Jerry Lee Lewis: The Killer and Getting Away with Murder

This is exactly right. Hey guys, time to dust off your detective skills while unwinding in the Caribbean on Virgin Voyages 2nd True Crime. Voyages back by popular demand. This five-night adults only escape set sale March 20th, 2027 to Grand Turk in the Beach Club at Bimini. The difference between this year and last will be that I will be on the cruise this year along with Zef and he and I will be taping a live version of Discrease Land along with podcast hosts from exactly rights, buried bones, podcast of the year, award winners, wisecrack and other fan favorites. Get on this cruise with us guys and enjoy live podcast recordings behind the scenes story telling exclusive meet and greets and immersive true crime programming throughout this one-of-a-kind voyage head over to www.virginvoyages.com/truecrime to secure your spot. I like a story with a twist as much as anyone but some of the best traditions don't have one. They just started and kept going. That's something that's great about Chateau St. Michelle. They've been leading Washington wine since 1967 with wines that are balanced, expressive and easy to enjoy. Choosing the right bottle shouldn't feel complicated. It should be something you open with confidence every time. So for once, here's a story with no twist, just a good bottle. Redefine the rituals with Chateau St. Michelle. Reese Witherspoon here checking into my favorite hotel in Paris. Bonjour. Bonjour. I'm traveling with my Wells Fargo autograph journey card so I earn rewards wherever I book travel. Five times points with hotels, four times with airlines, three times on restaurants and other travel, and one point on other purchases. Phew, that was a lot. I need to lie down. Is the room ready? Visit Wells Fargo.com/autographjourney, Terms Apply. This Grace Land is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about rock and roll pioneer, Jerry Lee Lewis, are insane. He smashed people in the face with Mike Stans. He shot his bass player in the chest with a 357 magnum. He was born into Hellfire and Hellbent on assassinating the king. One of these nights, Jerry Lee was going to get past the guards at Grace Land and stick Fat Elvis good in his past his prime belly with his new hunting knife. The one that said, "King of rock and roll." Because fuck Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis was the real king. He was also paranoid and dangerous. He slept behind a door fortified with steel bars and with a loaded pistol under his pillow. He mainline speed directly into his stomach, so much so that it was like he was doing it for sport instead of pleasure. But Jerry Lee Lewis made great music. The music you were hearing at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my mellow tron, called Cha Cha Swinging Flutes MK2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the license for every breath you take by the police. And why would I play you that specific slice of paranoid cheese could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on August 24th, 1983. And that was the day that Jerry Lee Lewis, also known as the killer, also known as the man who may or may not have invented rock and roll, became the man who may or may not have gotten away with murdering his fifth wife. On this, our first episode, Cha Cha Swinging Flutes, Paranoid Cheese, the killer and getting away with murder. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is "Discraceland." In the South, where Jerry Lee Lewis was born and raised, his first cousin, televangelist, Jimmy Swagger, was more famous than the Beatles, but Jerry Lee was the Holy Ghost. He was larger than life and took zero shit from anyone, especially not from his rock and roll contemporaries. Supposedly, Chuck Berry had once refused to go on before him, so Jerry Lee set his piano ablaze, played through the flames with Rob Pentecostal Fury, and made an impossible act for Chuck to follow. His live shows were legend, and his raw power was a sight to behold. The way Jerry Lee performed, it hadn't been seen before in popular music or anywhere else. His body rattled and shook with violence and overt sexuality as he bent his 600 pound piano to his will, and his hair flailed wildly while his googly eyes scanned the room for non-believers, of which there were none. Jerry Lee's madman reputation preceded him. Rumors circulated that he was possessed, that he had been touched by the devil, that he was a vampire, that he was a vampire who fought for the South in the Civil War. Okay, he wasn't a vampire, but if he was, he'd be the type of vampire who fought for the South, lost, and then never really acknowledged at the North at one. In 1977, the year punk broke, a shit-faced Jerry Lee, rammed his Lincoln into the gates at Graceland at 3 a.m., waving a pistol, demanding to see Elvis Presley. When the cops asked him what he was doing, he flatly said, "I'm here to assassinate the king." If Elvis was sex incarnate, Jerry Lee was violence incarnate, and Jerry Lee hated Elvis. He thought he was a hack, a thief, and that he couldn't hold a candle to real musical originators like himself, or Hank Williams, or Al Jolson. When Elvis died and they asked Jerry Lee for a quote, he said, "I was glad, man, just another one out of the way. I mean, Elvis this, Elvis that, what the shit did Elvis do except take dope that I couldn't get a hold of?" But Elvis was the king. Anywhere the crown that Jerry Lee thought was rightfully his, at least it was his before that mess over in England back in the 50s. If you know two things about Jerry Lee Lewis, they are probably these. You know the piano lick to great balls of fire, and you probably also know that he married his 13-year-old cousin, Myra Gale. But when news of Jerry Lee's child bride was made public, it ruined him. He was in England in the late 1950s, at the height of his early rock and roll fame, and in a heartbeat he went from making 10 grand a night, to being kicked out of the country, blacklisted on the radio back home, and stringing together one nighters for a couple hundred bucks here and there. His reputation never really recovered, but by the early 70s, Jerry Lee did regain his fame and his fortune. He was conquering the charts again. This time as a country singer, with hit, after hit, after hit. Between 1968 and 1977, Jerry Lee had 17 top 10 hits on the Billboard country charts. This is a hugely popular run. My point, by late 70s early 80s standards, Jerry Lee Lewis was a star and a household name. And money wasn't a problem anymore, at least if he could keep his newest ex-wife, Jaren out of his pocket, and the IRS off of his back. Jerry Lee was flush again, and hiding his money in shoe boxes. But then, in 1981, all of that speed had been taken caught up to him, and this stomach nearly exploded. The doctors gave him no better than even odds that he lived. Friends like Johnny Cash and Elizabeth Taylor, they came by the hospital to say their farewells. But miraculously, he got better. And in January of 1982, looking beaten up and worse for where, he appeared on NBC and a special, celebrating 25 years of Jerry Lee. They called me the killer, he told the audience. But the only thing I ever killed in my life was possibly myself. Maybe that was true, but the next two years would be full of death in Mayhem. A raid of his house by tax men turns up cocaine in marijuana, a looming divorce settlement from his fourth wife, Jaren, threatens to bankrupt him yet again. But then, Jaren suddenly turns up dead, faced out in a pool, no witnesses, the official ruling, and accident. Jerry Lee's wife is now gone, and so is the expensive divorce settlement that she was seeking. A year after Jaren's death, almost to the day, the killer took bride number five. Sean Michelle Stevens, a cocktail which is from Michigan near the half his age. On June 7, 1983, on a tree-shaded patio on Jerry Lee's 88th year estate, the one with the piano-shaped pool up back, they were married. Jerry Lee and a white tux, Sean and a white dress, in pictures shot for the National Enquirer, they look happy. Sean is wearing a $6,000 ring. Seventy-seven days later, Sean is dead, the official cause of death and accident. But unlike Jaren's death, Sean's death attracted some attention. Police reports went missing. The EMTs who found Sean's body at Jerry Lee's house noticed blood under her fingernails, scrapes on Jerry Lee's hand, bruises on Sean's body. The nearby Memphis newspaper had rolled over, but in Detroit, near where Sean's parents lived, reporters uncovered a bunch of details that didn't add up. It was starting to look like a cover-up and not a very good one. And then, there was the matter of the call that Sean made to her mother the night before she died. The one where she told her mom that she was trying to leave Jerry Lee, but that he wouldn't letter. I like a story with a twist as much as anyone, but some of the best traditions don't have one. Not something that's great about Chateau St. Michelle, they've been leading Washington wine since 1967 with wines that are balanced, expressive, and easy to enjoy. Choosing the right bottle shouldn't feel complicated, it should be something you open with confidence every time. Redefine your rituals with Chateau St. Michelle. Alright guys, I got something really cool for you all. Some crews, the Caribbean, with yours truly, and some other great podcasters as part of the Virgin Voyages True Crime Voyage. Yes, we are going on a cruise together, Disco's, you, me, Zeth, and a whole ship full of true crime fans. Now, Zeth and I are going to be taping a live version of Disgraceland, one of our after-party episodes. And there's going to be some other great podcasters doing the same thing. The folks from Wisecrack, you guys know about Wisecrack. In the year 2026, this podcast of the year, Ambi Award Winners, and I Heart Award Winner for Best True Crime Podcast. Also, the folks from exactly right, buried bones will be on board doing their thing as well. So, if you want a live true crime, Disgraceland experience, and a party to go along with it, live podcast recordings, behind-the-scenes storytelling, exclusive meat and greets, and immersive programming on a one-of-a-kind voyage, well, then you're going to make your plans right now for the Virgin Voyages True Crime Voyage, happening March 20th, 2027. March 20th, 2027, that's right, we are departing from Miami on that day and sailing to Grand Turk and the Beach Club in Bimini. Come hang with me, Zeth, your fellow Disgrace, and true crime fans along with the host from buried bones and Wisecrack, this coming March 20th, 2027, head over to www.virginvoyages.com/truecrime to secure your spot. And to think, just three months earlier, Sean Stevens Lewis was happily married into a bonafide celebrity to boot, a raging speed freak in alcoholic, but a celebrity nonetheless. Naruto Bliss soon gave way to the reality of living with a spoiled, narcissistic, drug-and-alcohol adult rock star who was used to getting his way all of the time and beholden to absent fucking lootly nobody. Sean got hip-quick. Jerry Lee liked to drink, a lot. Rule number one, let him. Jerry Lee's stomach hurt, a lot. Rule number two, get used to him shooting Tao and straight into his belly with that big ugly needle. Jerry Lee liked attention from the ladies. Rule number three, don't give a fucking inch. Jerry Lee was your man. Grab that needy slump by the hair and tell it to fuck right off back to the dirt floor shack, her white trash mama failed to do her the favor of miscarrying in and get back to the business of being the one and only Mrs. Jerry Lee fucking Lewis. Jerry Lee was like a needy puppy, and he needed to be reminded of who his woman was. Like most needy men, Jerry Lee was jealous, really jealous, even though his eyes wandered in the eyes of women everywhere wandered right back. Not only was Sean determined not to give an inch, she also wasn't afraid to let her man know she was no sucker. Confidentially, a high school crush was back in Michigan waiting for her to shoot things with Jerry Lee not work out. The killer was not pleased. Once Sean threatened to leave Jerry Lee, this did not please the killer either. "You're my wife," he said, "I'll kill you before you leave me." Quickly Sean had learned that Jerry Lee liked group sex. Why settle for one woman when a romp with two or three would do? Sean was cool but a singer she was not, and she wasn't having any of it, especially not with her younger sister, Shelley, as Jerry Lee had been maneuvering. When Shelley batted down Jerry Lee's advances, his reaction was something between petulence and rage, screaming at Shelley, and banging his fist into a counter he screamed at her. "You scared of me? You should be." "Why do you think they call me the killer? How'd I get that name, huh?" According to Shelley, he then slapped her face. Shortly after this happened, Sean was found dead in her home. With the local EMTs who took the call, there was nothing out of the ordinary about heading over to Jerry Lee's to provide medical assistance to some passed out reveler. It was part of the gig. Finding a dead body, that was something new. The first thing they noticed was the absence of Mr. Lewis. The second thing they noticed was how the body of Mrs. Lewis was situated, replaced, neatly, on a fully-made bed, in a guest room, not in her bedroom with her newlyweds husband, in a guest room. The EMTs checked for vitals, while Lodi Jackson, Jerry Lee's caretaker of more than 10 years, knocked on his bedroom door. Within seconds, the killer emerged. The EMTs quickly noticed the bright red scratches on the back of Jerry Lee's hand. You know the kind, the kind of looked like scratches your cat would make, except Jerry Lee didn't own a cat. Blood was also visible on Jerry Lee's robe, and on his slippers. There was a pile of bloody clothes in the bathroom, a rivulet of blood on a door, more blood on the carpet, broken glass was scattered across the floor throughout the house. There was blood on Sean's dead hand, in her hair, on her clothes, and on a bra that was in another room. Dirt, all over her body, bruises on her arms, on her hip. Her fingernails were broken, with something that looked a lot like blood underneath them. All of this physical evidence, on and around a woman, lying dead on top of a neat and made bed, that wasn't hers, in a guest room, in her own home, down the hall from where her newlywed husband slept alone. Under that, the evidence wouldn't even be reported until after the grand jury convened. Is it any wonder that they found no indication of foul play? We'll be right back after this word, word, word. I like a story where the twist as much as anyone, but some of the best traditions don't have one. Michelle. I've been leading Washington wine since 1967, with wines that are balanced, expressive, and easy to enjoy. Michelle. Alright guys, I got something really cool for y'all. Come cruise the Caribbean with yours truly, and some other great podcasters, as part of the Virgin Voyages true crime voyage. Yes, we are going on a cruise together. This goes you, me, Zeth, and a whole ship full of true crime fans. The folks from Wisecrack, you guys know about Wisecrack, 2026's podcast of the year, be award winners, and I heart award winner for Best True Crime Podcasts. The folks from exactly right buried bones will be on board doing their thing as well. So if you want a live true crime, Disgraceland experience, and a party to go along with it, live podcast recordings behind the scenes storytelling, exclusive meet and greets, and immersive programming on a one-of-a-kind voyage, well, then you're going to make your plans right now for the Virgin Voyages True Crime Voyage happening March 20th, 2027, March 20th, 2027. That's right, we are departing from Miami on that day and sailing to Grand Turk and the Beach Club in Bimini. Come hang with me, Zeth, your fellow Disgrace, and true crime fans along with the hosts from buried bones and Wisecrack, this coming March 20th, 2027, head over to www.virginvoyages.com/truecrime to secure your spot. Mrs. Jerry Lee Lewis was dead, and a home field advantage Grand Jerry was about to determine that no crime had occurred. How is this possible? Gery Lee's world was DeSoto County, Mississippi. Elvis had Memphis up the root of peace, so Gery Lee had DeSoto, and DeSoto had Gery Lee right back. He was their very own celebrity. DeSoto County law officials occupied a special place in Gery Lee's pocket. Gery Lee was one of their own. Plus, when it counted, Gery Lee made the appropriate campaign contributions to the appropriate men, who made sure that DeSoto County remained an appropriate place to fear God in and to raise your children upright in. When Gery Lee fucked up, he didn't arrest him. He made sure the mess went away. The night before Sean died, Gery Lee drove his car off the road and into a ditch. DeSoto County deputies got his car towed, gave him a ride home, and didn't test him for intoxication. The incident wasn't even recorded by the Sheriff's Department. The county dispatcher, John Crawford, is on record saying, "I knew not to log it or nothing. When I heard it was Gery Lee Lewis, I knew it was just a community service." This was the culture in DeSoto County, and it was in this culture that the investigation took place, and the investigation never really had a chance. When state investigators arrived on the scene, the morning Sean was found dead. County officials were already muddling through the house, and the state's investigators reported that Gery Lee was secluded in his den alone with DeSoto County's deputy sheriff, Jack McColley, for more than an hour. What were they talking about? Nobody knows for sure, but what we do know is that soon after that conversation, state investigators learned that the decision had already been made by DeSoto County authorities unilaterally to use a private medical examiner instead of a public one. Why? Because this would ensure that all information gathered from the odd topsy would now flow back to the county where Gery Lee's presence loomed large and not to the state, which was beyond the killer's fear of influence. In the any and all sorted details from Sean's death would never be placed in the public record. But the public did get wind to some of the details, thanks to a young funeral director named Danny Phillips. Phillips is on record saying, "I'd never say Gery Lee killed that girl, but I'd like to see it investigated. To me, I just can't believe that that girl just got to that bed and lay down and died. You just can't make me believe it." Phillips was particularly perplexed by his finding of what he thought to be a puncture wound caused by a hyperdermic needle on Sean's right arm. The same type of needle found at Gery Lee's house that day. The official cause of death was fluid from the lungs from methadone. Yet, despite all of this, the private medical examiner quickly declared no foul play and the body was shipped out of the lab within hours to be embalmed. DeSoto County Sheriff Dink Sau explained away the crime scene evidence stating that the blood was caused by Gery Lee cutting his finger on a glass but made no mention of the countless shards of broken glass throughout the house or of the scratches on Gery Lee's hand or of the blood under Sean's fingernails. Sean's bruises were, quote unquote, "superficial." Sau claimed there were no marks of any violence and no indication of anyone being attacked. County Attorney Bill Ballard declared it a complete and thorough investigation, but how thorough was it? Lab tests determining whose blood it was weren't yet completed. Nobody seemed to care. The reporting of the evidence had been bungled badly. It never stood a chance with the grand gerry. And forget the physical evidence. Investigators didn't care about anecdotal evidence either. Nobody thought it relevant. The three nights earlier, Gery Lee took two women home for group sex with Sean. At some point, things got scary and the girls were spooked enough to run out of the house and frantically beg the neighbors for a ride out of there. Did Sean try to escape, too? A night before her death, she made two calls. The first two were mom telling her she was thinking of leaving Gery Lee, but that he wouldn't let her. It was late. Sean's mom thought she was upset and that by morning he would all blow over. They made plans to talk later and hung up. Then Sean made a second call. This one wasn't a family. It was to her hometown sweetheart, Scott's sister. The one Sean made mention of to Gery Lee to reclaim her sovereignty and the power play between her and the countless women threatening the relationship. She wanted to know if Scott still loved her. She was planning her exit and made plans for Scott's sister to come for her later that month. Then, in mid-sentence, the phone went dead. If Mrs. Lewis was gone, real gone, the cause, like Gery Lee's previous wife, Jaren, an accident, wasn't a mistake, a suicide, whatever the cause of death, there was no coming back from it. And Gery Lee needn't worry about the high school sweetheart's busting up his hillbilly hamlet or carefully calibrating that unique emotional cocktail he'd been nursing since his days back in Faraday, Louisiana. Sitting in a pentacostle pew on a Sunday in fear of the Holy Ghost, you know the cocktail, an emotional speedball, trading on equal parts self-confidence, God-given talent, fear of your maker, and the shame of being a mere mortal. With Sean's death, shame and jealousy were on the run and pride was once again creeping up the backstretch. On the day they found Sean dead, where the local cops and state investigators got down to the business of securing the scene and collecting / not collecting evidence. Gery Lee decamped 15 miles north at his manager, J.W. Witton's house. By now, reporters were looking for a comment from the killer to run in their evening editions about his newest dead wife. So tragic. How is he able to stand the screen? That sort of thing. But J.W., ever Gery Lee's keeper, made it clear that the killer would not be able to come to the phone. He was supposedly in shock and heavily sedated. But Gery Lee would soon find himself well enough to make two very important phone calls within hours of his wife's death. The first to her mother to inform her of Sean's death, though he would instead wide up talking to her sister Denise. And then, shortly after, to his local bar, Hernandez hide away to find out if anyone had any hyperdermic needles. Later, a witness from the bar claimed, "Gery Lee said, 'You got new rigs? Goddamn cops clean me out.' A week later, the night after the funeral, J.W. wasted no time. He was right back at Hernandez, his favorite bucket of blood, his go-to, his local honky talk, where there was always a seat open at the bar for him, where the spotlight always made him look 10 feet tall and 10% more better looking than Elvis." It was at Hernandez piano, where Gery Lee made up a little ditty on the spot, and he sang it with two beautiful women on the stool at his side. "I told her when she left me, I'd have another inner bed." Right around this time, Gery Lee spoke to Sean's sister Denise for the last time by telephone. Gery Lee's speech was slurred. He was on one. Jesus Christ, Gery Lee, what happened? Denise, sis's day, and she's a bad girl. What? What do you mean, Gery? What do you mean? She's a bad girl, and she's dead. Chilling, right? All of these details are out there. They've been expertly reported in newspapers and magazines like the Chicago Tribune in Rolling Stone. So, why does an America care? Unlike the other cases of celebrity spousal abuse and potential murder, say the OJ Simpson case, or even the recent celebrity sexual assault cases, in the case of Gery Lee Lewis, there wasn't even a indictment, never mind a trial. Was it because this was a pre-cable news America? Pre-Internet? Or was it because the spotlight in Little DeSoto County didn't burn bread enough despite Gery Lee's chart-topping success? Or maybe Sean's death was just an accident? Or was it because we don't really care about justice? We care more about our myths. The strange and mysterious death of Mrs. Gery Lee Lewis, as Rolling Stone put it, it's just so on-fucking-brand for the killer. Deep down, way down, past all of our self-righteous notions of our justice and right and wrong. When it comes right down to it, we want our rock stars to be bad. We want to believe in the myths. From the time they explode out of their mama's room, standing up and talking back, we take the ride with them. The one where they misbehaved the way into our hearts for the entirety of our short, collective pull on this mortal coil. Jerry DeLuis is out there, right now, at the time of this recording, at the age of 81, and still performing. Still knocking them dead and entertaining us both in body on stage, and in our minds is the killer. And thank God for it. And the Holy Ghost. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is the Scraceland. The Scraceland was created by yours truly and has produced and partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelampod.com. If you're listening as a disgrace land, all access member. Thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to disgracelampod.com/membership. Members can listen to every episode of the Scraceland ad-free. Plus you'll get one brand new, exclusive episode every month, weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special audio collections, and early access to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelampod.com/membership for details. Rate and review the show, and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, and Facebook at disgracelampod, and on YouTube at youtube.com/ad-disgracelampod. Rockerola. Hey guys, time to dust off your detective skills while unwinding in the Caribbean on Virgin Voyages. Second true crime. Voyages. Back by popular demand, this five-night adults only escape set sale March 20th, 20th, 207 to grand Turk in the Beach Club at Bimini. The difference between this year and last will be that I will be on the cruise this year along with Zeth, and he and I will be taping a live version of disgracelamp along with podcast hosts from exactly rights, buried bones, podcast of the year, award winners, Wisecrack, and other fan favorites. Get on this cruise with us guys, and enjoy live podcast recordings behind the scenes storytelling, exclusive meet and greets, and immersive true crime programming throughout this one-of-a-kind voyage. Head over to www.virginvoyages.com/truecrime to secure your spot. Michelle. They've been leading Washington wine since 1967 with wines that are balanced, expressive, and easy to enjoy. Michelle. Okay, laundry stinks. Literally. I mean, you could just keep buying new underwear. Not that I've ever done that. Or maybe sort your clothes into piles based on how re-wearable or filthy they are. Or just use Armin Hammer Deep Clean. It's made for real-life stinks and stains. So even if you don't do laundry the quote "right way," Deep Clean will knock it out. I mean, it is from the number one liquid detergent brand that tackles more loads than any other. Come clean with Armin Hammer Deep Clean. Number one claim based on total wash loads sold.