Chapter 1: OUTER LIMITS

It was about 9:30 p.m. on that Saturday night. I was on routine patrol duty in one of the out-lying districts of the city of New Orleans. It had been an awfully hot, August day. I was glad to see the drop in temperature that darkness afforded, even though it was only a few degrees.

I saw a car with the headlights turned off coming down the middle of the road. It was moving fast and headed straight towards me. My reflexes acting spontaneously, I jammed down on both brakes and pulled over to the curbside just as the car sped past. Slapping my machine into first, I spun around. The dragsters would have been proud of my burning rubber for two blocks.

The car was large and powerful having passed me at a fast clip. With a considerable lead on me, the car suddenly turned off the main street onto a shellcovered, dirt road and headed back into the boondocks. The driver knew that the moment I turned onto the road I would have to slow down because of the clouds of dust. When I made the dirt road, the dust was so heavy that I had to reduce my speed considerably. However, I knew that it would ultimately work to my benefit because wherever he went he would leave a dust trail.

Presently, I came to a dead-end noticing that the car I had been pursuing was parked behind a large tree. The car was empty and all of the buildings in the vicinity were dark. Across the street I spotted a barroom. I knew that the driver had to be in that barroom. Unthinkingly, I jumped off my machine and charged into the bar making demands that the owner of the car step forward. When I discovered that I had walked into a trap, it was too late. It seemed my visit was anticipated since upon my entrance about thirty-five or forty people jumped me, pinning my arms to my side causing me to be unable to reach my weapon. With the bartender urging them on, one man left to get a rope. They discussed how they would dispose of my body and formulated a plan of hanging me on the large tree outside the bar. One man in the crowd tried to talk them out of it and I immediately agreed with him. My plan was to stall for time, time to let them think, hoping they would realize just what they were doing. The ploy did not work.

Meanwhile the bartender continued to prod them. Finally the man came back with the rope. As they were leading me from the barroom, we had to pass through the front door which was not very wide. Three people could pass through the door at the same time. When I entered the barroom, I left my motorcycle with my motor running parked next to the door. As we passed through the door, the crowd thinned and I was able to work my right hand free. Passing by the machine, I grabbed the microphone and called for help over the radio. Then, a most strange thing happened. An unknown force filled the mob's hearts with fear and they scattered in all different directions. I jumped on my motorcycle and took off just in time to hear the radio dispatcher come back to me with, "Unit calling.......Change your location.......I'm unable to read your signal."

This was just one of a score of such incidents in which I have been involved as a police officer during my career. So many times I stepped to the brink of total disaster only to have some invisible hand pull me back. Each time I would breathe a sigh of relief and say how "lucky" I had been. Now, as I look back over that long career, I can see with great clarity the hand of God as He moved upon my life to manipulate the circumstances so that I might be here today to deliver this message to you.