Within an hour or so a death row inmate named Paul Woodward in the Mississippi State Penitentary at Parchman will be put to death by lethal injection. He was tried and found guilty of the 1986 rape and murder of a young woman, a social worker going about her job along Highway 29. Her killer was driving a log truck--he pulled in front of her across the highway so she had to stop. He then forced her into the woods and raped and murdered her.

This young woman's body wasn't found by police--it was her father who went into the woods in search of his daughter and found her body. It's been 24 years and despite bleeding hearts who don't believe in the death penalty, this vicious man will finally get what he deserves. None of his family is there at the end; a far cry from the devastated family of his victim who have waited and grieved for so long.

I believe I had a close encounter with this fiend just weeks before the murder. My sister Ava, her friend Nita and I were all registered nurses, and all divorced. Ava and Nita asked me to join them at the VFW on a Saturday night--they were two live wires and liked to dance. I said okay, but I didn't really want to. The VFW hall was smoky, a thick haze of smog like smoke hung over everything. It was loud--a country western band played so loudly you had to scream to talk to another person. Everybody was drinking, of course. Either you could buy beer at this joint, or BYOB and buy a mixer.

The place closed at midnight, so at 11:30 pm I left, not wanting to wait to leave when the drunks pulled out at midnight. At the first red light in town while I was stopped I got annoyed when a vehicle pulled right up on my bumper with their lights on high. I could tell by the rumble of the motor it wasn't a passenger car or truck. At the next red light, same thing. I could tell by then it was a log truck, they have these big 18 wheeler cabs, and a long flatbed to haul logs on. It was odd to see one of those at night; they are used only in daytime. After that second red light, there was nothing but empty country roads between me and home.

The truck followed me out of town and I was beginning to get a hinky feeling. There were two ways I could get home--go down Highway 29, or take Highway 42, both lonely and dark. I turned off onto Highway 29 and the truck stayed on my tail. If I slowed way down so he could pass, he slowed down. If I sped up to try to get away from him, he sped up. He was playing being the cat and I was the mouse. By then I was feeling menaced and threatened. After a stretch of 30 mph curvy road, I sped up as fast as I could and got a 2-3 second headway while he was changing gears. I roared across the intersection of Highway 98 and into the driveway of a house, cutting off the headlights and engine quick.A row of azalea bushes hid my car.

He pulled up at the intersection, revving the motor of the truck, sounding annoyed. The mouse had escaped. I had slid down in the seat of the car and risked peeking out the window. He sat there wondering if I'd turned right, left, ot gone straight ahead. After what seemed an eternity, a car passed on the highway, and he turned to the left and gave up. I stayed where I was for 20 minutes, wondering if he was parked somewhere down the road waiting for me to come out. I finally got back on the highway and hurried home, checking the rearview mirror all the way. Not long after a log truck driver murdered that young woman. I've always wondered if it were the same man.

Yesterday I called the Miss. State Attorney General's office and asked if someone would ask him, before he was executed, if he was the driver that followed me that night. I'd like to know. But for all kinds of reasons it was decided to let it drop. By the way, wardens aren't called wardens anymore, they're called Superintendents. (The Superintendent's named is Sparkman, which reminded me of "Ol Sparky" the retired electric chair displayed in Jackson where I went to coroner school, and had my photo taken, like other students, sitting in it.)And by coincidence, the Attny. Gen. spokesman recognized my voice from the years when I was reading essays on Miss. Public Broadcasting.

Anyway, I'm glad the log truck man is being put to death. If he'd had a chance, he would have killed someone else.

susil