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
During the penalty phase of Charles Mamou’s capital murder trial, detailed testimony was given regarding the autopsy of Anthony Williams, along with a variety of photographs taken during the process. The imagery and description of the deceased’s wounds were shared in an effort to ensure the jury would come back with the ultimate punishment – death.
And the jury did. But Charles Mamou was never on trial for the murder of Anthony Williams. Charles Mamou was on trial for an unrelated crime in which he has always maintained his innocence and in which there is actually no physical evidence tying him to the crime scene. Not a fingerprint. Not a footprint. Not a hair. No DNA. No weapon. No eyewitness. No confession.
As the country’s leader in sending people to death row, Harris County, Texas, is skilled at getting capital murder convictions. In 1999, the year Charles Mamou was sentenced to death, the state executed 33 people. The following year, that number was even higher.
During the Mamou trial, the state didn’t just present photos of Anthony William’s body. They also went into great detail regarding the man’s death in September, 1998 – three months prior to the crime Mamou was on trial for. After the graphic autopsy testimony, William’s older sister was brought in to testify regarding the impact the loss of her brother had on her family. She spoke of Anthony as a baby and testified about the last time she saw her brother. She also shared how her older brother cries over the loss of his baby brother.
Next, the mother of Terrence Gibson was brought in to testify regarding the loss of her son. Terrence Gibson was the man who got shot during the attempted robbery of Charles Mamou. Mamou was never charged in the death of Terrence Gibson. Ms. Gibson testified regarding memories of her son and the affect his loss had on her and her family.
There was actually more testimony in the punishment phase of the trial regarding crimes Charles Mamou was never charged with than the crime he was tried for. Two decades later, Charles Mamou remains on Death Row and is out of appeals, and Harris County keeps its place as a leader at ensuring executions.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
Cruel. Heartless. Malicious and cold. That’s how the prosecutor described me to a jury during his pitch for a verdict of death. He argued that I was, “…just mean and unfit to live.” In the end, the jury agreed.
Four months after my arrival on Death Row, I stole money from an officer. Though inadvertent, it was theft nonetheless. It happened one morning during weekly ‘draw’, while one officer was training another. At that time, available funds withdrawn from inmate accounts were counted and stapled together.
The new guy – or Newbie – handed me a stack of bills in
fives and ones meant to total forty dollars.
With no prior incidents or errors, I tucked the bills in my pocket and walked
away. Within moments, a commotion stirred
as one inmate started shouting over missing funds. Others became disgruntled and offered up
chide remarks about the unfairness of the system. The senior officer tried to de-escalate the
ruckus, while the new guy searched frantically through the money bag. I sympathized with the perplexity strewn on
Newbie’s face. It was his first day on
the job.
After reassuring compensation, both officers exited the pod, as the ire amongst protesting inmates increased. With a prickly notion to count the money, I collected the bills from my pocket and discovered it wasn’t one stack, but two. The staples in each stack had snagged one another and pieced the money together. I called over the guy to which the funds belonged, explained the mix-up and offered him the money.
“Keep it,” he said, “Let the State pay for it, since they’re trying to kill us, anyway.” Tempers flared over systemic oppression, as the other inmates egged each other on. Reluctantly, I passed the money off to a friend – I was striking a blow to ‘the State’.
Not only was the meager blow ineffective to the State, it
was utterly deflected. I later found out
the replacement funds were deducted from Newbie’s salary. What a terrible feeling to know I was
responsible for a mark on his work record.
And by involving another party, I couldn’t return the money, though
keeping it cost me peace of mind.
Over the years, Newbie has gone on to become a well
respected officer. With an 18 year
tenure of working on Death Row, he has seniority over all other staff. He’s shown cordialness and consideration when
enforcing policy, while effectively performing his duties. A kind, hard working man, who seldom speaks,
but is eager to flash a grin. As I’ve
come to admire his professionalism, I’m reminded of my offense. Such a fine person deserves better from me –
I deserve better from myself.
Recently, I was among several Death Row inmates selected for
a random urinalysis. I arrived to find Newbie
overseeing the process, as he went about his task with a grin. I’d often experienced discomfort whenever he
was present – a nagging guilt that pecked at my conscience and impeded the wholeness
of reform. Tonight’s discomfort was more
salient and intense, as I struggled with the idea of possible outcomes. What if Newbie had lost his job, or been accused
of theft and criminally charged? I
squeezed my eyes tightly as my inner voice gathered. Newbie deserved better. So did I.
Some idle chat was used to generate dialogue on
self-reform. Then, with no one else
around, my words spilled forth, “Yeah, man… many of us want to be better, but
to do better, we have to own our truths.
Just like the time when that forty dollar draw come up missing…” At that point, I had Newbie’s undivided
attention. While confessing my role in
the missing funds, I felt embarrassed, but liberated. I searched his eyes for a hint of anger. They stayed steady and unrevealing. I expressed my sincerity to return the funds
and the difficulty of having involved another. His fixed look filled me with shame – a shame
I well deserved.
Finally, Newbie settled his thoughts and said, “Thank you for telling me that.” For eighteen years Newbie had been puzzled by the events of that day. He was certain about the money count and grateful to finally know what happened. I was moved to witness such genuine forgiveness, given instantly and without effort. I expected reprimand for my wrong-doing, instead, Newbie seemed relieved. His forgiveness was validation in the courage to right our wrongs. It was more than I deserved – it was a lesson in the goodness of humanity.
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
Someone familiar with the Mamou case recently said to me, “He’s
on death row because he’s black and it was Harris County.” One has to wonder, in a capital case with no
evidence and the state’s own witnesses contradicting their theory…
To pretend ‘black’ and ‘white’ doesn’t and hasn’t influenced the outcome of a lot of our history, would be irrational. It’s more comfortable not to talk about, but when a person is going to get executed in a case that was built on the contradictory testimony of a handful of people who all benefited from their testimony – maybe it’s time to talk about ‘it’.
It is possible ‘it’ played a part in the story of Charles Mamou, who was sentenced to death twenty years ago. We aren’t where we need to be today, and to pretend we were two decades ago would not be reality.
So, twenty years ago in Harris County, Texas, putting a
black man on death row might not have required as much as it would today. To make matters worse, Mamou’s case has never
been heard on appeal, so the events have not been touched by any progress that may
have been made. When Mamou’s execution
day comes, Texas will be able to put it behind them, without ever having to
take a second look. The press will then share
a distorted story, as they have on more than one occasion in this case.
Charles Mamou has always maintained his innocence, but the State’s actual charge against him, in contrast to what has been reported by well respected publications, was the kidnapping and murder of one victim.
Yet, to this day, journalists rarely report that accurately, making it easier for Mamou’s case to fade into history and never be looked at again. As recently as 2018, The Houston Chronicle falsely reported, “Charles Mamou Jr. has long declared his innocence in the 1998 crime, a botched cocaine deal that ended with three slayings along a side street near the Astrodome and the kidnap and murder of 17-year-old Mary Carmouche.”
Many would read that and think that Mamou was charged with slaying three people on a side street and then killing Mary Carmouche.
ABC News Amarillo also reported this misinformation in 2018,
“A former drug dealer from Louisiana on
Texas death row for the abduction, rape and slaying of a 17-year-old girl
during an apparent botched drug deal twenty years ago in Houston has lost a
federal court appeal, moving him a step closer to execution.”
US News and World Report also shared that same story on July
19, 2018.
Charles Mamou was never charged with rape or any form of
sexual assault. According to the state’s
witness, the autopsy revealed that the victim’s body was not bruised. She was found to have had a ‘scrape’ on one
arm, which actually supports Charles Mamou’s version of events regarding what
he said happened that night. There was not any trace evidence or DNA that
tied Charles Mamou to the victim. The prosecution never even asked their witness
if the victim was sexually assaulted, because they knew she wasn’t.
But, the prosecution needed to argue that Charles Mamou had ‘kidnapped’
Mary in order to have Mamou sentenced to death.
Their goal, as said in their
opening statement, was to prove that, “Charles
Mamou gets in the car still occupied by Mary Carmouche in the backseat and
drives away, followed by the car driven
by Samuel Johnson.”
That’s what they needed.
That’s not what their own witnesses said though. Kevin Martin, the state’s first witness,
supported what Charles Mamou said took place.
There was a shootout at a drug deal.
Charles Mamou was left behind by his partner in crime – who drove away leaving
Mamou on a dark alley with the individuals there to rob him. He jumped in the running car that he was
standing next to and sped away.
So, Kevin Martin testified that Charles Mamou’s driver left
him behind.
Dion Holley – another of the state’s witnesses – stated, “I
saw the red car backing up and turned around in the street, and I saw the blue
car leaving off.” Once again, their own
witness corroborated Charles Mamou’s version of events, indicating that the car
he was driven to the drug deal in left him behind. He then jumped into the running car left
behind by those who were trying to rob him and took off.
Holley replied, “That’s correct,” when asked if the red car
was trying to get out of there real quick.
Then asked, “And then that vehicle was followed by your mom’s
Lexus?”
“That’s correct.”
Charles Mamou also testified that his driver sped off
without him.
It was a dark alley, a shootout had just occurred, and Mamou
– who was now alone – jumped in the running car he was standing next to, and
got away from the scene. It’s reasonable
to think he was in fear for his life and trying to get as far away from people
who had come to that location with the intention to rob him at gunpoint,
regardless of what his intentions were during the drug deal. The survivors both testified that they were
there to rob Charles Mamou by force.
Charles Mamou denies all of the charges, but the state’s own witnesses testified that they were there to rob him on that dark alley and Mamou’s driver sped off without him. Most people – regardless of the poor judgment that placed them in that situation, would have jumped in that car and driven away in an effort to get as far away from people robbing them at gunpoint as possible. A reasonable person would be in fear for their life at that point.
The state presented a case showing that three men were
planning on robbing Charles Mamou by force on December 6, 1998. When the shooting started – everyone scattered
in fear of their lives, motivated by self preservation.
Charles Mamou, driving away in fear for his life, would not
be ‘kidnapping’ Mary, who was most likely tucked down as far as she could be in
the back seat when the shooting started.
Charles Mamou didn’t bring her to the drug deal down a back alley, and according
to his testimony she later got out of the car on her own.
‘Kidnapping’ had to be a part of the case, though, in order to achieve an execution. So regardless of the prosecution’s own witnesses contradicting their theory – Charles Mamou received the death penalty.
Charles Mamou has steadfastly denied all charges against
him.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
Associated Press. “Drug
Dealer from Louisiana on Texas Death Row Loses Appeal.” KVII,
abc7amarillo.com/news/local/drug-dealer-from-louisiana-on-texas-death-row-loses-appeal.
“Drug Dealer From Louisiana on Texas Death Row Loses Appeal.” U.S. News & World Report, U.S. News & World Report, www.usnews.com/news/best-states/louisiana/articles/2018-07-19/drug-dealer-from-louisiana-on-texas-death-row-loses-appeal.
Harris County, Texas. Charles Mamou, Jr. Vs. The State Of Texas. Sept. 1999.
Back in 1987 – ‘the Jamaicans’ hit. Not the whole of Jamaica – just a three-man posse of ruffians we town folk called ‘the Jamaicans’. It was during the crack epidemic of the 80’s, and I was thirteen.
Much of my days back then were spent goofing off with friends. On the weekends, we took our small allowances
and hoofed it to the inner city to buy marijuana. We were silly kids pretending to be
grown-ups, until times changed, and we could pretend no longer.
A time came when two of my friends began disappearing after
school, and by the week’s end they had extra money. When I asked their whereabouts, they replied,
“We sell rocks for ‘the Jamaicans’.” I
didn’t know rocks were in such high demand, but the incentive was worth
checking out, so we headed to New St. early the next day, to a neighborhood that
was a breeding ground for crime.
When we arrived there was a network of roguish teenagers
bustling to and fro. I watched as my friends
approached a man lounging in a luxury car.
He was short and dark complected, with even darker clothes, his voice rhythmic
and foreign. He handed them a package
and drove away as the three of us gathered curbside. Within moments, a scraggly man hastened our
way with a crumpled bill clutched in his fist.
He exchanged it with my friends for the contents inside a small plastic
bag – and that’s when it hit me. My
friends didn’t sell actual
rocks. They sold a drug called – rocks.
That’s when it all made sense. No longer were we simply standing in the
hood, it was more like the Promise Land – a bountiful mirage of tremendous
opportunity and it read, ‘see what you’ve
been missing?’ While I was home frying bologna and
watching cartoons, my friends had been out getting rich. Their success was equivalent to turkey with gravy
and man… I wanted to eat. The guy in the luxury car was called Roofus. We met the next day when I received my first
package of cocaine.
Life as a drug dealer began with invigoration, but soon became
hard work. I hopped in and out of cars all day haggling with strangers. My cup of judgment was neither half empty, nor
half full, but a lot of both – completely empty of experience, at the same
time, full of potential. Hustling drugs
day and night, I was fueled on by the idea of success. My motto was, “show me the money, and I’ll
show you commitment.” I wanted da ‘bling
to cast its illusion of wealth over poverty.
I wanted instant fame and glory, to shine amongst my peers. But stardom would come at a cost, and I
gradually became someone different. I
had walked across the bridge from innocence to inquisition, with something terrible
waiting at the bottom.
The first thing to go was my mother’s curfew. Next, I was a high school dropout. Courting girls began to occupy any time and
focus not spent dealing drugs. Then came
mischief, like vandalism and acts of violence. I was losing my grip on my values and drifting
on a sea of poor choices.
One day, I lost some drugs and had no way to pay Roofus. Frightened by the rumors of how ‘the jamaicans’ dealt with incompetence, I went into hiding. Imagine my surprise when Roofus called my house and threatened to harm my family. Suddenly, I was standing in a chilling darkness too great to conquer. Roofus demanded that I come to New St. to discuss payment. Along the way, I had a premonition of something horrible and decided to wait until I could come up with the money. A week later, Roofus skipped town after fatally shooting his girlfriend. I wondered if the bullet that killed her had my name on it.
The experience was a critical turning point in my life. While I did complete the journey across the bridge, my identity toppled over the edge. I gave my all to the dope game in hopes of something better. The price was my undying loyalty to streets – that gave nothing back.
Not everyone executed by Texas has been guilty of the crime they were executed for, and not all those currently on death row are guilty. That is reality. Another reality – it doesn’t matter your circumstances – the state of Texas treats all death row inmates inhumanely. If you live there, you live a solitary existence with no human contact and no eye on what is happening in the world around you. In many cases – for decades.
Charles Mamou, who has lived among the condemned for nearly two decades was recently led from his cell while it was routinely shaken down. As is standard practice, he was required to strip of his clothes, get physically inspected, and run his fingers through his hair – even though he has none. Then he was led to an empty cell while officers inspected his belongings.
While in the empty cell, Mamou noticed how loud everything was – the clangs of metal against metal weren’t buffered by a room full of personal belongings. Voices came back amplified and garbled. And then he noticed the window. It was the same size as the one in his cell – four inches wide and three and a half feet long – but it faced the other side of the building. The parking lot.
Charles Mamou
As he looked out of his temporary cage onto sights he never sees – cars; a mail delivery; workers going to and fro; and children actually sprinting on the sidewalk – in that moment, he realized just how displaced and removed from the world he has become. Standing on that bunk, in that empty cage, and peering out that four inch window – he was overcome with homesickness and how different everything looked than he remembered. Looking at the sky which he described as a bright Caribbean vacation beach blue, he couldn’t help but think of what all the inmates get caught up in thinking when they can’t stop themselves, “What would I be doing on a day like today?”
During the trial of Charles Mamou in 1999, one drug dealer
after another was brought in to testify against him, and it appears that none
of them were charged for their participation in any of the events that took
place. The state didn’t have DNA, a
confession, a weapon, fingerprints or an eyewitness, so they needed something to
convict Mamou with, and Harris County is very adept at getting people sentenced
to death, with the highest rate in the country.
A detective who was on the stand was asked, “At a later time
did you look for more than one individual other than Mr. Mamou?”
“Yes.”
“What is that person’s name?”
“We – there was an individual that – “
“Can you just give me his name?”
“Terrence Dodson.”
“Other than Terrence Dodson and Mr. Mamou, was there a third
individual you were looking at as a potential suspect?”
“A Shawn England.”
“How do you spell the last name.”
“I believe it’s E-N-G-L-A-N-D.”
“Okay. What about Samuel
Johnson?”
“Samuel Johnson’s name came up later in the investigation.”
“Were there any other names?”
“There was an individual by the name of – did I say Ced,
C-E-D?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Ced, an individual.
C-E-D is all we had.”
“So we have Charles Mamou, Ced, Terrence Dodson, Shawn
England, and Samuel Johnson?”
“Yes.”
So, when Samuel Johnson took the stand, he was very aware what
the outcome of the trial could mean to him, as he had already been taken into
custody at one point.
Johnson testified that on December 6, 1998, he took Charles
Mamou to, “buy some dope.” When asked
what he was going to get out of the deal, Johnson replied, “I was going to get
something out of it. I don’t know how
much.”
More specifically, he
was asked, “You were going to get dope, or you were going to get what?”
“Money.”
Samuel Johnson had no doubt about what was happening. He was asked, “Tell the members of the jury
exactly what it was that y’all were going to do.”
“Go buy some drugs.”
“All right. And do
you know the quantity of drugs that the both of you were going to be buying?”
“No, it was large.”
There was no question about Samuel Johnson’s understanding of the crime, and there was no doubt as to his role in the planned crime. “Did you have an agreement with Mr. Mamou to engage in some type of illegal conduct?”
“Yes.”
“You knew full well, when you left to go and, in fact,
throughout the day when you’re with him, that you were going to engage in some
type of illegal conduct?”
“Yes.”
“And you realized that conduct was a felony, correct?”
“Right.”
Samuel Johnson was going into a drug deal, knowing what he
was getting involved in. As the drug
deal went from one location to another, all parties trying to find a place in which
they felt comfortable, it was Samuel Johnson who drove the car – his car. Without his car and his cell phone – none of
it would have taken place.
At the scene of the drug deal, it was Samuel Johnson who
drove his car down that dark road with the intention to, “buy some dope.”
Samuel Johnson, according to his testimony, drove and participated in the drug deal. What is interesting is that even though he had driven down a dark road and parked, and by his account of the story he was there as part of a plan to purchase a large amount of drugs from people that a logical person would consider armed, Samuel Johnson expressed that he was innocent of everything that took place. He was guilty of all the planning and being aware of what was going to take place and actually being the only means of making it happen for Mamou – but once the drug deal actually took place and the shooting started – Samuel Johnson testified that he got back in his car, drove to his home, took a shower, drank a soda, didn’t disturb his wife and went to bed. According to him, the next morning he got up and went to work without ever speaking with anyone about seeing people get shot or the drug deal he went on that resulted in no drugs – although he supposedly watched his partner in crime drive the car away that was supposed to have the drugs in it.
After testifying as to how he innocently ended his evening,
it appears that Samuel Johnson was never charged with his involvement in what
took place that night.
Although he testified to his innocence after the moment that
the first shot was fired, at some point during the investigation, Samuel
Johnson was taken into custody by a homicide detective. While on the stand, he was asked, “At some
point you were arrested, right?”
“Right.”
“And you’re taken into police custody?”
“Right.”
“What’s the name of the officer that took you into
custody? Do you know?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Is it a homicide detective?”
“Yes.”
He also testified that he lied to police. He was asked, “Well, did you tell them at
that time when you gave a statement that you did not see anybody with a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Is that true?”
“No.”
“Is that a lie?”
“Yes.”
So, as with the other witness involved in the drug deal, Samuel
Johnson also admitted to lying on the stand.
On the weight of the testimony of drug dealers Charles Mamou has been living on death row for nearly twenty years, and is nearing his execution. He no longer looks out the four inch window on his side of the building, as he explained that all he can see through his regular window is another prison building, trees as big as Jack’s beanstalks, and a guard tower. Charles Mamou has always maintained his innocence.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
I hear talk the death penalty is becoming ‘unpopular’, and before long it won’t exist. It’s just a matter of time before Texas and the rest of the country come to this conclusion.
But from what I can see here on death row, this thing we call the death penalty – legalized killing – is here to stay. It’s economics. People don’t invest money in something that isn’t going to be around for long.
It wasn’t so long ago, I don’t know how much money was spent on putting video cameras all over this building to upgrade security.
Next – the roof was taken up and completely redone.
A couple months ago every shower door was removed and replaced with solid stainless steel doors that were professionally installed. At seventy-two doors, I can’t even imagine what the cost came to.
A few weeks ago, every food slot was removed and replaced with a new one to use a key lock instead of a bar. That’s 504 slots just for this building.
Next, I hear they plan to repaint all the cells – one by
one.
So, you see, it’s hard to see this kind of investment in death row housing unless the death penalty is here to stay in Texas. Actions speak a lot louder than actual words…
