III. The Wrong Turn
Midnight along Interstate 71 near Carrollton, Kentucky was always a busy place for speeding truckers, but aside from one other infamous event, it was a place which went unnoticed.
It was on this stretch of highway, just east of the Carrollton exit, where a cut in the mountain, making way for the interstate, leaves a very dark spot for about a mile before the road rises to the west, clearing the mountain range at some three hundred feet. Along this stretch, the mountain falls to the edge of the highway, often sending rock and small boulders into the road and the signs are real stating, “Watch for Falling Rock” On the north side of the interstate, alongside the road there is an ominous wooden cross, marking the spot…an artificial wreath, and a small hand written sign stating that this was the site of one of the worst church bus tragedies in the history of America.
The church bus was actually a converted school bus, placed in use by The Rugged Cross Baptist Church in Fort Knox, Kentucky. Yes it was the place where all the gold is kept on deposit and it is also the home of the General George Patton Museum. Yes, but on this fateful day it wasn’t a safe short trip to the Patton Museum but a trip to Kings Island, Ohio from whence the bus was returning late at night. The bus was filled with weary and sleeping youth that night, tired from a long day of thrill rides on mountain high monster rails.
Tonight, the monster was a drunk, headed east on the wrong side of the interstate, lights off, speeding through the foggy night. Before the teens would wake, the earie night sent chills up the spine of the drunken man as steel-on-steel crushed bones, broke necks, spilled blood and sent twenty-seven happy teens home to their maker. Never again to see the light of day as their souls left the burning inferno, a place reminiscent of hell, a place these teens would never know but the driver of the truck would have to wait out his time, double duty. He would be indicted for the murder of the teens and the church bus driver. A jury of his peers would convict him on all counts and a judge would sentence him to prison and he would later reject parole…his job at the lumber store in Carrollton would not be waiting when he was released after serving only ten plus years for the death of the twenty-seven teens and the driver of the bus.
(This from news reports and the file at www.wikipedia.org)
At 10:55 p.m. on May 14, 1988, Larry Wayne Mahoney, a drunk driver in a pickup truck traveling in the wrong direction on the interstate highway in a rural, unincorporated area of Carroll County, Kentucky collided head-on with a gasoline powered former school bus which was in use as a church bus. The initial crash was exacerbated when the gasoline from the ruptured fuel tank of the bus ignited immediately after impact, which also blocked the front loading door. Difficulties encountered by the victims attempting to evacuate the crowded bus quickly in the smoke and darkness through the only other designated exit, the rear emergency door, resulted in the death of 27 and injuries of 34 others. Six passengers escaped without significant injury, while Mahoney also sustained injuries. The crash was the deadliest drunk driving incident and third deadliest bus disaster in United States history.
In the aftermath of the disaster, several family members of victims became active leaders of Mothers Against Drunk Driving) (MADD), and one (Karolyn Nunnelee) became national president of the organization. The standards for both operation and equipment for school buses and similar buses were improved in Kentucky and many other states, notably increased emergency exits, better structural integrity, and less volatile fuel.
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Officer Bill Knower, a Kentucky State Trooper, knew this stretch of highway and had patrolled it for more than eleven years. He was a rookie in 1988 and heard about the tragic church bus crash. Tonight, he had nearly worked his shift…he was serving the “grave yard shift” for the next thirty days. Bill didn’t mind, even though it was hard on family life. He slept during the day and was up for the children when they came home from school. This schedule was actually better for he and the children. He was able to go watch them in extracurricular activities but it was hard on the marriage. His wife Anne, worked at the Cumberland Bank in Frankfort, Kentucky, and most often didn’t get home until after six o’clock in the evening.
But, Bill looked at it in a positive way…it was only a month out of a quarter…and when you are a cop, you take the rotation assigned to you. Bill didn’t mind the shift really…there was a lot of activity, truckers speeding, civilians speeding; having flats and various other break downs. It was especially hard in the winter. This stretch of interstate headed east and west, just before the Carrollton exit was treacherous with the sloping hills which got very slick…quick and the speed crazies made it more dangerous than it ought to be.
Tonight, Officer Knower first noticed the horse van and remembered the memorandum on the missing thoroughbred from the Oldham County farm of Senator Elliott. More than anything, the Senatorial thing sent a red flag up the pole but additionally, the van, an altered Ford chassis with the van box over the axils was speeding by more than thirty miles per hour. It came flying around the bend and headed down the steep drop toward the Kentucky River which crossed the interstate not more than an eighth of a mile before the Carrollton exit. Officer Knower hit his lights and tucked in behind the van, he wanted to see the cargo, nearly as much as he wanted to go home.
He pulled his silver Ford cruiser nearly within ten feet of the back of the van and hit the spot light so that the plates lite up. He punched the numbers into the console computer and it immediately reported that the plates belonged on this van. He picked up the radio Mike and heard the dispatcher…click…”32”
…Click, Click!
“Blam…blam…the shotgun blast ripped through the windshield of the cruiser…then Frank dropped the weapon to the floorboard of the van.
“Jesus Christ, you idiot, you’ve shot a cop.” Mike said.
“I know it, he was pulling us over, shut the fuck up and let’s get him into the van.”
The two of them pulled the cop out of the cruiser and drug his body to the side of the van. They placed him in the back, next to the stall of the big horse who eyed the activity with a degree of contempt. The driver of the van, Mike Alteer, pulled off the trooper’s jacket and tossed it to his accomplice, Frank…the other man in the heist.
“Quick, get this jacket on and get in the cruiser, pull up in front of the van and let’s haul ass to the Ohio line.”
Inside of a long minute, the cruiser was headed east with lights flashing the way through the night…the pedal to the metal, pushing the cruiser and the van over one hundred miles per hour.
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Officer Troy Currans had just come on duty. He had heard his partners’, Officer Knower’s initial call to the dispatcher, thinking it odd that he only stated his number and then Currans only heard a clicking noise. He felt, almost instinctively that his partner was in some kind of jeopardy…and knew it wasn’t a good sign. He pushed the gas pedal to the floor and the Ford responded with all it had under the hood. The cruiser squealed and the tires squalled around the intersection leading from I-75 to I-71…the blue lights lit up the interstate and the night sky. Morning was wreaking havoc on this quite cold January morning and there would be hell to pay if Officer Knower had been hurt. Officer Currans knew that his partners’ shift started at Carrollton and he wasn’t far from there…maybe ten-fifteen miles and that meant he would be there in six minutes.
Officer