I find it hard to express what solitary confinement is, knowing what I explain may be totally different from another’s experience. There are situations in solitary confinement that are less harsh than other situations, where someone might have TV, an in-cell shower, better food, phone access and other means to communicate daily. Here in Texas, we don’t have shit.
I cannot begin to fathom where I would be mentally if I didn’t have the luxury of having caring family and friends to support me through this quarter-of-a-century’s incarceration. No doubt those who are committed to being in my life are the glue of stability for me, but even I know it takes me… more of me… to maintain sanity.
I’m often conflicted on whether or not to explain to my family and friends, being honest and raw, my existing conditions – if I told the nuts and bolts operations of solitary confinement, would it be mentally constructive for either of us?
Early on in my unjust prison term, not being home during traditional celebrations, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, would be an indescribable emotional pain. I used to hold myself with my own arms at night to go to sleep, craving the human comfort of another.
I’ve been stabbed by a deranged inmate while I was escorted to the shower by an officer. I’ve had roaches and insects crawling in the ‘food’ officers pass out. When I complain I am greeted with a ‘human-disconnect’ by officers who feel I should be grateful to be given anything. I’ve had to do things on my own while handcuffed behind my back, like put on my shoes or grab things to get to the shower, as if Texas DR inmates are Superhuman Inmates. I’ve had to deal with racism on all levels by officers and inmates. Yearly, we are promised additional activities to our daily existence, yet all they do is continue to take and take things from us, adding nothing. Psychological games from their playbook on how to mentally abuse us are implemented daily. In the summer time the heaters have been switched on. In the winter the A/C has been at full blast. I recall one winter putting on every piece of clothing I had, including two pairs of socks on my hands, and socks and boots on my feet.
Bad press, truthful or not, adds to the mental anxiety we go through when an appeal is denied. We have to then explain the situation to our loved ones, that we have inched closer to an execution date. It’s like being resurrected, only to be killed all over again.
Redundancy is a constant, and too much can be the asphalt one walks on into the realm of insanity. For me, doing the same thing as a way of programming myself to stay busy is a necessity, not a madness. But I still must be creative. I have a make-shift basketball goal that is nothing more than a small brown bag with its bottom cut out and taped to the top of the cell’s door. I then construct a faux-basketball out of a sheet of paper that I crumple up in a ball, then wet it, and leave it to dry for a day until it is hard. I then get encased in my own personal metaverse where I am a college star adored by screaming fans, or I will imitate NBA athletes who play games on their way to a championship. I can get lost in this act for hours, hours that I am not mentally aware of my cell’s surroundings. The draconian reality is absent for a while.
I suppose the most brutal and chaotic experience in solitary confinement on Texas Death Row is finding yourself sitting. Watching the walls. Pacing the floor back and forth, five steps forward, four steps back – for hours, unaware of time, as one tends to converse with themselves, trying to rationalize the isolation, worries and stress. People advise me not to worry, “Worrying will only lead to stress, which you do not need.”
What they don’t realize is that isolation is the creator of worry and stress. How can it not be? It’s unavoidable. You realize that – there’s no one to call. No one to share a laugh or tear with. No one who can understand what, for me, is understood.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Charles “Chucky” Mamou is a long-time WITS writer, so I couldn’t be happier to say he came in third place in our most recent writing contest regarding solitary confinement. But there is more to his story.
Charles Mamou and his case inspired me, personally, to go back to school, become a private investigator and also pursue a degree in social work. What I learned from Charles Mamou, and what is abundantly clear and documented in his case – is that people can be sent to death row in cases where the prosecution does not share all of the relevant and available evidence with the defense.
For example, among a number of questionable actions taken in Mamou’s case, the prosecution was aware physical evidence was collected from the victim and the prosecution not only knew this, but had the evidence processed. Mamou had no idea that physical evidence existed and exists – until it was recently discovered. He should have been told that a quarter century ago. There are other issues as well. Phone records that were not shared with him. Those records contradict the testimony of key prosecution witnesses. Yet, Charles Mamou is waiting to be executed and out of appeals. You can read more about Mamou’s case and sign a letter requesting an investigation – please add your name to his petition.
Charles Mamou can be contacted at:
Charles Mamou #999333
Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53
3872 South FM 350
Livingston, TX 77351
