“Chuckie was talking to a white gentleman in a white car…Chuckie had his arms folded and he was talking to this guy and I just seen hand gestures,” friend Chris Panaczek said. They all had to grow up and realize the world can be evil and grossly unfair. One by one, the children of this once idyllic street got word that their friend was dead. Others had just seen him, talked with him, and jumped ramps on their bikes. A few children had heard the shot and saw the car speeding away from Chuckie’s lifeless body. Word spread quickly up and down Burns Drive where Chuckie lived in Warner Robins. This was a small Georgia town where everyone knew each other and felt safe. He was found holding candy he had just bought in his hand. on February 17, 1986, Chuckie Mauk was shot and killed in a parking lot of a bowling ally, near the convenience store he went to.
In a flash he was on the road, pedaling his bike to the store.Īt 8:15 p.m. This was not an unusual request by Chuckie. She said yes, without even turning around. Chuckie asked if he could ride his bike up to the store to buy candy. He had a ton of friends.ĭinner was done and Chuckie’s mom was washing dishes. He even told his mom to save him her emerald ring because one day he was going to give it to Chanda. He was not shy about telling his friends how much he loved Chanda. He rode all over the neighborhood on that bike. The friends of Chuckie Mauk can all tell you without hesitation where they were when they heard he had been shot, murdered.Ĭhuckie was just 13 years old. It takes its power to make certain that where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with all remind crystal clear. Every event was influential and indelible. Your first date, first kiss, first home run, and first loss all happened right there with those people on those streets. Those amazing people, strictly by geography, shape your life. I have not lived there in forty years but the people and places are vivid and powerful.Īs I listened to Chuckie Mauk’s friends talk and hear them recall streets, parents, and little league teams, I am transported back to my own childhood, and the streets, houses, schoolyards, and people. I could today drive down my childhood neighborhood street and name every child that lived in every house. They are few better memories than the ones spent with your friends, best friends. There is nothing that takes the place of childhood memories. During the 1980s, kids played outside with each other while a dad worked on a car, and mom planted flowers. As they talked, I could envision the streets, houses, and yards. And everybody genuinely loved each other.
Everybody’s momma would correct you if you got out of line. They were transported right back to the little streets lined with azaleas and dogwood trees.Įverybody knew each other. As they talked about their old neighborhood in Warner Robins, Georgia, they reminisced about building bike ramps and playing at each others’ house. They were so happy to hear each other’s voices. There was Jason, Chanda, Bonni, Chris, Becky, Rich, Zandra, and others. Each friend that joined announced their name and within minutes, a heartfelt reunion started. One morning, as I joined in as a guest on “Crime Stories with Nancy Grace,” I was waiting for the episode to start, when, one by one, Chuckie’s childhood friends called in. Nancy Grace invited me to join her in this case.
One case that moved me to the point I had to write this story is the cold case of Chuckie Mauk. During the pandemic quarantine, I have been working cases. Knowing you can always count on me, for sure It was 1986 and the number one song in America was “That’s What Friends Are For.”
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