Iâd have to resolve my anger,â
For help and comfort he turned to friends, and for spiritual guidance, to his Baptist faith.
On June 1, 1984, Louis went back to work. The first night proved traumatic for both him and his family. Not only was he confronted with his own fears, but Scottie and the children all burst into tears, pleading with him not to go on patrol.
âIt was a real scene,â he said later. âMy wife said she wasnât going to be subjected to this againâhaving someone call her and tell her I'd been shot. The whole thing was emotionally draining for us all. Finally, I hit rock bottom. So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I went into my bedroom and got down on my knees. I told God I was afraid, and so was my family, and I asked Him to give us more strength and courage than any of us had at the moment.â
A short time later, Scottie walked with her husband to his patrol car, waiting while he radioed to a telecommunicator that he was now on duty. As the clock struck 6:00 P.M., Trooper Louis Rector was offically back on patrol.
Yet problems stemming from the shooting continued to plague him. Trooper Don Patterson and other colleagues werenât sure what to expect out of Louis from one day to the next.
âNone of us knew his feelings or could identify with what heâd gone through,â said Don. âHeâd be short-tempered, flying off the handle at the least little thing. Then heâd withdraw. We discussedhis behavior among ourselves, but we didnât know how to help him. It was a hard thing to cope with, but we tried to understand.â
From Louisâs perspective, he felt he was constantly being tested to see if he still had what it takes to be a trooper.
âI thought everyone was watching me, waiting to see when I was gonna break under the pressure, when I was gonna mess up.â
On patrol, Louis worked hard at hiding his fears. Then one night something happened to shatter the fragile wall he had built around himself.
âNot long after I came back to work, I clocked a car speeding in the eastern part of the county,â Louis recalled. âI chased him for about seven miles until he turned down a dirt road and stopped. The guy jumped out of the car and I followed him. We ran across a concrete barrier but I tripped and fell. I looked up as he was entering a wood thicket and saw him pointing a gun. He fired on me twice and I drew my weapon and fired back. Then he disappeared into the woods. At that point, I lost control.â
The shooting made Louis so physically ill that he crawled to a nearby ditch and threw up.
Several months later, Louisâs anger finally came to a head.
A trooper had been shot and killed in western North Carolina and Louis was scheduled to join other officers in the manhunt. At the last minute his name was taken off the list.
âI wanted to go up there bad, to be accepted again as part of the group. I felt that after my recovery Iâd earned the right to help my fellow officers. When I found out I wasnât allowed to go, I went crazy. It was like they still had reservations about me. I couldnât handle it.â
That night, Louis, upset and angry, stomped into the first sergeantâs office at Morganton headquarters.
âWhy in the hell canât I join the manhunt?â he ranted. âItâs not fair that youâre leaving me behind!â
The sergeant tried to calm him down.
âI wonât tolerate that kind of behavior,â he said. âAll weâre doing is looking out for your best interests. This is more a scheduling problem than anything else. We put you where we need you the most.â
But for Louis, the emotional turmoil persisted. In fact, he says now he was headed towards a downward spiral.
âI had a lot of family problems, and still a lot of anger. My wifealmost left me and my job became a daily struggle. Worst of all, despite my faith, I was trying
Learning to Kill: Stories