A couple hours later, they were about an hour from Burley. Just ahead was the town of Twin Falls, Idaho, where Hugh would take a sharp right turn from heading north to heading east in order to connect with 50 and then 84 to Burley.
During one of his periodic sweeps of the rear view mirrors, he noticed a state trooper car bearing down on him from behind with its red lights flashing. As he always did when emergency vehicles were nearby, he slowed down and moved over slightly in order to let the patrol car pass.
But, the patrol car didn’t pass. It pulled in close behind Hugh, the officer motioning with his left arm outside his window for Hugh to pull over.
Hugh drove on for a little while farther until he found a place where the shoulder was wider, and pulled in. He set his brake and shut off the engine.
“I wonder what’s going on?” Hugh said, as he rolled down his window.
Hugh noticed that the Idaho State Patrol officer had stepped out of the patrol car, and had donned his Smokey the Bear hat. He was talking into his mic, probably calling in the traffic stop.
But the officer didn’t approach the truck. Instead, he stayed with his patrol car, his body partially obscured by the open driver’s side door.
Then the officer switched his mic to loudspeaker, and ordered Hugh out of truck. “Driver! Exit the vehicle! Keep your hands visible at all times!” the officer demanded.
Hugh did as he was told. He stepped down from the cab, careful to keep his hands raised and within sight of the officer. As he left the cab, he glanced back at Jenny with a questioning look. Jenny merely shrugged.
The cop then adjusted his baton and weapon on his belt as he approached Hugh. He stood about 5’ 10”, looked to be about forty-five years old, and had the sag and paunch of officers his age who were nearing retirement.
Just as Hugh was about to ask, “What’s the problem, officer?” the trooper pulled out his baton with his left hand, pointed it at the ground, and ordered Hugh to stop right there.
“What?” Hugh asked, thinking he hadn’t heard right.
“Stop there. Keep your hands raised, and where I can see them,” the officer ordered, his right hand resting on his gun butt.
To Hugh’s thinking, the officer was being unnecessarily belligerent, but he quickly did as the officer requested.
The officer then roughly shoved Hugh against the truck’s fender, told him to place both hands on the hood, and kicked Hugh’s legs out wider—the classic perp-spread position for a law enforcement officer to subdue and frisk criminal suspects.
What on earth is going on here? Hugh wondered. But, he kept the thought to himself. Silence is golden right now, and the better part of discretion, until he finds out exactly why he is being treated this way. Obviously, a case of mistaken identity.
The officer roughly frisked Hugh, then turned him around to face him. He stood there glaring at Hugh, the baton held out in front of him pointed at Hugh’s chest, keeping him at bay.
“ID!” he demanded.
Hugh reached into his left, front pants pocket where he kept his driver’s license, and handed it to the officer.
The trooper was named Donovan, Hugh noticed from his name tag now that he was facing him. Donovan radioed in Hugh’s license information on the portable unit that he had clipped to his shoulder. Then, he handed the license back to Hugh.
“OK, Mister Mann, I’m taking you in until we can clear this up. Turn around, and put your hands behind your back,” he told Hugh.
Before Hugh could think about this new order, the officer spun Hugh around, and snapped a pair of handcuffs on him. He then shoved him toward his patrol car, placed his hand on top of Hugh’s head, and pushed him roughly backward into the rear seat.
Hugh knew enough about police vehicles that when the officer slammed the door shut he would be locked in. There were no door handles in the back seats of cop cars.
Just then, another patrol car arrived, and Hugh watched as Officer Donovan pointed at Hugh’s truck while explaining something to the newcomer.
Hugh wondered what was going to happen to Jenny. He hoped she was going to be OK. However, there was nothing he could do at this point until the mistake was cleared up.
Their discussion over, the other officer walked toward Hugh’s truck, while Donovan got into the driver’s seat of his own patrol car.
As Officer Donovan pulled onto the highway, Hugh ventured a question. “Am I under arrest? Where are you taking me?”
“You’re not under arrest … yet. I’m taking you to the Sheriff’s Office in Twin Falls for questioning,” the officer answered. “From there, it depends on how things play out.”
“Officer Donovan, you know this is a big mistake, don’t you?” Hugh said, hoping to reason with the officer, and get back to his truck and to Jenny.
“Just shut up,” the officer said.
The patrol car’s radio crackled to life. Hugh heard, “Three fifty-seven, two ninety-eight.”
Officer Donovan picked up his mic. “Three fifty-seven,” he said.
The radio came back with, “It’s clean, Donny. Didn’t find anything.”
Then Hugh heard the most incredible thing come over the radio.
“The perp’s wife said she is his team driver, and that she will drive the truck to their delivery in Burley. She said he can connect with her later by cell phone when this is all cleared up.”
“Ten-four, three fifty-seven out.” Hugh’s officer said, and hung up his mic.
“I’m done here. Two ninety-eight out.” the other officer said.
Hugh sat there, stunned, hardly able to believe what he had just heard.
“Officer, there’s been a
