Did Harris County Prosecutor Do What He Was Called To Do? The Story Of Charles Mamou

The primary duty of a lawyer engaged in public prosecution is not to convict, but to see that justice is done. The suppression of facts or the secreting of witnesses capable of establishing the innocence of the accused is highly reprehensible.” Canons of Professional Ethics of the American Bar Association

Harris County sent Charles Mamou to death row in 1999 in a case with no eye-witnesses or physical identifying evidence at the scene, a case built on the testimony of a witness who said Charles Mamou confessed to him.  Other than that statement, which was recorded and contradicts facts and the witness’ own testimony, questions remain. 

Why was Mamou never told a rape kit had been collected?  Why was Mamou never given phone records revealing activities of other possible suspects that night?  Why wasn’t Mamou told one of those phone calls was from a ‘cell phone’ and could have possibly been traced?   Why is a key witness’ original statement not in the file?  Why was there no documentation of another ‘possible suspect’s’ interviews in the file?  Why was biological evidence in the case signed out of HPD’s Property Room last year, twenty years later?

Possibly the biggest question of all – was the case against Charles Mamou built to prosecute, rather than see justice done?  There wasn’t ‘one’ issue, but many, and information Mamou could have used to defend himself wasn’t shared with him.

HPD Case File 157191298, Supplement 11, “D.A.’s Office is requesting that the rape kit obtained by the Harris County Morgue at time of the autopsy be processed through our crime lab.”  No one told Mamou a rape kit had been collected.  For two decades – he never knew.  Mamou is out of appeals and waiting an execution date, and still, he has never had this information shared with him by Harris County.  He has this information now because advocates who believe in his innocence located it.

The HPD case file went on to say, “Forward the findings of the rape kit examination to D.A. Investigator Al Rodriquez.”  That was in 1999.  In 2019 when I asked an HPD employee where the rape kit results were, I was told “they are irrelevant.”

During the trial the prosecutor assured the jury Mamou had sexually assaulted the victim.  It was not mentioned that ‘no semen’ was found in the rape kit which included oral swabs.  It was not mentioned in the autopsy report.  It was not mentioned in the medical examiner’s testimony.  There was not a word said to indicate a rape kit had been collected. 

While asking the jury to sentence Mamou to death, the prosecution stated, “And he takes her to Lynchester.  He marches her to the back, and he makes her commit oral sodomy, makes her suck his penis.  Imagine that, ladies and gentleman.”  Volume 24, Page 38

Mamou wasn’t charged with sexual assault, but the prosecution learned something when they received the results of the rape kit.   Through the rape kit, ‘trace evidence’ was collected from the victim, including ‘hairs’ collected from her shirt and fingernail scrapings.  This information, as well, was not shared with Mamou and was just discovered last year by advocates.

Regarding the night of the crime, Mamou has admitted to his role in the drug deal and the subsequent shooting – and even to fleeing in a car that held Mary Carmouche.  He says he drove back to the location where he was staying and all the other parties involved in the drug deal were located there.  That is the last place he says he saw Mary Carmouche.  The things he describes seeing in the apartment complex parking lot have been supported by evidence as well as statements the jury never saw.  The prosecutor claimed Mamou left the drug deal and drove Carmouche to a suburban neighborhood where he sexually assaulted and murdered her.

The Houston Police Department had in their possession something that would have helped Mamou support the events as he described them, but Mamou never saw this information.  A fax cover sheet indicates HPD sent this information to Lyn McClellen, the prosecutor, while the trial was underway.  HPD had their own handwritten phone records from the apartment Mamou said he drove to.  All of the people he said were out and about that night – had been communicating with that apartment up until 3:43 a.m. that Sunday night.   The phone records indicated they were not sleeping as they testified.

When the prosecution’s witness, the resident of the apartment, testified in court that he went to sleep at 11:00 or 12:00 and his phone stopped ringing – the prosecution didn’t stop the proceedings or ask to speak to their witness on the side or get clarification.  The defense specifically asked –

Q.  And at what time do you go to bed?
A.  I went right after that, I guess about 11:00 or 12:00.
Q.  I’m sorry?
A.  About 11:00 or 12:00, something like that.

Q.  So are you awoken by telephone calls even after you go to bed?
A.  No, sir, no more phone calls.   After awhile it wasn’t no more phone calls. 
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 149)

Q.  Is that because you pulled a plug out of the phone or –
A.  No, it just stopped ringing. 
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 150)

Lyn Mclellan said nothing.  At no time did he mention phone records.   The phone was ringing at 11:19 p.m., 11:25 p.m., 11:46 p.m., 11:48 p.m., 12:14 a.m. 12:19 a.m., 1:54 a.m., 2:37 a.m., 3:12 a.m., and 3:43 a.m.  That doesn’t include a known outgoing call for a Yellow Cab at 3:59 a.m.

The ‘driver’ related to the drug deal was also one of the prosecution’s witnesses.  He, also, testified he was sleeping that night.  According to Samuel Johnson, he went straight home after the shooting at 12:00 midnight:

      Q.  You go directly home?
      A.  Yeah.
      Q.  You tell your wife what happened?
      A.  No, she was asleep at the time.
      Q.  Pretty exciting events in your life, isn’t it?
      A.  Very exciting.
      Q.  You just get in bed and go to sleep?
      A.  No, I took a shower.
      Q.  Took a shower, and then got in bed and went to sleep?
      A.  No, opened me a can of soda and went to bed.
      Q.  Talk to anybody that night?
      A.  No.
      Q.  Talk to Robin or Howard Scott at any point after that?
      A.  No. 
      (Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 149)

Once again, the prosecution did not stop the trial or in any way indicate their witness was being deceptive.

“It is unprofessional and dishonorable to deal other than candidly with the facts in taking the statements of witnesses, in drawing affidavits and other documents, and in the presentation of causes.” Canons of Professional Ethics of the American Bar Association

No person shall…be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law,” – Fifth Amendment to the United States Constitution.

Charles Mamou is out of appeals and awaiting a date for his execution after spending over two decades of his life on Death Row in Texas.

All posts and details of this case, including phone records that were not shared with the defense, a letter from the ‘key witness’ stating he didn’t know anything, and how Mamou was even accused of an unsolved murder during his trial can be found here.  Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. There is also a facebook page dedicated to sharing the truth.

TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU:
Charles Mamou #999333
Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53
3872 South FM 350
Livingston, TX 77351
Mamou can also be contacted through JPay via email, but please include your mailing address if you contact him this way, as he can only respond through the mail.

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“If They Want To Kill An Innocent Man, Take Me,” – Charles Mamou, Sr.

“Please keep fighting for my son.”  That was a text received from Charles Mamou’s mother.   Her son was sentenced to death over twenty years ago in Houston, while the Harris County District Attorney’s Office was under the rule of Johnny Holmes, a man known for and proud of pursuing the death penalty. 

The amount of information manipulated or not shared with the jury in the Mamou case is disturbing, but one aspect that gets overlooked, is the theatrics and misinformation put into destroying Mamou’s character for the jury.  What they lacked in evidence, was made up for in portraying the defendant as a monster.  And then they instructed the jury they could consider things they would ‘hear about his character’ when deciding the case.  – Volume 24 of the Reporters’ Record at page 6.  

Charles Mamou, Jr., carrying his godson in Sunset, LA.

But what did the D.A. really know about Charles Mamou?

Mamou got into the business of dealing drugs early on in his life.  He wasn’t born into the ‘haves’ and knew his fair share of struggle.  He struggled with school.  He struggled with his health.  He absolutely could have chosen a different path, but he saw an opportunity dealing drugs and the well-travelled avenue to taking care of the people he cared most about – not to mention keeping the hot water on.  Hot water wasn’t something he always had growing up. 

Over time, Mamou earned a reputation, but it wasn’t one for violence.  As one resident of Sunset described him,

“Chucky was a respectable boy and a fine young man.  I worked as a cook at Sunset Elementary School where Chucky attended. He was a quiet little boy and mainly kept to himself.  To my knowledge, he did not have any behavior problems in school and his grades were either average or above average.

“When Chucky was older, he would often talk to my son about his problems.  My son was on drugs and Chucky would advise him to do better things with his life.  I wanted my son to be more like Chucky.

“There were times when I went shopping and Chucky was in the grocery store.   He would buy my groceries and never wanted any money back. There were many other people in town that Chucky would help buy groceries, pay rent or their electric bill.  Chucky helped people.”

Don’t get me wrong.   There was nothing glamorous about what Charles Mamou did for a living.  He wasn’t a violent man though.   Regardless of how the prosecution described him for the jury, the people who knew him day in and day out had a more accurate perspective.

Another man that knew Charles Mamou, Jr., stating they met in the ‘streets’ and clubs, also described his friend.

“Chucky does not have a ‘rough bone’ in his body.  I have witnessed him paying bills for friend, family members and other people in the community.  Charles, Jr., is a friend that everyone wishes to have once in their life.”

“If it was the dope that put Charles, Jr., behind bars, I pray that everyone in the world would burn the dope, and start praying.”

It was the ‘dope’ that put Mamou behind bars. 

In 1998 three men knowingly brought a girl to a dark alley in Houston, with a plan.  According to everyone involved, including the testimony of the two surviving men – they were there for one reason and one reason only.   They were there to rob Charles Mamou at gunpoint.  That’s it.

That was the plan, but it didn’t work out the way it was supposed to.  Mamou started shooting when confronted with a gun pointed in his direction.  His driver drove off and left him behind.  He jumped in the car that belonged to the men who were attempting to rob him and drove back to the apartment complex on Fondren, in Houston, where he was staying and where the other individuals who helped organize the drug deal were located.   All of the existing evidence supports that, including things Mamou said he observed when he got back to the apartments, which observations have been confirmed by statements the jury never heard, as well as evidence that existed.

The greatest injustice in this story – was the lack of effort to find out what really happened to the victim after she got to the apartment complex that night.  There was no effort made to pursue possible answers, including tracking a cell phone call that one of the involved parties made that night –  from who knows where.  That individual said he was in bed sleeping – but the police knew his cell phone made a phone call at 2:37 a.m. on the night in question.   One would think tracking a cell phone call from a suspect and the driver in the drug deal would be standard, especially in light of the fact that individual claimed to have been sleeping and not making or receiving phone calls at the time.  He lied. His cell phone made a call from somewhere at 2:37 a.m.  The police documented that information the week of the murder, although they never pursued it, and faxed the phone records to the District Attorney after the court proceedings began.

Charles Mamou only just became aware those phone records existed and were in the hands of the Houston Police Department and the District Attorney twenty years ago. 

The prosecution didn’t pursue the information they had that might uncover what happened to the victim, but were more focused on convincing the jury that Charles Mamou was a monster.

And so, even though the medical examiner, Roger Milton, never mentioned a rape kit that was collected in his Autopsy Report, and even though the District Attorney requested the rape kit be processed and received the results of the rape kit prior to the trial – that information was also never shared with Charles Mamou. Mamou never knew a rape kit was gathered until last year.

Rather than share that information with the jury, Lyn McClellan, an Assistant District Attorney for Harris County did something else.  He and his team chose to tell the jury that Charles Mamou sexually assaulted the victim.  The entire time he was doing that, he knew full well a rape kit had been collected – and it revealed no semen found on any items. 

“And he takes her to Lynchester.    He marches her to the back, and he makes her commit oral sodomy, makes her suck his penis. Imagine that, ladies and gentleman.” – Volume 24 of the Reporter’s Record at page 38.  That same attorney went on to describe Mamou’s character, “He’s vicious.”  “He’s ruthless.”  “He’s cold-blooded.”  “He devastated and destroyed.”

The prosecution had no evidence that Charles Mamou did anything to Mary Carmouche.  They had phone records Mamou didn’t know about. They had a rape kit Mamou didn’t know about.  And something else they’ve had all these years – ‘trace evidence’, ‘hairs’ that were collected during the collection of the rape it.  That evidence sat in the HPD Property Room for twenty years, and Charles Mamou nor the jury were ever informed they existed. 

Of note, in 2019, two envelopes containing ‘biological evidence’ in this case were signed out of the Property Room, but it is unknown for what purpose or who authorized the removal, as HPD will not respond, other than to tell me the D.A. is the only one who can authorize removal of evidence.  At the D.A.’s office I was told they didn’t know anything about the removal of the evidence. 

Years ago, Chris Mamou described his brother in a statement.

‘Chucky’ and his brother, Christopher Mamou.

“Growing up, I can always remember my brother being there and looking out for me.”

“…he taught me how to walk with my head up high.”

“…he took me to the basketball court and tried to teach me how to play.”

“Charles, Jr., encouraged me to excel in school by rewarding me with praises and benefits, such as paying for my way to the neighbor dance if I had a good report.”

“…nothing would compare to the feeling of just making him proud which also encouraged me to do well.”

“All I knew was he had his own money and he shared with everyone – family, friends, or a stranger who needed help.  I saw this and wanted to do the same thing.  I approached him about making my own money and was denied, remembering his reasoning was that this was not for everybody.  He did not want me to get involved.”    

Charles Mamou has spent over twenty years on death row and awaits his execution for a drug deal gone wrong– not a murder.   Investigators didn’t pursue what happened to Mary Carmouche after she arrived at that apartment complex.  They were focused on ‘making’ Charles Mamou guilty – but none of the pieces fit.  No matter which way you turn the puzzle, they won’t fit.  Sticking to the ‘story’ isn’t going to make it any more true than it was twenty years ago.  Mamou can be executed – it’s not going to make it true.  He can die incarcerated during a pandemic – it still won’t make it true. 

“He’s my firstborn.  He has my name.”  Charles Mamou, Sr., will never give up on his son.  He recently told me, “If they want to kill an innocent man – take me.  Don’t take him – take me.”

All posts and details of this case, including phone records that were not shared with the defense, a letter from the ‘key witness’ stating he didn’t know anything, and how Mamou was even accused of an unsolved murder during his trial can be found here.  Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. There is also a facebook page dedicated to sharing the truth.

TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU:
Charles Mamou #999333
Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53
3872 South FM 350
Livingston, TX 77351

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This, Too, Shall Pass

In a couple months, I’ll have nineteen years, day for day, in this concrete jungle.  ‘Jungles’ bring to mind wild animals and certain death around the next bend.   In here, society views us as wild animals, and for us, the chow hall can become the location of death around the next bend.

A few years ago some guys and I were on the rec yard discussing who we thought had the best chance to go to and win the Super Bowl.  A couple guys were going with the Patriots, others were going with teams no one even remembered making the play-offs in recent years. Being a Cowboys loyalist, I just knew my team was going to get up in there.

The Patriots won again.

When the discussion was losing steam, a guy we all knew approached our little circle, gesturing and speaking excitedly about a confrontation he heard going on between two cellmates.

To make a long story short, two guys were drinking hooch, got drunk, started arguing and calling one another names only two drunk people would come up with.  When we asked Lil’ K what the argument had to do with us, he responded, telling us one of the guys was handicapped and being bullied.

Generally, in prison, people tend to mind their own business. Even considering the situation, I felt like – this is the ‘joint’, the jungle – and definitely none of my business.  Being on closed custody and dealing with the constant threat of being placed in a cell with a psyche patient, we agreed to wait until we could get all the guys in question together before pursuing the subject further. 

Before the meeting had a chance to happen, a riot jumped off behind the argument the next day at chow hall.

Turns out, upon investigating the situation thoroughly, the two cellmates were as cool as two men who live together and get drunk and high often can be. As the riot was taking place, I found the guy who was supposedly getting mistreated.  I asked him if he and his cellmate were alright.

“Hell, yeah, that’s my boy!”

Go figure.

Instantly, I was reminded of the importance of minding my own business.

Everyone who went to chow that day had to start their closed custody time over, and we were put on lockdown.  Fortunately, no one was seriously injured and no weapons were involved. 

That night I explained to my cellmate what happened. He looked up from his Alex Cross novel, crumbs on his mouth from his peanut butter sandwich, and assured me, “This too shall pass.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: This is Mr. Edwards first submission here. He believes, as do we, in the importance of sharing the ‘mundane’ as well as the dramatic. Andre Edwards lives in a Texas prison and can be contacted at:
Andre Edwards #1139465
3872 FM 350 S.
Livingston, TX 77351

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Lessons Learned In Isolation

For nine years, I have been confined to a single man cell.  Days, often weeks, pass without leaving this space.  I deserved to be placed here. I am here because I attempted escape and was punished.   To be honest, it was probably the best thing for me – at the time.  My peer group was violent and negative, and upon arrival I was disgusted with myself for having fallen so far.  I resolved to fill the void of what I was forced to leave with positive change and growth.  I began a journey to become the man I knew I was, rather than the man my poor decisions had built. 

I quickly learned any progress I hoped to make would depend solely on my efforts.  There is no education provided to inmates in solitary confinement in Texas.   None.   Anything I’ve learned through reading is the result of donors from the outside.

I also learned tenuous relationships with loved ones in the free world are easily stressed when a person is placed in isolation.  General population contact visits allow hugs with family.  In here I am led to visitors in chains to a booth with a glass partition that forces us to speak over a phone.  What’s worse is, this is the only phone I can speak through.  General population offenders have access to unlimited fifteen minute calls, seven days a week.  Access to telephones is not allowed in solitary.

I have learned solitary confinement is an effective weight loss program.  More often than not, I am hungry at bedtime.  Despite menu descriptions like ‘fresh yellow corn’ and ‘deep rich gravy’,  I can count on the unappetizing reality of at least one or more food items arriving spoiled, and the unclean fact that it has passed through no less than six pairs of hands before getting to my cell.

One of the harder lessons – ‘out of sight, out of mind’ is never more true than when locked away in solitary confinement.  While prison administration might remove an inmate from population for legitimate reasons, once ‘out of sight’ it becomes easier to check the box that keeps the inmate in solitary than to mindfully dedicate the resources needed to rehabilitate the person and release them from solitary. 

Perhaps the hardest lesson is discovering first hand what so much time in seclusion can do to a person. I have spent years tearing down my old faulty value system and building a better one, learning how to make strong healthy choices.  I’ve made progress in so many ways, but so much isolation has begun to injure me.   A few years ago, I began to feel very paranoid during the rare time out of my cell.  For the ten  hours per month allowed out, I felt as if I was being stared at, looked at from the corners of people’s eyes.  It got so bad I didn’t want to leave my cell, prompting me to refuse medical and dental appointments.

I have never been a mental health patient.  None of my family suffers from a mental disorder.  I am rational and clear minded.  I am literal and focused.  Yet, these years in solitary have taken a serious mental toll.   To get ‘help’ from mental health staff carries a stigmatized label as a psych patient.  I was reluctant to contact them, although intellectually I understood what was happening.  Despite the understanding, I could not shake the discomfort I felt when outside my cell.

When I did finally speak to someone in mental health, I worked through the discomfort for the most part.  But recently the symptoms have returned, worse than before.   When outside my cell, I struggle to hold eye contact and find myself trying to mumble at times.  I berate myself.  I know that isolation is the cause of the distress.  I think this must be what it’s like to have a disorder – maybe like a man with Alzheimer’s who, in his clear moments, feels terrible because he recognizes he’s had bad moments, but he is unable to combat them.

I have no real treatment options.  They do not do therapy here. They medicate…  a slippery slope. I do not need medication.   I feel anxious out of my cell. This is caused by my isolation.  I am witnessing, in person, the deterioration of a human mind…  mine. 

After nine years, I no longer belong in solitary confinement.  I am a new man, if not completely, then on my way to being one.  I have had three minor disciplinary infractions during my 3,300 days here, all for covering the 24/7 light in my cell so as to sleep.   But, alas, they keep checking the box that keeps me here.

The unregulated, unmonitored use of isolation damages as many people as it was meant to ‘improve’.    Some of us will one day be neighbors to those in the free world – so shouldn’t those who wield the power to inflict these kind of lessons for years on end be held to a high standard…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Jeremy Robinson is author of The Monster Factory, which he is currently revising. Mr. Robinson lives in a Texas prison and can be contacted at:
Jeremy Robinson #1313930
Polunsky Unit
3872 South FM 350
Livingston, TX 77351

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Question Of Innocence

I am innocent. I did not rob the Pizza Inn restaurant, nor did I shoot and kill its manager, John Rushton.  Ronald Bullock and Jesse Hill testified I did – their testimony the nucleus of the returned guilty verdict.  I didn’t spend the day planning the robbery with them, nor meet them after it was over – as they told the jury.  I didn’t organize their plan. I didn’t participate in it. I wasn’t in the Pizza Inn that night.

None of that happened.  But, what does my innocence matter?  Where did it get me but a bus ride to prison while shackled both by ankles and spirit to a dread that becomes so unbearable – death is a welcome resolve.  How relevant is innocence to time long gone and opportunities forever missed, when your dignity is in a shambles, you’ve been stripped of your identity and you have nothing left to call your own but an Opus number.  With no pride left for which to hide behind, to admit wrongdoing would not be so difficult – the hardest thing to do is continue proclaiming my innocence.

For two decades, I have lived the same as those who are guilty. I’ve stomached the same foods, donned the same disgraceful attire and been governed by the same rules.  I’ve looked into the eyes of men as they were moments away from being unrighteously done in, while inside my innocence has become a little less significant each day.  Capital punishment is not meant to penalize the guilty, but rather to exterminate the worthless while attempting to restore solace to grieving hearts.

Aristotle once said, “We are what we repeatedly do,” and in just a few short years, I will have been a Death Row inmate for longer than I’ve been anything else.  So, what then is my innocence but a conscientious self-declaration to get me through the day? 

My innocence is a reminder of who I used to be – so that I am not lost to who I have become…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Terry Robinson writes under the pen name ‘Chanton’, and this year he has seen the release of Crimson Letters, Voices From Death Row, in which he was a contributor. He continues to work on his memoirs, as well as a book of fiction. Terry Robinson has always maintained his innocence, and hopes to one day prove that and walk free. Mr. Robinson can be contacted at:
Terry Robinson #0349019
Central Prison
4285 Mail Service Center
Raleigh, NC 27699-4285

All Posts By Chanton

NOTE TO READER. Please contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net if you saw Terry Robinson at any time of the day or night on May 16, 1999 – or his accusers, who claimed Robinson was with them for most of the day. Thank you to those who have come forward already. It is not easy for someone falsely accused to ever leave death row – no detail is too small. What may seem irrelevant – is often the most helpful.
Details of the trial will be shared at https://walkinthoseshoes.com/category/terry-robinson/

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