Dean Reynolds relates the following incident that happened in 1962.

In the late summer of 1962, I was standing by the window waiting for a friend to come by and pick me up so we could go visit some families which we had assigned to as Home Teachers. The sun had just gone down and the light was beginning to fail. As I stood there, I noticed a large man walking up the sidewalk across the street. I could see that he was walking very slowly and was carrying a gallon can in his right hand.
As he reached the spot directly across the street from me, my partner drove up and stopped in front of the house. I went out the door and walked up to the drivers side of the car and said to my partner. "Do you notice that person walking up the sidewall across the street? It looks like he is a Negro." My partner looked out the window of the car and seeing the person, turned to me and rather excitedly said. "Hey, Dean, as I was driving up here I heard on the radio that a Negro convict had escaped from the Point of the Mountain prison. I believe they said that had happened only this morning and that he may be heading toward Roosevelt and Vernal. I'll bet that's him across the street." My heart gave a little jump in my chest as I said. "Hold on a second, Don, and I'll run in the house and notify the Police."
I called the dispatcher and told her the situation. She said, "I'll have an officer there immediately." Well she was right because it wasn't more than thirty seconds before a police vehicle drove up and parked behind Don's car.
By this time the fugitive was still walking West and hadn't looked back and wasn't aware what was going on behind him. By now, he was a half of a block up the sidewalk and nearing the next intersection.
By this time, dusk was fast approaching and in the failing light, I pointed out the fugitive to the officer who then, just sat there. I said to him. "Don't you think that could be the escaped convict?" He just sat there staring forward. So I said. "Would you like me to help you capture him?" He turned his head and a little wide eyed said, "Yes, would you Dean?" I said. "Sure, just give me a second and I'll run in and get my revolver."
I ran in the house and came out fully armed. I looked in the car at the officer and said. "How do you want to work this?" By this time the Negro had reached the corner and was turning and crossing the street walking South and to our left. The officer just sat there without saying a word.
I knew something had to be done. I realized now, looking back on it that the officer must have surely been waiting for a backup. Perhaps that was his orders but he didn't voice them to me. All I could think of was that it was getting dark and unless someone done something it would soon be too dark to see very clearly.
I didn't want to butt in on the officers business but, seeing he wasn't going to take the initiative I said to him.
"It's going to be dark very shortly so this is what we better do while we still have some daylight to work with. What do you say, you drive ahead in your car and my partner and I will follow about fifty feet behind you. There's no curb along where he is so, just as you pass him, swerve your car onto the side walk in front of him then jump out and cover him with your firearm. Then, at the same time you do that, we will quickly stop in back of him then I will jump out and cover him. How does that sound?"
"OK"
I knew my partner had been listening to what were were saying and so, I figured he knew what was expected of him.
The officer swung out around us an started to drive very slowly up the street towards the corner. We followed and watched as the police car turned the corner to the left and drove toward the fugitive. As we reached the corner, my partner stopped dead in the road without attempting to turn left to follow the police car. I was flabbergasted and sternly said.
"Damn it, Don, turn left and step on it and get behind that police car. He's just about even with the fugitive."
I supposed he just didn't want to get involved because he refused to move. I looked toward where the police car was and was dumbfounded to see that instead of cutting in front of the fugitive, he had stopped even with him and had reached across to the opposite and rolled down the window which was next to the fugitive and was saying something to him. I watched as the man whirled to his left and ran between two houses and disappeared. I flung open the car door and with my gun, I started to sprint towards where this had taken place. As I ran, I looked and again was dismayed to see the police car squeal tires and head south toward the highway which was just a half a block away.
I drew up, panting, to where the fugitive had ran off the sidewalk and had disappeared between the two houses. With my 357 held in out in front of me, I casually moved into the shadows toward where he had gone and met him face to face alongside a tall granary. All I remember seeing mostly was the palm of one hand that he had along side of his face. Being a colored man, he was almost invisible in the fading light. He turned and ran North into some tall dry weeds. I could hear his running foot steps as he sprinted across the paved road to the North. I was right behind him by one hundred feet.
As I came to the road he had crossed I could hear the officer running up the street to my right. I could hear the clop of his boots as he ran and he was hollering.
"Stop or I'll shoot."
I wondered who he was hollering at as I was sure too far away to have seen the colored man cross the road in front of me. As I continued across the road I could see the fugitive had run into a vacant lot of tall dry grass which didn't have a fence around it. I moved cautiously into the field until I notice a small shed situated on the West side. Except for the faint traffic noise on the highway two blocks behind me. All was quiet.
Slowly, I moved further into the field toward the shed when, suddenly the fugitive jumped up from along the shed where he apparently had been hiding. He appeared to be ready to fight as he stood facing me.
I eared back the hammer of my 357 magnum and the two clicks sounded very loud in the stillness. At the same time I sternly, in a loud voice said. "Stick em up."
He brought his right hand down and across his belt to the left as if he was tossing some object away. Then he threw both of his hands in the air and with a loud pleading voice said. "Don't shoot, Boss."
It was rather dark by this time and I could hear the officer coming toward us, guided by our voices. I hollered.
"Over here Junior."
He came over to us panting and out of breath as he held out his service revolver to me and said. "Here Dean, hold this on him." I said. "I've got a bigger one than you meaning my 357 magnum compared to his 38.
Suddenly, there wee law enforcement vehicles coming from all directions. I thought, "Junior, your back up has arrived."
As the spotlights centered on us and I could see that the situation was well in hand, I stepped out of the light into the darkness and made my way back to the cross road and climbed in with my partner who hadn't moved while all this had been happening. I didn't say a word to him about what had just happened and neither did he. To this day, he has never mentioned it to me.
I might mention that the Negro had indeed thrown a fire arm away as it was picked up as evidence when the field was searched the next day.
I guess Junior took the full credit for the little caper. What the heck. It was taken care of wasn't it? And nobody got hurt.