He came home from his cushy sales job and told me he’d had this revelation, that he dreamed of becoming a state trooper and “making a difference.”

Five years later, Mississippi finally had a patrol school. While my husband was surviving it, I sold the house by the reservoir and packed two kids (and another on the way) into his grandmother’s single-wide in D’Lo. D’Lo, for those of you who may not know, is a long way from Madison. A woman will do a lot for a man who wants to make a difference.

Time passed. It was a steamy August Saturday night in Clay County, and The Trooper was working late like he always did on the weekends. (That’s what it takes to earn awards for most trooper DUI arrests in the state two years in a row.) Sometime around 11 o’clock he spotted a tagless Chevy pickup traveling along a rural stretch of Hwy. 46. He caught up to it as it stopped in a driveway. While four occupants piled out, The Trooper approached the driver and asked to see his license.

“You can’t pull me over in my driveway,” came the immediate response.

Now remember, it was late and it was dark and they were in a remote location, far away from any backup. (Note to reader: Isn’t it amazing there were/are guys willing to do a job like that for only $24K a year?)

“You can’t pull me over in my driveway,” the driver stated again, belligerently.

That’s when The Trooper told him that he must produce his license. (It’s the law.) About that time The Trooper also got a whiff of alcohol and asked the guy to blow on a breathalyzer – which he refused to do.

“You can’t pull me over in my driveway.”

Meanwhile, the other occupants of the vehicle were circling around them. “I was trying to focus on the driver,” my husband still tells me today when I ask, two decades later.

After several attempts to get “Mr. You Can’t Pull Me Over/I Ain’t Got To Do Nothing” to comply, pepper spray entered the picture. Of course, The Trooper didn’t even know this guy’s name, much less that he had a suspended license and would do anything — anything — to stay out of jail.

So the guy took off running, and The Trooper chased him, but suddenly he turned around and tackled my husband. They scuffled. It became clear that this guy wasn’t just trying to get away. He was fighting, throwing punches.

The Trooper’s mag light and pepper spray fell to the ground as they rolled around in pitch black. “Mr. You Can’t Pull Me Over” grabbed the law officer by the neck and said, “die.” And then, in the midst of the melee, he managed to pull my husband’s weapon from his holster (that was back before security holsters were standard issue).

Thankfully, The Trooper knocked it out of his hand into thick brush. The whole time there was this refrain playing over the walkie on his shoulder. It was Troop G’s dispatcher trying to call him: “Come in, G-40. Come in.”

G-40 couldn’t answer, though, because he was pinned against his car, fighting for his life. One of the other occupants of the vehicle picked up the mag light and started hitting him on the head with it until The Trooper passed out. When he came to, the driver was squatted down over him holding his legs. He managed to roll under the car and call for help on his radio.

So get the picture right. The lone law officer was under his car, and the driver (the one with the suspended license) was continuing his assault by kicking him and trying to pull The Trooper out by his legs. He even (get this) tried to put handcuffs on him. All the while The Trooper was wondering about his gun out there in the weeds somewhere.

Then he heard a siren.

“Mr. You Can’t Pull Me Over” heard it too and took off for the woods. The Trooper rolled out from under his car just in time to watch the responding officer go past the scene. That’s when my husband figured it out — someone had gone to his car during the fight and turned off the blue lights.

When help did arrive, they found G-40 with a four-inch gash in his head, bruises circling his neck, and scratches all over his body. It would take an ER doctor to find the concussion.

And I thought this week might be a good time to share this story, because we need a reminder of what our law enforcement officers face. And sadly, this story had its own strand of racism. It came in the form of hung juries who wouldn’t convict those guys of assault on a police officer. Twice. At each trial, the jury’s vote, according to District Attorney Forrest Allgood, was divided along racial lines. But get this — neither of The Trooper’s assailants really went free. Within the year both had gone to prison — one for rape, and the other for assaulting a jailer.

So here’s what this state trooper’s wife would like to say about racism: It’s bad. It’s a sin. By all means, be against it. But make sure you’re consistent in your anti-racism views — be against it even when it’s racism directed against law enforcement. Because if you aren’t — if we can’t get this thing right — we might get a place where there aren’t any guys “who want to make a difference” left. And who wants to live there?

Wesson resident Kim Henderson is a freelance writer who writes for The Daily Leader. Contact her at kimhenderson319@gmail.com.