The Carolina Cuckoo

By Courtney Ray Mitchell

Carolina Cuckoo was written from the point of view of a mentally ill person. It shows one man’s struggle. It documents the problems and persecution of the mentally ill. It shows a legal system that has no sympathy for the mentally ill. It shows the brutality of prison life. It also shows how the encouragement from family, friends, and members of the clergy helped in survival. It is a story of hope. It is a story of faith in God. This book is dedicated to the author’s mother.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662473937

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The Carolina Cuckoo

Courtney Ray Mitchell

Copyright © 2022 Courtney Ray Mitchell

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-7390-6 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-7393-7 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

About the Author

My name is Courtney Ray Mitchell, and this is my story. I am the Carolina Cuckoo. This is a story of dealing with mental illness, prejudice, and a corrupt legal system. I write this from a prison cell. This is a wild tale. It is a story fit for Hollywood, yet it occurred in the deep south and as far north as Kentucky. I write this to inform and shed light on the misunderstanding and to document from the point of view of the mentally ill. This is a true story supported by documented facts. Let us begin with my birth and childhood.

I was born to Ann and Tommy Mitchell on November 27, 1972, at the Easley Baptist Hospital in Easley, South Carolina. My mom was a school teacher, and a controversy was started in her career by my birth. I was destined to cause ripples through time. I will explain more about that later. My father was a service technician for a hospital/lab equipment provider. He was also a farmer. Surviving his farm was a feat for me and later for my brothers. I will tell that tale perhaps another time. We lived on fifty acres in Pelzer, South Carolina, which is about twenty minutes or so from Easley. On the way home from the hospital on that cold, rainy November night, my father hit a black cow that was standing in the road barely four hundred meters from our farm. As I said, I was destined to cause ripples in time.

I had a happy childhood. My parents were loving, and my mom worked with me, by reading to me, playing games with me, etc. My dad spent a lot of time and played with me and showed me nature. One of my first memories was of my great-grandfather and my grandfather. I was blessed to have them in my life. They took me blackberry picking and fishing. I remember being two and throwing a chicken leg across a restaurant. My dad corrected me, and I never threw food again.

My brother, Hardy, came when I was two and a half. I really liked having a brother. Two and a half years later, my brother Scott was born. The three of us lived in an awesome state of innocence and clean living on the farm. It wasn’t until I went to kindergarten that I experienced difficulty fitting into the world. At the same time, the controversy that became Mitchell v. Pickens Board of Education was still waging and had been since a little before my birth. I will touch on that more during my first-grade story.

Kindergarten was strange to me. I was five years old and already reading at a third-grade level. I was mainly bored. I hated taking naps on rubber mats with a bunch of strange children. My teacher made me go to therapy and told my mother that I would be slow to develop mentally because I could not skip too well.

My mom consulted the principal. As it happened, my principal was also our neighbor, church family member, and friend of the family who also was a babysitter for me and my brothers. Having babysat me since my birth, Elizabeth Betsy King Griffith told my mom that she would set up a parent-principal-teacher conference. Mom and Betsy told the teacher she was way off base because I had been tested by Clemson University for an IQ and reading test. I had an IQ of 140 and a reading level of third grade. Betsy also pointed out that she could not skip well and she was a principal.

First grade brought a pretty new teacher and my first crush. It was also the end of Mitchell v. Pickens Board of Education. My mother was fired from a Pickens County School for being pregnant with me. Before her case, there was no maternity leave for teachers. She won her case while I was in first grade. They asked me what I thought of the case.

I said, The seat was uncomfortable, and it was boring.

I won’t bore you with all my school years. I got into my share of trouble. I got into my share of fights. I did well in school and graduated from high school taking college preparatory classes. I had many good friends. I ran track and cross-country. I dated a lovely lady whom after college I married. While still in college, I joined the United States Army National Guard. I graduated college and finished my United States Army National Guard Military Police training. It was after this when signs of my mental illness came up. After graduating college, I got my applications back from the law schools I had applied to. I got denied by all the schools. I did not have the grades nor the LSAT scores to get in. I was crushed. My goal had been to be a United States Army Judge Advocate General Lawyer. One of the reasons I had joined the United States Army National Guard was to pay for law school. I was already committed to the United States Army National Guard Military Police. I was determined to graduate from Military Police School. I graduated from Military Police School and caught the law enforcement bug.

I worked security and even an armor truck for a while. I tried to sell insurance for a while. I was applying for law enforcement jobs everywhere. At one agency, I got far enough in the process to take the psychological test. I failed. I was miserable. This is where I think the first signs of my mental illness were apparent. That psychological test was one thing, but I was also up and down. I was reckless with money. I drank heavily. I had a good roommate for some of this period. He was my roommate in college and had become my good friend. He was a big help. We moved in with two other men to pool our resources. I could not get along with one of them. Something had to give, and it did.

I got a job as a correctional officer with the South Carolina Department of Corrections. I had a stable job and moved out on my own. I got married. I was happy but restless. I took a side job chasing bail bond jumpers. I was drinking and staying out all the time. I kept applying for Federal law enforcement jobs. During all of this time, I was still in the United States Army National Guard. I tried to move up the ranks there by going to officer training school. I failed out of school. This setback crushed me. Later I witnessed something while working at the prison that would give me nightmares. There was also corruption among guards and administration that I just could not be around. I finally left the Department of Corrections.

I tried my hand working as an undercover operative for a private investigator. The PI did the industrial investigation. I worked at a place that wanted to know what they could do to keep their workers. I only worked in that operation for a few months. I was not offered any other operations. I went back to working security and chasing bail bond skips. I finally caught a break and got a job with the South Carolina Department of Probation, Parole, and Pardon.

I was happy as a probation agent. Yet this would not last long. A friend of mine and I got into an argument with another coworker during