I’ve never thought of myself as extra ordinary. Like many born into a family of poverty, I desired more than I’d been shown in my life.
In my family the acme of success was my uncle who’d been hired by the state as a janitor in my grade school. The job came with benefits, union wages, and security. He helped two of his brothers get jobs as well – one of the rare times I’d seen the slow moving man smile.
When people discover I’ve been in prison more than thirty-two years on a ninety year non-homicide sentence – I was seventeen years old at the time – they assume I made some bad decisions. I point out people’s moves in life can only be judged by their options at the time, and their eyes climb their foreheads in shock, as if to say, “Surely, you had better options than to shoot someone!”
On a rare occasion, I’ll see a head tilt to the side, a body’s way of reflecting the brain’s strenuous attempt to see an issue, the world, me? from a different angle.
Sadly, if there is one thing visible in me, it’s my anger. Most people who live in a cage as long as I have come to a place where, for the sake of sanity, a balance has to be struck that allows reason. I’ve always rejected it, that tipping point between the retention of hope, the most valuable of things seen and unseen, on one side and the slow carving off of pieces of myself as I sit on the opposite scale.
Some give chunks of their souls away in an attempt to boost the economy. The more you have, the more you spend, right, hoping it may come back around… Call it karma, or simply planting different seeds in the hope of just a little rain, the effort and sacrifice no less noble because of its desperation or timing. Outside of either, few will lay so much of themselves on the alter for another.
Some toss pieces of self on the fiery blaze of their rage, seeking to stave off the icy bleakness of reality through violence, drugs, and homosexuality, anything to dodge being deprived of human touch and love, the ever thirsty phantoms of hope.
So, my little cousin paroled today with tears in his eyes and a very detailed business plan that I helped him with. I’ve studied for more than fifteen years now, connecting dots of knowledge to create plans that I may never touch myself. I pray I have done all I can to teach him how to do the same for himself. We fought three times before I had his attention, each blow given and received costing me another piece of myself.
I sent him back to a family of poverty, the same one that once set my options before me, but this kid had all the hope that I could give in his pocket. Don’t worry. I’ll find more somewhere… After all, what are any of us worth without it?
ABOUT THE WRITER. When a gifted writer submits their work to WITS, it is the fuel that keeps this going. Writing that shares the human heart is what we look for, which is exactly what Mr. Jones shared with us. Mr. Jones has served 32 years for a crime he committed when he was seventeen years old. He can be contacted at: DeLaine Jones #7623482 777 Stanton Blvd. Ontario, OR 97914
I am change in progress, striving not so much to be rid of my adverse circumstances, but to die a better person than I lived, and the last twenty years have taught me a lot. It wasn’t long ago I faced my greatest fear and stepped onto the set of a live production of Reginald Rose’s ‘Twelve Angry Men’ to perform before a swell of doubtful prison administrators. Just this year, I made a goal to start a college fund for grandchildren I’ve yet to meet. And probably the most life-changing thing I’ve done is fully accept myself and taken accountability for the wrongs I’ve done in my life.
My wrongs aren’t what landed me on Death Row though. A verdict doesn’t change the truth. I wasn’t in the Pizza Inn the night its manager got shot and killed, and for over two decades I’ve wondered why my cousin would testify I told him I did. I knew he must have a good reason. Fear, maybe, is one thing I came up with, fear of what the system might do to him if he told the truth, whatever that might be. Since my trial, I have learned his dreadlocks were at the scene of the crime. The jury never heard that. Maybe I wouldn’t be here if they had. Maybe he thought we’d have to trade places if he told whatever he really knows. At least that’s what I told myself for twenty years.
That was before I saw what he told an investigator who sought him out in an attempt to help me. Jesse Hill made it clear he was only interested in keeping me right here.
Far from helping me, my cousin implicated another member of my family as a possible accomplice to the crime, and time and again brought my mother into the conversation, “His momma know he did it. She know how that boy is.” “My aunt did this.” “My aunt should have gave it to you,” when asked his middle name. “Why does my aunt keep doing this shit.” “She need to talk to her son. He done what he did and bragged about it.”
Hill blamed the bad blood between us on me choosing to confess to him – but the truth is, I never did that, because the truth is – I had nothing to confess. I never saw Jesse Hill that night, and I never confessed to him that night. Jesse Hill and Ronald Bullock both know that. Truth doesn’t change.
For all Hill’s fierce condemnation of me, it was a bizarre contradiction when he wanted it on record that his feelings had been hurt. “That’s my family, it hurt me even to go in there. I ain’t see you wrote that down.” I guess he didn’t see the irony in what he was saying.
As much as my cousin wanted to be portrayed as hurt by our familial bonds and clamored for sympathy, his defamation of my character was limitless, his agenda clear. “I know he did it.”
When I was a kid, I looked up to my cousin. I looked up to him when I was a man too, and for over twenty years, I wondered ‘why?’ I still don’t know ‘why’, but it cleared up a lot when my cousin told the interviewer, “I regret even knowin’ ‘em.”
It used to be that the most meaningful word I knew was ‘family’. The term denoted loyalty, safety, honor and trust. It was the highest respect one could pay another. But when a person you once admired says they regret knowing you… what’s left to say? We aren’t family – just people who share an insignificant past. Jesse Hill contends his version of the events on May 16, 1999, are true. I maintain he is a liar. Those who really know who I am – know the truth. And my truth says a lot more about Jesse Hill than he could ever say about me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Terry Robinson often writes under the pen name ‘Chanton’, and this year he co-authored Crimson Letters, Voices From Death Row. He continues to work on his memoirs, as well as a book of fiction. Terry Robinson has always maintained his innocence, and hopes to one day prove that and walk free. Mr. Robinson can be contacted at: Terry Robinson #0349019 Central Prison 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
NOTE TO READER. Please contact kimberleycarter@verizon.net if you saw Terry Robinson in Wilson, NC, any time of the day or night on May 16, 1999 – or his accusers, who claimed Robinson was with them for most of the day and night. What may seem irrelevant – is often the most helpful. Details of this case will be shared at https://walkinthoseshoes.com/category/terry-robinson/
My name in high school was Rod T. Bridges. My buddies and I were frequently bored, living in our small East Idaho town, but it was the ‘70’s. We had our own little gang with our own little pseudonyms. Gas was cheap and our cars were fast. We had one stoplight and a decent movie theatre until the local proprietor burned it to the ground and collected the insurance money – or so the story went.
We grew up Mormon, but we still had our wild streaks. We discovered beer and girls just like every other red-blooded American boy. We shot at road signs and broke a few hearts, but we were mostly naïve. Our gang of six are all now pushing sixty, at least those of us who are left. Rick (Dicky P.) shot himself after two failed marriages. Danny (Lanny S.) hung himself, battling homosexual demons.
Muggy just retired from thirty years of FBI service. Lance (Vance C.) put in thirty years at the D.O.E. David (Dana Z.) spent thirty years flying tandem paragliders in Aspen. And I, Rod T., am nineteen years into a life sentence for premeditated murder.
Nobody could have predicted our fates. We went our separate ways after high school. I had to see the world and started to as a missionary in Japan. I guess the promise of small town stability with my high-school sweetheart just didn’t appeal to me. She married pick #2, and they are still together. Go figure.
Too bad I can’t go back and marry Laurie. But here I am. Prison has taught me a lot about myself I probably wouldn’t have learned any other place. Circumstances can make or break a person. I’ve chosen to befriend my situation. My incarceration has had its ups and downs, but I’m stable now. I have a job, a newfound faith in Christ, and a stringent exercise routine – my life is a balance of these three elements.
I’ve been compelled to share my story of my lifelong struggle with obesity. I continue to blame the ‘fat gene’, whether it exists or not. I had to hit rock bottom mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually before finally overpowering my demon. But here’s the thing – it never ends. The demon may lie dormant for a spell, we might temporarily subdue the dragon by sheer force of will. These battles can be won, but the war continues. We must be ever vigilant.
I lost a monumental 114 pounds over the course of fifteen months while trapped in a 6’x9’ cell. It happened accidentally and on purpose. I marvel still at the change which took place within me. I still have the excess skin to serve as a reminder. I still shudder with fear when my weight starts to creep upward. But I overcame. I am overcoming. And I will continue to overcome.
Hope is my story.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Mr. Briggs wrote in to a writing contest not long ago, and what was apparent from that submission was the honesty and vulnerability in his writing. He has since shared with us a book project he is working on. The above piece is the introduction to that book, and I hope we get to share the final product when it is complete. Mr. Briggs can be contacted at:
Todd R. Briggs #66972 Idaho State Correctional Center, G Block P.O. Box 70010 Boise, Idaho 83707
I wish there was a positive way to clear people’s distorted perceptions – without making enemies of them. I wish there was a way people could realize their own flaws and laugh at them, while inspiring change. Some roads just are bumpier than others, and some of us keep hitting the same bump over and over. And then, sometimes, we adjust our actions to prevent us from being on that same road and hitting that same bump – no job, no home, divorce, prison, whatever the personal ‘pothole’ seems to be.
I’m doing the best I can, given the circumstances. I’m a ‘master handler’ in the Prison Trained Canine Companion Program. I just completed an Entrepreneurial Operations course and got accepted to Phi Theta Kappa Honor Society.
Often the advice given is that which is best taken, and I’m following my best advice. I’m becoming who I want to be.
ABOUT THE WRITER. Mr. Kenyon is a first time writer here, and I’m very glad he has joined us. I hope we hear more from him, and I hope we get to hear more regarding the positive impact of the canine program he is a part of. Joshua Kenyon can be contacted at: Joshua Kenyon #150069 21000 Hwy 350 E Model, CO 81059
I was sixteen years old when I came to prison, and now I am forty. I was sentenced to two hundred forty one years for robbing a group of people while I was a teenager.
I still believe in justice. I read about it. I see wealthy people and those who have family connections get it. It just doesn’t apply to all of us in here. Some of us haven’t experienced it. She eludes us, this justice. The statue of the Lady of Justice furnished in the courtrooms is blindfolded… How is it then, that her scales are tipped for us?
Do we ever deserve a second chance?
“Bobby Bostic, you will die in the department of corrections. You do not go to see the parole board until 2201, nobody in this courtroom will be alive in the year 2201.” – Judge Evelyn Baker
ABOUT THE WRITER. Bobby Bostic was sentenced to die in prison for a crime commited when he was 16 years old. His co-defendant and the leader of the two was an adult and received thirty years. At sixteen years old, in a crime where no one was seriously injured – Bostic was given essentially – a death sentence. Mr. Bostic spends his time writing books and educating himself. If you would like to show your belief that his sentence is unjust, you can sign his petition here.
You can contact Mr. Bostic at: Bobby Bostic #526795 Jefferson City Correctional Center 8200 No More Victims Road Jefferson City, MO 65101
A few years ago here on Death Row, a handful of men were summoned to our unit manager’s office. They didn’t return for weeks. Prison administrators accused the men of plotting… something that was never explained. All we knew was that the guys, our friends, were put in segregation while being ‘investigated’. They returned a couple weeks later after nothing turned up, a few pounds lighter physically and also in terms of their property.
Putting a prisoner ‘under investigation’ is the prison’s way of segregating him without charging him, without writing him up for an infraction, without due process. It’s a way to punish in advance while searching for a legitimate reason to justify a formal write-up. It’s a discretionary tool administered in response to rumors or suspicion of a rule violation, vengeance, say, for pissing off a duty lieutenant.
Prisons are highly structured, highly controlled environments, governed by routine, every day much the same as the food – bland, monotonous, repetitive. You’d think being permanently imprisoned would mean where a person lays their head would be set in stone, right? Despite control mechanisms shaping nearly every facet of daily life, being incarcerated means shit can happen at any second. No one can be sure where they will sleep at night – their current cell, bandaged on a hospital bed, shivering in a psyche ward, handcuffed in a holding tank, waiting for a cell assignment in solitary. And anytime someone is forced to move off the unit, their personal property is searched and held to the strictest standard. Extra anything equals contraband.
Every time we get sent to the hole, we lose our personal property. Our jailers, tasked with packing our belongings for these moves, say much of our property is ‘contraband’ because it ‘exceeds space limitations’.
Right before I came here in ’06, someone wrote an anonymous note on one of the guys already here. The staff despised him, and he was accused of bullying the men on his pod. Though no one ever came forward with evidence or testimony to substantiate this claim, he was placed ‘under investigation’ and didn’t return for years.
Once you are in solitary confinement, if you violate even the most trivial policy – having an extra pair of socks, things that typically go ignored or at worst elicit a verbal warning – you earn additional write-ups. Fifteen days. Thirty days. Forty-five days. Days pile onto your stay. Receiving a series of write-ups in quick succession can get you recommended for long-term isolation, a minimum of six months but usually at least a year.
Another time, while awaiting my trial, officers raided the cell next to mine. Through an interconnected air vent, I heard the officers informing the irate and disbelieving occupant that they had to take all of his property, including the clothes he had on, because he was being put on suicide watch. I never found out whom he’d offended, but somebody – a prisoner or staff member – had filled out a sick-call in his name, posing as him and threatening to kill himself. He was forcefully stripped naked and dragged to an observation cell on the psych ward, where he spent the next two weeks.
Incarcerated people accumulate a ton of attachments, possessions, sentiments, activities, etc. We latch onto them, make them a part of us, become dependent on them. They make us heavy. For that reason, many guys in here walk around high-strung and hyper vigilant about their interaction with staff, “Man, I won’t even speak to that officer. He’s too spiteful. I don’t want him searching my cell – I’ve got too many books.” Or photos. Or art supplies. Or food. Any time I’m called to the office for an appointment or to pick up legal mail, my heart races. I question whether I’ve pissed off anyone, I wonder if I’ll return.
Before officers enter our area to search cells or arrest someone, they stop in the hall at the guard booth and start putting on blue latex gloves like nurses wear. We watch through the Plexiglas wall. Someone will holler, “MAN DOWN!” and during the fifteen seconds prior to the guards’ entrance, we ask ourselves, “Who are they coming to get? Did they glance up at my cell?”
Several toilets will flush, swallowing…. whatever. Most of us prop ourselves in doorways, or continue what we were doing in the dayroom, watching but not watching TV, playing but not playing chess, stiff but nonchalant, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves in case the guards are undecided about who they are coming for.
Some guys are sentimental hoarders, their cells thick with excesses of everything. Others keep nothing. Other than a cup, toothbrush, toothpaste, bar of soap, and neatly made bunk, their cells hardly look occupied. They give the guards nothing to hurt them with, no leverage. They’re nearly invisible and are impervious to prison life.
Incarceration has a transient quality, akin to homelessness, forcing us to continually determine which of our possessions are extra baggage. And, how do I avoid the unavoidable and unpredictable? I don’t. I simply prepare for it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. George Wilkerson lives on Death Row. He has been writing for some time, and is undeniably talented. Not only does Mr. Wilkerson sometimes share his writing with us, he was also a contributor to Crimson Letters, an eye-opening book released in 2020, sharing the voices of those living on North Carolina’s Death Row.
Mr. Wilkerson can be contacted at: George T. Wilkerson #0900281 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
There is no way you will believe what I am about to tell you, no way you will believe me when I tell you who I am – unless I prove it.
Who else but you knows that you broke into a church last year? You were alone, walking, the snow was a couple feet deep everywhere except the roads where the plows had been through and salted. You cut through the corner lot, saw the empty room at the back and broke in through the window. We ate some food that was in a break room. We also stole the money that was in the small wooden box on the stairwell. Later we spent the money at McDonalds.
I am sure you remember this because it’s only been a year for you. You have not told anyone, Jeremy. I know this – because I am you, and this is just one of the terrible things we’ve done that we have never told anyone.
I am you in 2020. I’m writing to you from my cell at a maximum security prison in Texas. I’ve been here over sixteen years. When I say ‘I’, of course, I mean ‘we’. You don’t want to end up here, so I’m writing, hoping to help you.
I know there is not a lot you can do right now. You can’t go back to living with Steve and you don’t know where mom moved to so you’re doing your best finding places to sleep where you can and eating whatever you can find. But this will be the beginning of the end for us. Every time you break into a place to sleep or to find money or food, you commit a crime. You believe it’s a crime of necessity, and it is, but it’s still a crime. The truth is, if you continue on this path, your – our – life will be full of failures and shame. A hundred small failures will end in one terrible failure that will leave one man dead and two family’s destroyed. You will kill a man, Jeremy. You won’t do it on purpose, it’ll be completely unintentional, but he will be dead none the less. His two young sons will be forced to grow up without him. His wife, his mother, his family will grieve for the rest of their lives. Jeremy, you will lose your own family also, they will turn away from you, ashamed and angry at you. I know you, and I know how lonely you are and how much it hurts you that you do not have a family. If you continue on this path, man, you will never have a family.
Turn yourself in to the police. You will not go to jail or juvy, I promise. They will put you in a foster home, and you will have a real chance to succeed. Educate yourself, you are intelligent and you deserve an opportunity to go to school. Don’t lie, be yourself, be proud and represent it by being honest. Cherish your friends, man, and work hard. If you do these things, you will succeed, but more importantly you’ll save countless people from pain.
And you know us, there’s no way I’d write to me in 1985 from 2020 without telling you that when a small internet company called Amazon starts up in 1995, you need to invest in it, as much as you can for as long as you can. If you do all these things, you’ll be a much better ‘us’ in 2020 and rather than having lived a shameful life, you’ll be in position to help others that need help. I love you, man. Please don’t let us down.
Jeremy…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: I’m happy to say, Jeremy Robinson is the winner of our summer writing contest. He continues to write, and I hope we hear more from him here. Mr. Robinson lives in a Texas prison and can be contacted at: Jeremy Robinson #1313930 Michael Unit 2664 FM 2054 Tennessee Colony, TX 75886
“The State has proved it beyond a reasonable doubt, and presented evidence that puts him there, puts him telling people what he did. And that is enough.”
That was the prosecution during the closing argument that sent Terry Robinson to death row for a crime he has always maintained he knew nothing about. There wasn’t any physical evidence in the case that could tie Robinson to the murder.
We don’t have to have DNA. We have to present enough evidence so you know in your heart that he was involved, and he did this. The State has done that.
“So, convict this man. Don’t let him out.”
The jury did just that.
Robinson was in the area of the murder that night. It was normal for him to be in the area. Robinson lived in Wilson, North Carolina, and he had a girlfriend who lived across the street from the Pizza Inn, where a murder occurred, not to mention friends and relatives in the surrounding area.
DNA exists in connection to the crime, but it does not point to Terry Robinson.
There are also two latent fingerprints and one palm print available, but they do not point to Terry Robinson. According to the testimony of Special Agent Navarro of the NC State Bureau of Investigation, “Terry Lamont Robinson did not make any of the latent fingerprints that were of value for identification purposes.”
When asked, “The long and the short of it is, palm prints or other kinds of prints, nothing matched?”
Agent Navarro responded, “That is correct.”
There were hairs collected. They weren’t hairs that matched Ronald Bullock, the one man who said he was involved in the crime. They weren’t Terry Robinson’s. According to Special Agent James Gregory, assigned to the Trace Evidence Section, when asked if he was able to find a match between what was collected at the crime scene and samples from Ronald Bullock and Terry Robinson, “I did not find any hairs that had a root attached to them that were consistent with the known head hair standards collected from the – from Terry Robinson, or Ronald Bullock.”
There was a gun associated with Terry Robinson, which Robinson doesn’t deny being connected to. But when asked specifically if the bullets used in the murder were from the gun associated with Robinson, Special Agent Marrs responded, “It could not have been fired from that .380 pistol, State’s Exhibit Number Two.”
Terry Robinson was not an angel. He had a criminal record and sold drugs for a living, but the gun associated with him was not the gun used in the crime.
The case rested with two men who accused Terry Robinson of murder. Both of those two individuals have since contradicted their own testimony. According to the testimony of Ronald Bullock, who accused Terry Robinson of hatching the plot to rob the Pizza Inn, pulling him into it, and eventually murdering a man in front of him, they stopped by Jesse Hill’s home before the crime. Bullock testified that Robinson asked Jesse Hill to participate in the crime as well.
“He said he didn’t want to be part of it. We were crazy.” Bullock then testified he and Robinson dropped Jesse Hill off at his mother’s home.
After Robinson’s conviction and sentence to death, Bullock had something different to say – things he didn’t share with the jury. “Jed (Jesse Hill) gave me his dreadlocks and a headband to wear as a disguise. Jed rode with us to the Pizza Inn and to ride behind the Pizza Inn at the apartment complex.”
Bullock went on to say that Jesse Hill, “was going to get some money for his part for the help.” Bullock, in a written statement then described the robbery which differed from how he described it in his original testimony, and he also stated Jed said, “I want my dreadlocks back.”
That written statement, made in 2003, was how Terry Robinson first learned the dreadlocks he had heard about at his trial – belonged to Jesse Hill. The dreadlocks used as the murderer’s disguise, were actually made of hair that belonged to one of his accusers. A jury never heard that. They actually heard Jesse Hill described by the prosecution as an innocent ‘hero’ who received nothing for his help with the case. That turned out not to be true as well.
Jesse Hill has had a few things to say since the trial also, much of which contradicts what the jury heard.
Following is more of the closing argument from the prosecutor when he described Jesse Hill – at length.
“Now, Jesse Hill. If you ever wondered why people don’t want to come forward and testify in cases when they witness things, or they know things in a crime? If you ever wondered why? Because this man gets up there and he is trying to tell you the truth. And all the defense can do is malign him, to go on and try to trip him up on times, which don’t matter, because he said it was light or dark or whatever, and then act like, ‘You’ve got worthless check convictions?’ as if that would somehow equate with what happened in Boulder, Colorado when the Ramsey girl disappeared. Or, maybe a Bosnian war criminal.”
“He knew about something that happened that was terrible, and he could not live with the fact that they had told him about it, he knew about it, and he knew it was wrong.”
“This man is a hero.”
“He testified against his cousin, and he’s getting nothing out of it. And, don’t you know that if he was getting something out of it, both of these men would have brought it up. But, no, they want you to become cynical. They want you to look at everything, even when a man is trying to do the right thing, they want you to look at it like, ‘Well, what’s he getting out of it?’”
“Did Bullock ever come forward and say, ‘Well, yeah, Hill was involved, too. He did so-and-so.’ Which they’re going to try and make you believe, which isn’t true.”
It turns out… the prosecution was mistaken. Ronald Bullock has since stated Jesse Hill was involved, from the planning, to supplying a disguise, to being promised a cut, only the jury never heard that part.
If Terry Robinson had known anything about the murder at the Pizza Inn on May 16, 1999, if he had gone to Jesse Hill’s home prior to the crime, taken Jesse Hill’s dreadlocks and worn them in the Pizza Inn while he murdered somebody – it stands to reason he would have nudged his attorney when the dreadlocks were submitted as evidence at his trial. It stands to reason he would have said, “Hey, that hair right there belonged to Jesse Hill.” It stands to reason, facing a death sentence, Robinson would have indicated the man being hailed as a ‘hero’ was involved in the crime and his hair was found at the crime scene. It also stands to reason – Terry Robinson didn’t say anything because he didn’t know where the dreadlocks came from at that point in time.
In 2003, eight days after Ronald Bullock told an investigator the dreadlocks belonged to Jesse Hill, Hill confirmed the dreads where his, saying he supplied the dreadlocks to Ronald Bullock for a disguise, and that they were his hair. He also told the investigator he had told the police and the prosecutors about supplying the dreadlocks, but he didn’t remember when he told them. In addition, Jesse Hill said he received $5,000 for his help in the case.
Over the years, Jesse Hill, has been interviewed on a couple occasions. According to the original case file in 1999, Hill initially called police and told them Ronald Bullock and Terry Robinson were responsible for what took place at the Pizza Inn, and after sharing that information with police, Hill then drove with them to show them where Bullock lived. More recently he remembers it differently, saying Bullock turned himself in, “I heard he called the police while I was at my sister’s house.” “I heard he called them, they came down there and they locked him up.”
In contrast to Bullock’s 2003 statement regarding Hill’s involvement, Jesse Hill is adamant he had nothing to do with what took place that night in spite of his own 2003 interview with an investigator in which he admitted supplying the disguise. “That man had a family. You don’t do stuff like that. Get a job. I had a job. They coulda had a job, they coulda worked. They didn’t have to do what they did. Come on, man.”
When asked about Bullock’s statement regarding a cut of the money from the planned robbery, “No! I don’t know nothin’ about no money. Come on, man.”
Although they don’t agree on a lot there is one thing the two agree on. Jesse Hill and Ronald Bullock both agree Terry Robinson shot and killed a man on May 16, 1999.
Several years ago, when asked if he would have testified in court about the dreads if he had been asked, Jesse Hill responded, “Sure, if he asked me, yeah.”
But – neither attorney did ask him. So, the jury never heard Jesse Hill, the ‘hero’, was involved in the crime.
Jesse Hill, in contrast to what he said years earlier when he admitted to supplying a disguise for the crime, later said, “They did it them self, they need to handle it.” “They robbed that place because they want to. I ain’t got nothing to do with that.”
He even seems to have a different perspective of who went to the police, “Montrel was with him. Montrel the one told people what happened. That’s why they had so much on him. Cause he was with him. Shit, it ain’t got nothin’ to do with me and nobody else.”
I have reached out to Ronald Bullock and Jesse Hill for a response, but have not heard back. I’ve also reached out to the public, and I am doing so again. If you saw Terry Robinson at any time during the day or night of May 16, 1999, please contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. According to Robinson’s accusers, he was with them the entire day from midday through approximately midnight.
The above photograph was shared with me by Terry Robinson’s mother, who has quietly stood by her son’s side for over two decades. She told me Robinson was about fifteen years old in the photograph. He is second from the left with the white hat on, and had been working in the tobacco field that day. Although not asked, Jesse Hill also spoke of Terry Robinson’s mother several times.
“His mama know how that boy is. I don’t know why she’s trippin’.” “She know how her son was.”
Terry Robinson writes for WITS when he is not working on other various projects. You can read some of his work here. He has also co-authored Crimson Letters, available on Amazon. Details of his case can be found here. Mr. Robinson can be contacted at:
Terry Robinson #0349019 Central Prison 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
Following is testimony taken from trial transcripts dated October 13, 1999, during the Punishment Phase of the case against Charles Mamou, Volume 22, beginning on Page 67. The disturbing case – which includes information the District Attorney had that was never shared with Mamou, including a rape kit and untested evidence, the prosecution not bringing attention to information they had that could discredit two of their witnesses while they were on the stand, a letter written by a key witness that the court appointed defense never presented and even biological evidence being signed out by an HPD employee with no explanation in 2019 – had returned a guilty verdict. At this point in the trial – the goal was to ensure Mamou received the death penalty. The prosecution brought Joseph Melancon to the stand to testify that Mamou had killed someone else months before. Mamou was never tried in this case, nor given an opportunity to defend himself. I’ve abbreviated the testimony here, but it is taken directly from the transcripts.
Q. Did you then meet up with the defendant, Charles Mamou, on that Saturday evening? A. Yes. Q. And where did, where did you meet him at? A. At my house.
Q. And was he by himself or with someone? A. By himself.
Q. And did ya’ll end up then going out that evening? A. Yes. Q. About what time, if you know, did you leave? A. 8:30, 9:00, 9:30, something. Maybe 9:30, 10:00. Q. All right, and where were you going to go when you left? A. We was going to Jamaica. It’s a club.
Q. Did you get to the Jamaica Club? A. No, we didn’t. Q. What happened on the way to the Jamaica Club that prevented you from getting there? A. Chucky got a phone call on his cell phone. Q. And do you know who he was talking to? A. No, I don’t. Q. You just heard his end of the conversation? A. Yeah. Q. What was he saying in the cell phone? A. He said, you got that for me.
Q. What did he say next, if you recall? A. He hung up. Q. All right. Where did you end up going? A. To the little store on Buffalo and West Fuqua.
Q. When you got to the store at Fuqua and Buffalo Speedway, what kind of store was it, do you know? A. It was like a convenience store.
Q. What happened when you arrived at the convenience store? A. They had three guys standing out at the convenience store. Q. Okay. Did ya’ll park or what did you do? A. We pulled up. And one of the guys came to the car’s front passenger door, and I got out and they got in. Q. Did you know who that person was? A. Yes, I did. Q. And how did you know who – what did you know that person’s name to be? A. Bruiser.
Q. And what did you say the person you’ve identified as Bruiser did when he came to your side of the vehicle you were in? A. He opened my door. Q. Okay, and did you get out or did you stay in? A. I got out. Q. Where did you go? A. I went and talked to the two guys that was standing up with him. Q. And who were the two guys? A. A guy named Lonnie and Wiener Man. Q. What did Bruiser do after you got out of the vehicle? A. Him and Chucky was in the vehicle talking. Q. All right. So did Bruiser get in the vehicle? A. Yes. Q. What did you see the defendant, Charles Mamou, do then, the next thing you saw him do? A. He got out of the vehicle and went into the store. Q. Did you see him come out of the store with anything? A. Yes. Q. What did he come out of the store with? A. Two brown bags. Looked like something to drink was in them. Q. All right. What did he do after he came out of the store? Where did he go and what did he do? A. He got in the driver’s seat and drove off. Q. All right. Did he say anything to you before he drove off? A. No.
Q. What were you doing then after you saw the defendant and the person you identified as Bruiser drive off in a vehicle driven by the defendant? What were you doing? A. I was talking to Lonnie and another guy named Wiener Man. Q. And while you were outside the store talking, did you hear anything unusual? A. Yes. Q. What did you hear? A. Sounded like a gunshot. Q. One or more? A. One. Q. After you heard what sounded like a gunshot, did someone come to the location where you were at? A. Yes. Q. Do you know who this person was? A. No. Q. Without telling me what they said, did they say something? A. Yes. Q. As a result of what they said, what did you do, if anything? A. I got in the car with Lonnie, and we rode over on West Fuqua by the entrance to the Almeda Manor neighborhood, the entrance to the subdivision. Q. What was there at that location? A. It was a lot of people around, and Bruiser was laying on the ground. Q. Now, did you get out of the vehicle? A. Yes, I did. Q. Did you go to where Bruiser was? A. Yes, I did. Q. Did you hear anything Bruiser was saying? A. Yes, I did. Q. What was he saying? Judge, We object to hearsay. The Court, It’s overruled. Q. What did you hear him say? A. He said, My boys shot me, and he just kept saying it over and over. Q. After you saw Bruiser laying there, what did you do? A. I walked over about two houses down with another friend of mine from the neighborhood, and I used his phone. Q. Okay. And who did you call? A. I called my wife.
The witness then goes on to testify he fled Houston out of fear for his life. He said he didn’t ‘feel safe’. When questioned by the defense –
Q. Did Lonnie and Weiner Man stick around with you for the police to get there that night? A. I was with them when the police and the paramedics got there. Q. And you offered information to them and gave them your name? A. No. Q. Police ask you what your name was? A. No
Q. How long after you saw Bruiser and Mr. Mamou drive off did you hear what you thought might have been a gunshot? A. Maybe four or five minutes. Q. And who are you talking to at the time that that happens? A. Lonnie and Wiener Man.
Q. When you talked to Sergeant Herman from Houston Homicide Department, do you tell him basically what you‘ve told us here today? A. Yes.
Q. Now, did you introduce Bruiser to Charles Mamou? A. No, I didn’t.
After the testimony of Joseph Melancon, the medical examiner was called to the stand and autopsy photographs of ‘Bruiser’ were shared with the jury, including close up views of the gunshot entrance wound and his face. The deceased man’s big sister then testified regarding the loss of her brother and how it impacted her family.
Charles Mamou was not on trial for the murder of Anthony Williams (Bruiser). He was on trial for the kidnapping and murder of Mary Carmouche in a case I’ve detailed extensively and some of those details can be found here. The prosecution pushed for a death sentence after they already had a ‘guilty’ verdict. Going into the punishment phase, they knew they already had the upper hand and were privvy to things – Mamou only found out this past year.
The jury only heard the above testimony – which seems pretty cut and dry. What I’m sharing here is what the jury never heard, what HPD knew all along, and I would venture to guess the prosecution did as well since Lynn McClellan supplied Det. Novak with a grand jury subpoena in connection with this investigation on September 23, 1999, during the Mamou trial. This is what the jury never heard:
Unlike his testimony, according to the HPD file, Joseph Melancon contacted police on October 16, 1998, after he heard police wanted to talk to him. Sgt. Herrmann recorded what Joseph Melancon stated at that time.
Joseph Melancon stated the possible suspect, Chucky Mamou, called him and came and picked him up and they went to the Shannon’s Club on Buffalo Speedway and Fuqua. Joseph Melancon stated this was some time around 11:00 PM. Joseph Melancon stated just after he and Chucky Mamou arrived at the Club, Chucky Mamou met the complainant and they started talking.
Joseph Melancon stated, in a short while, Chucky came and told him he had to do some business, and at that time Chucky Mamou and the complainant left the Shannon’s Club. Joseph Melancon stated he remained at the Shannon’s Club and he was visiting with a man called Weiner Man and also a man named Lonnie. Joseph Melancon stated while they were talking someone came up and told Weiner Man that the complainant had been shot.
This original statement, made less than two months after the murder, is a far cry from Melancon’s testimony. There is more that police knew.
The next actual ‘witness’ police spoke to that knew anything about the incident was the man known as Weiner Man. On December 7, 1998, police talked to him. According to police records, he stated, ‘he was at the club in the next block south of where the complainant got shot.’ Police went on to say, ‘after he learned the complainant had been shot, he went to where the complainant was laying on the parking lot of the auto repair shop.’ ‘he heard the complainant say that my home boy shot me.’
The first two statements in the file made by individuals who might know something, Joseph Melancon and Weiner Man – both contradict the testimony used at Mamou’s trial. According to Weiner Man, he doesn’t mention Mamou, and he says he was in a club at the time of the shooting. Investigators also spoke to Mamou’s father early on in the investigation and were told he’d seen his son, Charles Mamou, in Louisiana that Sunday, as there had been a family wedding on the day of the shooting.
On September 20, 1999, during Mamou’s trial, Detective Novak of HPD, the investigator that weighed heavily in the highly questionable case built against Mamou, re-opened the Anthony Gibson (Bruiser) case. He immediately spoke to a cousin of Joseph Melancon’s who made a video statement that was summarized in the police file. His description of what Melancon told him happened is different than the others. According to the police summary, “They all three met up and went over to Mannies to discuss what they were going to do. He says that Bruiser and Chucky then bought a beer at the store and that Bruiser and Chucky then left and went back to Mannies. He says that his cousin, Joey, then told him that a few minutes later he heard some gunshots and he took off running. He stated that he had never met Chucky Mamou nor had ever seen him. He says that he learned through his conversation with his cousin that the guy was Chucky Mamou and that Chucky and his cousin grew up with one another in Sunset, Louisiana, and Opelousas, Louisiana, and attended school together. He stated that Joey told him that it was a marijuana deal and that Chucky was paying $7,500 for the marijuana. He said his cousin helped set up the dope deal. He says that his cousin also was standing in close proximity to Mannies and saw the sport utility vehicle pull up at Mannies and soon afterwards he heard two gunshots and that is when his cousin took off running. He says that his cousin fled to Dallas after Chucky threatened to kill him if he ever told.”
In contrast to the testimony, Melancon’s cousin has the three parties meeting up at Mannies prior to anything happening. It indicates Melancon arranged the exchange and also states twice that Melancon took off running, rather than getting in a vehicle with Lonnie, as he testified, and going toward the shooting. Of note, it also says that Bruiser, Mamou and Melancon all met up at Mannies, ‘and after Bruiser and Chucky got to know one another they took his cousin back to the store and let him off’. So – in this version, Melancon introduced Bruiser and Mamou and all three were in a car together at one point. This contradicts every previous statement.
On September 21, 1999, Sgt. Novak takes a written statement from a man named Adam Peterson. He describes what he saw in the parking lot of the convenience store, after he pulled up and saw Bruiser there. ‘When I was talking to Bruiser, I noticed a sport utility vehicle that was dark in color either black or green, pull into the parking lot. I saw Joey walk over to the sport utility vehicle on the driver’s side. Joey and the driver were talking. I then got out of the truck and walked in the store.’
Peterson goes on to describe the driver of the vehicle going in the store and purchasing a beer. Peterson drove away from the parking lot, and didn’t know anything else. When shown a photo spread which included Charles Mamou, he could not identify anyone. Of note, Peterson also says, ‘I talked with Joey very briefly. Joey is a cousin to Joseph Malbrough. Joey told me that he had just been on Main and that was a bunch of women out there. And my response to him was if there were so many women out there, then why wasn’t he out there. His response was that I had just left from out there.’ What’s interesting about this portion of the statement – Joseph Melancon will later tell police he’s never heard of this man and didn’t speak to him in the parking lot. Also interesting – this witness told police Melancon was not in a car with anyone, but rather at the store when the vehicle pulled up that had its occupant go in and buy a beer.
On September 22, 1999, Weiner Man went to the homicide office. Again, this investigation was occurring during Mamou’s trial. Weiner Man stated, ‘He had gone to the Buffalo Store and saw Bruiser and Lonnie in the parking lot. He stated he talked to Bruiser and that he told him not to leave.’
He went on, ‘He stated he told Bruiser that he was hungry and he went to Shannon’s and ordered a hamburger. He stated that Bruiser came in the club and shortly thereafter, Joey entered the club. He stated that Joey was dressed up in a crisp white shirt like he was clubbing. He stated that Joey went over to Bruiser and they spoke out of his hearing and that Joey left the club and Bruiser and Lonnie followed.’ The witness than stated, ‘that he remained inside Shannon’s and a short time later Cedric came running and told him that Bruiser had been shot. Eric stated that he went to the parking lot of Mannies and tried to talk to Bruiser and that Bruiser told him, My homeboy did this.”
This statement was made by someone who, by all appearances, had nothing to gain, and it contradicts everything said on the stand. It doesn’t even mention Charles Mamou being with Melancon.
Then – once again – police spoke with Joseph Melancon, days before he testified, on October 4, 1999. This is what he told police during that interview:
I brought my wife the car, she got in, I told her that me and Chucky, we was gonna go out, I’d talk to her later. Got in with Chucky. Umm, we left. When we was gettin’ on 635 we supposed to be going to Jamaica, and, uh, Chucky got a phone call. And, he, when he got off the phone, he said he needed to go take care of something, umm, and then we would go out. I was ridin’ with him, I said fine. We pulled up at a store off of Buffalo, I was familiar with the area, I have some cousins that live in the area. We pulled up at Buffalo. Umm, Bruiser, umm, Weinerman, and Lonnie was standing out. I got out the truck. Bruiser got in the truck. I was talking to Lonnie and Weinerman, umm, next thing I know, Chucky got out the truck, and he went inside the store. So, I asked Bruiser what was going on, Bruiser kinda looked at me like, it’s wasn’t none of my business, he said Chucky’s just going in the store, and buy us a couple a beers, then we gonna go around the corner, and we gonna be right back. So, I walked away from the truck, continued to talk to Lonnie and Weinerman. They left. They made a left on, umm, Almeda. Me, Lonnie and Wienerman was talking and we heard something. And Weinerman said, did you all, did you hear that? And I said, yeah, it kinda sounded like a gunshot. And we just went on talking. The next five, six minutes, guy came running from down the street, said Bruiser had been shot. I jumped in the car with Lonnie, rode to the, I saw Bruiser laying down, he had been shot. Umm, got out there, you know, I saw him layin down, and I knew Bruiser, we used to play basketball in the neighborhood, umm, off Almeda Manor, the neighborhood right approaching where he got shot at. I just, kinda, I was shocked. I was real shocked. Umm, I saw him laying down there. One of my other partners was out there, Chris. I told Chris, I said, uh, man, let me go use your phone…”
Just when you think there can’t be more contradictions – there are. In his video statement, Melancon describes Mamou getting a phone call in the car regarding a drug transaction. He states that Chucky said, “you got that for me?” to the person on the other end of the line. Melancon doesn’t mention setting up the deal or introducing anybody.
When asked about talking to Adam Peterson, who also went by the name Tim, in the convenience store parking lot, the man that Detective Novak had spoken to and who detailed a conversation with Melancon in the parking lot, Melancon states, ‘No. I don’t know. I don’t recall.’
‘Tim’s’ real name is Adam Peterson.
‘Tim. I don’t know a Tim. I don’t know Adam Peterson.’
Did you walk up to anybody in a truck and start talking to anybody in a pick-up truck?
‘No.’
While you were in front of the Buffalo Store?
‘Uh-uh.’
You positive?
‘I’m positive. The only conversation I had was with Lonnie and Weinerman. And we was just talking, just shooting the breeze. And I didn’t, no. I didn’t go up to no pick-up.’
Try as they might, detectives couldn’t get any of Joseph Melancon’s versions of what happened that night to match anybody else’s.
They asked him, “Did he say anything to you, to let you know where he was going? That he was going to come back and pick you up?”
‘No.’
Police had Melancon’s earlier statements when he described being inside Shannon’s Club with Mamou, stating, ‘a short while Chucky came and told him he had to do some business, and at that time Chucky Mamou and the complainant left the Shannon’s Club.’
That is a lot for one person to get confused – two people in a club and one coming to say he was leaving vs. two people in a convenience store parking lot and one not saying anything when he left. Detective Novak and HPD had done a lot to secure the conviction, so it seems this contradiction, along with all the others was irrelevant to the detective and the District Attorney.
Melancon’s interview proceeded.
Investigators had been told by Melancon’s cousin that Mamou had threatened him. Yet when they asked, “Did Chucky Mamou ever threaten to kill you?”
On this particular day, Melancon replied, ‘No.’
At any time?
‘MMM-mmm.’
Melancon’s cousin had also told police that Melancon had told him it was a marijuana deal. So they asked, “Did he say specifically what he had?”
‘No, he didn’t never say, you got the dope for me. He never said nothin’ he just said, do you have that for me.’
Police had also heard from Melancon’s cousin that Melancon had introduced Mamou and Bruiser. But on this day, “Who introduced Chucky to Bruiser?”
‘I don’t know. I…’
“Why is everybody telling us that the introduction was made by you? And again – you’re not in any kind of trouble.”
‘I don’t know.’
“You’re not in any kind of trouble. And I’m not sitting here trying to tell you, we’re trying to make a dope case on you, cause that’s not – “
‘Right.’
“Cause that’s not what we’re trying to do. I’m trying to get you to tell me the truth about what happened. Is it coincidental, are you wanting me to believe it’s coincidental that Bruiser and Chucky got together?
‘Yeah.’
During all three conversations with Melancon that are on record, including this lengthy recorded video, Melancon never mentions seeing Bruiser as he was dying or hearing him make any statements. It seems reasonable that if Melancon had been standing over Bruiser as he spoke his last words, he would have relayed that information to police previously, or shared that information with his cousin. He does, however, comment when detectives show him a photo of Charles Mamou, ‘Yep. Been dreaming about it. I’ll never forget his face’ It isn’t until October 13, 1999, nine days after his last recorded interview with police and over a year after the murder of Bruiser took place – that Joseph Melancon testifies to something he has never once stated on the record before, ‘He said, My boys shot me, and he just kept saying it over and over.’ According to his testimony he’d stood over a dying man and heard him speak, yet in over twelve months, several interviews, and versions he’d told his own cousin, he’d never said that before.
Lynn Mclellen succeeded in acquiring a death sentence, and the jury nor Mamou ever heard any of the witness statements that were sitting in HPD’s case file. Melancon’s own statements don’t support each other and every other existing witness doesn’t support Melancon’s testimony. What’s also interesting – anyone who says Mamou was ‘involved’ was told that by someone else. Charles Mamou is out of appeals and waiting on his execution date.
All posts and details of this case, can be found here. Anyone with information regarding this case or the above case that was used to obtain a death sentence, can contact me, kimberleycarter@verizon.net. There is also a facebook page dedicated to sharing the truth.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
You do not know me, but I know you well. I used to be you. I say used to, because I am no longer just you. I am the combined product of your sheltered, formative years and my introduction to reality, an amalgamation of our early childhood and adolescent life lessons – the bumps, bruises and growing pains – and the harsh reality of adulthood.
As the evolved you, what I need to impart is vital to our impending maturation process and our overall view of – not what life is supposed to be, but what it actually is. Nothing about life is static. At some point, everything changes. There will be some good changes, some bad, and sometimes you will be powerless to do anything about them. How you learn to deal with the effects of change will be key in determining where you go in life. The real world doesn’t give handouts or love you just because you think it’s what you deserve.
These times are the best you’ll ever experience. Some kids couldn’t imagine living as you do – a loving home with a mother and a father, plenty of food, toys, and not just clothes and shoes, but the latest styles. It’s blissful being given mostly everything you desire and having no real boundaries. You’ve been blessed to enjoy stress-free living in the way that all kids should, but many – if not most – do not. And obviously, at this point, you cannot imagine anything evil enough to step in and destroy this life.
I, however, must warn you about and prepare you for something so catastrophic that it will implode the comfortable and safe bubble in which we exist. Without warning, the leisurely, carefree life that our loving, yet enabling, parents – who love us more than anything but fail at “tough love” – work so hard to provide will suddenly be gone. Unfortunately, this “life of Riley” existence is lacking in discipline and creating an air of entitlement, though you cannot currently comprehend it, that makes you lazy, unappreciative, and irresponsible – character flaws that often obscure rational decisions.
There’s an epidemic on the horizon. Within five years these little, white cracked up pieces of what appears to be soap will not only destroy your life and the lives of most of the people you know, but it’ll also destroy millions of other lives – entire cities even.
Yes, it’s hard to imagine your parents choosing anything over their love for you, and even with all that I now know, I still cannot find the words to explain how it happens. It gets no tougher or more painful than when your first experience what betrayal is at the hands of the people you trust most.
Addiction is the unimaginable evil. It swoops in and destroys everything good about life. Because of it, your life will never be the same. You will trade a modest three bedroom home in the suburbs for the housing projects. You’ll see the woman you love more than anything on this earth – who nurtured you, cared for you when you were sick, sewed costumes for your school plays, and would die a thousand miserable deaths to protect you – sell her body for drugs, which will eventually lead to you having to hurt someone to protect her because she’s the only mother you will ever have. You will barely see your father, the man who took you on fishing trips and to your Saturday morning little league football games (and in a couple years will awkwardly and uncomfortably attempt to explain “the birds and the bees”). You’ll lose regular contact with your extended family, the people who you’ve spent almost every weekend of your life alternating visits between. You’ll lose what identity you thought you had and embark on journeys without safety nets, just brutal, unforgiving streets, to discover who we are and could’ve been.
Fortunately, as you grow into us, God provides a guardian angel for guidance, and we make it through the assumed biggest challenge of our short life and never lose our ability to dream. Then, we make the 3,000 mile cross-country trek to pursue our dreams. Unfortunately, in that pursuit, enraptured by the glitzy, glamorous facade that is Hollywood, I get us lost – misguided by my character flaws – and make the worst decision possible for us.
In a few years many of our Hollywood ‘friends’ will laud us for our exceptional talents, the same ego stroking we’ve encountered since childhood, which encourages us to regress to our old ways of expecting to be given instead of working. But don’t get sucked into a lifestyle of partying and drugs – remember how drugs destroyed our entire world just a few years ago. Don’t forget that! Only by working can you earn what you deserve.
You’ll be offered a great job – take it. Don’t let your ‘friends’ and your ego convince you that you’re too talented to work for someone else. Not only will it be a great opportunity to build bridges and your reputation within the industry, but it will also lead you away from a situation that will lead to the biggest challenge we’ll ever face.
The sole purpose of this letter, written by me to me, is to forewarn you of the perils of being a spoiled and lazy dreamer. Give us a chance to do better and to be better.
Had I taken that job, I wouldn’t be here now writing this letter to myself from the bowels of American society – Florida’s death row. It’s here where I’ve spent almost three decades – more time than all my years in society – regretting nothing more than that one misguided decision.
Wish I didn’t have to wish we could go back knowing what we now know.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Reshi Yenot is a talented writer who uses his words thoughtfully and purposefully. He puts his heart into his work, and is also very talented musically. I’m glad he entered our recent contest and happy to say he came in second place. Mr. Yenot writes under a pen name and can be contacted at: Reshi Yenot P.O. Box 70092 Henrico, VA 23255
