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was an old man who had failed to open the door because he was hard of hearing.
    By mid-evening, bleary-eyed troopers—some of whom had been on duty eighteen hours or more—were beginning to feel the strain. Yet no one complained or asked to be relieved. A trooper was “down,” and they were determined to locate the men responsible.
    â€œIt didn’t matter if we ate or slept or went home,” said Don Patterson. “We wanted to find those guys.”
    That night, Patterson went to the intensive care unit at Grace Hospital to check on Louis. During the visit, he recapped the manhunt and asked Louis if he could describe either of his assailants. But all Louis could remember was that both men were white.
    â€œHe was alert and could talk,” Patterson said. “So I felt good about him when I left.”
    Just before dawn on Wednesday morning the McDowell County sheriff’s department got word that a man had broken into a house in Marion, five miles west of Nebo, wanting food.
    A town of 3,680, Marion was known as a tough mountain community where locals were raised to eye most strangers with suspicion. During the night, Freeman and Clegg had hidden in the fields along the railroad tracks in Nebo, working their way west toward Marion. When they reached town they had decided to split up and take their chances separately.
    Freeman made attempts to break into two east Marion homes but was shot at by gun-toting residents. He then ran into the woods before authorities could catch him. On his third try, he kicked in the back door of a house belonging to Rass and Molly Harvey in south Marion, and demanded something to eat. The Harveys were asleep, but a daughter-in-law living in the house fixed Freeman’s breakfast and pleaded with him to give himself up. He said no, he’d already vowed he’d never be taken alive. Then he told her he was taking her with him as a hostage. Frightened at this turn of events, she got up, went to check on the Harveys, and found them both wide awake, listening to every word Freeman said.
    Molly Harvey, sixty-three, was legally blind and diabetic. She knew about the manhunt in Nebo and Marion, but could not believeone of the fugitives was actually sitting at her kitchen table eating breakfast. The shock was more than she could bear, and she began having chest pains. In a strange show of compassion—or perhaps because he didn’t know what else to do—Freeman allowed the daughter-in-law to call an ambulance and admit relatives and a minister into the house. At the same time, he warned the family he would kill anyone who tried to notify the police.
    Emergency Medical Technician John Angley, the first person to reach Louis Rector after the shooting, was called to the scene.
    â€œMe and my partner, Joe, pulled up in the front yard about five in the morning,” said John. “The porch light was on and everybody was up. When we went in, there were eight or ten people, including kids, just sitting around the living room. I saw this guy standing against the door with his hands behind his back, but I didn’t know who he was. He was wearing an old army jacket and never said a word or offered to help. All I remember is the look on his face—a cold expression, like he knew where he was headed but he didn’t care.”
    The daughter-in-law took the medics into the bathroom where Molly, prostrate on the floor, was now in cardiac arrest.
    Angley radioed for more assistance while his partner tried to revive the stricken woman. He remembers the telecommunicator—who had heard about Freeman’s whereabouts—asking them if they were both all right, and feeling puzzled by her concern.
    Freeman, intent on watching the medics attempt to revive Molly, didn’t notice that a family member had slipped out the back door. Moments later, the Harveys’ son-in-law notified the sheriffs department that Freeman was in the house.
    A few minutes