Monthly Archives: August 2021

Charles Mamou, Sentenced to Death, Why We Advocate

No Winners Here

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My grandmother died a day after my quick conviction.
“She saw you on TV after you were sentenced to death and she died.  You killed her by breaking her heart.” 
I got hate mail from my own flesh and blood after my conviction.  – Charles Mamou

Charles Mamou’s family was divided, according to Mamou, half quickly disowning him and wishing he were dead.

But, what did they know, really?  They knew the same thing I did when I first looked up articles on Charles Mamou, a new writer for WITS, what the prosecution wanted them to know – what the jury, the defense, and the media heard.  I read various versions of a brutal, lone murderer who sexually assaulted a girl before killing her in an abandoned house.  It wasn’t a wonder he got hate mail. I’d learned to look past the headlines, things not always as they seem.

After reading the transcripts, I got a slightly clearer picture.  As the prosecution’s story goes, Charles Mamou went on a killing rampage sparked by a drug deal gone wrong, drove off with the victim, sexually assaulted her, and murdered her in a very hard to find backyard in Houston – a city he didn’t live in.   All the other individuals involved in the drug deal, all residents of Houston, slept after the initial drug deal and knew nothing, a couple of them testifying for the state…

So – I looked even closer.  If it were a card game, there would be money on the table, not a life, and some would say the deck was ‘stacked’. It turns out, the state had information that not only could have supported Charles Mamou’s claims of innocence, but the information could have also led to finding out what really took place that night.  Evidence that existed all along and more recent interviews reveal a few things.  The state had a list of phone calls that were made that night.  All of the callers in those records, the individuals involved in the drug deal, from the ‘cooker’, to the driver, to the introducer, were not sleeping that night according to their phones.  Not only  that, recent interviews put them all in the parking lot of Howard Scott’s apartment that night, along with Charles Mamou – who was supposed to be off on a lone sexual assault and murder.  If Charles Mamou was in the parking lot along with the car he was driving – so was the victim.  Which is what Charles Mamou has always asserted – that he fled the drug deal gone wrong and drove back to Howard Scott’s apartment complex.

In the absence of shared information, the existing phone records, witnesses were not called to testify, and those who were called testified they were sleeping – even though the state knew their phones were in use. Does an attorney have an obligation to bring it to the attention of the court or his witness when they are not telling the truth and the attorney is aware of it?

Phone calls that should have been traced, never were – no one will ever know where the calls were placed from.   They could have been dialed from the backyard where the body was found.  They could have been placed from anywhere in Texas.  The calls would have certainly helped determine what happened that night.  The callers never had to answer questions about where they were when they placed the calls.   The owner of the phone line they called – never had to explain who was calling and what they said.   The man whose phone was receiving the calls testified for the state, saying he was asleep and his phone was not ringing.  Regardless of records indicating that was not true, the state’s witness was never corrected by the prosecutor.  No one questioned why his phone was ringing until 3:43 a.m. the night the victim was murdered and why one phone call went out at 3:59 a.m. requesting a cab – yet the state had information these calls took place.

One of the callers to the home did the same, testifying for the state and saying he went home to bed that night and didn’t use his phone.  The witness and driver in the drug deal did not have to explain why his cell phone dialed Howard Scott’s apartment at 2:37 a.m. or where he was at when the call was made.  Rather, he testified he had went to bed. 

The other callers on the record never even had to step foot in a courtroom. They were never called by either side.  But, all the callers were up and about that night, not sleeping, and witnesses have since said they saw all the callers in one parking lot that night – Howard Scott’s parking lot.

It isn’t surprising the jury came back with a guilty verdict, no more surprising than it would be in a poker game with no aces in the cards dealt to the other players, but rather held in the dealer’s hand.  Charles Mamou certainly looked the part, he was a drug dealer.  Just in case though, they hung on to one more card.  The sexual assault.  While fighting for the death penalty, the prosecution called him ‘vicious’, ‘ruthless’, and ‘cold-blooded’.  The jury was told he ‘devastated and destroyed’, that he ‘marches her to the back, and he makes her commit oral sodomy, makes her suck his penis.  Imagine that, ladies and gentleman’. 

While saying those words to the jury the prosecution knew not only about the phone records that could have been used to defend Mamou, they also knew something else.  There was a rape kit collected from the body along with trace evidence, and that kit was collected by the medical examiner who did not make one note of it in his autopsy report.  He also did not breathe one word of it in his testimony.  The prosecutor’s office not only knew about the collection of the evidence, they requested that it be processed and they had received the results.  The results indicated there was ‘no semen found’.   In addition to that, trace evidence was collected that Mamou never knew about.  For two decades – he never knew.  Neither did the jury, or his family, or the victim’s family.

There is no nice way to say it.  The state had information that not only could have supported Charles Mamou’s claims of innocence, but the information could have also led to finding out what happened that night.  Evidence and interviews that have since taken place tell us a few things. All of the callers in those records were not sleeping that night.  Recent interviews put them all in the parking lot of Howard Scott’s apartment, along with Charles Mamou – who was supposed to be off on a lone sexual assault and murder.  Involved parties, according to the phone records, were not called to testify, and those who did testified they were sleeping – regardless of what the state knew.

Charles Mamou absorbed the anger for the loss of his grandmother.  He had no other choice.  Since his conviction, he has been living in a 9 x 6 cell in solitary confinement.  No one sees his tears.  No one can measure his depression.  People have moved on with their lives, his children have been raised, his grandchildren don’t know him.  As it stands now, he will be executed.  His appeals are exhausted, he is waiting on a date, and if his parents are still alive when it comes, they will watch their son be belted down to a table as poison gets pumped into his veins and he takes his final breath. Is that the justice we should be shooting for?

Many anti-death penalty activists find their stance not because they are necessarily opposed to the death penalty.  They base their stance on the knowledge the deck sometimes gets stacked.  Not every prosecutor is as interested in finding out exactly what happened as they are in securing a win.  If anyone wanted to know what happened to the victim twenty years ago, those phone calls would have been traced. The individuals making the calls would have been interviewed, their stories documented, statements taken and compared.  It defies logic to even try and argue differently, to suggest those individuals not be interviewed and those calls not be traced. A girl was murdered – every stone should have been turned over to find out what happened. Instead – nothing.  There is not one recorded interview with two of those callers that night, both of whom are said to have been in the parking lot, and one of who’s name is recorded as being the caller for a cab from Howard Scott’s apartment at 3:59 a.m.  Yet – not one interview with him or the other individual calling the apartment and seen in the parking lot that night.  As a matter of fact, Howard Scott’s first interview with police that was performed on the first day he was transported to HPD – is not in any file. It does not exist. I was told, “Not everything makes it into the file.”

What could have been discovered if, in 1999, this case had been investigated and the phone records and physical evidence shared?  Where were the phone calls made from?  What would the callers have said about what they were doing that night had they been asked?  What would the recipient of the phone calls have said if he had been confronted with the question, rather than allowed to say – ‘I was sleeping’? 

The window of opportunity on what could have been determined is shut.  The Harris County prosecutor’s office did that, not Charles Mamou.  The deck was stacked against Mamou, the victim’s family, Mamou’s family, the jury, and anyone who has ever read the story.  Everybody loses.  The prosecution may have felt not sharing the information they had would secure a ‘win’ for their office, but how is that winning?  You can’t win when you cheat, it’s a façade, a farce.  One person does not get to decide what part of the puzzle we can use. To argue a case in a court of law, what people look towards for truth, justice, equality and fairness, while keeping information to yourself, and not only doing that but also exploiting the lack of knowledge and arguing scenarios such as witnesses sleeping and sexual assault – that is not a win. 

There is also a facebook page dedicated to sharing Charles Mamou’s troubling case.

 All Photos, courtesy of ©manfredbaumann.com

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

You can also reach him through jpay.com.

SIGN HIS PETITION – LEARN ABOUT HIS CASE.  Charles Mamou is a long time WITS writer. He is part of our writing family and his case has been studied and shared here for a couple years. Please sign a petition requesting that his case be truly investigated – for the first time. If you learn enough about his case, you will likely agree, there was not much done in the way of investigation. What we have been able to learn, supports that. Please sign.

Charles Mamou Reinvestigation

Dear Ms. Ogg,

In the interest of justice, please reinvestigate the case of Charles Mamou, Jr. He has been on death row for over two decades.

There was evidence available to the D.A. in 1998 that was not shared with Charles Mamou. That evidence would have called into question witness testimony and should have been pursued in 1998 when it could have led to the guilty party. It included phone records of suspects that could have been traced. Not only was information not shared, some withheld information was exploited, such as the prosecutor communicating to the jury that Mamou sexually assaulted the victim, but not informing them or the defendant of a rape kit that was collected, which they had processed.

References to an individual named 'Shawn' being present that evening were consistently down-played and dismissed by the prosecution, yet a fax addressed to the D.A. from HPD specifically notes, handwritten by an investigator, phone calls made from 'Shawn' to a key witness, Howard Scott, at 12:19 a.m. and 3:12 a.m. that night. Mr. Mamou was unaware there were calls made. Those phone calls were also received by a key witnesses' phone, who testified he was asleep at the time, and his phone was not ringing. The prosecutor did not stop the proceedings when his witness, along with another of his witnesses, indicated they were sleeping. The prosecutor did not ask them why their phones were in use or inform Mamou or the jury that their phones were in use that night while they testified to sleeping.

New information has come to light that was not shared with the jury, including a letter that calls into question a key witness’s testimony. There are also witnesses who saw Charles Mamou when he was supposed to have been with the victim, a video statement of the key witness that does not mirror his testimony, and a statement from a state’s witness that cannot be located in the HPD case file. That witness has since told an investigator he saw the victim alive.

There are other issues as well, including notes in HPD's file that indicate biological evidence was signed out in 2019. When questioned regarding the reason for the removal, HPD communicated that only the D.A.'s Office could request evidence be removed, to which a communication with the D.A.'s office indicated no such request had been made.

For these reasons and more, we are asking you to reinvestigate Cause No. 800112. Thank you for your consideration.

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Views From The Inside

“Them”

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I first realized I was the enemy of society when I was a homeless child sleeping on the roofs of steaming laundromats and eating the abundant variety of food thrown in business dumpsters.  It was before grocery stores defeated the homeless by installing trash compactors we couldn’t access.

I was homeless by choice. I’d been offered the hospitality of 30-40 foster homes which I impolitely declined, running loose until the courts gave up and legally emancipated me at age 16.  It’s possible one of those foster homes I escaped from would’ve provided me with security, nurtured me, possibly even loved me, but I refused to gamble.  I despised authority, saw it as a disease that transmutated ordinary people into monsters.  Four decades later, rotting in a former slave state prison for a crime I did not commit, my opinion about authority hasn’t improved much.

Before I reached age 14, I had been assaulted three times by police officers, once so severely it took more than a week in the hospital to recover.  They hurt me not because of criminal acts, but ostensibly because I lacked respect.  Yet the truth is, my irreverence didn’t provoke them nearly as much as my disparity.  I belonged to a different tribe, and I was a powerless divergent unable to retaliate. The establishment has always victimized people without status or property; they were the proverbial ‘us’, and I was ‘them’ – enemies from the dawn of mankind.

When I grew up, I almost joined their number, not as a cop but as a patriot.  I never did get good at following rules though, and it wasn’t long before my military career ended.  Once again I was delegated to one of ‘them’, a disenfranchised human of no money or status, who lacked the hive worker skills necessary to acquire any.

I was a drifter, drove a clunker, and had long hair; each a crime in itself.  Like diverse strangers everywhere – racial minorities, homosexuals, the homeless – I became a target for police.  In a southern town where disparity was the ultimate sin, I was jailed. 

Attorney General, Janet Reno said, “Justice is available only to those who can afford lawyers.”  How right she was.  I would’ve fared so much better if I had been wealthy and guilty rather than poor and innocent.  Or I could’ve at least saved my life if I had capitulated to the politically ambitious prosecutor and accepted his five year easy conviction plea deal.  Instead I demanded a trial by my ‘peers’, and they sentenced me to die in a plantation penitentiary.

If I thought poverty and diversity made me less than human, I soon discovered there is absolutely nothing lower than a prisoner.  Even lab monkeys have more enforceable rights to humane treatment than prisoners.  We have less prestige than all the unarmed black men, homosexuals and homeless put together.

Just a few months before George Floyd was murdered and set off international protests, prison guards went into the cage above mine and beat a naked old man named Frank Digges to death.  There were, of course, no protests.  I’m betting you’ve never heard of him even though his murder and a gruesome photo of spinal fluid leaking down his face was published in a major newspaper, The Houston Chronicle.

Why haven’t you heard of Frank Digges and all the other prisoners tortured and murdered?  Because society at large doesn’t care, and the media knows it – and the perpetrators know it.  We’re the ultimate ‘them’, viewed much like the native Americans with valuable land, the plantation slaves, and the marginalized that society doesn’t even acknowledge as human.

Given human nature, it seems impossible concepts like social justice or its sibling, criminal justice, will ever truly exist.  Our tribal instinct is so strong that even small children cruelly attack a child who is different.  History is full of powerful groups committing atrocities against weaker groups.  One could argue that’s all history is.  Family, race, religion, nationality… we all belong to a tribe, and we’re all guilty of injustice to some degree, but the greater tragedy is how easily we rationalize our evil.

I will likely die in a cage for the crime of being ‘them’, but I still think social empathy and justice are possible. It won’t be accomplished by appealing to groups because groups naturally set themselves above and apart from outsiders.  But as individuals, I think we’re all capable of walking in other people’s shoes, inspired by someone’s story.  Stories allow us to see strangers as humans.  So I write, not just to have my story heard, but the stories and voices of thousand of prisoners, many of whom are functionally illiterate and have no voice of their own. 

ABOUT THE WRITER.  I love this piece. John Adams put into words our purpose in such an eloquent way, although it was not his intention. His writing is always honest, open and a true pleasure to work with and share. He is not only an amazing writer, he keeps me on my toes, always making me review the way I present topics. John Adams has served twenty-five years of a life sentence and maintains his innocence. He can be contacted at:

John Adams #768543
810 FM 2821
Huntsville, TX 77349

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Views From The Inside

My Shoes

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Born and raised one of three kids by a single mom in Grand Rapids, Michigan, I struggled with who I was and tried to fit in with everybody just to feel normal, telling myself things would get better in time. Growing up, we were on welfare, struggling to live off food stamps and waiting on the third of the month to come to get money off our Bridge card.  I had no father to turn to, or anyone to show me how to be a man.  I adapted, and became a part of the streets around me.

I would come home from school to no lights and no food in the house, boiling water just to take a bath.  I started to stay in the streets to escape the pain of growing up in poverty and avoid watching my mother struggle.  At night I would walk down the street pulling car doors to find a safe place to sleep, praying to God nobody came to the car.  I would go days without meals and instead of returning home to struggle, I would go into stores and steal candy bars to survive.  It eventually led to depression and wanting someone to notice me.  I became a follower and before I could stop the ball from going downhill, I was in juvenile detention, praying for a blessing and direction but never really knowing if God could hear me. 

I wanted more out of life and thought I had to be like everybody else to get it.  I kept getting in trouble so the state stepped in, removed me from my mother and sent me to a foster home.  As soon as I got inside the home I could tell my foster family had only taken me in for the money, and the first chance I got, I left.  A few days later I was back in juvenile.  

That was the first time I experienced depression.  Locked in my cell, I stared at the walls with nothing but a big window and a yoga mat to sleep on.  Months later, I was released to a white foster family.  I didn’t mind, but after a week I just felt like the odd person at the table and nobody tried to make me feel comfortable.  So I left.  When I was released I was on lifetime probation, so when I violated I was sent to boot camp. 

After completing the program, my life was on track when my P.O. came and tried to send me to a halfway house.  That was the first time I noticed the system was treating me differently than the white kids I hung with.  We were all on the same path and case, but I would get months and they would get days.  At seventeen years, I was sent to prison for one year and released.  I was so proud of myself for not drowning myself in weed or liquor. 

And then came prison. I was walking with two dudes, and one of them decided to take someone’s headphones.  I got charged with armed robbery, and at trial, I was found guilty of aiding and abetting, which basically means the same charge as the armed robbery.  My case, #319320, gave me fifteen to thirty years in MDOC. 

I couldn’t believe I was being punished with at least fifteen years of my life, not for being involved in the crime, but for being around when it happened.  In 2012 I came to prison not knowing what to expect, and praying everything would be okay.  When I took my first steps on the prison yard I realized it was going to be a hard fifteen years.  Everybody looked at me like they were lions and I was the prey.   I ended up getting into one fight after the other until somebody finally said to leave me alone, and I was sent to the hole for fighting – twenty three hour lockdown in a cell with nothing but brick walls, a toilet and sink.  I was kept there for six months for defending myself. 

It was there I first wondered if anyone would miss me if I killed myself.  I also decided I couldn’t let this system win.  I was going to do everything I could to show the world nobody’s perfect, and change is possible.  I started taking programs and reading business books, trying to learn something every day.  It has been nine years of pain and struggle, but I like the man I’ve become.  My goal is to now help people caught up in this system, people the world has given up on.   

ABOUT THE WRITER. Mr. Nero is new to writing for WITS, and what stood out most about his writing was its sincerity. His writing makes you feel like you know him, as he shares a glimpse of his life with readers. That is not easy to do. I look forward to hearing more about him. Tevin Nero can be contacted at:
Tevin Nero #792000
Alger Correctional Faccility
N6141 Industrial Park Drive
Munising, MI 49862

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