Twenty-five years after his death, the legend of Buford Pusser lives on
By Chris Davis, Weekly Wire
JULY 5, 1999: Just a little over a hundred miles east of Memphis, on U.S. Highway 45, two ruined buildings straddle the Tennessee/Mississippi state line like a toothless old hooker, leering at passersby and enticing them to stop and poke around. The windows are blown out, and the dim interiors are lit by narrow shafts of sunlight pouring through the roof, onto the dirty ceramic tiles below. Looming above a cluster of young trees, a faded sign reads "Motel" in shattered white neon, and if you pull back some of the undergrowth you can see a smaller metal sign, its message long erased by the elements, in the shape of a four-leafed-clover.