[Ofc. Don W. Richards]

The phone down at the Sheriff's office has been ringing off the hook with calls from reporters and cheerful Freehold citizens who want to know the full story of my heroic efforts to save a dying man this morning.

It all started early this morning when I was sitting in my cruiser perched behind a large bush, waiting to catch the next punk speeder who thought he could get away with breaking the law just because he's on a rural road.

I had been sitting there for about an hour and I was growing bored, so I prayed to Jesus that somebody would break the law so I would have something to do.

Not ten minutes later, a pickup truck went flying past doing 70 in a 50 MPH zone!

Praising Jesus, I toggled my lights and sirens and sped down the road in hot pursuit.

As I got closer, it appeared that the pilot of the vehicle was an older woman with frizzy gray hair, and in the passenger seat was a balding man.

I became greatly concerned for the safety of everyone in the county upon seeing that this man had allowed his woman to operate a motor vehicle on our roads, and I wasn't even confident she knew what a police car was or what the lights and sirens meant.

I was preparing to extend my service weapon out the window of my cruiser in order to shoot out the tires on the pickup when the woman pulled the vehicle over to the side of the road.

Exiting my cruiser, I approached with great caution, and as I arrived at the driver's side window, I found that the dizzy woman had yet to even roll her window down, so I banged on it with my flashlight till she rolled it down.

I peered into the cab of the pickup truck, cleared my throat, and said, "But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God, so why are you letting your wife drive your pickup truck?" - - 1 Corinthians 11:3

No Christian man would let his wife tell him what to do and where to go by allowing himself to be driven around by her.

The man seemed to be visibly distressed, and why shouldn't he be? Five minutes in any car with a woman is enough to drive a man crazy, and he just sat there squirming in his seat, clutching his chest.

The woman didn't bother to wait for my permission to speak, and she exclaimed, "Oh officer! My husband is having chest pains and he is having difficulty breathing! I'm sorry I was speeding, but I am rushing him to the regional medical center!"

I looked closer at the man's face and saw how pale his skin was and that he was struggling to breathe.

This was clearly a time for action. I would have to provide an escort.

"This is clearly a time for action," I said, "I will provide you an escort."

I jumped into my cruiser, lit up the lights and sirens again, and moved my vehicle into position in front of the pickup.

We began moving, and I made a cautious U-turn on the road and led the pickup back towards Freehold. Why she was headed to the regional medical center, I have no idea.

There was not a second to lose, and I was praying to Jesus the entire time that we would not be too late, but I never lost my cool.

Within minutes we arrived in Freehold, and the stupid woman driving the pickup behind me wouldn't stop honking her horn as we sped past the sign with the big "H" on it that pointed to the hospital.

I was really annoyed that she was honking at me, so I slowed down a bit to punish her and announced over the loudspeaker in my cruiser: "Attention driver with dying husband behind me: Stop honking your horn, I know a shortcut."

Two minutes later we came sliding to a halt in the parking lot just outside Landover Baptist Church.

I knew Pastor Zeke would be overseeing the delivery and placement of a new, imported Italian sofa in his office, and I wasted no time in slinging the dying man over my shoulder and hauling him into the church and down the hall.

His wife would not shut up with her screaming and crying about how her husband needed to go to the hospital immediately, so I had to set the man down on the floor so I could handcuff his wife to a doorknob.

As I tightened the cuff around her wrist, I said, "Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience, as also saith the law. So be quiet or you're getting a ticket for disturbing God's peace!" - - 1 Corinthians 14:34

Didn't she know Landover Baptist Church is where God does most of his designing and planning of mankind's future?

I slung the man over my shoulder again and arrived at Pastor Ezekiel's office door and knocked politely. After a minute I heard his cheerful voice say "come in," and I rushed through the doorway with the man over my shoulder.

I accidentally slammed his head against the door frame, but I and Zeke were both relieved that it had not damaged the frame or the finish.

In the room was Pastor Ezekiel, and two young men who were moving his imported furniture. I could tell it was very hard work because they had removed their shirts and it appeared that Pastor Zeke, in all his generosity, had been giving them cash tips for all their efforts.

I explained that I had a dying man here who was in immediate need of care and attention.

He was getting heavy so I dumped him off into the arms of the two young men, and Pastor Ezekiel told them to place him gently on the floor, not on his new sofa.

The young men did as they were told, and we then sent them out of the room and locked the door behind them.

"How bad is it?" Pastor Ezekiel asked me with great concern, as he felt the man's pulse.

"Bad," I replied, "he was letting his wife drive the car. I apologize for bringing unsaved trash right into your office, Pastor, but there is no time to lose. I think he's got demons."

Pastor Ezekiel grabbed his heavy-duty leather bound 15 pound King James Bible with words of Christ printed in red off his desk and whacked the man across his balding head with.

"DEMONS! IN THE NAME OF JESUS, I COMMAND YOU TO COME OUT!" Pastor Ezekiel shouted.

"Amen, Pastor," I said reverently.

"Listen here, devil," Zeke continued, "you may have held this man captive his entire life, but the last five minutes of it belong to me and JESUS!"

"PRAISE GOD!" I yelled, as I laid hands on him with Pastor Zeke. We shook the man violently, screaming for Jesus to save his soul.

Pastor Ezekiel leaned in and yelled in the man's ear, "Do you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?"

I could tell the man was fighting against the demons who had invaded his body and mind, but he did not answer.

"DO YOU?!" I screamed, as I kicked the man in his ribs.

All he could do was groan and wheeze, but both I and the Pastor think we heard a distinct, raspy "yes."

"OH GLORY," Zeke exclaimed, "do you plead the grace of CHRIST over all your sins and submerge yourself fully in the cleansing tide of his precious, hot, blood?"

The man clenched his eyes and it might have been a convulsion, but both the pastor and myself are convinced he was nodding his head in affirmation.

"PRAISE AND GLORY!" I shouted, as I released my grip on the man's head.

Pastor Ezekiel and myself stood up and took two steps back from the man and watched as the man died in the comfort and peace of Christ's embrace.

We had made it just in time.

I'm a cop. I've seen a lot of trauma, bloodshed, death and unhappy endings, but even I was touched by the scene before me, and I found it hard not to tear up just a bit, knowing that I had helped deliver this man from the flames of hell that were licking at his heels.

I called for an ambulance to come pick up the body, and I shook Pastor Zeke's hand and congratulated him for a job well done.

I know I'll see this man in Heaven, and I thank God for answering my prayers for sending me this mission.

Over and out.