern technology has raised more questions. In 1994, DNA testing found that the semen collected from Sykes' body 10 years earlier was not Hunt's. That finding did not rule out his involvement in her death, however, and requests for a third trial were denied. Now efforts have begun to match DNA from the Sykes case with state and national databases. Hunt is hoping that a match will be found to someone with whom he has not been connected.
Everyone who cares about the justice system should be hoping that, one way or another, the truth of what happened that hot day in 1984 eventually will be known. Difficult as it might be to confront, the truth ultimately serves everyone better.