A boundless void, daunting and ever present, a place where even the pleasure of a night’s dream is wrecked by the reality of the waking day – that’s where I live. It’s a domain that spans a mere 6×10 feet, made of menacing concrete and steel, and offers the barest resources within an atmosphere that effects only sorrow. That’s life on Death Row, rankled daily by restrictions… told what to do, how to dress and when and where to go with little choice but to comply, dutifully denied the simplest liberties many folks take for granted and yet the real punishment seldom comes by day, rearing its head most often at night.
IU240 are the numbers of my prison cell, a crypt of sorts, where memories are elicited and misery reserved. With twenty years of digital sequences like IU240 to mark my identity, I am a nameless statistic with nothing left in the world to call my own. The days here are but a tireless effort to distract from Death Row – tabletops, TV, books and gossip, anything to cope with the pain. Yet ‘Lock Down’ call begins an agony anew, one from which there are no delusions or escape.
IU24O, a paltry wasteland of fussy dust mites that gather in hard to reach places. Lonely, except for the crowd of tender thoughts that threaten to devour my complacency. “Stand clear!” the warning blares as the mechanical gears churn and the vaulted door slams shut while I struggle to regard IU240 as a sanctuary rather than something worse than death.
The nights number 7300 that I’ve spent in isolation. My voice yearns for companionship, but the solitude is stifling, the air bland and smells nothing of freedom, more of apathy. As the brightness in the room plummets, I cling to a reason to steady the light within. I am afraid in the dark I may lose my way. Trivial items that lie dormant by day are now crawling reminders of the oppression, making rest and peace of mind laborious and evasive.
There is a column of tissue rolls stacked in the corner that serves as a coffee table and a desk constructed from Maruchan soup boxes and shoddy adhesive. Bed sheets suspended from paper clips along the walls are all there is for privacy, yet in a world of trash where there is hardly treasure, one must improvise. There’s a stainless steel mirror that erredly reflects the stains of my past transgressions, a toilet that ticks tauntingly and faucet water that tastes like lead. The concrete and steel with an eerie affinity to that of the blood and spirit of the many who have perished already and those who await their fate.
It is likely I will die in prison, a truth that is written on the age lines of my face. Already twenty years of my life’s essence etched into the fabric of these walls, and yet, IU240 isn’t some infamous badland where hope doesn’t exist. It doesn’t stand in the way of accepting responsibility and the effort to amend wrongs.
On the contrary, it’s a place where accountability offers temperance and renewal… a place where I have emerged from chaos a better person than when I arrived.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Terry Robinson writes under the pen name ‘Chanton’, and this year he has seen the release of Crimson Letters, Voices From Death Row, in which he was a contributor. He continues to work on his memoirs, as well as a book of fiction. Terry Robinson has always maintained his innocence, and hopes to one day prove that and walk free. Mr. Robinson can be contacted at: Terry Robinson #0349019 Central Prison 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
NOTE TO READER. Please contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net if you saw Terry Robinson at any time of the day or night on May 16, 1999 – or his accusers, who claimed Robinson was with them for most of the day. Thank you to those who have come forward already. It is not easy for someone falsely accused to ever leave death row – no detail is too small. What may seem irrelevant – is often the most helpful. Details of this case will be shared at https://walkinthoseshoes.com/category/terry-robinson/
“The primary duty of a lawyer engaged in public prosecution is not to convict, but to see that justice is done.The suppression of facts or the secreting of witnesses capable of establishing the innocence of the accused is highly reprehensible.” – Canons of Professional Ethics of the American Bar Association
Harris County sent Charles Mamou to death row in 1999 in a case with no eye-witnesses or physical identifying evidence at the scene, a case built on the testimony of a witness who said Charles Mamou confessed to him. Other than that statement, which was recorded and contradicts facts and the witness’ own testimony, questions remain.
Why was Mamou never told a rape kit had been collected? Why was Mamou never given phone records revealing activities of other possible suspects that night? Why wasn’t Mamou told one of those phone calls was from a ‘cell phone’ and could have possibly been traced? Why is a key witness’ original statement not in the file? Why was there no documentation of another ‘possible suspect’s’ interviews in the file? Why was biological evidence in the case signed out of HPD’s Property Room last year, twenty years later?
Possibly the biggest question of all – was the case against Charles Mamou built to prosecute, rather than see justice done? There wasn’t ‘one’ issue, but many, and information Mamou could have used to defend himself wasn’t shared with him.
HPD Case File 157191298, Supplement 11, “D.A.’s Office is requesting that the rape kit obtained by the Harris County Morgue at time of the autopsy be processed through our crime lab.” No one told Mamou a rape kit had been collected. For two decades – he never knew. Mamou is out of appeals and waiting an execution date, and still, he has never had this information shared with him by Harris County. He has this information now because advocates who believe in his innocence located it.
The HPD case file went on to say, “Forward the findings of the rape kit examination to D.A. Investigator Al Rodriquez.” That was in 1999. In 2019 when I asked an HPD employee where the rape kit results were, I was told “they are irrelevant.”
During the trial the prosecutor assured the jury Mamou had sexually assaulted the victim. It was not mentioned that ‘no semen’ was found in the rape kit which included oral swabs. It was not mentioned in the autopsy report. It was not mentioned in the medical examiner’s testimony. There was not a word said to indicate a rape kit had been collected.
While asking the jury to sentence Mamou to death, the prosecution stated, “And he takes her to Lynchester. He marches her to the back, and he makes her commit oral sodomy, makes her suck his penis. Imagine that, ladies and gentleman.” Volume 24, Page 38
Mamou wasn’t charged with sexual assault, but the prosecution learned something when they received the results of the rape kit. Through the rape kit, ‘trace evidence’ was collected from the victim, including ‘hairs’ collected from her shirt and fingernail scrapings. This information, as well, was not shared with Mamou and was just discovered last year by advocates.
Regarding the night of the crime, Mamou has admitted to his role in the drug deal and the subsequent shooting – and even to fleeing in a car that held Mary Carmouche. He says he drove back to the location where he was staying and all the other parties involved in the drug deal were located there. That is the last place he says he saw Mary Carmouche. The things he describes seeing in the apartment complex parking lot have been supported by evidence as well as statements the jury never saw. The prosecutor claimed Mamou left the drug deal and drove Carmouche to a suburban neighborhood where he sexually assaulted and murdered her.
The Houston Police Department had in their possession something that would have helped Mamou support the events as he described them, but Mamou never saw this information. A fax cover sheet indicates HPD sent this information to Lyn McClellen, the prosecutor, while the trial was underway. HPD had their own handwritten phone records from the apartment Mamou said he drove to. All of the people he said were out and about that night – had been communicating with that apartment up until 3:43 a.m. that Sunday night. The phone records indicated they were not sleeping as they testified.
When the prosecution’s witness, the resident of the apartment, testified in court that he went to sleep at 11:00 or 12:00 and his phone stopped ringing – the prosecution didn’t stop the proceedings or ask to speak to their witness on the side or get clarification. The defense specifically asked –
Q. And at what time do you go to bed? A. I went right after that, I guess about 11:00 or 12:00. Q. I’m sorry? A. About 11:00 or 12:00, something like that.
Q. So are you awoken by telephone calls even after you go to bed? A. No, sir, no more phone calls. After awhile it wasn’t no more phone calls. (Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 149)
Q. Is that because you pulled a plug out of the phone or – A. No, it just stopped ringing. (Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 150)
Lyn Mclellan said nothing. At no time did he mention phone records. The phone was ringing at 11:19 p.m., 11:25 p.m., 11:46 p.m., 11:48 p.m., 12:14 a.m. 12:19 a.m., 1:54 a.m., 2:37 a.m., 3:12 a.m., and 3:43 a.m. That doesn’t include a known outgoing call for a Yellow Cab at 3:59 a.m.
The ‘driver’ related to the drug deal was also one of the prosecution’s witnesses. He, also, testified he was sleeping that night. According to Samuel Johnson, he went straight home after the shooting at 12:00 midnight:
Q. You go directly home? A. Yeah. Q. You tell your wife what happened? A. No, she was asleep at the time. Q. Pretty exciting events in your life, isn’t it? A. Very exciting. Q. You just get in bed and go to sleep? A. No, I took a shower. Q. Took a shower, and then got in bed and went to sleep? A. No, opened me a can of soda and went to bed. Q. Talk to anybody that night? A. No. Q. Talk to Robin or Howard Scott at any point after that? A. No. (Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 149)
Once again, the prosecution did not stop the trial or in any way indicate their witness was being deceptive.
“It is unprofessional and dishonorable to deal other than candidly with the facts in taking the statements of witnesses, in drawing affidavits and other documents, and in the presentation of causes.” –Canons of Professional Ethics of the American Bar Association
“No person shall…be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law,” – Fifth Amendment to the United States Constitution.
Charles Mamou is out of appeals and awaiting a date for his execution after spending over two decades of his life on Death Row in Texas.
All posts and details of this case, including phone records that were not shared with the defense, a letter from the ‘key witness’ stating he didn’t know anything, and how Mamou was even accused of an unsolved murder during his trial can be found here. Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. There is also a facebook page dedicated to sharing the truth.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351 Mamou can also be contacted through JPay via email, but please include your mailing address if you contact him this way, as he can only respond through the mail.
“Please keep fighting for my son.” That was a text received from Charles Mamou’s mother. Her son was sentenced to death over twenty years ago in Houston, while the Harris County District Attorney’s Office was under the rule of Johnny Holmes, a man known for and proud of pursuing the death penalty.
The amount of information manipulated or not shared with the jury in the Mamou case is disturbing, but one aspect that gets overlooked, is the theatrics and misinformation put into destroying Mamou’s character for the jury. What they lacked in evidence, was made up for in portraying the defendant as a monster. And then they instructed the jury they could consider things they would ‘hear about his character’ when deciding the case. – Volume 24 of the Reporters’ Record at page 6.
Charles Mamou, Jr., carrying his godson in Sunset, LA.
But what did the D.A. really know about Charles Mamou?
Mamou got into the business of dealing drugs early on in his life. He wasn’t born into the ‘haves’ and knew his fair share of struggle. He struggled with school. He struggled with his health. He absolutely could have chosen a different path, but he saw an opportunity dealing drugs and the well-travelled avenue to taking care of the people he cared most about – not to mention keeping the hot water on. Hot water wasn’t something he always had growing up.
Over time, Mamou earned a reputation, but it wasn’t one for violence. As one resident of Sunset described him,
“Chucky was a respectable boy and a fine young man. I worked as a cook at Sunset Elementary School where Chucky attended. He was a quiet little boy and mainly kept to himself. To my knowledge, he did not have any behavior problems in school and his grades were either average or above average.
“When Chucky was older, he would often talk to my son about his problems. My son was on drugs and Chucky would advise him to do better things with his life. I wanted my son to be more like Chucky.
“There were times when I went shopping and Chucky was in the grocery store. He would buy my groceries and never wanted any money back. There were many other people in town that Chucky would help buy groceries, pay rent or their electric bill. Chucky helped people.”
Don’t get me wrong. There was nothing glamorous about what Charles Mamou did for a living. He wasn’t a violent man though. Regardless of how the prosecution described him for the jury, the people who knew him day in and day out had a more accurate perspective.
Another man that knew Charles Mamou, Jr., stating they met in the ‘streets’ and clubs, also described his friend.
“Chucky does not have a ‘rough bone’ in his body. I have witnessed him paying bills for friend, family members and other people in the community. Charles, Jr., is a friend that everyone wishes to have once in their life.”
“If it was the dope that put Charles, Jr., behind bars, I pray that everyone in the world would burn the dope, and start praying.”
It was the ‘dope’ that put Mamou behind bars.
In 1998 three men knowingly brought a girl to a dark alley in Houston, with a plan. According to everyone involved, including the testimony of the two surviving men – they were there for one reason and one reason only. They were there to rob Charles Mamou at gunpoint. That’s it.
That was the plan, but it didn’t work out the way it was supposed to. Mamou started shooting when confronted with a gun pointed in his direction. His driver drove off and left him behind. He jumped in the car that belonged to the men who were attempting to rob him and drove back to the apartment complex on Fondren, in Houston, where he was staying and where the other individuals who helped organize the drug deal were located. All of the existing evidence supports that, including things Mamou said he observed when he got back to the apartments, which observations have been confirmed by statements the jury never heard, as well as evidence that existed.
The greatest injustice in this story – was the lack of effort to find out what really happened to the victim after she got to the apartment complex that night. There was no effort made to pursue possible answers, including tracking a cell phone call that one of the involved parties made that night – from who knows where. That individual said he was in bed sleeping – but the police knew his cell phone made a phone call at 2:37 a.m. on the night in question. One would think tracking a cell phone call from a suspect and the driver in the drug deal would be standard, especially in light of the fact that individual claimed to have been sleeping and not making or receiving phone calls at the time. He lied. His cell phone made a call from somewhere at 2:37 a.m. The police documented that information the week of the murder, although they never pursued it, and faxed the phone records to the District Attorney after the court proceedings began.
Charles Mamou only just became aware those phone records existed and were in the hands of the Houston Police Department and the District Attorney twenty years ago.
The prosecution didn’t pursue the information they had that might uncover what happened to the victim, but were more focused on convincing the jury that Charles Mamou was a monster.
And so, even though the medical examiner, Roger Milton, never mentioned a rape kit that was collected in his Autopsy Report, and even though the District Attorney requested the rape kit be processed and received the results of the rape kit prior to the trial – that information was also never shared with Charles Mamou. Mamou never knew a rape kit was gathered until last year.
Rather than share that information with the jury, Lyn McClellan, an Assistant District Attorney for Harris County did something else. He and his team chose to tell the jury that Charles Mamou sexually assaulted the victim. The entire time he was doing that, he knew full well a rape kit had been collected – and it revealed no semen found on any items.
“And he takes her to Lynchester. He marches her to the back, and he makes her commit oral sodomy, makes her suck his penis. Imagine that, ladies and gentleman.” – Volume 24 of the Reporter’s Record at page 38. That same attorney went on to describe Mamou’s character, “He’s vicious.” “He’s ruthless.” “He’s cold-blooded.” “He devastated and destroyed.”
The prosecution had no evidence that Charles Mamou did anything to Mary Carmouche. They had phone records Mamou didn’t know about. They had a rape kit Mamou didn’t know about. And something else they’ve had all these years – ‘trace evidence’, ‘hairs’ that were collected during the collection of the rape it. That evidence sat in the HPD Property Room for twenty years, and Charles Mamou nor the jury were ever informed they existed.
Of note, in 2019, two envelopes containing ‘biological evidence’ in this case were signed out of the Property Room, but it is unknown for what purpose or who authorized the removal, as HPD will not respond, other than to tell me the D.A. is the only one who can authorize removal of evidence. At the D.A.’s office I was told they didn’t know anything about the removal of the evidence.
Years ago, Chris Mamou described his brother in a statement.
‘Chucky’ and his brother, Christopher Mamou.
“Growing up, I can always remember my brother being there and looking out for me.”
“…he taught me how to walk with my head up high.”
“…he took me to the basketball court and tried to teach me how to play.”
“Charles, Jr., encouraged me to excel in school by rewarding me with praises and benefits, such as paying for my way to the neighbor dance if I had a good report.”
“…nothing would compare to the feeling of just making him proud which also encouraged me to do well.”
“All I knew was he had his own money and he shared with everyone – family, friends, or a stranger who needed help. I saw this and wanted to do the same thing. I approached him about making my own money and was denied, remembering his reasoning was that this was not for everybody. He did not want me to get involved.”
Charles Mamou has spent over twenty years on death row and awaits his execution for a drug deal gone wrong– not a murder. Investigators didn’t pursue what happened to Mary Carmouche after she arrived at that apartment complex. They were focused on ‘making’ Charles Mamou guilty – but none of the pieces fit. No matter which way you turn the puzzle, they won’t fit. Sticking to the ‘story’ isn’t going to make it any more true than it was twenty years ago. Mamou can be executed – it’s not going to make it true. He can die incarcerated during a pandemic – it still won’t make it true.
“He’s my firstborn. He has my name.” Charles Mamou, Sr., will never give up on his son. He recently told me, “If they want to kill an innocent man – take me. Don’t take him – take me.”
All posts and details of this case, including phone records that were not shared with the defense, a letter from the ‘key witness’ stating he didn’t know anything, and how Mamou was even accused of an unsolved murder during his trial can be found here. Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. There is also a facebook page dedicated to sharing the truth.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
In a couple months, I’ll have nineteen years, day for day, in this concrete jungle. ‘Jungles’ bring to mind wild animals and certain death around the next bend. In here, society views us as wild animals, and for us, the chow hall can become the location of death around the next bend.
A few years ago some guys and I were on the rec yard discussing who we thought had the best chance to go to and win the Super Bowl. A couple guys were going with the Patriots, others were going with teams no one even remembered making the play-offs in recent years. Being a Cowboys loyalist, I just knew my team was going to get up in there.
The Patriots won again.
When the discussion was losing steam, a guy we all knew approached our little circle, gesturing and speaking excitedly about a confrontation he heard going on between two cellmates.
To make a long story short, two guys were drinking hooch, got drunk, started arguing and calling one another names only two drunk people would come up with. When we asked Lil’ K what the argument had to do with us, he responded, telling us one of the guys was handicapped and being bullied.
Generally, in prison, people tend to mind their own business. Even considering the situation, I felt like – this is the ‘joint’, the jungle – and definitely none of my business. Being on closed custody and dealing with the constant threat of being placed in a cell with a psyche patient, we agreed to wait until we could get all the guys in question together before pursuing the subject further.
Before the meeting had a chance to happen, a riot jumped off behind the argument the next day at chow hall.
Turns out, upon investigating the situation thoroughly, the two cellmates were as cool as two men who live together and get drunk and high often can be. As the riot was taking place, I found the guy who was supposedly getting mistreated. I asked him if he and his cellmate were alright.
“Hell, yeah, that’s my boy!”
Go figure.
Instantly, I was reminded of the importance of minding my own business.
Everyone who went to chow that day had to start their closed custody time over, and we were put on lockdown. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured and no weapons were involved.
That night I explained to my cellmate what happened. He looked up from his Alex Cross novel, crumbs on his mouth from his peanut butter sandwich, and assured me, “This too shall pass.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: This is Mr. Edwards first submission here. He believes, as do we, in the importance of sharing the ‘mundane’ as well as the dramatic. Andre Edwards lives in a Texas prison and can be contacted at: Andre Edwards #1139465 3872 FM 350 S. Livingston, TX 77351
For nine years, I have been confined to a single man cell. Days, often weeks, pass without leaving this space. I deserved to be placed here. I am here because I attempted escape and was punished. To be honest, it was probably the best thing for me – at the time. My peer group was violent and negative, and upon arrival I was disgusted with myself for having fallen so far. I resolved to fill the void of what I was forced to leave with positive change and growth. I began a journey to become the man I knew I was, rather than the man my poor decisions had built.
I quickly learned any progress I hoped to make would depend solely on my efforts. There is no education provided to inmates in solitary confinement in Texas. None. Anything I’ve learned through reading is the result of donors from the outside.
I also learned tenuous relationships with loved ones in the free world are easily stressed when a person is placed in isolation. General population contact visits allow hugs with family. In here I am led to visitors in chains to a booth with a glass partition that forces us to speak over a phone. What’s worse is, this is the only phone I can speak through. General population offenders have access to unlimited fifteen minute calls, seven days a week. Access to telephones is not allowed in solitary.
I have learned solitary confinement is an effective weight loss program. More often than not, I am hungry at bedtime. Despite menu descriptions like ‘fresh yellow corn’ and ‘deep rich gravy’, I can count on the unappetizing reality of at least one or more food items arriving spoiled, and the unclean fact that it has passed through no less than six pairs of hands before getting to my cell.
One of the harder lessons – ‘out of sight, out of mind’ is never more true than when locked away in solitary confinement. While prison administration might remove an inmate from population for legitimate reasons, once ‘out of sight’ it becomes easier to check the box that keeps the inmate in solitary than to mindfully dedicate the resources needed to rehabilitate the person and release them from solitary.
Perhaps the hardest lesson is discovering first hand what so much time in seclusion can do to a person. I have spent years tearing down my old faulty value system and building a better one, learning how to make strong healthy choices. I’ve made progress in so many ways, but so much isolation has begun to injure me. A few years ago, I began to feel very paranoid during the rare time out of my cell. For the ten hours per month allowed out, I felt as if I was being stared at, looked at from the corners of people’s eyes. It got so bad I didn’t want to leave my cell, prompting me to refuse medical and dental appointments.
I have never been a mental health patient. None of my family suffers from a mental disorder. I am rational and clear minded. I am literal and focused. Yet, these years in solitary have taken a serious mental toll. To get ‘help’ from mental health staff carries a stigmatized label as a psych patient. I was reluctant to contact them, although intellectually I understood what was happening. Despite the understanding, I could not shake the discomfort I felt when outside my cell.
When I did finally speak to someone in mental health, I worked through the discomfort for the most part. But recently the symptoms have returned, worse than before. When outside my cell, I struggle to hold eye contact and find myself trying to mumble at times. I berate myself. I know that isolation is the cause of the distress. I think this must be what it’s like to have a disorder – maybe like a man with Alzheimer’s who, in his clear moments, feels terrible because he recognizes he’s had bad moments, but he is unable to combat them.
I have no real treatment options. They do not do therapy here. They medicate… a slippery slope. I do not need medication. I feel anxious out of my cell. This is caused by my isolation. I am witnessing, in person, the deterioration of a human mind… mine.
After nine years, I no longer belong in solitary confinement. I am a new man, if not completely, then on my way to being one. I have had three minor disciplinary infractions during my 3,300 days here, all for covering the 24/7 light in my cell so as to sleep. But, alas, they keep checking the box that keeps me here.
The unregulated, unmonitored use of isolation damages as many people as it was meant to ‘improve’. Some of us will one day be neighbors to those in the free world – so shouldn’t those who wield the power to inflict these kind of lessons for years on end be held to a high standard…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jeremy Robinson is author of The Monster Factory, which he is currently revising. Mr. Robinson lives in a Texas prison and can be contacted at: Jeremy Robinson #1313930 Polunsky Unit 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
I am innocent. I did not rob the Pizza Inn restaurant, nor did I shoot and kill its manager, John Rushton. Ronald Bullock and Jesse Hill testified I did – their testimony the nucleus of the returned guilty verdict. I didn’t spend the day planning the robbery with them, nor meet them after it was over – as they told the jury. I didn’t organize their plan. I didn’t participate in it. I wasn’t in the Pizza Inn that night.
None of that happened. But, what does my innocence matter? Where did it get me but a bus ride to prison while shackled both by ankles and spirit to a dread that becomes so unbearable – death is a welcome resolve. How relevant is innocence to time long gone and opportunities forever missed, when your dignity is in a shambles, you’ve been stripped of your identity and you have nothing left to call your own but an Opus number. With no pride left for which to hide behind, to admit wrongdoing would not be so difficult – the hardest thing to do is continue proclaiming my innocence.
For two decades, I have lived the same as those who are guilty. I’ve stomached the same foods, donned the same disgraceful attire and been governed by the same rules. I’ve looked into the eyes of men as they were moments away from being unrighteously done in, while inside my innocence has become a little less significant each day. Capital punishment is not meant to penalize the guilty, but rather to exterminate the worthless while attempting to restore solace to grieving hearts.
Aristotle once said, “We are what we repeatedly do,” and in just a few short years, I will have been a Death Row inmate for longer than I’ve been anything else. So, what then is my innocence but a conscientious self-declaration to get me through the day?
My innocence is a reminder of who I used to be – so that I am not lost to who I have become…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Terry Robinson writes under the pen name ‘Chanton’, and this year he has seen the release of Crimson Letters, Voices From Death Row, in which he was a contributor. He continues to work on his memoirs, as well as a book of fiction. Terry Robinson has always maintained his innocence, and hopes to one day prove that and walk free. Mr. Robinson can be contacted at: Terry Robinson #0349019 Central Prison 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
NOTE TO READER. Please contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net if you saw Terry Robinson at any time of the day or night on May 16, 1999 – or his accusers, who claimed Robinson was with them for most of the day. Thank you to those who have come forward already. It is not easy for someone falsely accused to ever leave death row – no detail is too small. What may seem irrelevant – is often the most helpful. Details of the trial will be shared at https://walkinthoseshoes.com/category/terry-robinson/
I’ve been on Texas death row since November, 1999, and was first held with the others at the ‘old death row housing’, Ellis One Unit, that provided group recreation, church services, work programs – camaraderie. There was a different vibe then. Sure, men were still being led like sheep to the slaughter in record numbers, and sure, a few were innocent, some wrongly convicted and many guilty, but the deprivation of social and human interaction in all forms was not as glaring then because we were allowed to play four-on-four basketball games outdoors, able to share hugs with one another, able to lean on one another when one had some bad news and needed a shoulder to cry on, and we were able to pray in groups. Some sat around tables playing card games, chess, or just sat in silence watching a movie or sports on ESPN. In no way am I exulting that existence, because I can never be content as long as I am being held in chains. I’m innocent. But the reality of living at Ellis during that time was ‘doable’. Man was not alone.
March, 2000, everything changed, including death row’s location and current housing. From the moment we arrived on Polunsky Unit we were handcuffed and chained, from our ankles to our stomach to our hands by one long chain, and ordered off the heavily armed buses and stripped nude for the whole world to see. That became the moment I knew everything was different.
We were placed in single man cells on sections that held fourteen cells per each of the six sections that encased one of six pods. Gone were work programs, group recreation, church services and all forms of physical contact that we once enjoyed. Morale was so low, it could be sensed within the thickness of the silence. Suicides and suicide attempts spiked that first year. A black, middle-aged inmate from Dallas, Clark, started shouting madly, daily, as if he was Paul Revere, saying things like, “In five years this place will be a place of madness!” Many laughed, thinking him already mad.
Clark and three others would die within the first five-hundred days, from unknown natural causes. They simply dropped dead in their cells. Men as young as 26 and as old as 51 were now remembered as ‘how did they die’. Though many surmised their depressive stress became too much to bear.
As time passed, men started self-mutilating, one cutting his penis off and throwing it out of his cell. Another, so consumed with religious material, set himself on fire. One man stabbed himself in the jugular and made not a sound. Before he bled out, he wrote, ‘I’m innocent’, in his own blood on the wall. The following day, the Courts granted him a stay to look into his claims, to no avail. One man ate his own eye, then ate the other. He said it tasted like chicken. Many hung themselves. A few started eating their own feces. An overwhelming number sought help from the mental health department which provided them with experimental psychiatric drugs that kept them in a nebulous, zombie-like state, in which they slept all day and could not function in a coherent manner. Inmate-friends at Ellis became inmate-enemies on Polunsky. Staff and inmate assaults rose substantially. The ugly reality the aftermath, when loneliness became dictator.
Clark’s prophetic words soon became a beacon to the fact that man crumbles from the starvation of physical interaction.
I’m not exempt from suicidal thoughts, the cancer known as depression swallowing me whole from time-to-time, more often than I care to dwell on. At times I’m consumed with thoughts of dyeing, being murdered, never getting free again and never getting another chance to feel the warm lips of a lover. Will I ever again salivate over the seasonings and texture of a home cooked meal from my mother? Who says insanity is all that bad? My mind does play tricks on me.
I want to be free. My freedom was molested from me with false allegations, and I struggle every moment to exist within these solitary confines, my survival not based on my courage or strength, but on those who write me, encourage me and love me unconditionally. I survive for them.
I do not know what tomorrow will bring. I’m out of appeals and the only step left is to get an execution date. That notion weighs heavily on me, but I have given my friends a promise to continue to be me until my soul is liberated from the manacles of my flesh.
Know this – I love you. Doesn’t matter if you hate me or support me. None of it matters. For without love, we all cease to survive the day.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Charles “Chucky” Mamou is living on Death Row in Texas. He is out of appeals and has always maintained his innocence. For information on his case, and to support and share his story, follow on Facebook at – Charles Mamou – How Wrongful Convictions Are Made. You can also read all the information specific to his case at Charles Mamou on this site.
Mr. Mamou can be contacted at: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
April 17, 2019, ‘Items were signed for by Mary K. Childs-Henry – Item 001 Sealed envelope said to contain biological evidence.’
Then again, June 24, 2019, ‘Items were signed for by Mary K. Childs-Henry – Item 004 Sealed envelope said to contain biological evidence.’
The Mamou trial is riddled with information not shared with Charles Mamou or the jury – and in 2019 two notes were made in the case file noting – ‘Biological evidence’ signed for. Those two notes became two more things Harris County didn’t share with Charles Mamou.
* * * * *
In 1998, Charles Mamou was accused of fleeing a drug deal gone wrong and killing Mary Carmouche. He was then convicted and sentenced to death by a jury who wasn’t told all there was to know.
The victim was last seen late on a Sunday, early on Monday morning. On a Wednesday, Terrence Dodson, the prosecution’s key witness, stated Mamou confessed to him, making a video statement. In it, he claimed Mamou called him from Louisiana in the early morning hours of Tuesday – the day before. He also stated Mamou told him to pick him up from the bus station in Houston that same night, Tuesday night.
During that interview, investigators were aware Mamou was not in Louisiana on Tuesday morning nor on Tuesday mid-day, but actually in Houston. Mamou didn’t get on a bus from Houston, going to Louisiana, until 1:30 in the afternoon on that Tuesday. As a matter of fact, at the very time Dodson was making his statement in one room at HPD, another witness was making a statement as well. That witness actually drove Mamou to the bus station leaving Houston on Tuesday afternoon – not heading back to Houston as Dodson was telling police but away. The written statement of the other witness – is notarized by the same investigator that took Dodson’s video statement. Detective Novak had decades of experience at HPD.
The jury heard Dodson’s testimony and were never told the conflict. They also heard a different version of how the ‘confession’ took place than the recorded one. At trial, the confession was described as taking place over days, partially on the phone and partially in person. The jury never heard Dodson’s inconsistent details.
Letter written by witness who told police Mamou confessed to him; never seen by jury.
The jury was also never shown a letter Dodson wrote Mamou months later stating he was glad Mamou didn’t tell him shit.
* * * * *
Mamou always maintained he drove back to an apartment complex on Fondren after the drug deal gone wrong – that was the last place he saw Mary Carmouche. He’s described the people he saw and some details about the parking lot that night. In contrast, the prosecution argued Mamou fled the drug deal, sexually assaulted and killed Carmouche behind a home on Lynchester Avenue.
Mamou described seeing Shawn Eaglin leaving Howard Scott’s apartment and getting into a Yellow Cab that night. An employee for Yellow Cab testified that – yes, the company had a call from a ‘Shawn’ and a cab was requested for the address of Howard Scott who lived at the complex. The prosecution, in turn, pointed out that anybody could call a cab and use any name and any address – it doesn’t prove it was actually a legitimate call or that anyone was picked up.
Yellow Cab log, Exhibit used in Court – Phone number never pointed out as belonging to Howard Scott.
The jury also did not hear Shawn Eaglin lived approximately five minutes from the apartment complex. That is the amount of time the cab log indicated the customer’s drive was.
* * * * *
According to Detective Novak’s testimony, Shawn Eaglin was an individual they were looking at as a potential suspect. Eaglin’s name is handwritten throughout the case file. According to everyone’s testimony, Eaglin knew most of the individuals involved, as well as introduced most of them. A written statement by Robin Scott refers to police going to Shawn Eaglin’s home during their investigation.
Referred to as possible suspect, handwritten name throughout file, witness said police went to his house, and he introduced all parties – there are no documented interviews of Mr. Eaglin in HPD’s file.
Howard Scott was transported to HPD along with his wife, although driven separately, on Tuesday, December 8, 1998. He was transported from his home to be interviewed because what he was telling police was inconsistent with what they were hearing from his wife.
Detective Novak, in his testimony, referred to taking a written statement from Scott the day they initially went to his home and transported him to the police department.
In 2019, Scott told an investigator he saw Charles Mamou at the apartment complex parking lot that night. He also said he saw Mary Carmouche there.
* * * * *
Howard Scott testified he went to bed that night – getting ‘no more phone calls’. When specifically asked if that was because his phone was unplugged, “No, it just stopped ringing.”
His phone didn’t stop ringing and HPD was aware of that. An investigator in Scott’s apartment wrote down all the calls from his caller I.D., jotting names by some of the numbers. Phone calls were coming in to Howard Scott’s apartment through 3:43 A.M. that Sunday night. In HPD’s file there is a fax cover sheet, dated September 24, 1999, indicating they faxed the phone records to Lynn McClellan, the prosecutor, during jury selection.
Fax cover sheet in HPD file, noting on the cover sheet the caller ID records. Mamou never saw this, and did not have opportunity to dispute the testimony of two witnesses who said they didn’t use their phone.
Mamou never knew about the phone records HPD and apparently the prosecutor were aware of until 2019. The jury was never told Howard Scott’s testimony was not accurate and his phone was ringing into the early morning hours. Scott’s credibility was never questioned.
* * * * *
The phone records also indicated Shawn Eaglin, the man Mamou said took a cab from Scott’s apartment and the name the Yellow Cab company said called for a cab from Scott’s address at 3:59 A.M. – also called Howard Scott that night as late as 3:12 A.M.
There were several phone calls from various people in the early morning hours to Scott’s apartment that night. The jury was never made aware of any of them. Charles Mamou was also unaware they existed.
* * * * *
“And he takes her to Lynchester. He marches her to the back, and he makes her commit oral sodomy, makes her suck his penis. Imagine that, ladies and gentleman.” The prosecution asked the jury to imagine that, all the while having results of a rape kit that included oral swabs. The kit indicated no semen was detected. Mamou never knew a kit existed until 2019. The District Attorney had requested the kit be processed months before the trial and had already received the results. Mamou was never charged with sexual assault but the jury was told he assaulted the victim.
The kit also revealed the existence of ‘trace collection items’ and ‘hairs’.
Portion of rape kit D.A. requested processed which indicated no seman found, and Mamou never saw. Also indicated the existance of ‘trace collection’ items, including hairs.
Robin Scott gave a written statement to police on Tuesday, December 8, 1998, when she and her husband were transported to HPD for statements, as well as Wednesday, December 9, when police brought them both in again, although Howard Scott’s original statement is not in the police file. In one of Ms. Scott’s statements she told police Charles Mamou had arrived at her apartment at approximately 12:45 on the night of the incident. That time frame would have made it impossible for Mamou to have accomplished what he was accused of, as well as supported his version of events in which he drove directly back to the apartment complex after the drug deal gone wrong.
Samuel Johnson was a participant in the drug deal gone wrong, and Mamou described meeting him at the apartment complex after the original shooting. In contrast, Johnson testified he drove away from the drug deal, straight to his home and to bed, never speaking to anyone.
Phone records contradict that, indicating Samuel Johnson’s cell phone called Howard Scott’s apartment at 2:37 A.M. The previously mentioned phone records included that information. Samuel Johnson also had a landline at his apartment – but the phone call he made was from a cell phone. Twenty years ago, people would often use their landline if they were in their home, but if police investigated the location the ‘cell phone’ call was made from, that information is not in the case file. Mamou never had a chance to investigate where the call was made from, because he was unaware of the phone records HPD had.
At trial and without the phone records, Mamou did not have the opportunity to question Johnson’s credibility after he said he went straight to bed and spoke to no one.
Two witnesses have since told an investigator they saw Samuel Johnson in the complex parking lot that night, having driven in just prior to Mamou – which is consistent with what Mamou has always maintained.
* * * * *
Charles Mamou described a man on a bike in the complex parking lot when he arrived with Mary Carmouche. The prosecution dismissed the claims.
It turns out an individual has since told an investigator he was in the parking lot that night – on a bike – and he saw Mamou drive into the parking lot after Samuel Johnson.
Also supporting Mamou’s account, the phone records indicate a unique phone number called Howard Scott’s apartment on the evening of the incident, at 11:48 P.M. and 1:54 A.M. There is a handwritten note in the HPD investigators phone records, indicating a name next to the number. That name – happens to be an acquaintance of the ‘man on the bike’.
The jury never heard any of that.
* * * * *
The prosecution told the jury, “He tried to murder all four of those people out there, but that was beyond his control.” “That was his plan. It was all premeditated.” “He’s vicious. He’s ruthless. He’s cold-blooded.”
The jury was shown autopsy photos and heard victim impact statements concerning a victim of an unsolved murder that took place several months earlier. Mamou has never been charged with that crime, but HPD currently has him listed as ‘Arrested, Charged’.
A man named Joseph Melancon claimed Mamou shot and killed the man, Anthony Williams. The Williams case file includes a witness statement describing Joseph Melancon being dressed up and with Anthony Williams that night. The witness describes the two men leaving the club together. According to the witness, a short time after leaving with Melancon, a man ran in the club saying the victim had been shot.
That witness indicated they thought Joseph Melancon was involved in the murder, but the case was never pursued after Joseph Melancon testified Charles Mamou committed the crime. Melancon’s testimony did not match his original statement to police, but Mamou was never given an opportunity to defend himself of this crime, as he was never charged with the crime.
* * * * *
That’s what took place in Harris County two decades ago. So, in 2019 when it became known biological evidence was signed for, it was reasonable to want to know why. I flew to Houston.
One of two supplements indicating biological evidence was signed for in 2019.
At the HPD Records Department, I was told they didn’t know the answer, and I should contact the Property Room, the District Attorney’s office, and the Medical Examiner.
At the District Attorney’s office, I was told the case was currently ‘closed’. There would be no current requests for evidence from them because no one was working it, and the files themselves were in storage – the case was inactive.
At the HPD Property Room, which was where the biological evidence was signed out from – I was told there is protocol in place, and in order to find out why the biological evidence was signed out, I would need to go to Homicide and speak with the investigator on the case.
At Homicide, I was told it was a ‘cold case’ and there was no active investigator on the case, I would need to talk to the person in charge of cold cases.
The cold case investigator wasn’t in and never returned my phone call.
After I returned home, I was called by someone I had never spoken to, D. Wilker, from Homicide. I was told ‘only the Property Division could answer my questions’. Of note – the Property Division is where I had originally gone and was told that due to ‘protocol’, I would need to go to Homicide.
During that phone conversation, I was also told Ms. Wilker would reach out to the Property Division to see if she could get an answer for me, but she couldn’t make any promises. In addition, she informed me ‘we are mandated to test every piece of evidence’, suggesting that the evidence was taken out for testing. Ms. Wilker also suggested an investigator could have requested the material be checked out, but as I had already been told – there was no investigator on the case at that time. I was told she would get back in touch with me after she reached out to the Property Division.
After a couple weeks and no contact from Ms. Wilker – I called her. Ms. Wilker was dismissive during this conversation, telling me the rape kit results I was looking for at that time were ‘irrelevant’. I was told the defense had every piece of evidence they needed to know. The ‘window of opportunity’ for finding out anything was closed. And, finally, yes, the evidence had been checked out in 2019 and had been in the possession of Mary K. Childs-Henry, but it was now back where it belonged. It had been checked out for ‘cataloging purposes’.
I then asked Ms. Wilker if she considered the matter closed, and she told me she did.
After that phone call I wrote a letter to Internal Affairs and the Chief of Police, as ‘cataloging’ two pieces of twenty year old biological evidence didn’t seem logical, in light of the circles I had been lead in to come to that conclusion.
The Houston Police Department responded, telling me no one had done anything wrong. “In your letter, you inquired about procedures for removing evidence regarding Mr. Mamou’s case. The District Attorney is the only person that can authorize any type of evidence to be released for any reason. There are procedures in place for care, custody and control of evidence that is stored in the Property Room. You may reach the Harris County District Attorney’s Office at ….”
As of this date, it remains unclear why the biological evidence was signed for in 2019.
The employee who signed for the evidence, Mary K. Childs-Henry, also worked for the HPD lab in 1998, when the crime occurred. In the early 2000’s the Houston Chronicle ran several articles focused on HPDs troubled lab, to include mishandling of evidence. Ms. Childs-Henry was mentioned in some of those articles.
“Analyst Mary Childs-Henry never took statistics or genetics, and her failure to do a timely analysis of a DNA sample in 1996 was part of a chain of lab errors that allowed an innocent man to be held in jail for nine months, according to depositions and an internal memo. Two lawsuits were filed over that incident, which prompted the city to audit the lab.” – Houston Chronicle, ‘Report: File review shows Houston police DNA analysts lack education, training’ – September 6, 2003
“”This just goes to show that the bench workers were doing nothing more than following orders and that the problems in that lab were created by the poor management within the lab and above,” said Fred Keys, Childs-Henry’s lawyer.” – Houston Chronicle, ‘Panel Tosses Out Crime Analyst’s Lab Suspension’, By Todd Ackerman – February 28, 2004
“So far, two men have been released from prison after the discovery of flawed crime lab work in their cases. In a written statement, Houston Police Chief Harold Hurtt announced that three lab analysts criticized in the report have been relieved of duty pending the outcome of an internal investigation. Those three employees are Mary Childs-Henry, Joseph H. Chu, and Raynard Cockrell.” – Houston Chronicle, ‘More Problems Found At HPD Crime Lab’, By Steve McVicker and Roma Khanna – January 4, 2006
“Houston Police Department supervisors suspended Mary Childs-Henry, Joseph Chu and Raynard Cockrell after an independent team of experts found they had failed to report evidence that could have helped defendants and that they made errors in DNA and serology tests.” – Houston Chronicle, ‘Crime-lab Analysts Had Avoided Serious Penalties’, By Roma Khanna – January 8, 2006
“The three – Mary Childs-Henry, Joseph Chu and Raynard Cockrell – were suspended recently after Bromwich’s team found they had failed to report evidence that could have helped defendants and that they made errors in DNA and serology tests.” Houston Chronicle, ‘Crime Labe Investigator Wants Subpoena Power’, By Steve McVicker – January 10, 2006
“Three analysts suspended because of the latest findings by the Bromwich team — Mary Childs-Henry, Joseph Chu and Raynard Cockrell — have been targeted for discipline in the past but have escaped serious punishment.” Houston Chronicle, ‘Crime Lab Investigator To Target Specific Cases’, By Steve McVicker – January 11, 2006
Photos of Lexus at HPD in 1998
Among the Courtroom exhibits are photos of the Lexus involved in the drug deal with someone in the background who bears a striking resemblance to Mary K. Childs-Henry. Having worked in the lab in 1998, it is possible she also worked on Mamou’s case twenty years ago.
The climate at that time in history, in that place, wasn’t a secret. What remains to be seen is, will the Harris County of today execute Charles Mamou based on a 1999 decision jurors made without all the information available, at a time when the end game wasn’t always justice, but the conviction.
Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. Anything you share with me will be confidential.
All related posts detailing all I have learned over the last two years are available at Charles Mamou.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
She was four foot eleven, Italian, And the biggest liar I’ve ever known. She drank Burnett’s Pink Lemonade Vodka And liked to be choked during sex. At sixteen she’d slit her wrists When she found her mother’s body On the kitchen floor. It was blue And as cold as ice, she said. She was liar and a whore Who had no respect for herself, Or anyone else, and hadn’t a Single principle or moral to her name But I loved her, And I miss her A lot. She was only twenty-two When she died. I keep her picture on the wall Of my cell And tell her every morning That I love her. I know if I had been out there That I could have saved her. I also know that if I had been out there I wouldn’t have.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Robert McCracken is a gifted poet, with the ability to paint a picture and stir emotion with so few words. Although he doesn’t send in his work often, I always look forward to reading his mail. He recently mentioned trying his hand at songwriting, and I have no doubt he will succeed.
Robert can be reached at: Smart Communications/PADOC Robert McCracken LG8344 Sci-Greene P.O. Box 33028 St. Petersburg, FL 33733
Two men have formally admitted some form of involvement in the attempted robbery that led to the death of John Rushton, a man murdered in the Pizza Inn in Wilson, NC, over twenty years ago. One of those two men, Ronald Bullock, pled guilty to Attempted Armed Robbery and Aiding and Abetting Voluntary Manslaughter, acknowledging he was present at the Pizza Inn that night, although there were inconsistencies between his statement, testimony and later statement – not to mention contradictions of the other key witness . He is a free man today.
The other man, Jesse Hill, never told the jury he was involved at all, quite the opposite. He testified that Ronald Bullock and Terry Robinson stopped by his home earlier that day and then drove him to his grandmama’s house. He then went on to describe the accused, Terry Robinson, coming back to his home later, telling him, “I can’t – don’t say nothing about it, ‘cause there is a body involved.” Hill then testified he didn’t believe any of that, and he merely wanted to go back to sleep.
When Jesse Hill was questioned during Terry Robinson’s trial about his reaction to hearing someone had been shot, he expressed disbelief. “So, I was just like, well, you shot him. I went on to bed. It wasn’t nothing to me.”
Jesse Hill was questioned about a reward as well.
Q. Now, when you talked to Detective Bass, did you ask him about any reward that you might get?
A. No.
Q. Have you ever asked anybody about any reward you might get?
A. No.
Q. Have you ever applied for any reward?
A. No.
Q. For giving this information?
A. No.
After the trial was over, Jesse Hill told an investigator that he was given a check for $5,000 by a detective as a reward for his role in the case.
Also after the trial, in contrast to Hill’s testimony portraying himself as unaware of anything and going to visit his grandmama, Ronald Bullock made a statement claiming Jesse Hill was actually involved in the planning of the Pizza Inn robbery. Bullock claimed Hill was supposed to get a cut from the money.
After confronted with that information a few days after Bullock made that statement, Hill admitted to supplying Bullock with a disguise for the robbery.
All of this took place after the trial and unbeknownst to the jury.
Throughout his trial testimony, Jesse Hill portrayed himself as having no involvement or knowledge of the planned robbery.
Q. Okay. And then when they said what they said they were going to do, you didn’t believe them, did you?
A. Not really.
Q. You didn’t believe they were gonna (sic) do it?
A. No.
Jesse Hill went on to, again, testify regarding his disbelief after the fact about what happened.
Q. And you still didn’t believe that they had done it, did you?
A. Not – I was asleep, really, so —
Q. You woke up and they talked to you, didn’t they, Mr. Hill?
A. Yeah, they talked to me, but I still didn’t really believe it. ‘Cause a lot of people can tell you anything, and you don’t have to believe everything you hear.
The jury must have believed Jesse Hill, even though he later told an investigator he knew of the planned robbery and had supplied a disguise for Ronald Bullock. More than that, if Ronald Bullock’s statement is to be believed – Jesse Hill actually rode with him prior to the robbery and even went behind the Pizza Inn that day as they planned the crime.
Mr. Hill repeatedly voiced his disbelief in all that was going to take place before and after the attempted robbery and murder.
Q. Okay. Correct me if I’m wrong, but when they told you about it earlier in the day, you said: “I don’t believe they were gonna (sic) do it.”; “I didn’t believe them.”
A. No.
Q. After they came back, whatever time of day that was, the same day, May 16th, you still didn’t believe them, right?
A. No.
Mr. Hill repeatedly maintained no knowledge of the crime under oath.
Q. But, when he said that, you still didn’t believe he had had anything to do with the Pizza Inn robbery and murder, did you?
A. Naw, ‘cause I ain’t heard nothing about no Pizza Inn robbery at that time.
The testimony of Ronald Bullock and Jesse Hill was the basis of Terry Robinson’s murder conviction and death sentence. Robinson has been on death row for twenty years, and during that time he has steadfastly maintained his innocence. Of the three men – he is the only one who has always said he had no involvement. There was no physical evidence to tie Terry Robinson to the scene, and Jesse Hill and Ronald Bullock were the foundation of the prosecution’s case. Robinson’s death sentence was based on Bullock’s and Hill’s credibility – yet deception has been documented. There were also inconsistencies and contradictions in their earlier statements to police.
If anyone saw Terry Robinson or anyone who accused him of murder that day, please contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net.
Mr. Robinson is also a writer, which is how he become involved with WITS. You can read his work here, and he can be contacted at:
Terry Robinson #0349019 Central Prison 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
