In my 38-year career with Douglas County, I only fired a warning shot 1 time. It was early in my career. At that time, I had recently been promoted from patrol division to the newly formed “TRAFFIC PATROL” unit. The Traffic Enforcement Unit began operations around the summer of 1985. On one late summer evening, the 5 o’clock rush hour traffic was coming to an end. Around dusk I heard radio call out my radio number, “141 we have a 10-50 (vehicle accident) with injuries at 92 and Old Lee Road”. I acknowledged and started that way. Patrol Dep. Billy L. arrived at the accident before me. He said that the Fire Department was already there when he arrived, so he started directing traffic around the accident scene. The State Patrol was requested to investigate the accident due to the injuries involved.

I “heard” that during that time Sheriff Lee had an agreement with the Georgia State Patrol and the Governor. I “heard” that the State would investigate all of Douglas County’s accidents. Which included death and injury accidents. I also “heard” that Sheriff Lee was the only Sheriff in the state of Georgia to be granted such an agreement. But that’s just hearsay.

As I arrived the traffic was snarled up on Hwy. 92 at the accident scene. Rush hour traffic on the two-lane State Highway needed both Billy and I to keep it moving. Dep. Billy L. began getting information from drivers for the Trooper. I began directing traffic around the accident. Let me add to the story by saying that the location was in a dangerous spot. The evening traffic was traveling north on 92 Hwy. Old Lee and 92 has a curve that just crested on a small hill near the accident site. If you were then to pull out of Old Lee road onto 92, you had better get it and go. When the State Trooper arrived, Dep. Billy started helping me with traffic control. I had to walk a short distance from my car to try and slow down the traffic as they were cresting the small hilltop curve. I stopped traffic on my side of a road. I looked at B.L. and waited for him to signal that he was ready for my next bunch to go.

Suddenly, I heard tires squealing behind me. I turned to see a white van with ladders on top, skidding off the road  into the ditch at the rear of the stopped traffic. The van flipped onto its passenger side with the driver’s door straight up. When that van hit the ditch, a cloud of Georgia red clay dust bellowed up. It must have been dry that year.

As I walked to the overturned van, I remember thinking to myself, what’s this idiot’s problem? Before I could reach the van, the upright door flew open and a 30-ish looking white guy jumped off the van and started running. I ordered him to stop. I began chasing the driver on foot. An old farmhouse was located at the accident scene. It had a huge oak tree standing beside it. Nothing else except one big oak tree was in the yard. It was impressive. I identified myself again and ordered him to stop. He slowed to a fast-walking speed and put his right hand into his front pants pocket. That’s when my revolver made its appearance. As I yelled for him to stop again, he slowed to a casual walk and started heading right for the large oak tree. He never looked back. He never responded to my orders. The tree trunk was so big that I knew that I would lose sight of him if he got behind it. I feared that whatever was in his pockets would greet me as he rounded from behind the tree. I kept warning him of what could happen if he didn’t stop and take his hands out of his pockets. I wasn’t going to let him get behind that tree for cover and leave me standing in the open. Just as he was rounding the big tree, I paused a second or two and then discharged my warning shot as his head was nearest the tree. BANG! I put that bullet where I wanted. My shot kicked tree bark towards his head. I figured it was one hell of a warning. He didn’t even flinch as he disappeared behind the tree. Now what surprise was I going to receive? If it’s a handgun, I better be ready! I heard Dep. Billy L. running up behind me. Once you’ve heard a .357 discharged, you’ll remember it.

But that shot didn’t even phase him, he went behind the tree anyway. Now, I was stuck in the open about 15 feet from the tree. I was in a nicely kept yard with no other trees or obstructions to hide behind. Just me standing in a dirt driveway. Where’s the typical car on blocks? I had absolutely no cover. When I lost sight of the driver I advanced, I was aiming at the area where I thought he would emerge from. I was walking in an arch to cut the view of the tree and try to see him first. When he emerged from behind the tree’s protection, his hands were out of his pockets and without a weapon.  He continued to slowly walk away. I holstered my weapon and just tackled the hell outta him. Upon hearing the warning shot, Billy came rushing towards the sound. I had the driver handcuffed and I took him to my backseat.

He was DUI alcohol and most probably something else. I went back to the tree and searched and searched but found nothing around the tree or yard. Absolutely nothing. I figure he put whatever he had in his mouth and swallowed it, or he thought he still had something in his pocket when he didn’t. That occurred way before warning shots were frowned upon. No report was needed for firing a warning shot back then. My Sheriff’s Department training taught me that the only time you pull your weapon was with the intent of killing. No other time. You could pull your weapon and warn or order, but a determination to kill was necessary when unsheathed. Thankfully, I didn’t have to that day.