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Friday, February 4, 2005 --
9:10 AM
After learning Mark Lynch had returned to his home in Taylor, Detectives Murphy and
Armstrong contacted him and arranged for him to come in for an interview.
Mark Lynch was interviewed at the Yoknapatawpha County Sheriff's
Department. The interview was conducted by Detectives Armstrong and Murphy and was
recorded on a portable tape recorder with the witnesses' knowledge and
consent.
- TA = Detective T. Armstrong
- SM = Detective S. Murphy
- ML = Mark Lynch
SM: State your name, age, address and occupation for
the record.
ML: Mark Lynch, 39. My address is
255 County
Road 323 in Taylor. And I drive the mail truck from
Memphis to Taylor, and that's my occupation. But I think
you know all this, Detective, don't you?
SM: It's for the record.
ML: Whatever.
TA: You haven't been at work lately. Why
not?
ML: I took some vacation time.
SM: Where did you go?
ML: Down to Florida to see my brother.
TA: Thought you were from New Orleans.
ML: I lived there years ago. So what?
TA: When was the last time you were there?
ML: I don't know. Long time.
TA: Months? Years?
ML: Years. What does this have to do with anything?
TA: You sure you didn't go to New Orleans and not Florida?
ML: Yeah, I'm sure. I got no reason to go to New Orleans. My
brother lives in Florida.
SM: What's your brother's name?
ML: Eddie.
SM: Eddie Lynch?
ML: Duh, yeah. What do you think?
SM: And his address?
ML: What the hell you need his address for?
SM: Please, Mr. Lynch. You agreed to cooperate.
ML: I am cooperating. I just want to know why y'all need to get my
brother involved in this.
TA: You never know when we might need to contact him
to verify any information you give.
ML: All right, all right. He lives
in Kissimmee, Florida, in an apartment complex
called St. Cloud Village, I think. I don't remember the address.
I just know you get off on Highway 192, go a couple miles and it's on
the left. I been goin' there for years and never asked for the address.
SM: What's his phone number?
ML: 407-957-XXXX. You wanna call him up? We'll ask him
some questions. Maybe he killed this girl.
TA: What do you mean by that?
ML: What I mean is, it pisses me off to be dragged
down here to speak about some dead girl I never even
knew. I known plenty of cops willin' to drag any old fool
in and pin the tail on him, if you know what I mean.
Well, I ain't wearin' it.
TA: Lynch, no one is pinning anything on you. You
simply lived a stone's throw from where we found the
head, so naturally you're on our list to question. But
you've been conveniently missing since right around the time we started
this investigation, and I have to
say, that seems a tad suspicious. Now, if you'll permit us to continue...
ML: Go ahead.
TA: You said you didn't know the victim.
ML: I did not know her. Not even to look at her. I
remember her from years ago, but I never spoke to her.
Never even caught her eye.
SM: We have reason to believe that you were somehow involved
with her sister, Rita Hartigan, when she was in high school, around 1996 or
'97 perhaps. Do you care to characterize that relationship?
ML: That? Man, that was nothin'. She was a hot little
girl, so I called her up every now and then. She loved to
flirt but pretended like she was grossed out or whatever.
One time, her daddy answered the phone, and he was so
overprotective. He told me to go to hell, then
he must've had caller ID or something 'cause not an hour later
he was on my front porch beatin' on my door with a
damn baseball bat.
SM: How did you respond?
ML: I got my 12-gauge and loaded it with rock salt,
then fired off a couple rounds at his crazy ass. That sumbitch ain't been back, neither.
SM: Have you even had communication with Mr. Hartigan
since that time?
ML: Nope. Well, I take that back. I was up at Uptown Coffee
having my coffee one morning, probably about two or three
years ago, and he come in just as prettied up as you
please, gettin' his morning wake-up. He sees me sittin' there and says to the cashier, "Since when did
you start serving pedophiles?" Lucky my friend Jim was
with me or else I'd've chunked Hartigan through the
window, I mean it. But what do you expect, right? He's a
lawyer. He makes a livin' out of smearin' people's good
names.
SM: Did you know Mr. Hartigan prior to your calling his
daughter?
ML: Nope. Never laid eyes on him. I heard his name a
bunch. People always talkin' about what an ******* he
was. You know what I mean, I'm sure.
TA: Let's get back to Taylor. Did you ever see or hear
anything peculiar out near the creek? You're familiar
with the area, I'm sure.
ML: I've messed around over there before, sure. I like
to walk in the woods like anybody. But, no, I ain't never
seen nothin' to make me believe there was killings going
on. Although, there was that incident with the cows awhile back.
TA: Sure. Did you know anything about that?
ML: Hell no. What you tryin' to say?
TA: Nothing. I'm just trying to get leads here. Do you
know anyone else who hangs out in those woods or that pasture?
ML: I know kids who go pick mushrooms every spring,
but they ain't into no ritualistic killings or nothin' of
the sort. Hell, if you ask me, this looks like some
out-of-town weirdness. I ain't never seen the likes of
that ****.
TA: The likes of what?
ML: Look, I read the newspapers, all right? I know what
y'all found over there by Taylor Creek. And I'm just
sayin', nobody in my circles are smashin' chickens and
loppin' off pretty girls' heads.
SM: Did you ever see smoke rising out of that bottom?
ML: Nope. Never did.
SM: Ever heard screams?
ML: Never did. Why don't you ask that Whitehead kid though. He's out shootin' at the moon all the time. Hell,
he's more of a suspect than me. I drive all night.
TA: Your neighbors seem to think you carry on and
party a lot. Anything to that?
ML: I have the occasional Saturday night throw-down.
But I work at night, and I generally have to leave the
parties fairly early. So what happens after I go is not
my business.
TA: And what about you barreling through town on your
motorcycle?
ML: Sure, I like to ride, but I don't keep people up
at all hours. Again, I have a job that keeps me on the
road all night.
SM: When do you typically go into work?
ML: Well, I usually leave Taylor about 10:00 at night.
I get to the post office up in Memphis around 11:15 or so
and have some coffee, shoot the ****. We get the truck
loaded around midnight and I roll out around 12:15.
SM: What does your job consist of?
ML: I drop the mail off at various post offices
between Memphis and Taylor: Olive Branch, Byhalia, Holly
Springs, Oxford, Ole Miss and all kinds of little one-horse towns in between. I usually end up back in Taylor
around 8:20, 8:30 in the morning. I leave my truck at the
post office and just walk down to my house.
SM: And what do you do with your days?
ML: Sleep pretty much. And other little things I'm not
supposed to do.
TA: Such as...
ML: ****, Armstrong, you think I'm gonna give myself
away? You gotta catch me in the act.
TA: Don't push your luck, fella. I'm sure it wouldn't
be too hard to dig up enough to arrest you.
ML: Seems like you're up to ears in **** already. You really
got time to waste on any piddly **** I might be doing?
SM: Mr. Lynch, would you tell us what
you were doing on Wednesday, December 22?
ML: That was a long time ago, Detective. How am I
supposed to remember that?
TA: Here's a calendar. Think back, if you can get
through the haze of booze and marijuana... and God knows
what else. You better get those wheels turning.
ML: Um... Okay, I'm 99 percent positive that was the day I
had to take the truck back to Memphis after my shift because they were
inspecting it. I'd had some trouble with it, and they
wanted to fix it up and everything. So I turned around,
after that long night of lonely drivin', and I went back
to Memphis. I pulled in around 10:00 in the mornin', and
while they were lookin' over the truck, I went into one
of the guys' offices there and slept on his couch. I was
out cold until probably about 4:30 that afternoon. After
that, I walked a couple of blocks to this club I like to
attend every now and then, when I got some time to burn
in Memphis.
SM: What's the name of the club?
ML: The Gentlemen's Cabana.
TA: A strip club?
ML: How'd you guess?
SM: How long were you there?
ML: For a while. After that, I messed around with one
of the dancers. I think I headed back to the post office at about 11:00, with
an hour or so to spare before my route started
again.
SM: Who was this dancer?
ML: To be honest with you, I don't even remember her
name. She was new, and I ain't been back since then.
SM: Where did you two go?
ML: Well, we walked down to this Waffle House and had a bite
to eat around 9:30. And then...
TA: And then what?
ML: Don't embarrass me, Detective. I don't kiss and tell.
TA: Where did you go after Waffle House?
ML: We went to the bathroom at the Waffle House.
TA: And then where?
ML: And then the parking lot of a run-down Shoney's.
TA: And then?
ML: Back to the club, to the dressin' room. And then I left.
TA: You ever give anyone a ride when you're working? Someone
who needs to get from here to Memphis or Memphis to here?
ML: Nope. That's against the rules.
TA: Yeah. And, what? You never break the rules?
ML: Not on the job, man. Not ever.
SM: We understand you had a visitor at your house around that
same time. A white male. Who was that?
ML: That's my brother. His in-laws were comin' to his place
for Christmas, and him and them don't get along too good, so he came up
to have Christmas with me here. No big deal.
TA: And how'd his wife feel about him not being home for
Christmas?
ML: I don't know. Not my problem.
SM: How long was your brother in town?
ML: 'Bout a week. Came a few days before Christmas. Left a few
days after.
SM: So he was here on December 22nd?
ML: Maybe. I don't remember exactly when he got here.
TA: Does your brother have a job? What does he do for money?
ML: Whatever he can to get by. He ain't big on work.
He stays up here a lot 'cause his old lady is always givin' him hell about it.
SM: Do you know someone named Nicole Barry?
ML: Yes, I do. A fine woman.
SM: What's your relationship with her?
ML: We're just friends, right now. But I made a deal
with myself to try and convert her from being a lesbian
to comin' home with me. 'Cause can't nobody do it like
Mark, know what I mean?
TA: Have you ever been to her residence uninvited?
ML: I've been to parties out there. I never received a
formal invitation, but then again, nobody does.
TA: Aside from parties.
ML: I went over there with a friend once, but it
became obvious we weren't welcome, so we split.
TA: Did she ever threaten you to ward off your sexual advances?
ML: Look, I can get it anytime, anywhere. I don't have
to deal with all that, all right? The only threatening that
ever went down between her and me was my presence threatening her homosexuality. Know what I mean?
SM: All right, Mr. Lynch. I think that will be enough.
But we have to ask you to please not leave on any more
spur-of-the-moment vacations while we're conducting this
investigation.
ML: One thing I've learned is, you can ask for
anything you want. It don't necessarily mean you're gonna get it.
SM: Uh, yes. Before you go, Mr. Lynch, would you be willing to
give us a DNA sample?
ML: Why would I do that?
SM: To help us eliminate you as a suspect. After all, the
crime scene was very near your home and you did disappear after the
discovery of that crime scene. That could make some people suspect you.
ML: I don't think so. Going on vacation isn't illegal. Living
near a crime scene isn't illegal. If you want DNA from me, you'll have
to do it the old fashioned way -- with a warrant.
TA: You sure that's the tack you want to take?
ML: Yeah.
TA: All right, then. We'll be seeing you, Lynch.
Interview ends --
10:14 AM |
