Trooper Down! Read Online Free Page A

officer.
    Reece laughs and looks at his watch. It’s nearly 2:00 A.M.  and he’s only brought in one drunk driver tonight. Still, he expects to hit triple figures soon, when he arrests his one hundredth drunk driver for the year. That makes him feel good.
    It is Farmer’s turn at the breathalyzer and Reece completes the paperwork while the sergeant explains to Farmer that he has the right to refuse the test, the right to call an attorney or to have another witness on hand. Most people waive these rights when they realize the delays will wind up costing them more time and money. Farmer agrees to take the test.
    At an adjoining table is a short, slender man, early twenties, wearing glasses, jeans, and a sleeveless black T-shirt. He was at a bar when a friend convinced him to go to a restaurant and bring back some food. On the way, he was stopped by a sharp-eyed trooper and arrested for drunk driving. The breathalyzer shows a .14 score, four points above the North Carolina legal limit. He will automatically lose his driver’s license for the next ten days and, if convicted, could have his license suspended for up to a year.
    He is shaking his head over the news.
    â€œMy wife is gonna hate me for the rest of my life,” he moans. “She’s gonna kick my ass. I can’t believe I did this.”
    No one appears to be listening.
    Reece is intent on watching the sergeant complete the first half of Farmer’s test.
    â€œI say at least .14,” he predicts.
    â€œUmm, maybe,” the sergeant responds. “With this guy’s size, he’d have to drink a case of beer and a pint of liquor before it would even tell on him.”
    Farmer looks dejected.
    â€œI’ve got to quit this drinkin’,” he says. “It’s killin’ me.
    â€œI’d like to stop,” he adds softly.
    He scores .13 on the breathalyzer.
    â€œCan you come to court on the twenty-second?” Reece asks him. Farmer nods.
    â€œThen let’s talk to the magistrate and get your bail set. As long as you can post bail and get someone to pick you up
who isn’t drunk, 
you’re free to go.”
    â€œHow much is it gonna cost me?” Farmer says.
    â€œThat’s up to the magistrate,” Reece replies.
    Half an hour later, the legalities complete, Farmer is on his way to find a phone.
    For Reece, hours away from the end of his shift, the night is still young. So far, everything’s been normal . . . even quiet. Yet that is subject to change, and quickly, as every state trooper well knows.
    Just ask Louis B. Rector.

1. “Am I Gonna Die?”
    â€œIt’s always in the back of your mind. You use all the precautions you can, but when you’re out on the road alone, you’re vulnerable. And there’s not much you can do about it.” —
Patrol sergeant
    Trooper Louis Bryan Rector almost didn’t make it into the highway patrol.
    Bom in the small coastal town of Elizabeth City, North Carolina, he tried to join the N.C. State Highway Patrol after high school, but failed to pass the entrance exam. For a while he forgot about his yen to be a trooper, went on to complete college with a degree in drafting and design, and took a job in Suffolk, Virginia, at the Highway Department, drawing road plans.
    One day he got a call from a highway patrol sergeant who said that Louis could take the entrance exam again. This time he passed and was accepted at the patrol academy in Chapel Hill.
    But it was 1970 and the Vietnam War, like a bad case of flu, was hanging on, spreading its virulence. Several days after Louis found out he could join the patrol, he received notice that he had been drafted into the army. Again, he put his plans for becoming a trooper on hold, and enlisted in the Air Force. He spent the next three and a half years stationed in Las Vegas, Nevada, all the while thinking of the North Carolina Highway Patrol.
    â€œI’m not sure what it was