When 21-year-old Eric Snow pleaded guilty to killing a man and wounding another in a 1994 shooting, he was sentenced to 40 years in a Mississippi prison. Jefferson Davis County (MS) Deputies J.P. Rutland and Tommy Bourne were assigned the task of driving the killer to prison.

On February 21, 1997, Snow was handcuffed for the trip and placed in the back seat of the patrol vehicle, along with a female prisoner named Patricia Gholar. According to Gholar, about 20 minutes into the ride, Snow pulled a pistol from between his legs and shot the two deputies in the back of their heads. The two deputies both died and Snow made his escape into a thick wooded area. But his freedom was short-lived. Some 200 law enforcement officers were quickly scouring the countryside, using bloodhounds and helicopters with heat-sensing night vision equipment. Snow was soon spotted and captured about two miles from where he had murdered Deputies Rutland and Bourne.

J.P. Rutland and Tommy Bourne are just two of some 300 law enforcement officers who were killed while transporting criminals. While some of those deaths involved automobile or aircraft accidents, the vast majority were simply cases of cold-blooded murder, usually involving a concealed weapon or the officer's own firearm.

One of the deadliest incidents for law enforcement involving the transport of a prisoner occurred on June 17, 1933, in what has become known simply as the Kansas City Massacre. Frank Nash, a notorious gangster, had been captured in Hot Springs, Arkansas, and authorities were bringing him back to Kansas City by train so he could be returned to Leavenworth Penitentiary. Tipped off by corrupt officials about the plan to bring Nash back to Kansas City, three machinegun-toting hitmen confronted the seven law enforcement officers escorting Nash and opened fire. To this day, it is unclear whether this was an attempt to break Nash free or an effort to silence him, but when the shooting ended Nash was dead, along with four law officers. The officers who died were FBI Special Agent Raymond Caffrey, McAlester (OK) Police Chief Otto Reed, and Kansas City Police Detectives W.J. "Red" Grooms and Frank Hermanson.

Charles "Pretty Boy" Floyd was among those involved in the massacre. He was killed a year later in a gun battle in Ohio. The other killers responsible for the Kansas City Massacre were never captured and brought to justice.

A similarly horrific incident occurred in Tampa, Florida, on May 19, 1998. Two Tampa police detectives, Randy Bell and Ricky Childers, were transporting a man suspected of killing his girlfriend's four-year-old son to the police station. The man freed himself from his handcuffs, grabbed one of the detectives' guns and shot them both to death. He escaped in a pickup truck he carjacked and armed himself with an assault rifle he grabbed out of the trunk of the police car.

Florida Trooper James "Brad" Crooks spotted the killer as he drove down the highway. Before backup could arrive, though, the man stopped his vehicle in the middle of an exit ramp, jumped out of his truck and fired a blast through Trooper Crook's windshield. Trooper Crooks never even had a chance to put his car into park or pull out his gun. After his murder spree, the man barricaded himself in a service station with a female hostage. He showed her the key he had used to free himself from the handcuffs. After doing a telephone interview with a local radio station, offering a chilling account of his bloody reign of terror, he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

In 1994 in Columbus, Georgia, Patrolman Charles "Ed" Osborne was simply driving two teenagers home when the trip turned deadly. Patrolman Osborne was actually doing the two boys, ages 13 and 15, a favor. They were involved in a drug sale and had been detained by police, along with several adults. The adults were arrested, but a decision was made to take the juveniles home and inform their parents of what had happened.

When they arrived at the younger boy's home, Patrolman Osborne removed the handcuffs from both juveniles and started to walk them to the house. But the 15-year-old maneuvered behind the officer, pulled out a .22 caliber revolver and fired a fatal round to the head at point-blank range. Sadly, the age of the cold-blooded killer, 15, is not all that unusual. In fact, during the 10-year period from 1992-2001, 92 cop killers were under the age of 18.

Alcohol and drugs only serve to enhance the dangers that our police officers face every day on the job. There are plenty of heartless street thugs capable of killing a cop while stone sober, but for some, a good drunk only makes their decision to pull the trigger a little easier. At least that was the excuse offered by convicted cop killer Michael Lambert. On December 28, 1990, Lambert was arrested by Muncie (IN) Patrolman Gregg Winters for public intoxication. Moments later Lambert, 21, fired five shots into Patrolman Winters' head and neck while handcuffed in the backseat of the officer's patrol car. Lambert was convicted of the crime and sentenced to death.

At his trial, Lambert maintained that he was intoxicated and not responsible for his actions. "It's a tragic situation, a situation that never should have happened," he said. "It was totally out of character. It's something that would never happen again . . . I can't tell you why any of that took place."

Gregg Winters is survived by his wife, Molly, and two sons, Kyle and Brock. When the ordeal of the trial was over, Molly said simply, "I'm glad it's over. Justice has been served." Molly has somehow pulled the shattered pieces of her life back together. In addition to raising her two sons, Molly has gone on to become an outspoken advocate for the survivors of officers killed in the line of duty, and has served as the president of the Concerns of Police Survivors, the nation's leading organization for police survivors.

Molly has also refused to let others forget Gregg and the special person he was. Several months after his death, she had a letter to the editor printed in her local paper. In it she said, "Gregg was no ordinary man; he was unique. He would pass up ball games and 'nights out with the guys' to stay home with me and our two sons." And, in that letter she also expressed her thanks to Gregg "for giving over 150 percent each time [he] patrolled the streets of Muncie."