I would like to preface this story by stating that I’d been a fairly serious missionary throughout the two years of my mission. The events of the last day of my mission do not represent in any way my behavior as the Lord’s servant for two years.

Last Area

Amersham Diggs

Having been located in Amersham during the final 3-4 weeks of my mission, I’d been coupled with a new missionary who’d only been in the mission field a short time. I think Amersham and I were the area and companion assigned to this new missionary immediately upon completing his ‘greenie’ area (i.e. the 1st area of his mission where he’d served his initial exposure to missionary service.) He was a young man about a foot and a half shorter than me; and had a similar build for his size. To me he seemed to demonstrate a measure of cockiness that unfortunately accompanied some new elders as they entered the mission field.  As the days and weeks ticked toward my release and departure for home, I endeavored as best I could to avoid being ‘trunky’ (i.e.anticipatory toward departure and eroding missionary effort). I’d been significantly successful in preserving my focus on the Lord’s work, knowing that my departure would take care of itself. Nevertheless, as my release day arrived; I was very excited at returning home and being reunited with my beloved family. I suppose I released the pent-up anticipation by excitedly interacting with those that accompanied me. Such would lead me into unforeseen challenges.

Ride to Train

DL's Vehicle

That morning, the district leader along with his companion arrived to escort me and my companion to the nearby rail station with my luggage. This would permit me to take a train to the mission home; preparatory to my returning home. With some cajoling, I managed to prevail upon the district leader to give me a ride (via their car) to a station several stops down the rail line to minimize my cost of transportation. To this he agreed (largely because he’d decided it would be worth it to ‘get me out of his hair’). Subsequently, we loaded my luggage into the back of the vehicle; and my companion and I took our places in the back seat. I was directly behind the district leader’s companion who was riding ‘shotgun’ with the district leader driving.

Cap Pistol

As we traveled through the town of Chesham on our way to Amersham, the district leader’s companion opened the glove compartment (i.e. glove box in England) and inadvertently revealed that they had a cap pistol therein.  Observing the contents over his shoulder, I excitedly commented on its presence in their vehicle. (Some cap pistols are obviously toys; but this particular cap pistol identified as a genuine handgun though its function was merely to explode caps.) Acknowledging its presence, I asked the district leader’s companion if I could ‘see’ the gun. “No Davis, I'm not going to let you have that” he said endeavoring to retain control of the gun’s use. I retorted with an additional pleading request to ‘see’ the gun; assuring both the District Leader and his companion that I’d respectfully handle the gun. I explained that I’d grown up with real guns and knew to treat them with care and respect. Explaining that I was leaving the mission and therefore unable to create any further kind of trouble for them, the Elder looked at the district leader, who nodded approval. The Elder then handed me the gun over his right shoulder. Upon briefly examining the pistol, I jokingly held it to the driver's head as if I might be kidnapping these two gentlemen from my position in the backseat. As we traversed the narrow streets of Chesham’s shops, we drove within arm’s length of shoppers who periodically would observe my antics within the vehicle. Some would stop and point at us as if to say, “Hey look!”

The district leader and his companion protested at my tomfooleries; and asserted that I should return the gun to the glove box and stop such shenanigans. Foolishly, I said I was having too good a time; and that he and his companion should lighten up a little bit. As we continued through Chesham toward Amersham, we proceeded along a fairly busy road (Amersham Rd.) that had become a wider two-way thoroughfare. We now were travelling at a higher speed with a well-defined dividing line between lanes. Though the traffic was better dispersed along this road, the morning traffic of commuters kept the cars fairly close to one another. Though the novelty of my behavior had grown somewhat stale, I was still holding the gun to the driver's head to see it we might catch another observer off-guard. Just at that time, I observed a man driving his car in the opposing lane (i.e. the oncoming lane). He looked at us displaying surprise and alarm. At the time I thought, "We seem to a have a concerned citizen here.” Observing his car, I watched as he quickly made a U-turn some distance behind us; and began following our car. As we continued onward, we crossed onto Station Road which progressed downward toward an intersection with London Road. We knew that London Rd. would take us to a station in High Wycombe where I could board a train to the mission home. By this time, the ‘concerned citizen’ had caught up with us and was trailing directly behind our car. Recognizing that I didn’t want to attract undue attention (especially with a nearby ‘concerned citizen’ displaying such interest); I quickly dropped the cap pistol down, hiding it in my lap. I was mildly concerned that someone might fall for my behavior and interpret my behavior as genuinely criminal! Approaching the ‘T’ intersection with London Rd. we were involved in a fairly lengthy backup leading to the light that would admit us to our intended left turn toward High Wycombe. Awaiting our turn to commence, we happened to be stopped by the red light as we approached the intersection. We were now at the front of the lined-up cars awaiting the next green light. Our ‘concerned citizen’ was still in the car directly behind ours. I had become mildly nervous and had removed the cap pistol from sight.

Arrest

Apprehension Intersection

Upon receiving a green light, we began to carefully enter the intersection to make our anticipated left turn. At that moment, we all observed a police car come very rapidly up the side of lined cars on London Rd. to our right. Just then the blue light atop his vehicle began flashing; and we thought he must be in pursuit of someone further down London Rd.. Inasmuch as there was no siren, we naturally assumed he was silently in pursuit and we stopped in order to allow his unfettered traversal of the intersection. As the police car passed in front of our car which was now partially within the intersection, it came to a screeching halt directly in front of our vehicle and the police officers emerged rapidly with guns drawn and pointed at us in our vehicle. Simultaneously several (about 5) other police cars seemed to ‘come out of the walls’ as they converged on our vehicle. It all happened so fast that we missionaries were all stunned at such an occurrence and immediately threw up our hands to avoid any inadvertent gunplay from the handguns that were now excitedly pointed at us! Just then I looked behind us and viewed the ‘concerned citizen’ exit his vehicle and stride purposefully toward our vehicle on my side. As he arrived at my window, I flicked the cap pistol open in order to easily identify it as a toy and shoved it out my window to the man that was now beside my window; stating “It’s a play gun!”. Shocked, he fumbled to take the cap pistol from my hand while exclaiming “Gimme that!”. He’d apparently been authorized to apprehend us ‘dangerous criminals’ because he was the only individual that exposed himself so closely to our car and took charge of our actual apprehension. Upon disarming us, he loudly directed us to put our hands on our heads (which we readily complied with).  He then directed us to get out of our car. Inasmuch as the vehicle was a two door, the driver and his companion were able to open their doors and easily exit the vehicle. However, we in the backseat would need to lean the front seat forward in order to exit the front doors. I explained that I could not exit the vehicle without using my hands to lean the seat and navigate the narrow exit. The man, noticing my dilemma, said I could take my hands from my head in order to exit the vehicle and I quickly complied - exiting my side. My companion did the same from his side. All four of us missionaries were now standing beside our vehicle on our respective sides within the intersection of an active commuter route.  Upon exiting the vehicle, the man directed us to put our hands on the top of the vehicle and stand at arm’s length from the car. Complying with the directive, we were now looking at each other as other police officers quickly joined the ‘concerned citizen’ at our car; and we were surrounded by police uniforms actively engaged in completing our apprehension. They frisked each of ua, as we endeavored to explain the situation we now found ourselves in. Several police officers opened the hatch of the vehicle and began rummaging throughout the contents of my luggage. Upon finding nothing of worth, the officers began to relax slightly as we stood – hands on top of car. As we missionaries began to relax a little bit, the District Leader looked across the top of the car at me and growled, “Davis, I’m gonna kill you!”. Inasmuch as several of us missionaries saw the irony of the situation and the embarrassment that the police were undoubtedly experiencing, we began to quietly giggle at the circumstance. Just then, one of the officers guarding us (guns still drawn and pointed at us) said, “You’ll be laughing out of the other side of your heads if you don’t shut up!” To this we sobered up and awaited our next directive. It was at this time that I observed several vehicles passing us in the intersection with children observing the activity. I thought the picture of four missionaries spread eagle against their car; surrounded by officers holding them at bay with guns drawn – would not bode well for efforts to proselyte (i.e. being invited to enter someone’s home to preach the gospel). It did not look good! While so engrossed; those searching the vehicle (and finding nothing but a cap pistol) began to accept our story of transporting a fellow missionary to the train station at High Wycombe. Our description of the circumstance began to crystallize. Nevertheless, we’d severely embarrassed the officers and incurred serious civil disruption! (We were to learn later on, that an all-points bulletin had been issued for the surrounding 30 miles as we drove toward the intersection. Furthermore, a police car had driven a lorry [British for ‘Mac Truck’] off the road endeavoring to get where we were.) Our thoughts as we stood in the intersection were interrupted as one officer directed the others to “Put ‘em in the cars”; and we were escorted into awaiting police cars within the intersection. Our car would undoubtedly be confiscated, thoroughly searched; and be relocated to the precinct headquarters where we were now headed. As we drove back along Station Rd., we recognized that we had inadvertently driven within two blocks of a regional precinct of police headquarters. Additionally, we became aware that our ‘concerned citizen’ was in actuality a plain clothes detective on his way home from work that morning. He'd apparently seen me with the cap pistol to the driver’s head; made his U-turn while notifying police headquarters of our location (thus resulting in the all-points bulletin); and commenced ‘tailing’ us as we navigated toward the T-junction of our apprehension! Thus, he was the officer to take charge of our capture!

Police Headquarters

Upon arriving at the nearby police headquarters, we were filed into a stark, nondescript interrogation room where we all sat dutifully on hard chairs in our missionary suits awaiting the next step. With strict directive, we were instructed to empty our pockets on the available table; and we all began complying with the directive. It was somewhat comical in that it appeared that the officers thought we were some sort of criminal element posing as missionaries in order to conduct our nefarious activities. Nevertheless, as we emptied our pocket’s, we revealed ministerial cards, pamphlets and tracts amongst our standard pens, keys, wallets and combs. With such proselyting material on display, my companion wisecracked that if any of the officers were so inclined, they were welcome to any of the pamphlets. To us, it appeared obvious that we were who we said we were! Nevertheless, I suppose such a ruse was possible in the minds of our enforcing officers. As we sat obediently with our belongings on the table in front of us, I’ll not soon forget the directive pronounced by an officer as he entered our interrogation room. “Put ‘em in the cells!” rang in my ears and I suddenly became cognizant that our situation had suddenly become rather dire. As we were each led to our individual cells, we were instructed as we stood in the door of our cell to remove our belts, ties and shoelaces. Inquiring the purpose of such an act, the officer explained to me that it was to remove the possibility of one of us hanging ourselves with a noose that might be fashioned from such articles. Chagrined by such a requirement, I pronounced that ‘Don’t you know that you wont go to heaven if you commit suicide?’ The officer offered no retort as he received my tie, belt and shoelaces. He then closed the solid cell door with a small barred window. Turning from the doorway, I now decided to make myself as comfortable as possible. I was struck with how alone and helpless I felt as I observed the cell’s contents. At the far corner of a small room was a coil spring bed with the mattress half-folded over. Other than that, there was a small window allowing a beam of light to shine on a cement floor and bare walls. At the time, I remember thinking that my surroundings were just like I’d seen in the movies. There were no bathroom  facilities; so I assumed I’d be escorted to a bathroom facility should I need to relieve myself. Otherwise, there was nothing but bare walls and lots of time. With nothing to do, I simply unfolded the mattress onto the coiled frame and lay myself down to contemplate the events that had transpired during the preceding hour. I could hear them placing each of the missionaries in their separate cells that occupied the corridor (my cell being at the head thereof). Upon placing my companions in their cells, there was very little noise except muffled talk of jail officials through a door leading to where we’d been interrogated.

Cell

As I lay there, I pondered what my companions were thinking. They were undoubtedly just as taken by our preceding experiences as I was. Though tempted to talk through the small door window, I resisted – not knowing what the others might say. Hence, there was no real communication between us whilst incarcerated in our cells. The one thought that dominated my reflection was the irony of experiencing such a confrontation while in transit to my release. What a development to occur on my last day as a missionary? Such a reflection invoked a somewhat disturbing question to me – ‘They can’t keep me here in England, can they?’ The question caused me anxiety as I contemplated what might become of me and the others. After contemplating such possibilities for about an hour, an officer came to my cell and directed that I follow him to an interrogator one floor up. Arriving at his office, I was shown a chair facing my interrogator who sat behind the desk separating us. He immediately commenced interrogating me regarding our purposes, activities, behaviors and circumstances surrounding the events of that morning. While I do not remember the specifics of any of his questions; I do remember that I answered all of his questions directly, forthrightly and honestly – even if they were a personal embarrassment. Which some of them certainly were. Upon completion of his interrogation, I was then returned to my cell; and the remainder of my companions were likewise interrogated individually. I surmised that they were endeavoring to ascertain whether or not our stories were sufficiently identical!

As the last missionary was returned to his cell, we were all directed to don our confiscated belts, ties and personal items inasmuch as we were to present ourselves to the precinct Chief. As we collectively dressed ourselves, we reminded one another that regardless of any humor we might harbor regarding the development – we were not ‘out of the woods yet!’. We each agreed to sobriety as we finished dressing and presented ourselves to stand before the Chief of Police. As we mounted several flights of stairs to a large ‘bullpen’ of desks and personnel on the top floor, I observed numerous smirks and smiles as we bypassed personnel on our way to the far office of the Chief. (To this day, I do not know whether such smirks and giggles were at our expense [having been caught in such a foolish prank] or self-intended smirks [at having fallen for such a prank and seriously disrupted the entire day for the entire precinct]. I suspect both were occurring though I’m confident Ill never know for sure.)

As the detective (our escort) ushered us into the Chief’s office, I saw the Chief sitting behind a large desk at one end of a large rectangular office.  We were on opposite sides of an entry way just inside the door at the other end of the office.  The office had a number of accoutrements that adorned either wall. Though I took no particular note of any one thing, I did recognize that the office was certainly that of an ‘alpha’ male. I was readily struck by the appearance of the Chief as he sat behind his large desk. To me, he resembled a very British bulldog. For a human he had jowls at each cheek and a broad unmistakably British moustache.  He was rather rotund and moved slowly but determinedly as he whirled about in his swivel chair to address us. We were unmistakenly humble as we knew that our immediate (as well as future) well-being was being scrutinized. Following a brief pause, he commenced to proffer a well-deserved tongue lashing at us as a collective. He considered our behavior as childish and unbecoming individuals such as we purported ourselves to be. In truth, though we were impetuous young men, we knew we deserved anything he was apt to label us with. Following his remarks at deriding the three Americans that were among us; by saying that he could ‘understand’ such foolishness from those unfamiliar with British customs; he seriously ‘lit into’ the British citizen amongst us. The District Leader’s companion was British. The tongue lashing that the Chief leveled at our British companion was significantly more derisive than that with which he chastised us. Finally, acknowledging that we’d chosen livelihoods that would be beneficial to society; he stated that he was going to release us from any offenses we may have incurred; but with one condition – he was going to confiscate our cap pistol. To this we all readily agreed. Little did he know that I was going home the following day and the British fellow a month or so later. The District Leader would be leaving in about six months. Thus the only one of us staying for any significant length of time was my companion. Nevertheless, we chose not to correct him regarding our choice of livelihoods. Breathing a sigh of relief as we exited his office, we followed our detective escort out of the building and across the parking lot to our awaiting car. As we excitedly jabbered at our good fortune of having been released unscathed, our Detective escort looked me straight in the eye and said – “Had I had my gun with me, I’d have shot you!” This pronouncement of reality sobered me up rather quickly; and I’ve contemplated since the significance of my foolish behavior.

Once in the car and resuming our route to High Wycombe, we each reviewed what we’d been considering as we sat alone in our cells. Each person’s thoughts were telling and somewhat humorous.

• The District Leader and driver of our vehicle was awaiting when they might inquire and obtain his driving license. This was most enlightening because he didn’t have one. A driver’s license in England was significantly challenging to obtain and often took months to obtain and money to acquire needed instruction. Because District Leaders were not notified regarding their callings, they never had sufficient time nor wherewithal to obtain such a license. So, they often as not drove without one. (Such had been the case while I was a District Leader.) Our driver had never obtained a driver’s license and was anxiously awaiting when they’d ask him to provide his (which he could not). As it turns out, they never did ask for his driver’s license and we all breathed a sigh of relief as we drove from the precinct’s parking lot!
• Knowing he was British, the District Leader’s companion was desperately anxious that he’d receive a very significant incarceration due to our civil disturbance. He was relatively confident that ‘these Americans’ would likely receive a ‘slap on the wrist’ for such behavior. But he reckoned that he’d receive the brunt of our discipline for months if not years. As it turned out, he received a severe tongue lashing from the Chief and was subsequently released without further discipline.
• I was rather concerned that they might choose to keep me incarcerated in England; and I’d have to forego my anticipated reunion with my family for some measure of time. As it turned out, all we lost was our cap pistol!
• My companion spent his time contemplating a way to ‘break out’ of his jail cell and resume his missionary work! Aghast that he might consider such a thing, we all took issue with his ‘bravado’ and let the matter pass.