In Harris County, Texas, 1999, Charles Mamou was sentenced to death in a trial primarily focused on the testimony of a handful of drug dealers involved in the same drug deal, the strongest testimony coming from Mamou’s own cousin who testified Mamou confessed to him.
There were several factors the jury never heard regarding the
alleged ‘confession’.
When Terrence Dodson first heard police had contacted one of his relatives looking for him in connection to a capital murder case, he quickly told police his cousin, Chucky, had confessed to murdering and sexually assaulting the victim. Charles Mamou was arrested for kidnapping and murder.
Nearly a year later at trial, what the case lacked in physical evidence, it made up for in the ‘confession’, at times focusing on the sexual assault Terrence Dodson had described to police. The jury was never presented all the contradictions between Mr. Dodson’s original statement to police and his actual testimony at trial, including the location of Mamou when he supposedly confessed and also how he confessed. Those contradictions would have brought into question Dodson’s credibility and can be seen HERE.
The jury was also not shown the letter Dodson wrote to his cousin a month after he told police about the ‘confession’. In the letter Dodson said, “I’m glad you didn’t tell me shit about that cause I don’t wanna know shit, I feel better off that way.”
There was one more thing the jury never heard. Charles Mamou was never charged with rape, but it had a significant impact in his trial, so much so that several articles written about the crime indicate that Mamou raped or sexually assaulted the victim. The sexual assault was one facet of Terrence Dodson’s hour long video statement. Dodson described how Mamou confessed to a sexual assault several times and also testified to that during the trial. During Dodson’s testimony, Charles Mamou’s court appointed attorney and the prosecution never informed the jury that a rape kit was completed on the victim, including oral swabs.
When the prosecution was presenting their closing arguments, hoping to convince the jury of Mamou’s guilt and secure an execution, the jury was told, “He marches her to the back, and he makes her commit oral sodomy, makes her suck his penis. Imagine that, ladies and gentlemen.” At the time they made this argument, they were aware of Terrence Dodson’s questionable credibility. They also knew the results from the rape kit, which stated, “No semen was detected on any items analyzed.”
Mamou’s own attorney never mentioned the results of the rape kit to the jury that was to decide his client’s fate.
Harris County, Texas, has sentenced more people to death than anyplace else in the country. Charles Mamou is one of those people. He maintains his innocence and is out of appeals and awaiting an execution date.
Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. Anything you share with me will be confidential.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
I had a plethora of ‘special visits’ within the past week –
four visitation days filled with two different people, for a total of sixteen
hours. Had I not been awarded such
visits from caring friends, I would have spent those hours within a defeat
filled prison cell.
During those four hours of conversation, topics range from
favorite TV shows – they liked Mork & Mindy, I liked Punky Brewster – to cartoons
like the Smurfs, Care Bears, Voltron, and Underdog – a classic.
We talk about food, although my guests are all vegans. They talk about nuts and crackers, while I ask,
“Where’s the beef?” When they buy me snacks,
they refuse to eat in front of me. No
one likes getting food stuck in their teeth around me – what’s up with that?
We discuss politics, books read, family issues and
jobs. We talk about their dealings just
as much as mine, and we will cover a wide range of wild and mundane
topics. At some point the unavoidable
will arise, though I try to avoid it – my pending execution/murder. After all, it’s the reason we are ‘here’. It’s why our sailing ships crossed paths
within the massive sea of interactions.
My friend, Mary, is from England where they drive on the
wrong side of the road, though she begs to differ. It’s where they say ‘arse’ instead of
ass. Can you imagine Cardi B singing
about her ‘arse’? Just don’t sound
right. Mary comes from a land where Mary
Poppins isn’t a myth – rather a legend.
When she told her family and friends that she was coming to America to
visit a man on Texas death row they asked, “Have you gone mad (lost your mind)?”
People often ask me if I am mad. Bitter.
I’m not pretentious by nature, and what you see is exactly what you
get. So – in the tone of my cussing
pastor and actor, Samuel L. Jackson, “You damn right I get mad and bitter!” Even though hardly anyone ever sees that in
me.
“Chucky, I have one more question. I would like to know just as the people of
England would like to know – how do you stay so strong? How can you stay smiling and positive?”
It’s a fair question. One I’m often asked. And, bravado has it’s place – but not in my story. To put on a brave face would make a mockery of the struggle of being isolated all day for decades without the touch of another human being’s skin. It is written, ‘It is not good for man to be alone.’ I guess my oppressors didn’t get that memo. How do I stay strong? I pointed to her through the glass, to her surprise. “Me?”
“You and people like you.”
It’s not lost on me that it’s not easy entering a prison to
come visit me. I understand the money and time so freely given to afford me a
few hours of comfort. I’m always
grateful for it. We are all – literally –
strangers from different cultures, with different likes and different social
economic norms. The thought that strangers
come to my aid and show me what love is – is humbling. Without my friends, I would be nothing… Nothing.
I draw strength from the acts of others who display a
courage and unmanacled devotion on a scale that I can never fully
comprehend. I think about how busy their
lives are and how they still find the time to think about me and write me. They visit me knowing they are going to be made
uncomfortable by guards.
I think about my friend, Debbie, who was diagnosed with brain
cancer and lung cancer and has undergone multiple surgeries within the past
year. She has been a constant in my life since 2004. And when she was told I lost my final appeal she
argued with the doctor to discharge her so she could fly to see me and offer
comfort so I wouldn’t feel alone.
I think about my play-daughter and her mom and how they have
enriched my life by adopting me into their family. They are two of the greatest humanitarians my
eyes have ever witnessed – and they shed tears for me and the injustice that
has befallen me for two decades. Some
people have seen Gandhi, Mandela, Sojourner Truth, Dr. King and so on – to them,
they are heroes. My play-daughter and
her mother are my icons, my heros – my angels.
If I don’t live to see another day, I know I have been cared for by people
that are greater than this life.
Then there’s Mary.
She’s laughter. She’s Lucille
Ball funny and one of the most non-judgmental people there is. She’s a great religious orator and an advocate
for children who have been abused or suffer mental illness. She is a
fascinating person and a genuine friend, as well as her husband.
These people are the core of my support group and the source of the strength others see in me. If I’m strong, it’s because I have been shown and taught what strength looks like and feels like. I am strong because I have been loved freely by those who so freely love. That’s strength.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Charles “Chucky” Mamou is living on Death Row in Texas. He is out of appeals and has always maintained his innocence.
He can be contacted at: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
Death Row is a somberness that never quits and a psychological
dismay that never stales, offering fleeting hope in the distance, while an
unspeakable cruelty lurks from behind. It
is the veil of vengeance over the face of forgiveness and the dark that seldom
brightens. And it is a system designed to diminish one’s
spirit by decades of prolonged executions.
Enter Joe – a highly spirited, gentle soul and a bonafide hillbilly
(his words, not mine). Joe was amongst
several death row inmates whom I met upon arrival. Although he and I didn’t quite vibe at first,
eventually we became good friends. Our
divide was mainly due to our backgrounds which were astronomically worlds
apart. However, proximity and shared affliction pieced us together and our
friendship was a perfect fit.
Joe was an avid watcher of daytime soaps, bounding around the
pod enthusiastically while awaiting his favorite shows. I’d listen to him
zestfully recount weekly episodes until he finally piqued my interest. Before long I was bouncing alongside Joe; the
soaps were our escape.
Joe was a tinker also, an essential figure in every inner prison’s
workings. Tinkers improvise using commonplace items to effectively service
their inmate community. In need of a
coffee brewer? See Joe. Stogie roller? That was Joe too. From radio repairs to holiday greeting cards,
Joe lent a little of himself to everyone.
And when matters were somewhat trivial, still he was eager to help.
I became most endeared to Joe the day he tattooed my
forearm. We sat and chatted up one another as he tagged me with his
artistry. Joe opened up to me about his
spiritual ambitions and the difficulties in his past. It made me realize,
though our differences were superficial our adversities were much the same. I
watched as Joe embraced his vulnerability as a means to mend his spirit. It
taught me that my own woes were much deeper than death row; I suffered a
darkness within.
Afterwards, Joe became the bright spot to every waking
day. A stickler for cleanliness, he
swept and mopped the pod each morning before dawn. Joe then turned to cigarettes and coffee to
crank out his lively mood and for hours on end he would laugh and joke – and death
row never felt so good.
Joe was a jack-of-all trades, though hardly a master at
all. He was a joyful klutz at
basketball, yet the first to laugh at himself. At poker, he was a heavy better
and lost with his heart carefree. He was
deeply committed to the happiness of others – happiness gave Joe peace.
It was three years past when the news came down and Joe
faced a darkness of his own. The courts rejected the last of his appeals and
issued him an execution date. Suddenly there was aridness in the air that ached
with sympathy and despair. Well-wishers barely spoke above whispers as they internalized
with ‘what ifs’. Joe put troubled minds
at ease by insisting that he was fine – but on the day that his
executioners came, he said to me, “Man,
I don’t wanna die.”
In that moment, I was stumped for words. I had nothing to offer but sadness. I wanted so much to give Joe absolution and
shoo his killers away. I felt helpless and betrayed for the coming demise by an
evil which met no resistance. The terrible
truth was – my fears were also selfish. I
didn’t know how to be on Death Row without Joe.
Joe and I embraced for the last time, his cheeks slicked with
tears while his eyes held out hope for the governor’s stay.
He then bid goodbye to others as the party of white shirts escorted
him to Deathwatch where he faced his final adversity alone. Joe was executed by lethal injection. It was a harsh reality that pitched Death Row
into darkness.
Death Row is an immoral chasm filled with broken spirits. It is insubstantial highs and demoralizing lows in the fight to stay alive. However, having Joe around was like a break in the action. His kindness lit up the dark – and I’m grateful to have had his light shone on me, if only for a short while.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Terry Robinson writes under the pen name ‘Chanton’ and is the winner of Walk In Those Shoes’ first spring writing contest. He rose to the occasion, as did many. The goal of the contest was to share light people saw and experienced behind bars, and I think what has become apparent is that often times – it was the light in the writers’ themselves that was shared. Terry writes for us often, and he can be contacted at: Terry Robinson #0349019 Central Prison 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
The key piece of evidence in a capital murder case leaves one wondering how much of a trial is built on the talent of a prosecution to ‘paint a picture’ – and how much is based on reality.
Charles Mamou was sentenced to die twenty years ago in Harris County, Texas, for the death of Mary Carmouche. He was black, tried in a county that sentenced people to death at an unrivaled rate, and couldn’t afford an attorney of his choosing. When the courts determined his fate, people went on with their lives, assuming justice had been done.
But had it?
The victim had been present at a drug deal that went
terribly wrong, her body later found by a utility worker.
There were several people involved in the drug deal that took place that night, including one man who died at the scene. Those who survived were evasive when questioned by police – all but one. One of the drug dealers was very cooperative and investigators interviewed him at length. The young man was Charles Mamou’s very own cousin – a man the prosecution referred to repeatedly, arguing that the accused’s own family testified against him. Why would his own family lie?
What’s more bizarre than why a twenty-one year old drug dealer being looked at in a capital murder case would lie – is why someone will be executed on the weight of his testimony. Dodson had a lot to say – not a lot of it matched facts. But without a weapon, an eye witness, DNA, any physical evidence connecting Mamou to the crime scene – they wanted a ‘confession’. Watching the video today, twenty years later, it’s clear the ‘confession’ used to convict Charles Mamou was riddled with inconsistency.
Terrence Dodson started out by assuring investigators he would never be involved in a drug transaction.
Terrence Dodson said he just wanted to go home and not be involved with any type of illegal activity.
Those original statements directly contradicted what he later said at trial.
Q: And how did you come to meet him or be with him that morning? A: Well, he gave me a call and told me that he had a lick for a key. So I said, come get me.
Q: What did you think was actually going to happen? A: That they was going to bring the kilo, we were going to bring newspaper, and we was going to rob them. Q: What was your part going to be? A: My part in the robbery? Q: Right. A: To rob them. Q: With what? A: With a gun. Q: You had a gun? A: Yeah, I had it on me.
Q. What if there is more than one or two people there? Is that going to be a problem for you? A. No, not really. Q. You’re comfortable going in a situation like that with a gun, and if somebody shows you the dope, you just going to take the dope? A. Pretty much.
Over and over, Terrence Dodson testified to his involvement in the drug deal, contradicting his original statement to police.
When Terrence Dodson first spoke to police on Wednesday, December 9, 1998, it took over an hour. He was asked several times what day Charles Mamou had left Houston for his home in Louisiana. Dodson told investigators Mamou left on Monday, December 7.
Although Dodson said Mamou left on Monday, according to the Houston Police Department’s own incident report – Charles Mamou left Houston on Tuesday, December 8, 1998.
Then, Dodson told investigators about the ‘confession’ – which he said took place in a phone call from Charles Mamou on Tuesday morning – from Louisiana. It would have been hard for Mamou to call Dodson from Louisiana on Tuesday morning – because the investigation’s own witnesses stated Mamou was actually in Houston on Tuesday morning, but that didn’t concern investigators, the prosecution or his defense attorney. Mamou had actually spent Monday night in the apartment of one of the prosecution’s own witnesses, Howard Scott.
Terrence Dodson then proceeded to share what he says was a confession to murder.
In his statement to police, Terrence Dodson shares a story of Mamou calling him on Tuesday morning from Louisiana, when in reality Charles Mamou wasn’t even in Louisiana, and confessing to him in one phone call. Months later, at trial, he told a different story.
Q. Now, when you are having this conversation with the defendant later on – says, ‘Later on I spoke with Charles’ – are you face to face? A. Yes. Q. Where are you? A. On the porch. Q. Whose porch? A. Stephanie’s porch, my sister. Q. Now you gave a whole lot of information in response to the prosecutor’s questions about conversations you had with Charles and go into detail about the jack on jack and these guys with a Bible. There was a shoot-out and goes into detail about where the people were shooting and everything. And then, also talking about the girl had been shot, that they had been outside. And he asked you about talking with Detective Novak, and she supposedly had performed oral sex on him. When do you get that information? What time is that? A. I don’t really recall. I got, like I said, bits and pieces in person.
Q. Is it one conversation or several? A. It was several. Q. Over what period of time? A. I don’t really recall, a couple of days. Q. So, it’s not just Monday, it’s Monday and Tuesday? A. To the best of my knowledge, yeah.
Yet – in his taped statement – Dodson claimed Charles confessed to him in one phone call on Tuesday morning from Louisiana, a time when Charles Mamou wasn’t in Louisiana.
Friends and relatives of Mamou’s have told me Mamou would never have shared his business with his cousin, Terrence. But, Terrence was willing to testify to a confession, so he was very valuable in the investigation – even with an odd version of events that didn’t match any of the available information or witness accounts. He even said the drug deal shooting began inside the car. As everyone knows – including the witnesses, police, prosecution and defense – it didn’t happen inside the car.
The drug deal and shooting actually took place outside the car. And none of the people there described a bag of money being thrown back and forth. That version is far from believable, even without any of the witnesses. But Terrence Dodson was giving investigators a confession, no matter how far-fetched it might sound. Not only was it a ‘confession’ it was one by a cousin – why would a cousin lie?
With regard to the victim – Dodson had an even more bizarre story to tell. One moment he described the girl as ‘scared’ and his cousin was trying to calm her down – and in the next moment he actually told investigators that she said, “I ain’t fixin to suck your dick for under $300.”
The victim’s body was later found in a neighborhood Charles Mamou, who was from Louisiana, would not have been familiar with, in the backyard of a house that was for sale. That is not how Terrence described the location though. He said in his statement that it was behind some abandoned houses, some for sale houses.
At one point it seemed the investigators were trying to help him include something they wanted him to add to his statement.
Again – the detective appeared to want this detail in the statement and again asked the leading question.
There wasn’t much about Dodson’s statement that lined up with what the other parties involved had to say. Even Dodson’s description of Mamou’s sunglasses that the prosecution presented as being connected to Mary. The glasses were nearly five miles from the body – but that was never told to the jury. In Dodson’s version of the story – the glasses were broken, ‘lenses gone and everything’. Anthony Trail and Charles Mamou, who had no reason to lie about the condition of glasses, both described the glasses as not being broken, and they were the ones who picked them up.
Terrence Dodson spoke to police for over an hour. A month after this statement to police was made, he wrote a letter to his cousin, Charles Mamou, who was in prison. In the letter he wrote:
“I’m glad you didn’t tell me shit about that cause I don’t wanna know shit, I feel better off that way.”
Charles Mamou was repeatedly accused of sexual assault during the trial and has repeatedly asked for any DNA testing that should have taken place if there was a sexual assault, as he knows it wouldn’t match him.
During the punishment phase of Mamou’s trail, autopsy photos of individuals other than Mary were shared, as well as testimony from family members of other murder victims. Charles Mamou has never been tried for any other murder.
I have tried to contact Terrence Dodson on several occasions, but he has not responded.
Charles Mamou is out of appeals and currently awaits an execution date.
Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. Anything you share with me will be confidential.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
You might want to sit down for this. Being as you’re so young, my intention is to be delicate, but there are some troubling things that need to be disclosed about the path down which you are headed.
Who am I, you ask? Oh, I’m nobody in particular, though I could’ve been. It’s just that I’ve made some really poor choices in life – kinda like what you’re doing. Should you continue, well… eventually you may become nobody in particular too.
The things you’re going through that you think no one else understands – I do. However, I’ve come to learn that other people’s shortcomings are not my excuses, and there’s self-accountability in most blame. We are all responsible for creating the lives we want for ourselves. None of us are exempt from that obligation, Duck. No one else determines how you live.
I know that you’re experiencing some household issues that compel you to find acceptance outside your home. Your older brother, Ray, whom you idolize, doesn’t want you tagging along with him anymore. And while you wait enthusiastically around the house for his return, still, he doesn’t notice you. I know between your mother’s day job and night school, quality time has given way to fatigue. And while everyone dotes on your cute kid sister, your presence feels passed over. It makes you envious, and you question your worth. You feel invisible, as though you don’t matter. You prioritize making friends for the sake of their opinions to validate your importance. You assume a person’s reputation is the measure of their worth; that fear is ascribed to weakness. So you smoke, deal drugs, and have unprotected sex simply to gain approval. But real friends needn’t prove themselves to one another, and fearfulness touches us all. Even the stony looks on the faces of those you so desperately hope to impress, they too have known fear. We’ve all been afraid, though not everyone has the courage to admit it. Owning up to our fears is not weak but strong.
Open your eyes, Duck. You could have a rich, joyous life, if only you would seize it and realize that nothing worth having comes free, it takes dedication and hard work. And yes – having to take ownership over your life at thirteen can be scary, but being a better person is a decision that can only be made by you. Should you continue to travel down such a callous road of indignities, well… you’ll find yourself one night staring down the barrel of a shotgun while fumbling in your socks for what you hope is enough money to trade for your life. You’ll have kids who will grow to adults and have no idea who you are. You’ll suffer scorching lead bore through your flesh as you are left in the street for dead. You will become a slave to your addictions, contract STDs, and erroneously learn to settle domestic disputes with your fist. You will hold a man’s life in your hands while wielding a powerful sense of judgment at the price of your humanity. You’ll spend 20 years in a prison cell crying yourself to sleep at night with shame. Your life will be plagued with regrets, and you’ll find that behind closed eyelids, your demons await.
There’s lots of hurt coming your way, Duck. Trust me – I know. But there’s also the chance for you to make things different. The life you want – your dreams and aspirations – they begin and end with you. Don’t let the pain of your poor choices diminish your goodness and exact its toll on your family. Don’t let the expectations of others determine who you will become. You’re a wonderfully smart and gifted young man with unworldly potential for greatness, so be someone to be proud of… don’t be another me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Terry Robinson writes under the pen name ‘Chanton’. Terry is a thought provoking, inspirational writer and a frequent contributor. It’s a privilege to share his work.
He can be contacted at: Terry Robinson #0349019 Central Prison 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
Charles Mamou has never wavered in declaring his innocence, but the key witness at his trial testified that Mamou ‘confessed’ to him. In a case without a weapon, or a fingerprint at the scene, or a hair, or a fiber, or DNA, or an eyewitness, or a violent history – the testimony of Terrence Dodson was a key factor in Mamou’s death sentence. But, in matters of life and death, should claims of ‘confessions’ be held to a reasonable standard of reliability?
Dodson wasn’t just an uninvolved witness. According to his own testimony, he clearly had
reason to be concerned about his well-being.
When asked, “Were you a little
concerned about the fact that you might be charged with a crime?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t have
that concern now, do you?”
“No.”
Over and over, Dodson maintained his understanding that he had
a lot at stake.
“And at that point in
time, what exactly are you thinking at the time that you were picked up by the
police? Is it clear to you that they are
looking at you as a suspect for capital murder?”
“Yeah, it was clear to
me.”
“So, at that point, is
it a fair statement to say you’re very concerned about your future and what
might happen to you?”
“Yeah, it’s a fair
statement.”
Dodson knew the gravity of the situation and the possible consequences to himself. That would be enough to make one wonder if his testimony regarding Mamou’s ‘confession’ could be relied upon, but self-preservation wasn’t the only issue that would bring into question everything that Dodson shared in the courtroom. There were also contrasts between his original statement to police and what he testified to during the trial.
During the police interview, Dodson repeatedly said he had
nothing to do with the drug deal that took place that night. He simply wanted to go home.
“He told me that he
was going to buy a kilo – coke, and I was like, man, take me home because I don’t
want to be around the transaction or whatever.”
“So, him and Bud
started looking at me saying just chill out man, chill out, man, you are
tripping, I was like, man, no, just take me back to the house, that’s all I am
asking.”
“And he kept saying, just
chill, we got out there. I’m like, oh
man, just take me back.”
“And I am like, just
take me back, man, I am not with all that.”
Yet, during the trial, when asked about his involvement in
the drug deal, Dodson describes it differently.
“What was your part
going to be?”
“My part in the
robbery?”
“Right.”
“To rob them.”
“With what?”
“With a gun.”
“You had a gun?”
“Yeah, I had it on me.”
“So, what is it that
you’re supposed to do, you, personally?
What is your role on this jack on jack?
Of course, you’re not knowing
that it’s a jack on jack at that point, are you?”
“Exactly.”
“So, what is your
role? What are you supposed to do?”
“Once I see the dope,
I pull out my pistol and take the dope.”
“You’re comfortable going
in a situation like that with a gun; and if somebody shows you the dope you
just going to take the dope?”
“Pretty much.”
The star witness consistently contradicted himself and his
prior recorded statement. While being
questioned by detectives, Dodson described Mamou’s ‘confession’ as taking place
in one phone call.
“Ok, and where was he
calling you from?”
“He said, Louisiana,
but we don’t have a caller I.D., so he said, what’s up? I said, what’s up? He said, what’s going on? I said, there is nothing going on, what’s
up? He said, have been watching the
news? I say, yeah. He said, man, he just started telling what
went down, that he, in so many words, did it, and I like, man, and he told me
step by step how it went down.”
Dodson lived in Houston, and Mamou lived in Louisiana. Dodson told police that after Mamou returned to his home in Louisiana, he called Dodson and confessed. Yet – at trial, Dodson changed his story, describing how the confession took place differently.
“Now you gave a whole
lot of information in response to the prosecutor’s questions about conversations
you had with Charles and go into detail about the jack on jack and these guys
had a bible. There was a shoot-out and
goes into detail about where the people were shot and everything. And then, also talking about the girl had
been shot, that they had been outside.
And he asked you about talking with Detective Novack, and she supposedly
had performed oral sex on him. When did
you get that information? What time is that?”
“I don’t really
recall, I got, like I said, bits and pieces in person.”
“Everything that you
said here in court today, you’re attributing to him?”
“Yeah, everything I
said that was told to me was told to me by him.”
“It is one conversation
or several?”
“It was several.”
“Over what period of
time?”
“I don’t really
recall, a couple days.”
Terrence Dodson didn’t just contradict himself throughout his statement and testimony. He also told a version of the drug deal during his statement to police that no one else did. According to him, Mamou confessed to getting into the Lexus before the shooting. He clearly describes the violence taking place inside the car. He also paints a picture of two drug dealers throwing a bag of ‘money’ back and forth between them.
“So the dude that drove the Lexus approached Chuckie or whatever, so this is how we are going to do it, you gonna ride with my boy in my Lexus, and you all do the business and we gonna stay here with Bud or Buk whatever. So, Chuckie was like, no, no, I don’t even like the way that sounds. So, if I am going to do the business, is going to be with you, because you are the one I talked to. So the dude must have said, they all loaded up in other words, and the dude told Chuckie we are fixin to do the business down the dark street, so Chuckie said you want to do it in front of Bennigans, but the dude said, it is too hot over here. So they went down the dark street. Dude asked Chuckie where is the money? So, Chuckie said, I got the money, and threw him the paper bag, whatever. The dude threw it back, so Chuckie said, what’s up? The dude said, take the money out, I want to see it. Chuckie said the money is right here, threw back at him. Chuckie said, by that time, he see the dude flinch – like moving into his seat. Chuckie said, he came out with his pistol and was like, man, what’s going on, and the dude was pulling for his. He said, he just thought something, and shot him up on whatever and burnt off with the girl in the Lexus.”
“His exact words were,
shit, I threw him the money, and he threw it back. I threw him the money again,
and he threw it back, know what I’m sayin’, and that’s when I threw down to see
what’s goin’ on.”
The two witnesses and participants in the drug deal, Charles
Mamou, and the police have established that the drug deal and shooting took
place outside of the vehicle. None of
the other individuals described a bag being thrown back and forth.
Not long after Terrence Dodson told the police that Charles
Mamou ‘confessed’ to him, he wrote a letter to Mamou. In it, Dodson once again contradicts himself,
writing, “I’m glad you didn’t tell me
shit about that, cause I don’t wanna know shit.
I feel better off that way.”
Charles Mamou is currently on death row in Texas and waiting
for his execution date.
Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. Anything you share with me will be confidential.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
Whether a prisoner of concrete walls, iron bars and razor wire fences, or economic woes, or mental insecurities – everyone is hungry for a ‘why’ to get through one more day.
My name is Charles “Chucky” Mamou, Jr., and I have been a prisoner on Texas Death Row since 1999. It is here that I found myself a student of my own self, a man whose mental incarceration has been pardoned. I now see things with clarity, without bias. I am not the same man I was a decade or so ago. Now, don’t get it twisted – my imprisonment and death sentence did not bring about such change. For any person to fully attempt to start the process of change, it has to start with the changing or reforming of one’s own mind. I took a liking to the cliché, ‘You are what you think yourself to be’.
A robber doesn’t walk around thinking what sermon he’s going to preach on Sunday, nor is he singing Amazing Grace to express the joys of his heart. He’s thinking about his next heist. But, I’ve come to accept what many deem unthinkable – humans do change! Some from good to bad. Many from bad to good. It all begins with a thought toward a different approach that hasn’t been tried before.
Life finds meaning through ‘why’ and cautious hindsight that allows us to decipher what is important to each one of us. For me, such sanity comes from my devotion to my mother, children, family and sincere friends. More importantly, the devotion they have for me that sustains me. It keeps me smiling when my face should be caked with frowns. They help levee my eyes so that my tears do not cause my heart to flood in misery. They are my ‘whys’ and continue to give me hope for a brighter future.
My family has allowed me to see the other victims that don’t
get much attention in a death penalty system.
The victims who go unnoticed, uncounted, unheard and not spoken enough
about. As much as I understand that it
is because of me that the ones I love have become victims, I see an incredible resiliency
in them, a beacon that no longer allows my own ignorance to be the master of my
mental chaos.
I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring. I can only concern myself in the now. What I learn in the now will allow me to be a
better person in the tomorrows that lay ahead – should any tomorrows come to
pass. And, I can smile in this moment,
because I am mentally alive. Indeed, I
am stronger and wiser in mind, if nothing else.
Stronger today than I in my yesteryears.
Life isn’t how you see it, it’s how you make it. We’re here for a reason. To learn from lessons that are unseen. We are here for more than McDonalds and the
mall. We are here to love those who
adopt hate. We are here to understand
each other without the divide that ignorantly sees some as lesser beings due to
the color of their skin, when it’s the content of their character that should
be sought. We are here to rehabilitate the
rehabilitatable. We are here to forgive,
even if redemption isn’t feasible. We
are here to seek our meanings, our whys, and make a difference.
This is what I have observed. If we completely understand self first – then we can understand others. We are all designed in the same likeness, with the same capacity for peace, love, and respect of ourselves and our fellow brothers and sisters. This is my understanding.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Charles “Chucky” Mamou is living on Death Row in Texas. He is out of appeals and has always maintained his innocence.
He can be contacted at: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
My attorneys told me we didn’t need to call any witnesses. Those intelligent white jury members understand what happened.
I’m no killer, and I was and never will be a rapist. I never physically hurt anyone who was
innocent in my life. When I refused a
plea deal to help them convict the ones they felt were responsible, I became
the Kunta – that would never be their Toby.
So they did what they needed to ‘teach me a lesson’.
A few days before my trial began, I sat in the courtroom before the Assistant D.A., Lyn McClellan, and my state-appointed trial attorney, Wayne Hill. Lyn McClellan was good at sending people to death row and was friends with my attorney – I’ve heard rumor McClellan was the godfather of my attorney’s son. I guess if it’s true, that makes them practically family. It wouldn’t surprise me – that’s Harris County, Texas. On that day McClellan turned to me and said, “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t prosecute this case. It’s clear what happened here. But it’s not up to me. My boss wants this case to go through. I may even lose.” McClellan’s boss was the legendary Johnny Holmes.
I was arrogantly naïve, thinking the truth would set me free
– justice.
There were subliminal messages being sent before the trial
even started. Referring to the famous
O.J. Simpson case, the judge assured jurors that was, “not going to happen
here. This is the real world. It is not California.” He compared the job of a juror to, “being a
pallbearer at a funeral.” “And when a
child acts out we must discipline that child.
We may not like it, but we have to do it.” My trial hadn’t even started, and he was
telling the jury I was already guilty. There
was no need to over think it.
The finality came during Dodson’s testimony though. The moment he told the jury I ‘confessed to
him’ that I sexually assaulted Mary – women on the jury began to cry and look
at me with vengeance. I had to turn away
from one woman’s glare after she took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. My character was castrated for an act that
never happened.
Before the trial when they questioned me, trying to get me to take a deal – they told me they had DNA. So, why didn’t they use it? If they had it, they didn’t use it because it wasn’t mine. They said I sexually assaulted her – but there was no DNA presented at my trial. Why?
I had two defense lawyers.
One was hired a month before the trial began and knew nothing about the
strategy or defense in my case. The
people representing me had a letter written by the ‘key’ witness – Dodson – and
his initial interrogation video. They
had in their possession evidence to dispute the key witness’s testimony, but
they never presented it. They allegedly
‘misplaced’ that evidence during my trial.
They miraculously found it after I was found guilty. Dodson said I confessed to him – the letter
he wrote said he didn’t know shit. The
jury never saw it.
I didn’t kill Mary. They had someone testify about me finding my sunglasses after Mary disappeared. They presented the glasses testimony like a smoking gun. If the glasses were near the body – I had to be the killer. What the jury never heard was that the glasses were found nearly five miles away from the body. I’d dropped them in the grass two days before I ever met Mary and nowhere near where she was found. My attorneys didn’t tell the jury that either. Nor were they told how many miles I would have had to have driven that night in a car with a flat tire in order to do what they said I did. They just listened to the prosecution paint their picture.
So, why did I testify? I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t, but after having the media portray me as a drug dealing rapist and murderer, just short of a serial killer, I was tormented so much that I knew if I ever had the chance to set things straight, I would. If I was going out on lies– I wanted the record to show my mother I didn’t lie.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Charles “Chucky” Mamou is living on Death Row in Texas. He is out of appeals and has always maintained his innocence.
He can be contacted at: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
A caged bird sings, And a condemned man writes. The only freedom to be had In a tomb, sealed tight. But no, not airtight, Just enough to breathe. See the mugginess that looms In the dank lonely room? Shall it bring you constant misery For the wrong you have done. Murderer! You worthless monster! The same grief you have caused Should be exacted on your mama. O’ but it has, Just not enough. Heathenish villain Who deserves no forgiveness, And for that we’re going to bring Out the lethal stuff. Undo what God has done, Rid fathers of their sons, As your souls erode in darkness Till the day of judgment comes. And when that day comes, No tears, nor fears, Nor uprising peers Will hinder the injustice Inflicted on you for years, From way, way back On the slave man’s back. We are all black, And the distinction of skin color Is fallacy designed by the elitist As a means to stay in power. Watching the seconds tick As it nears the twelfth hour, Where preparations are made And sympathy forbade; Ain’t nothing Going on here But the necessary removal Of a threat to society. Placaters Turned player haters, Never losing an ounce Of sleep at night From knowing that death Is just a business. Torture chambers need hosts, Tax payers foot the cost, With endless sights of vigil lights As advocates brave the cold, Chanting, “No more deaths!” “No more deaths!” But there will always be deaths Till by death there’s no one left, But the supreme man And him who understands That classism Is about one clan. Not black, or white Nor those with the will to fight. And neither the caged bird that sings Nor the condemned man that writes.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Terry Robinson writes under the pen name ‘Chanton’. Terry is a thought provoking, inspirational writer and a frequent contributor. It’s a privilege to share his work. He can be contacted at: Terry Robinson #0349019 Central Prison 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
Charles Mamou had a fifteen to forty-five minute window to do what the prosecution said he did, according to their witness, Howard Scott. By everyone’s account, Mamou was on Lantern Point Drive at approximately midnight on December 6, 1998. Scott testified he was back at his apartment on Fondren between 12:15 and 12:45. Could he have murdered the victim in forty-five minutes or less?
At midnight that evening, there was a drug deal on Lantern
Point Drive in Houston that ended in gunfire.
The majority of the witnesses testified that Mamou’s driver, Samuel
Johnson, pulled away when the shooting began, leaving Mamou behind. Mamou then jumped in the running vehicle left
behind by the individuals he’d just had a shoot out with.
After that – the stories differ. Mamou testified he realized Mary Carmouche was in the car after he fled the scene. He also says he saw her for the last time after they both exited the car at the apartment on Fondren, where the vehicle was later found by police. Mamou also said there were several other people at that location who had contact with Miss Carmouche.
The drug deal took place at approximately midnight. The drive from Lantern Point Drive to Fondren
is 9.3 miles and 18 minutes. When the
police later recovered the Lexis at the apartments, one of the tires was completely
flat and partially off the rim. Howard
Scott testified that Mamou arrived at his apartment between 12:15 and 12:45
that evening.
The state presented a different version of events. The prosecution claimed Mamou, who lived in Louisiana,
left Lantern Point Drive after the shooting and drove to a deserted home on
Lynchester Drive, located 17.9 miles away.
They say he then took Mary into the backyard, forced her to perform oral
sex and shot her. No explanation was
offered as to how Mamou may have been able to locate an abandoned home on
Lynchester.
There was no evidence introduced in the courtroom regarding a sexual assault – not a hair, not a semen sample, no DNA. After the shooting, Mamou would have had to drive from the house on Lynchester to the apartments on Fondren and park the car where it was found. The drive from Lynchester to Fondren takes thirty minutes.
That scenario would have taken an hour and five minutes in
driving time, not taking into account the condition of the tire, locating a deserted
home, a sexual assault and murder. The
travel time to get to the crime scene was never addressed during the trial.
The Mamou case is riddled with questions. For many, it calls into question the concept of ‘innocent until proven guilty’. Among the areas of concern:
Although the jury was told Mamou sexually assaulted the
victim, he was never charged with sexual
assault and there was no physical evidence to support that claim.
Each of the parties involved in the drug transaction
testified against Mamou, and it appears none
were charged.
The only witness who came close to putting Mamou near the
crime scene testified that Mamou confessed to him. That same witness later wrote a letter to
Mamou while he was incarcerated stating, “I’m glad you didn’t tell me shit
about that cause I don’t wanna know shit, I feel better off that way.” The
jury never saw that letter.
The state’s witnesses all
contradicted themselves and each other throughout the trial, as well as all
testifying to lying at various points of the investigation.
Mamou, who had no prior charges of violence, was described as
‘vicious’, ‘ruthless’ and ‘cold-blooded’ during closing statements. He was also accused of murdering other individuals during the prosecution’s closing
statements.
Autopsy photos and testimony were presented to the jury, as
well as victim impact statements from victims
of crimes Charles Mamou was never charged with.
Charles Mamou was never
charged with any crime connected to Anthony Williams who died months before. The prosecution told the jury more than
once, “And he murders Anthony Williams.”
Charles Mamou has maintained his innocence for over twenty years.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
