Trooper Down! Read Online Free PDF

an orange hat, then realized that what he had seen was a thick, curly mop of reddish hair.
    Neither the man nor his passenger spoke, moved, or turned around. The trooper felt a sudden stab of fear.
    â€œDriver! Put your hands up on the steering wheel!” Louis demanded.
    Without warning, the man turned and fired a single shot from a .22-caliber revolver. The bullet passed through the half-opened back window and struck Louis in the left side of the chest, glanced off a stainless steel pen in his shirt pocket, and entered his lung.
    Staggering backwards, he fell to the ground, then got up and ran between the patrol car and the Cadillac. Grabbing his .357 Magnum, he intended to fire at the driver, but as he reached up to aim, he saw the passenger get out of the car and aim a .22 revolver at him. The man fired six times, hitting Louis in the upper left leg, right knee, and right side of the stomach. Seconds later, he jumped into the Cadillac and the car sped away.
    Bleeding heavily but still conscious, Louis managed to fire all six rounds from his gun. Two bullets shattered the Cadillac’s back window, but missed both occupants.
    Alone now and seriously hurt, Louis struggled to return to the patrol car radio that would link him to help. On the pavement behind him lay his hat and the flashlight, along with the scattered remains of numerous .22 shells.
    Crawling towards the safety of the patrol car, he was engulfed with a sense of shock and anger. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he looked down. There was little pain from the wounds but he could see thick red stains seeping across the front of his shirt and trousers. Afraid to examine himself further, he concentrated on getting his gun back into its holster.
    Despite his condition, his first thought was, “I have to get my gun back where it belongs.” Over and over he tried replacing the weapon, but each time, the empty holster on his hip swung round and round.
    Finally, still holding the gun, he picked up the radio.
    â€œSignal 25, Newton,” he gasped into the mike (I need immediate assistance). “This is F-138. I’ve been shot.”
    â€œTen-four,” the telecommunicator responded. “Can you give us a description of the vehicle and the direction it was traveling?”
    Louis provided what details he could and in turn was reassured that help was on the way.
    Convinced he could help himself, Louis turned the wheel of the patrol car and started east on the interstate, unaware in his state of shock that he was driving in the westbound lane. The last thing he remembers was slamming on the brakes as the guardrail rushed towards him. It was 1:36 A.M.
    Less than a mile away, John Angley and his wife were sound asleep when the police scanner next to their bed relayed a message that a highway patrol officer needed assistance on Interstate 40 near Dysartsville Road. An emergency medical technician and paramedic for the McDowell County rescue squad, Angley was on call as a “first responder” to any crisis that arose within his district during the night.
    Without a word, he got up, dressed, and was out the door. Randall Brackett, McDowell County fire chief, and Bruce Gwyn, another local fire fighter, had also responded to the call. All were en route to Louis at about the same time.
    Angley and Gwyn arrived at the scene simultaneously. As they ran towards the patrol car, both men noted it was stopped in the wrong lane, with all four headlights burning. The blue light, sitting atop the dashboard, was still spinning, and a blood-splattered bulletproof vest was draped across the passenger seat.
    Angley saw Louis slumped forward in the driver’s seat, his gun still in his hand. Turning to Gwyn, he cautioned him not to open the door until they had clearly identified their purpose.
    â€œSir,” said Angley, leaning towards the patrol car. “We’re here to help you, sir. Can we