“…to remain tight in a bud was more painful than… to blossom.” – Anais Nin
To many, Kenny’s a nobody – which is why he wanted to shine, to prove them wrong.
Would that I could share my light with Kenny, give him another chance
To fit in, to be normal. Since I can’t, I will share Kenny’s light with you,
Break it into wafers.
Death Row, Death Throws…
We slam, we scream, we fling ourselves against prison’s cosmic ennui.
We remember life from before, our memories another spectrum of light.
The texture of some memories never change; these lights refuse to go
Quietly into that goodnight.
Sometimes a soul’s meat-vehicle remains behind long after the light
Has gone. Kenny remembers the moment his light divorced his body,
Remembers when it tore itself free – remembers it half as action sequence,
Half as background requiem for a dream. His bodily
Memory knit together with eye-witness testimony, here tells
You his story, sings you a history, a chorus of blood sung
With words twinkling in air like asterisks. It was preceded
By a blinding flash of light, an insight that had sounded green, As in the moment is ripe, as in… GO.
We all pass with varying degrees of light.
Blossom…
Perhaps the idea began as a flower – it felt like one
At the time. One of those pretty, yellow-faced ones
With white petals. Aster. Or perhaps it started as a small star-
Like flame, a sad blue torch of forked flower in the brain.
A risky idea one might symbolize in writing: *. An asterisk
Indicated omission ((of common sense?)), redaction, doubtful matters.
Portents…
–aster: a pejorative suffix denoting something that imperfectly mimics
The true thing – a bootlegged or knock-off version, for example.
–aster is also a combining form meaning ‘star’, which implies
Anyone can be a star – anyone can shine like the popular guys
Simply by stamping aster onto their chest, by declaring, “Let me
Be light!” like in Genesis.
“dis” is a prefix meaning asunder, part, away or having a negative Reversing force, as in disability. As in disaster, which is an unfavorable
Aspect of a star, emblazoned red, as in: Kenny, the stars do not fucking
Align. As in: Kenny, this will rip your asunder, break you apart, and
Your ‘you’ will go away… but Kenny refused to see this light.
Men were slamming bone-yellow dominoes into stainless steel 4-way tables,
Hollering multiples of five and clattering their bones into position. Like built-in
Bleachers, three blocky 18-inch deep steps cut into the rim of the day-
Room’s brownish-gray concrete floor, leading down to the lower cells.
Playing follow-the-leader exercises, acrobatic men would balance
On the top-step’s ledge, lean out with upsweeping arms – then leap
To grab the tier’s floor, to do pull-ups or show-off by monkeying
Up, once their bodies stopped wobbling. Kenny used to watch them,
Wishing upon those stars…
In Carnations, A
Cautionary Tale…
Slow, fleshy red haloes spread
And overlap like Venn diagrams laid on cement,
Petaling around Kenny’s blank comatose face
As a silken illustration of the relationship
Between grace and ground.
Soundgarden…
Light is such a fickle thing. Kenny had tried to swing for it with a tottering
Leap. There was a split-second grace period. *****:
In linguistics, asterisks mark an utterance that would be censored
By native speakers of the language. Generally a fall
From grace is blackhole – interesting, especially when it’s a superstar.
We anticipate a comeback… but
With us mundane asters, there is no coming back. There
Is just a discordant ** * ***
*** ** *
** ** burst of asterisks that flap in the air
Like Kenny’s arms, or a flood of cusswords at startled bus stop pigeons.
Then silence.
The very air becomes electric with prayer, or JESUS… the name
Itself a form of intercession. Then a meaty thud
And a terrible revelation
Of Kenny’s horror obscurus, his brain a pinkish-gray
Light leaking from Kenny, after aster in brain, after Kenny-aster
On air, after air on bone, after bone on stone. Thunk, crack,
The genesis of a ravaged lack of all it means to be human. A shadow
Grows from a length of gauze wrapped round and round
A star. That was in ’97.
My dawg, his dog…
Every few minutes Kenny’s dementia seems to chase down his recent
History and tear chunks from its ass. I call Kenny my ninja, since
I’m Asian. His cane we call the Cadillac to convert limpin’ to
Pimpin; his wheelchair the Escalade for which I made a cardboard
Vanity plate that dangles from its back – to infuse his disability
With style, luxury, richness. With privilege, with ease. Nowadays
He chuckles and calls himself stuntman stumbles (in his garbled drawl)
Or Stag Lee, a fitting confusion of Bruce Lee, “staggering,” and Stan
Lee the Marvel creator. Shit’s funny, but shit ain’t funny funny.
Dark Matter…
The brain is a self-contained universe made up mostly of star-shaped
Cells: astrocytes, billions and billions of them, crackle with magic energy.
Hidden in blackness, the brain explodes with asterisks of thought.
It is the seat of language, music, motion… personality. A lump
Of grace that will shine until we die, but… sometimes
Stars flicker and wink out, entire galaxies have power outages,
And the wrinkled surface of the deep becomes void: dementia
Steals the self. It would be simpler if one just vanished
The sun – not this gradual decay into the sightless realm where darkness is
awake upon the dark.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. George Wilkerson lives on Death Row. He has been writing for some time, and it is a privilege to share his voice here. He has incredible insight and actually advised WITS in certain aspects of our organization, for which we are very grateful. Mr. Wilkerson can be contacted at: George T. Wilkerson #0900281 4285 Mail Service Center Raleigh, NC 27699-4285
In 2012, at the recommendation of a chief psychologist
tasked with addressing the declining mental health and cognitive deficiency on
Death Row, prison administrators implemented a pilot program. The first of its
kind, the project proved to be a success, stanching the oozing misery of
decades of meaningless activities while igniting an air of motivation
throughout Death Row that would not be extinguished by tabletop turnabouts and
legal letdowns. Finally, there was a
glimmer of behavior both rehabilitative and restorative from men eager to not
only divest but defy the stereotypical personas indicative of our status. Further programs were in order, and over the
next few years several classes were offered that would challenge our decision
making while enhancing our social skills by affording us merit in the Death Row
community.
One such class was Drama, a weekly therapy group in which we
convened over play scripts and films while educing our various perspectives.
Though some viewed the course unfavorably in the prison setting, others were
undeterred as we embraced the colloquial demands of Drama, where we first met
Ms. Dee, a psychologist in the prison’s mental health department. Ms. Dee was passionate about helping others
and answered the call for volunteers. She was well-spoken and witty, often
engaging us in prison jargon and disarming our leeriness by showing off her
ability to adapt. It was through her willingness to surround herself with convicted
murderers without reservation, many of us were reminded what it felt like to be
trustworthy again.
Ms. Dee had come from an artistic background, and in college
she minored in Drama, therefore she signed on to teach two programs. The Art class was thought to be an hour long period
of doodling or guys making off with supplies to barter for other desirables.
However, Ms. Dee wasn’t having it – she expected more. She assigned us
projects, lent her assistance and held us to such high standards that we found
ourselves working diligently for her affirmation. Soon we were delving into
visual graphics, dimensions and the terminology of Art. Ms. Dee even invited
her mother, a working class artist, to join us and impart her wisdom on the
subject. What an honorable gesture and show of trust and respect. It made her
more to us than just some quirky prison staffer whose goodness was infectious,
Ms. Dee was like family.
The Drama program, however, didn’t start out as promising
because of the stigma of weakness in the penal system. Many were unwilling to
compromise their image, so instead they shunned the idea. But then there were those who leapt at the
opportunity to add another layer of refinement and reform, and although it
wasn’t the most popular choice, still we were committed to Ms. Dee.
We covered plays like Antigone, the Crucible and Shakespeare’s
Hamlet with elaborate group discussions to follow, sometimes peeling the words
off the very pages and attaching them to our own personal experiences. Then we watched televised renditions of each
play and absorbed the onscreen nuances, while all along Ms. Dee had a vision of
her own to host a Death Row play.
At the mention of performing a play, I thought not only was
this woman bold and overly optimistic but also a bit nutty. Who in their right mind would put their
reputation on the line for a bunch of condemned souls? Who had that amount of confidence
and trust in men so untrustworthy?
Apparently, Ms. Dee did, and as it turned out, her confidence would not
waiver.
We did what’s called a dry read. Then she assigned roles. Afterwards, we began rehearsals. We transitioned
from on-script reading to off-script memorization until our roles became as
much a part of our identity as the red jumpsuits we wore. Ms. Dee also gave us
pointers to hone our acting chops. “Do
not break the plane of the invisible wall,” she’d say, or, “Always… always face
the audience.”
Most days she could be seen seated atop a steel dayroom
table in casual clothes and slides with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and a
steady glare behind her fitted fames as she yelled, “Enunciate! Enunciate!!!” which was quite frustrating
since most of us didn’t know what the word meant. Yet Ms. Dee was relentless, tapping into our
potential and pushing us to the brink as she often stayed late after work and
scheduled rehearsals on her days off.
On the day of the performance, we actors were still experiencing miscues. I begged Ms. Dee to postpone the production.
“But whyyy?” she chimed, her accent flush with reassurance
as she added, “You guys are so ready. You just don’t know how good you all are.
Trust me. You’ll do great.”
And as the crowds rolled in and the seats filled, still she
was unfazed, believing so much in our capabilities that soon we believed in
ourselves.
For forty-five minutes we performed Reginald Rose’s Twelve Angry Men, a play about the woeful indifference and tangled injustice of jury deliberation. Audience members sat transfixed as they soaked in our exchange. Fellow inmates nodded with admiration. And when the play was over and the last actor exited the stage, the room erupted in applause. What a tremendous feeling of validation to have others acknowledge our worth. What a sense of accomplishment to face our fears and prevail. But the ultimate reward was seeing Ms. Dee teary-eyed with pride. She never stopped believing in us.
Unfortunately, Ms. Dee experienced some challenges in the work-place
and was later relieved of her position. Shortly after, all Death Row programs, including
Drama, were discontinued. It seems that
in the great scheme of things, Death Row inmates are undeserving of redemption
and any who should dare to restore in us dignity and value shall meet removal.
Ms. Dee was impacted by a disease that seeks to morally corrupt, a tainted
prison structure that rejects good will and blatantly lends itself to
recidivism. She was inadequately cared for by those who failed to nourish her efforts,
casting votes instead for candidates who offer nothing to effect policies on
prison reform.
Ms. Dee once said, ‘Everybody needs somebody to believe in them’. In believing in us, Ms. Dee did what most never have, making true reform a reality for a short time, and for that, we will forever believe in Ms. Dee.
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
What happened after the shooting on Lantern Point Drive? Witnesses testified Charles Mamou’s driver left without him. He then jumped in their blue Lexus with Mary Carmouche in the backseat and fled the scene. Mamou has always maintained he followed his driver, Samuel Johnson, back to an apartment complex where he was staying and where the Lexus was found by police with a flat tire. Witnesses have also put Samuel Johnson driving into the parking lot prior to Mamou, although the jury never heard that.
Samuel Johnson supported the D.A.’s version, testifying Mamou drove away from Lantern Point and Johnson simply went home to sleep after the shooting, never speaking to anyone. Contradicting that testimony and unknown to Mamou or the jury, an HPD investigator faxed phone records to the District Attorney’s office indicating Johnson used his cell phone at 2:37 a.m. to call Howard Scott’s apartment – another individual witnessed in the parking lot that night.
Early in the investigation detectives heard the name Shawn
Eaglin and were so interested in his involvement, they placed him in a
photospread. (HPD Incident Report
Supplement 9).
Eaglin’s name surfaced multiple times in witness statements. One witness described investigators going to Eaglin’s home, “Last night while we were at my father-in-law’s house, Shawn Eaglin came to the house. While Shawn was there, we discussed the homicide division coming to my job, my apartment, Ced’s job (Ced is Shawn’s little cousin) and Shawn’s house.”
The witness continued, “At this time, Shawn stated that he
needed to check on a friend of his by the name of Bug. I then asked Shawn why did he have to check
on Bug [Samuel Johnson]? He never answered
why. I asked them who did they know with
a red Intrepid car. Shawn started to answer
me, but then he said, ‘No, I better not.’”
Detective Novak, in his testimony, referred to Shawn Eaglin
as the third individual he was looking at as a ‘potential suspect’.
Q. At a later time
did you look for more than one individual other than Mr. Mamou?
A. Yes.
Q. What is that
person’s name?
A. We – there was an
individual that –
Q. Can you just give
me his name?
A. Terrence Dodson.
Q. Other than
Terrence Dodson and Mr. Mamou, was there a third individual you were looking at
as a potential suspect?
A. Shawn Eaglin.
(Volume 18 of the Reporter’s Record at page 189)
Detective Novak had a thirty year career with HPD at the time. He described Shawn Eaglin as a potential suspect, yet there are no records of any interviews with Eaglin. According to Samuel Johnson’s testimony, Eaglin was responsible for connecting him with Mamou.
Q. Where did you meet
him?
A. I met him at a
friend of mine’s.
Q. And this friend’s
name is what?
A. Shawn Eaglin.
Q. Shawn Eaglin?
A. Right.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 17)
Q. And where was it
that you first met Mr. Mamou?
A. Shawn Eaglin’s
home.
Q. And this is the
same home that you just referred to as off of West Airport?
A. Right.
Howard Scott, the man who’s apartment Charles Mamou stayed in, was transported to HPD for a statement on Tuesday, December 8, 1998. That statement is not in the Incident file so we may never know what Scott told investigators that day, but Scott also mentioned Eaglin in his testimony.
When asked about the first time he met Mamou,
A. Through a mutual
friend.
Q. And that being
who?
A. Shawn Eaglin.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 123)
Q. How long have you
known Bug (Samuel Johnson)?
A. Just a few years
through – like I said, I met him through the same person, Shawn Eaglin.
Q. Shawn Eaglin?
A. Yes, sir.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 126)
Q. From between that
first time and December 6th, how many other times do you meet him or
see him?
A. Just a few other
times. Like I said, at Shawn’s house we
met. You know, that’s it.
Q. So – and this is
before the time that he comes and stays at your house?
A. Yes, sir.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 132)
Q. So, we get through
Friday. Now Saturday, are there people
coming over to your apartment while he’s there?
A. Yes, sir, Shawn
and, you know, just mutual friends that come over from time to time.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 139)
Q. You ever meet a
fellow by the name of Samuel Johnson?
A. No, sir.
Q. That’s a person
they’re referring to as Bug?
A. No, I know Bug.
Q. Did you know Bug
before you met Mr. Mamou?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. How you been
knowing Bug?
A. Through Shawn, the
same person.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 140)
Specifically describing the night of December 6, 1998, and
the apartment complex, Howard Scott testified,
A. We are outside on
the front porch.
Q. You said,
‘we’re’. Who is the group?
A. It was me, Ken,
Shawn and that’s it.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 147)
Q. Any discussion
going on between you and Shawn?
A. No, sir.
Q. Are you making any
comments to any of the people that – your company there – that Chucky and Bug
been gone for a long time?
A. No, sir.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 148)
Scott is specifically asked about his phone.
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)
According to a fax sent to the District Attorney’s office from HPD while the court proceedings were underway, Howard Scott’s phone was ringing that night. That information was not shared with the jury or Charles Mamou.
Howard again refers to Shawn Eaglin being at the apartment
complex that night.
Q. Mr. Scott, you
talked about Shawn Eaglin being there at your house with his kids for a while,
and then he left. When Shawn came back around midnight or a little after, how
long did he stay before he left again?
A. I guess about
thirty to forty minutes.
Q. So, he left again
about 12:00, 12:45 or 1:00 o’clock?
A. Yes, sir.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 152)
Repeatedly, Shawn Eaglin is placed at the apartment complex
that night.
Q. Well, when Shawn
is there, I mean, is it right at midnight?
It is 1:00 o’clock? Do you know
what time it is?
A. I can’t recall the
time.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 153)
Q. So, it could have
been anywhere from about midnight to 2:30 in the morning?
A. Yes, sir, could
have been.
Q. And when you say
he then leaves, do you say good-bye to him at your front door and you close the
door and go back to bed?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. So you don’t
actually see where he goes to at that point?
He’s not inside your apartment?
A. No, sir.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 153)
Court testimony wasn’t all that indicated Shawn Eaglin was at the apartment complex that night. A Yellow Cab employee was called to the stand during the trial and questioned about a call the company received that night. As an exhibit, he brought with him a printout from December 6, 1998.
Q. Let me hand back
to you Defendant’s Exhibit No. 9. With
regard to the call that is reflected at the bottom of that sheet, again, the
location where the call was made to the cab driver that went out to a location,
what location did he go to?
A. He went to 10800
Fondren.
Q. Was there a
particular apartment unit number?
A He was given
Apartment Number 1402. (Howard Scott’s apartment number)
Q. And the name of
the caller?
A. The caller said
his name was Shawn.
(Volume 20 of the Reporter’s Record at page 134)
The prosecutor did his best to discount that testimony and exhibit. He questioned the Yellow Cab employee about
many things.
Q. And there is no
indication by that record that anybody went to Apartment 1402, is there?
A. No.
Q. In fact, they went
to a big box? Isn’t that what there is a
notation at the side and—
A. The directions
say, yes.
(Volume 20 of the Reporter’s Record at page 136)
Q. Okay. So when a person calls in you don’t know if
they’re giving you the apartment number they’re in or they’re just giving you
an apartment number?
A. That is true.
(Volume 20 of the Reporter’s Record at page 136)
Q. I understand you
assume. Now it says a name there, Shawn.
Do you know how many Shawns live over in the 10800 block of Fondren?
A. No, sir.
Q. Do you know who
that Shawn is?
A. No.
(Volume 20 of the Reporter’s Record at page 138)
Charles Mamou has maintained he drove the Lexus from the
drug deal to the apartment complex. He also
said he later saw Shawn Eaglin leave Howard Scott’s apartment and get in a
Yellow Cab vehicle. There is very little
evidence in this case, but the little there is, is consistent with Mamou’s
recollection of events.
The D.A. tried to call into question the reliability of the Yellow Cab report, and even asked about how the phone number was recorded – which turned out to be caller I.D. The prosecutor did notask the witness about the particular number itself or share what was known about the phone number on the report. The jury never knew, nor did Charles Mamou, that the phone number requesting the cab came from inside Howard and Robin Scott’s apartment, which is consistent with exactly what Charles Mamou said he saw twenty years ago.
The jury was also not told Shawn Eaglin lived five minutes
from Howard Scott’s apartment – the exact amount of time the taxi’s meter was
running, from 4:04 a.m. until 4:09 a.m.
Harris County dominated the field when it came to racking up death sentences, and Lyn McClellan was an MVP. The case he built against Mamou was built on one man’s statement – a statement investigators knew didn’t match up to actual events and described a confession in a phone call from Louisiana when Mamou was actually in Houston.
It appears anything that contradicted that statement either
didn’t make it into the file or was removed, and anything investigators or the
D.A. knew that contradicted that statement – was not shared with Mamou or the
jury.
The fax HPD sent to the D.A. didn’t just contain a record of
Samual Johnson’s calls, it also showed phone calls from Shawn Eaglin.
There is not one record of any interview with Shawn Eaglin in the case file. He was at one time considered a suspect. He was present on the night in question. He was described as talking about investigators going to his home in a witness statement. He had his name on a cab report for a cab ordered from inside Scott’s apartment. He was referred to by almost everyone involved as the party that introduced them all. His name, ‘Shawn’, is handwritten several times in the HPD file. And he was calling Howard Scott as late as 3:12 a.m. on a Sunday night – the jury never heard that.
There comes a point when sloppy record keeping turns a corner…
Like any record of an interview with Howard Scott at HPD on Tuesday, December 8, 1998, there are no records of any interviews with Shawn Eaglin.
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
Born a ghetto child, ‘9th Ward’. Why do I smile? I still have dreams, Owning a house on Miami Beach. I had two close homies back in ’94, But now both are deceased. Look in my eyes, See what I see. Trust me, It’s not pretty. This is raw, reality T.V. Up-close and personal. My sights set On the finish line, But I’m so far behind. I’m damn near outta time. What is life really? Do I have purpose here? I thought I did As a kid Until my first crack sale Down in New Orleans. Being the crack dealer And not the crack fiend Was my ‘Amerikkkan Dream’. Go ahead and laugh! I ain’t mad. But I am mad I grew up without a Dad. I’m sad because Dude ain’t never tried And I’m confused because Dude is still alive. Hell no, I ain’t gonna cry! I’ve been through worse Shot 3 times with a 9. Laid in the hospital bed 6 days Almost dead, IV’s and nose tubes. The first 4 days I didn’t have a clue Who was you. So come on Walk in my shoes for only 1 day. I wish you would. Nah, young Homie, I don’t think you could! Let me tell you Growin’ up in the hood Ain’t all good. Forget about dat shit Your favorite rapper say in his song. For this right here is a REAL LIFE POEM!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Mr. La Caze – A.K.A. PrimeTime – was moved off Death Row not long ago, and he continues to maintain his innocence. His writing feels deeply genuine to this reader, and I hope to see more. Rogers LaCaze can be contacted at: Rogers LaCaze, Sr. #356705 CBB L/L L.S.P. Angola, La. 70712
Charles Mamou, among 48 Texas inmates sent to the state’s Death Row in 1999, has always maintained his innocence. At first glance, forty-eight sounds like an impossible number, but a closer look brings into question the integrity of the system.
Investigators knew the evening of December 6, 1998, began with a drug deal gone bad, and they got the name of Charles Mamou from two men who later testified they planned to rob Mamou that night. That same week, on Wednesday, December 9, during the second interview of a woman named Robin Scott, police learned Samuel Johnson was Charles Mamou’s ‘driver’ for the drug deal gone wrong. According to Scott, her husband told her, ‘Bug (Samuel Johnson) drove off in his car, leaving Chuck behind.’(HPD Archived Incident Report 156416498, Supplement No. 11)
Later that same day homicide detectives picked up Samuel Johnson at his apartment and brought him to the homicide office where a written statement was taken. In his statement, Johnson described the evening as more of a social event, riding around and meeting up with people – not a drug transaction in the making. According to Johnson, and in contrast to the testimony of all surviving witnesses, Mamou drove away without him. He then went home, went to bed, and heard about the incident the next day on the news.
“When I saw this on the news, I couldn’t believe that Chucky would do something like this. I was scaredand I was shocked and this is the reason that I did not tell anyone.” – (HPD Archived Incident Report 156416498, Supplement No. 12)
Samuel Johnson’s shock at the news of what took place and his apparent mistaking a drug deal for a night of innocent socializing are all that is recorded in the police department’s Incident Report regarding his involvement. Much like the other individuals involved that night, it appears Johnson was not charged with anything in relation to the death of Mary Carmouche or the drug transaction, although his memory of what happened that night is in sharp contrast to what several other people recall.
According to the testimony of Dion Holley and Kevin Walter, Samuel Johnson drove away and left Mamou behind on the alley. According to the statement of Robin Scott, she was told ‘Bug drove off in his car, leaving Chuck behind’. According to Charles Mamou, Samuel Johnson pulled off in his car – and he jumped in the Lexus that held Mary Carmouche and fled the alley, returning to the apartment complex where all the involved individuals were located and where the Lexus was ultimately located by police with a flat tire – one of the few pieces of actual physical evidence.
Samuel Johnson also said in his statement to police that he
never again saw Mamou or the Lexus after driving away from the shooting.
Johnson’s statement doesn’t just contradict the recollection
of others, he also contradicts himself in his testimony, describing the
innocent night of socializing differently in the courtroom.
Q. And what did he
tell you he wanted to do?
A. He was going to
buy some dope.
Q. And wanted you to
take him to the location?
A. Right.
Q. And what were you going to get out of the deal?
A. I was going to get
something out of it. I don’t know how
much.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 24)
Q. Tell the members
of the jury exactly what it was that y’all were going to do.
A. Go buy some drugs.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 68)
Q. Did you have some
agreement with Mr. Mamou to engage in some type of illegal conduct?
A. Yes.
Q. You knew full well
when you left to go and, in fact, throughout the day when you’re with him, that
you were going to engage in some type of illegal conduct.
A. Yes.
Q. And you realized
that conduct was a felony, correct?
A. Right.
Samuel Johnson also testified regarding what he would do if
something actually ‘happened’.
Q. And do you keep
your eyes on them the entire time, or are you doing other things?
A. I’m keeping my eye
on them at all times.
Q. Making sure that
nothing happened?
A. Yeah.
Q. What were you going
to do if something happened?
A. Probably would
have left.
Q. So, if something
had happened right there, your response would have been to leave and leave
Charles and Terrence there?
A. Yeah.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 74)
Something did happen.
The deal ended in gunfire with one man dead.
Samuel Johnson also testified regarding his own credibility.
Q. And I just want to
make sure we understand something; because when you talked to the police, you
told them a bunch of lies, didn’t you?
A. Yeah.
Q. And yet, the lies
that you tell them, they’re being told after you’ve been arrested, correct?
A. Right.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 98)
Q. Yet when you
talked to the police, you lied about – or you say now that you lied about the
Lexus’ hood being up?
A. Right.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 100)
Samuel Johnson’s testimony did mirror his original statement
in one aspect. He clearly indicated in
both that he went ‘directly home’. The
shooting on Lantern Point took place at around 12:00 midnight, which would have
him back at his apartment on Fondren at around 12:30 a.m. on December 7.
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.
Two witnesses, in two separate interviews, have described Samuel
Johnson driving into the apartment complex where the Lexus was found, followed
shortly after by the Lexus with Charles Mamou – a little after midnight. Those witnesses appear to support Charles
Mamou, who has always maintained he fled the drug deal shooting and followed
Samuel Johnson back to the apartments.
It’s unclear what, if anything, the Houston Police Department may have pursued. There are references to interviews, which include references to a written statement made by Howard Scott on December 8 among others, but no actual record of vital interviews. After in-person, as well as telephone inquiries with the records department at HPD, I was told by one employee that not all the material gets put into the file. It’s unclear who decides what gets included.
In 2007 a private investigator, Carl Deal, who reviewed the
case files noted, “Further, Samuel Lee Johnson, Jr., who was present during the
shooting, who was the driver for Charles Mamou to the drug deal, provides a
substantially false statement to police regarding the facts of the shooting.”
He goes on to say, “Samuel Johnson was not prosecuted and
later became a witness on behalf of the state.
Statements, recordings of statements, kinesic interviewing assessments
of suspects and witnesses that depict the fine details of the original
transaction and exchange of violence, as well as the disposition of Mary
Carmouche in the two days that followed the shooting remain unresolved and
unannounced.
“In short, standard police protocol requires that when
police receive information, the motive for providing the information must be investigated
as well. And then the truthfulness of
the statements should be assessed through efforts at corroboration. All
statements should be recorded in writing, tape recorded or video-taped – and
police investigators should be making professional judgments in this process
based upon their experience in the signs and symptoms of deception, speaking as
to whether statements are credible.
“A series of witnesses – key among them being Samuel Johnson,
provided statements to police and then undoubtedly later to prosecutorial investigators
or attorneys which are not present in the investigative file.”
Samuel Johnson’s testimony seems to confirm Mr. Deal’s
opinion regarding follow-up interviews.
Q. The only persons you’ve spoken to about this case since December 6th of 1998 have been police officers and prosecutors, correct?
A. Right.
Q.
And how many times have you met with police or prosecutors since
December 6, 1998?
A. Numerous times.
(Volume 19 of the Reporter’s Record at page 50)
Moreover, the proceedings for Charles Mamou’s whirlwind capital murder trial began on September 7, 1999. Actual testimony began on October 4, 1999. Unbeknownst to Charles Mamou – or the jury – Officer Bob King at HPD faxed information to Lyn McClellan at the prosecutor’s office on September 24, 1999, after the trial was underway. Included in that fax were the detective’s handwritten notes documenting Samuel Johnson placing a call to Howard Scott’s apartment at 2:37 a.m. on the evening the events took place. The jury and Mamou only heard Johnson clearly testify that he went straight home and to sleep – talking to no one. The prosecutor heard the same thing, but failed to share with the jury or Charles Mamou the fax he received indicating Samuel Johnson wasn’t actually asleep – but dialing his cell phone and trying to contact Howard Scott at 2:37 in the morning. The phone call he made was from his cell phone – not his apartment’s landline. He could have been anywhere. Unfortunately, the jury was never able to hear Johnson be questioned regarding that phone call because Mamou never knew it happened. Legal? Maybe – I’m not an attorney. Moral and ethical – I’d have to say, no.
The prosecution wrapped up its case with a powerful attack on Mamou’s character, including accusing him of an unsolved murder months previous that he was never charged with, nor given an opportunity to defend himself in. That case is unresolved to this day but it was used as a tool to sentence Mamou to death.
According to his testimony, Samuel Johnson worked for Orkin,
treating homes throughout Houston. He
described the area he worked in as the west side, out towards Katy and the
southwest part of town.
I tried to contact Samuel Johnson in preparing this post. He did not respond to my request.
Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. Anything you share with me will be confidential.
Most of my life I tried to rationalize my circumstances, believing things would be different if I had been given the ‘White Picket Fence’ dream. Instead – I’m a product of my environment. I grew up in a community plagued by gangs, violence, drugs, and HIV/AIDS. It wasn’t until I met my friend, Scott Moore, I was able to accept the path I carved out for myself.
Scott literally had a white picket fence around his home, a home fully paid for by his thirtieth birthday. He married a preacher’s daughter, and they have three beautiful children. His grandparents owned a farm, and his eyes light up when he shows me photos of riding horses with his big brother. He lived a life I wish I had, and yet he’s two cells away in this hellhole we call prison. I didn’t understand why.
It wasn’t until the day I sat listening to one of his stories about being a cable guy in East St. Louis that I found the courage to ask how he ended up in this place.
“Well, Alex,” he said, “Heroin is how I got here.”
It all started when he was just a kid, and his parents got divorced. His older brother processed the divorce with great difficulty. Scott was able to bury his feelings, but his brother turned to drugs, and it led to an opiate addiction. While his brother was entering in and out of prison, Scott was able to finish high school and found a high-paying job. He kept it together on the surface, believing he had overcome his parents’ divorce, and he couldn’t empathize with his brother. He would even go out of his way to put him down, hoping it would help him get his act together.
Things were fine in Scott’s life until one day when he went to visit his mom at her home. He found her severely wounded and his brother dead in the basement. It’s easy to see when Scott talks of this storm in his life, that it haunts him. After he dialed 911 he grabbed his brother’s pills, and his own addiction began.
He watched his mother have three surgeries on her brain and
steel plates inserted to support the damage to her skull. The pills had a
numbing effect, and he took them to keep his heart from continuing to ache. When
his mother came out of that first surgery, he was the one who had to explain to
her that her oldest child was no longer alive.
The pills led to abusing heroin because it was easier and cheaper to score, and his life spiraled out of control. He alienated himself from his family, and the relationship he had with his wife and kids suffered. He lost his job. Eventually, he was arrested for first degree murder in Madison County.
I’ve been around plenty of heroin addicts, but Scott is not
a person who fits the criteria of the average addict. Instead, I see someone who did not know how to
deal with a crisis and sought to remedy it the way his brother did, a brother
he could no longer turn to. I see
someone trying to sweep up the remaining pieces of his life by righting his
wrongs. I see someone who longs to be
with what’s left of his family. I see a
man truly sorry for the choices he made.
Scott is not only a brother to me and our close knit group of friends, he’s also a mentor in the beloved community we are building within these walls. When any of us are down, he’s able to lift us up with his light-hearted nature and wealth of pop culture knowledge. When any of us need consultation, he’s available and ready to offer his advice. He gets up every morning using his past as a driving force to make himself and others around him better.
If I had the power and resources to give someone a second chance – this person would receive it. Without knowing Scott, my own personal growth would be stagnant and incomplete. His story and how he’s endured and overcome his addiction is helping to transform the lives of those around him. No one knows the storms we’ve each been through until we take the time to get to know each other, and if you encounter someone suffering from addiction, I pray you remember Scott’s story.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. I’m happy to say Alex Negron is the winner of our first writing contest of 2020. This prompt brought out the advocate in many, and it was heartwarming. If we could all take on the practice of looking out for and speaking up for each other – the world would be a better place. Mr. Negron can be contacted at: Alex Negron R17084 Stateville Correctional Center P.O. Box 112 Joliet, IL 60434
In closing arguments, Lynn McClellan fought for the death penalty, assuring the jury that while determining Mamou’s future threat to society, they could consider things they would, “hear about his character”. – Volume 24 of the Reporter’s Record at page 6
Mr. McClellan worked under District Attorney, Johnny Holmes, whose office was unquestionably skilled at acquiring death sentences, putting over 200 people on death row.
Ms. Connors, also during closing arguments, painted a picture for jurors, “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
She used multiple adjectives to describe Mamou, arguing, “You know he will be a continuing threat.”
“He’s vicious.”
“He’s ruthless.”
“He’s cold-blooded.”
“He devastated and destroyed.”
The jury was convinced, determining Mamou should be executed, and the media ran with the sexual assault, even though Mamou was never charged with that.
Mamou could not counter the claims. Unfortunately, although it seemed unusual, the Autopsy Report did not include any mention of a rape kit being collected or any other trace evidence. There seemed to be no physical evidence found on the victim to aid in the investigation. Even her clothing was reported to have been in place, including her belt buckle.
Roger Milton was the medical examiner who performed the autopsy and was called to testify at the trial of Charles Mamou. Mr. Milton described the process of recording his findings.
A. Well, at the time of the autopsy, everything that we observe, we document on a chart, written as well as a verbal, dictation into a cassette tape. So, as we observe the appearance of the body externally, we describe it on the tape and continue to describe the entire autopsy. And that tape is later transcribed into a typewritten report form. – Volume 20 of the Reporter’s Record at page 51
Q. Is the information placed on the report made by someone who has personal knowledge of what they’re observing? That would be you, correct?
A. Yes.
Q. You have personal knowledge. You dictate your findings into a cassette recorder?
A. Correct.
Q. And it’s transcribed?
A. Right.
Q. And after you dictate your findings and the report is transcribed, do you review this report?
A. Yes.
Q. And as an assistant medical examiner, do you have care, custody, and control of the records at the medical examiner’s office?
A. Yes. – Volume 20 of the Reporter’s Record at page 51
According to the testimony, the entire autopsy is documented. So, when Mamou saw the Autopsy Report, it was apparent there was nothing found that might help in his defense. The thorough report included six single spaced pages of text describing the process, so detailed it documented where dry skin was located. What was obtained for toxicological analysis was described. A Report of Analysis of blood and urine was included. A seven-page Investigator Report was included which indicated Dr. Carter requested dentals to be done to confirm the victim’s identity. And although Mamou was accused of sexual assault by his cousin during the trial, there was no evidence to support or refute that – because it appeared no rape kit had been collected. There was no mention of it.
Or so Mamou thought until 2019. It was just last year he learned the Harris County D.A. knew one existed in 1999 and requested it be processed not long before the trial, the results to be forwarded to their office.
After a records request last year, it was found in Supplement Number 11 of Incident Report 157191298, that on Thursday, July 8, 1999 – a couple months prior to Mamou’s trial – “On this date, Sergeant Foltz received a phone call from D.A. Investigator Al Rodriguez requesting that Sergeant Foltz create this supplement and forward same to the Houston Police Crime Lab. Rodriguez advised the D.A.’s office is requesting that the rape kit obtained by the Harris County Morgue at the time of the autopsy be processed through our crime lab.”
The rape kit obtained at the time of the autopsy…
For twenty years, Charles Mamou never knew it existed, and less than a year ago he was told it did – and it has been sitting in the HPD Property Room all this time.
What other information did the rape kit contain that was withheld from Mamou for twenty years?
I contacted the Houston Police Department in an attempt to locate the results of the kit. I was told rape kit results were not kept in the Houston Police Department files, and upon further inquiries with the police department, I was ultimately told, “The rape kit results are irrelevant. Mamou was not charged with sexual assault, and he was given all that information during discovery. The opportunity to test anything is gone. That window of opportunity is closed.”
I asked the person who told me that if she considered the matter closed, and she replied, “Yes.”
Not to be deterred, I obtained the report through other avenues. The results the D.A. requested and received twenty years ago included, “Fingernail Scrapings” and “Trace Collection Items”.
Also reported, “No semen was detected on any items analyzed.” While the prosecution used ‘sexual assault’ allegations to their advantage – they had this information and never shared it with the jury or Mamou.
The jury and Mamou were also not told ‘hairs were collected from the t-shirt’ of the victim.
According to the report, included in the evidence is a “Plastic Ziploc (sealed) containing, ‘Trace Collection’ items – Not Analyzed.”
The only basis the prosecution had for sexual assault claims was Terrence Dodson’s statement claiming his cousin sexually assaulted and murdered the victim. As, shared previously, the ‘confession’ Dodson described could not have taken place the way he stated. Yet Dodson’s video statement to police – with all it’s inconsistancies investigators were aware of – seemed to have scripted the prosecution’s entire case.
Charles Mamou is out of appeals and awaiting his execution date.
Anyone with information regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net. Anything you share with me will be confidential.
TO CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
In this prison, the ‘dayroom’ is a common area where all the uncommon souls – the offender population – congregate. Most come to the dayroom to perform all manner of inconsideration, smacking tables with chess pieces, cards, dominoes, and fists of anger. Some, made mentally ill either by nature or time, wander around letting dead skin fall from their bodies to be swept down one of the many floor drains, until one day they disappear altogether.
The hapless State experiments shuffle about, carrying out a primal social dance, a continuous pecking order struggle to determine who the coolest monkey is. The players are ever-changing, but the wicked waltz remains the same, and nauseating to witness. For what humans commonly refer to as ‘lower animals’, there are reasons to build a social hierarchy, their strutting around and exhibiting odd behavior means something exciting or necessary hangs in the balance, such as food and resources or a prospective mate to ensure their genes are passed on and their lineage strengthened. But in prison we’re all provided the same amount of food and there are no mates to speak of – yet some still try.
The minutes we’re killing while witnessing this horror are marked on an unreliable, cheap Walmart clock on the wall or the bit of light that beams through the barred skylights in the ceiling and shine into our gray tomb. The sun traces the day on the bare concrete floor and moves across as the hours proceed, a primitive sundial. It’s nine a.m. so the light is about three quarters of the way down the Western wall and will move downward through the day, out across the floor, then up the Eastern wall, following a funeral procession of dead minutes. The bright sun spot a stoic observer of passive human treachery.
In the air-conditioning unit, a worn bearing sings a whirring aria, the constant sick hum of poorly maintained machinery raising the overall level of irritation in the homo sapiens exhibit, and a poor, deranged man walks in circles talking to himself. His name is Melvin, and he’s been here about 35 years. Melvin didn’t kill anyone, but he’ll die in prison. He signifies what can happen to anyone who has been locked up for a long time. Melvin walks around like a caged animal and talks to himself. He sometimes stands in the shower with a t-shirt on and argues with himself for an hour. His body was imprisoned, and his mind followed shortly thereafter. The healthy light has long since been extinguished from his eyes, his pained orbs now cloudy and gray. They could chemically lobotomize him if they cared that he was tortured by his semi-conscious psychosis. But alas, they do not care. A chemical lobotomy would only render him a quivering mound of medicated flesh, allowing him to escape the punishment he deserves. Melvin is sustained by rumors and cheap carbohydrates provided by the State. The rumors are the same as they’ve always been. They go something like, “Take heart for the times they are a changin’, and the State may be admitting that the current prison model is unsustainable.” I imagine this gives Melvin hope that he may make it aboard that change train and not have to die in this unholy scab heap.
Melvin often asks me questions and hopes I’ll reply with something to sustain him, but I refuse to provide false hope, it is cruel. Some laugh at him. I do not. I am more concerned than amused. Melvin has suffered enough, but I am also afraid that with no warning, I will begin to argue with myself. It may have already started, as people say I often appear to be whispering to myself when no one’s around. Apparently, my lips are always moving, which I had previously been unaware of. I hope its only the monotony affecting me and I’m not losing my mind. These things only exacerbate an already intense feeling of urgency that life is passing me and my friends by.
These friends I’ve grown up in prison with were children when they committed their offenses, but they have since grown into admirable men. The sometimes overwhelming sense of urgency I feel is more for them than myself. I have a light at the end of the tunnel, they do not. I don’t want anyone else to end up like poor old Melvin. I am told that life’s tough, and I can personally attest to that. Prison life is a bit harder, yet people consistently ask me what prison is like, and all I can offer is this. If you want to know what prison is, prison is being relentlessly pummeled by the guilt and shame of our offenses and constantly bombarded with the irritation of the aforementioned malcontents, defiling the closest thing I have to a home. It isn’t what some would have you believe. It isn’t Syria, but it also isn’t a nonstop party with cable TV and catered food. Its prison… It cannot be romanticized or dramatized because what it is, at its core, is ugly and shameful – a dumping ground for throwaways and undesirables.
If it’s punishment you want… mission accomplished.
ABOUT THE WRITER. Joshua King was the judges’ second place choice in our recent writing contest. He is a talented writer and was also one of a handful of Honorable Mentions in our previous contest. All the writers rose to the occasion for this prompt, and Mr. King was actually the most consistantly voted for amongst the judges, with everyone placing him in their top three. Joshua can be contacted at: Joshua King #69192 ISCC-F2-28A P.O. Box 70010 Boise, Idaho 83707
When I first met – let’s just call him Cheese – it was the year 2000, and he’d already been in solitary for twenty-something years. He looked to be in his early fifties then, and I marveled at his resilience. Every Monday through Friday he’d go outside to run and do calisthenics to stay in shape. No matter rain, sleet, snow, ninety degrees or ten, Cheese was getting his yard time. He was an inspiration to those of us beginning our time.
I never talked to Cheese, so I never knew why he was in solitary so long, but rumor had it he was involved in an attack on a guard in the 70’s or 80’s. I myself had been involved in a staff related incident so I was curious, hoping I wouldn’t be in solitary that long.
I eventually left that prison and never kept up with how Cheese was doing, but in 2017 I again found myself in a prison with him. The man I saw was a shell of the person I’d met seventeen years earlier. He was now nearly seventy years old and a completely different person, both physically and mentally. I’d heard of and experienced the affects of solitary confinement, but what I saw left no doubt what it can do to a man. Cheese was old and broken down. He was using a walking aid because his hip needed to be replaced, and as bad as his physical problems were, his mental deterioration shocked me even more. Once proud and defiant, Cheese was now delusional and had difficulty holding a conversation. When you did hear him talking, his conversations were with the birds who’d made a home inside the tarp atop the exercise cages.
At this point, Cheese isn’t a threat to anybody. There’s not one legitimate penal justification for keeping him in solitary, but sadly it appears that the Department of Corrections is just waiting for him to die. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be him in another twenty years. Right now my feeling is that I’d rather be dead than experience myself slowly wilt away. From where I stand, suicide seems the better option.
I recognize getting out of solitary and into general population isn’t the same as going home, but Cheese should be released from solitary. Let the man at least attempt to recover from the damage of long-term solitary confinement and live out his remaining years not having to be strip searched and hand-cuffed every time he leaves his cell; not having to always eat alone; not having a light on for twenty-four hours a day, making it difficult to sleep; not being forced to change cells every ninety days, making it impossible to get comfortable; not being denied access to religious, vocational, and educational services – and not having anyone but the birds to talk to. Let Cheese live out the rest of his life with some semblance of dignity. Show him some compassion and stop punishing him for a mistake he made more than forty years ago.
ABOUT THE WRITER: Sterlin Reaves is the third place winner of our writing contest. The point of the contest was for the writer to use their words to make people care about someone else – to help us walk in their shoes. He did just that. Mr. Reaves can be contacted at:
After thirty minutes and forty-one seconds of listening to a ‘confession’ that Terrence Dodson said he heard from his cousin, Charles Mamou, investigators knew they had a problem. The times didn’t fit. If they could get past the bizarre confession itself – how were they going to work with the timeline…
It appears they attempted to help him, even though the details didn’t fit what they knew to be true. At 30 minutes into the videotaped interview, and after Terrence Dodson described a lengthy ‘confession’ that took place in a single phone call…
30:41 (Switches cops)
Cop: Uh, yea real quick, from what you just told us, you said it was Monday at 1:30 Baldy took Chucky to the bus station. And then Tuesday morning he called you and he lays it all out. I wanna make sure, Chucky went back to Louisiana on the very day after he did this jacking is that right? Or what, could it have been Tuesday?
Detectives wanted Dodson to say Mamou had left Texas on Tuesday afternoon, because they knew Mamou was in Texas on Tuesday, and they also knew the ‘confession’ could not have taken place the way Dodson was describing it, but they continued to record.
It was Wednesday,
December 9, 1998. The previous day,
Tuesday, investigators had contacted Charles Mamou, Sr., who told them that he
had last seen his son, Charles Mamou, Jr., with Terrence Dodson, his
cousin. Unbeknownst to him, Mamou’s father
led police to the key witness in a case that would send his son to death row.
The same day Mamou’s father heard from police, he contacted his nephew and told him detectives had stopped by with a picture of him. And so began Charles Mamou’s journey to over two decades on death row. Terrence Dodson contacted police the same day and said his cousin, Charles Mamou, Jr., had confessed to him. Within hours the man who police were looking for in connection to a murder was in front of a camera and giving a video statement, sharing a story that couldn’t have possibly happened the way he said it did.
At that point in time, investigators were well aware that Charles Mamou, Jr., had been in Texas until some time on Tuesday, December 8, 1998. According to Supplement 9 of Incident Report 156416498, the detective who was recording the statement, Sergeant Novak, had documented what he learned the day before, ‘he and Officer Chisholm had interviewed Robin Scott at her work. According to her, she had called her apartment and the suspect, Charles Mamou, was there with her brother, Howard Scott. Robin Scott was asked to sign a consent to search for her apartment and she did.’ Novak had Robin Scott call her apartment to find out if Charles Mamou was still there on Tuesday morning. After he found out Mamou was, he called in patrol units to watch the apartment while he obtained a warrant. Sergeant Novak and the other officers in the room all knew that Charles Mamou had been in Howard and Robin Scott’s apartment until mid morning on Tuesday, December 8, 1998.
Although it turned
out that Charles Mamou left the apartment after Robin Scott’s phone call and
before police were able to surround the apartment, when they interviewed Howard
Scott, the resident, he also told officers that Charles Mamou had spent Monday
night in his apartment and had left on Tuesday morning.
Sgt. Novak was a
seasoned detective. He had worked for
HPD for nearly thirty years at that point.
And he and the other investigators had been working on this case since
Monday. They also had taken a written statement
from Robin Scott on Tuesday, in which she said, ‘When I got up this morning at approximately 4:35 a.m. I found Chucky
sitting on the couch watching television. I told him to have a good day and
wished him well on his return home.’ She
continued to say, ‘Today the police came
to my job asking about Chucky and I told them that Chucky had spent the night
at my apartment last night. I then
called my house and spoke with Howard.
Howard told me that Chucky was still at the apartment.’
While Terrence Dodson was giving his statement, detectives were also in the process of taking a statement from Anthony Trail in the next room. As Dodson was sharing his story of a confession that took place from Louisiana on Monday, Trail was in another room at HPD having his written statement recorded, ‘On Tuesday morning, Chucky called me at 9:00 a.m.’ Trail goes on to say, ‘He asked me for a ride to the bus station. I told him that I recently wrecked my car and it was in the bodyshop. I told him that I needed to take some papers to the body shop and Chucky came with me. When we left the bodyshop, we went to the bus station downtown and I dropped him off. Chucky’s bus was supposed to leave at 1:30 p.m. We got there at 1:00 p.m. I told him to call me up. I went back home.’
The only person that didn’t seem to know where Charles Mamou, Jr., was on Tuesday morning was Terrence Dodson. Unfortunately, even though police knew that, his statement and testimony became the very center of the case built to sentence Mamou to death.
At thirteen minutes
in, Detective Novak didn’t blink when Dodson said, I believe that was
Monday that day that Chuckie left at 1:30, Baldy took him to the bus station,
Greyhound. I ain’t ride with them, took them to the Greyhound bus station,
Chucky left..
It wouldn’t be surprising to anyone who knew Charles Mamou and Terrence Dodson that Dodson wouldn’t know when Mamou left town. They were cousins, but Dodson was several years younger than Mamou and Mamou wouldn’t have been communicating with him the details of his travels.
Novak continued,
‘Going where?’
TD: To Louisiana, Lafayette, I guess. Tuesday morning before day, got a call. What you heard?
At this point, Dodson proceeds to share the confession that all
the men in the room knew couldn’t have taken place from Louisiana on Tuesday
morning ‘before day’.
I’ve struggled with sharing this portion of the statement, as some of what Dodson told police was graphic. I’ve removed portions I think are not necessary to share, but I’ve had to leave in portions that I feel show just what investigators were listening to and proceeded in their investigation in spite of. If I felt the evidence supported portions of this statement, I wouldn’t include it.
Also of note, although there are several references to a sexual
assault, a rape kit was collected as well as processed and although those
results only became known to Charles Mamou two decades later – the prosecution
knew the results at the time of the trial.
That issue will be addressed in a later post.
Terrence Dodson’s telling of the ‘confession’ began at 15:10 into the video. At over 18:35, he is just getting to the drug deal gone wrong, describing an almost comical scene where Mamou and the other party were tossing a bag of money at each other.
So they went down the dark street. Dude asked Chuckie, “Where the money?” So Chuckie said, I got the money, and threw him the paper bag, or whatever. The dude threw it back. So Chuckie said, “What’s up?” The dude said, “Man take the money out, let me see it.” Chuckie said, “The money right there,” threw it back at him. Chuckie said, by that time, he seen the dude like flinch, you know, like move in his seat.
Investigators didn’t question the money bag tossing or Dodson describing somebody sitting in a seat. The drug ‘transaction’ took place behind the car, on the street, not inside the car.
At over 21 minutes into the interview, Dodson is still describing the confession in one phone call. Detectives also didn’t question the bizarre picture Terrence Dodson was describing, as he talked about Mamou driving around ‘thinking’ after he fled the scene where he had just experienced an attempted robbery at gunpoint. Although Mary Carmouche was in the car Mamou fled the scene in after his driver left him on the dark alley, the investigation never turned up any sign of struggle within the vehicle. At the time of Dodson’s interview, the vehicle had been located at the apartments on Fondren where Mamou had been staying. The car had a flat tire and a window shot out. The drive from the location of the drug deal at midnight on Lantern Point Drive to the apartment complex on Fondren would have taken about twenty minutes, give or take.
At 21:17 into the interview, TD: So, he burnt off with the girl or whatever, and he said, he was riding around, just riding around thinking. Said the whole time the girl was all scared or whatever and he kept telling her, “Calm down, calm down, I’ma let you go, I’ma let you go, just calm down, but before he let her go he asked her, you know, “You gonna suck my dick?” And the girl said uh, he said she asked him, “How much you gonna pay me?” and he said, “I can tell you $10, you know.” But the girl was like, “Nah, I ain’t finna suck your dick for under $300, or whatever.” So he’s like, “Alright, well then, that’ll work.” But he also told me, you know, after she did that, he went on and put his drop, she screamed, he said how he felt like crying and all that.
Detectives didn’t question how bizarre it sounded for Mamou to be driving around ‘thinking’ after fleeing a drug shooting in a shot up car with a girl inside, a broken out window and a damaged tire. They didn’t question what had to sound like very strange behavior on the part of Charles Mamou as well as Mary Carmouche, as they listened to the man describing a ‘confession’ that took place in a phone call that they knew didn’t happen.
There has never been evidence of a sexual assault, nor was there any indication that a physical assault of any kind took place inside the car. Yet, the District Attorney repeatedly used Terrence Dodson’s story of a sexual assault to inflame the jury. So much so that news articles often report Charles Mamou was charged with sexual assault. He wasn’t. In reality, there is not a shred of evidence that indicates that Charles Mamou even touched the victim. The D.A. knew that. The only person who ever referred to a sexual assault was Terrence Dodson in a statement he gave – that investigators knew was not based on the facts as they knew them.
The odd statement continued with Terrence Dodson at one point claiming Charles Mamou was planning on killing several other people, including Dodson.
At 23:18 into the interview, DN: Did he tell you their names?
Terrence Dodson then told detectives two names and continued, “He didn’t say that last one and that shit spooked me, I said, man, he was talking about me. So I played dumb with it. I was like, you know what I’m saying, man you need go on and chill out.
Terrence Dodson then begins to share a story that police, once
again, have full knowledge can’t be true.
TD: So I was like, “Man,
you need to calm down,” His exact word
was, “Nah, fuck that. Look I am coming down there, and I will be there at 1:00
in the morning and when I beep you and put 3,1,80 and the time, that mean I’m
at the bus station. See if you can find me a ride. So I am like alright, but shit I turned my
beeper off, you know what I’m saying, and that was it.
24:11
DN: What day was this that he was coming down?
TD: This was uh, he told me this yesterday, for this morning, one
in the morning.
DN: Tonight he was coming in?
TD: Nah, Nah, yesterday.
DN: He was going to be in at 1:00 this morning, Wednesday
morning?
TD: Yes, yes.
Investigators knew that Charles Mamou had left Texas on a bus at 1:30 on Tuesday afternoon – and yet Terrence Dodson was telling them that Mamou had called him on Tuesday morning from Louisiana ‘before day’, confessed, and told him that he was coming into Houston on a bus on Tuesday, and would be arriving at 1:00 a.m. in the morning on Wednesday – to kill several more people. It made absolutely no sense that Charles Mamou would get on a bus at 1:30 in the afternoon in Houston, go to Louisiana and get on another bus and come back to Houston by 1:00 a.m. in the morning to murder three people, but investigators chose not to address that.
At thirty minutes in, they again try to get the days correct,
although it ultimately doesn’t matter because Charles Mamou never sees this
video, nor does the jury.
30:41
(Switches cops)
Cop: Uh, yea real quick, from what you just told us you said it was Monday at 1:30 Baldy took Chucky to the bus station. And then Tuesday morning he called you and he lays it all out. I wanna make sure, Chucky went back to Louisiana on the very day after he did this jacking is that right? Or what, could it have been Tuesday?
31:13
TD: I’m gonna be honest with you, now I’m not really sure but if
I’m not mistaken I believe it was Monday when he left. Cause like I said after
we picked him up from Fondren, now I made him drop me off and that was that, I
ain’t ride with him or nothing. Like I could be mistaken, it might have been
Tuesday.
31:44
Cop: Ok, but he called you on Tuesday, and said I am going to be
coming in at 1:00 A.M. Wednesday
morning to the bus station and I’ll page you then.
TD: Today is Wednesday right?
Cop: Today is Wednesday.
TD: Okay, then, that was last night. He said he was going to come
in last night at 1:00 in the morning.
Cop: Last night at 1:00 in the morning, so he would have called you on Tuesday and told you that.
TD: Yeah, that he is gonna be in at 1:00 A.M. in the morning.
32:10
Cop: 1:00 in the morning, Wednesday morning. So he definitely left
the day before which would be Monday. Is that correct?
TD: Yeah, he must’ve, he had to leave on Monday.
Cop: Ok. He had to leave on Monday?
The entire time the investigators are asking these questions, they know that Charles Mamou left Houston, Texas, on a bus at 1:30 in the afternoon on Tuesday, December 8, 1998.
Charles Mamou never saw the interview that his cousin gave to police. Dodson not only told police that Mamou had sexually assaulted and murdered Mary Carmouche, he also told them he had killed several other people on different occasions.
Dodson also wrote to Mamou more than a month later, while Mamou was in prison. At the time, Mamou didn’t know anything about the statement his cousin had given, and the jury never saw the letter, but in it Dodson wrote, “I’m glad you didn’t tell me shit about that cause I don’t wanna know shit, I feel better off that way.”
Although the jury never saw the letter or the video statement, they did get to hear Dodson’s testimony, which was not consistent with his statement.
What Terrence first told police was a confession from Mamou that took place in one phone call from Louisiana became quite different after several months and also several visits with the District Attorney.
Q. Now, when
you are having this conversation with the defendant later on – says, ‘Later on
I spoke with Charles’ – are you face to face?
A. Yes.
Q. Where are you?
A. On the porch.
Q. Whose porch?
A. Stephanie’s porch, my sister.
Q. Now you gave a whole lot of information in response to the prosecutor’s
questions about conversations you had with Charles and go into detail about the
jack on jack and these guys with a Bible. There was a shoot-out and goes into
detail about where the people were shooting and everything. And then, also
talking about the girl had been shot, that they had been outside. And he asked
you about talking with Detective Novak, and she supposedly had performed oral
sex on him. When do you get that information? What time is that?
A. I don’t really recall. I got, like I said, bits and pieces in person.
Q.
Is it one conversation or several?
A. It was several.
Q. Over what period of time?
A. I don’t really recall, a couple of days.
Q. So, it’s not just Monday, it’s Monday and Tuesday?
A. To the best of my knowledge, yeah.
Terrence Dodson’s odd story
is what became the foundation of the Harris County District Attorney’s
case. Everything from his story of
murder, to a sexual assault, to other murders that Dodson accused Mamou
of. Yet, from day one, they knew the
information he was sharing could not have taken place.
Anyone with information
regarding this case can contact me at kimberleycarter@verizon.net.
Anything you share with me will be confidential.
TO
CONTACT CHARLES MAMOU:
Charles Mamou #999333
Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53
3872 South FM 350
Livingston, TX 77351
