This blog is not a commentary on the shootings that have occurred. It is my story about what happened to us. It is a true story that could have had many different outcomes. People make decisions daily. Some decisions are good and some are bad. Sometimes we live and die by our choices. Tommy and I are lucky nothing bad happened to us; because we were wrong in the first scenario and in the second story I was misunderstood and thankfully the policeman took an extra chance on me. If I had been shot, it would have been my fault because I did not follow either officer's instructions.
The first time we had a close call was in St. Louis years ago. We were on a trip to Kentucky to pick up some furniture from my grandmother's home. She had recently passed away. Rick Ballard, one of our forever friends, offered to take us home. We were in his truck and pulling a sixteen foot trailer down I-70 driving ninety to nothing. A patrolman flipped on his lights and pulled us over. We looked like three dirty bums. We had moved furniture all morning at my home to make room for the furniture we were bringing back from Kentucky. Since Tommy and I both worked the night before, we were getting close to the 'slap happy' stage of being tired. Our appearance was a little on the rough side. Tommy and I were dressed in ratty jeans, flannel shirts and boots. My hair was long, curly and windblown...scary at best. Rick had a long beard and also wore dirty jeans. When I think of how we looked, the movie "Deliverance" comes to mind. ( Geez...I can hear those banjo's playing now.) The patrolman asked Rick to walk back to his patrol car with him. He asked us to stay in the truck.
Both men were still standing by the patrol car twenty minutes later. For some stupid reason, Tommy and I decided to get out of the truck and see what was going on. Somewhere during the past twenty minutes we forgot the cop asked us to please 'stay in the truck.' As we walked toward the back of the vehicle, the patrolman asked us to "Get back in the truck". We continued to walk toward the two men and once again the patrolman said, as his hand briefly went toward his gun, "For the last time get in your truck." Suddenly getting in the truck seemed like a good idea. I hate to think what might have happened if I had reached for my cell phone in my jeans pocket...or if we had continued to walk toward the officer.
There was no way the patrolman could know that Rick was a minister, I was a Sunday school teacher and Tommy was a corrections officer and former police officer. All he saw was a speeding truck with a broken signal light and three rough looking characters who would not follow instructions. This story could have played out many different ways.
Several years later, another 'situation' occurred. I was working the 11-7 shift at the state hospital. Returning to work from my 2 a.m. break, I was driving my mother's beautiful 91 Grand Marquis to work for the first time. I was also swerving to avoid potholes in the road while I carried on a mental conversation with my mother. It went something like this. " Vicky Kay, slow down and don't hit any more potholes. My car isn't used to this kind of driving!" If you are from the South and the middle name is used...you know you are in trouble. From out of nowhere lights appeared and a local cop pulled me over. Since I was swerving to miss the pot holes he thought I was drunk. It only went downhill from there.
The policeman got out of his car and asked me to roll down my window and give him my driver's licence. I couldn't roll down my window because the automatic window button did not work. That was a heck of a time to find this little fact out. By then another patrol car appeared and stopped at an angle in front of me. He was talking to the officer and so was I. I kept my purse in the back seat. It was easier for me to grab my purse and lock the car when I returned to work. The patrolman didn't know this. He later told me he really thought I was drunk. First, I tried to get out of the car so I could get my purse. Evidently he did not hear that I could not roll down my window. Once again, he asked for my driver's licence and once again, I could not reach it. He insisted I roll down my window...I couldn't. He also insisted I stay in the car. So I turned around and tried to get my purse from the back seat. That is when the back door flew open and the cop wanted to know what I was trying to do. The other cop was now by my front window. Finally, I could explain the whole mess to him...face to face...sort of. I asked him to look in my purse and check my license if he needed to. By now he knew I wasn't drunk. He handed me my purse and I retrieved my license for him. I think I told him my whole life story and all about Mama. He was laughing out loud...so was the other cop. Me.. not so much, I knew I would be late getting back to work and I would have to explain this whole mess again. The officer was a nice man and even refused to look through my purse, seeing my license satisfied him. His exact words were, "Lady, I don't even get in my wife's purse...much less yours!!"
He told me to watch the pot holes, which started my story of Mama and her car and how she took care of it. He started laughing again and told me to go to work before he got fired!!
And I did just that!! This whole thing could have gone South really fast. Thankfully, it didn't. Policemen never know who they are pulling over for sure. It is always a risk for them. I was doing the best I could with a bad situation however, the cop did not know this at first. I looked like I was not complying with his requests. I also sounded like an idiot!! Sad but true. I was late getting back to work. Everyone I worked with was pissed at me because I had messed up the breaks. The patients, who refused to sleep at night, thought the whole story was hilarious. One insane woman thought the cop should have shot me!! She went to bed laughing saying, "I'd a shot you for sure". Immediately, I reread her chart. She was right...she would have shot me.
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