Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given (2010)

by Chapman, Duane Dog

  Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, boyfriends, and girlfriends all want to know, “What would you do, Dog?”

  I’m always brutally honest when I answer that question, because these people are seeking life-saving advice, so I’d better be right in what I have to say. I tell them to go to the police and report the user. Get him into rehab. Sit your kid down and talk to him. Sit there and tell him you were also once a teenager. Tell him about your own experiences with drinking or drugs. If you raised hell when you were a kid, you can count on your child being the same way. There’s no shame in youth. Experimentation is natural.

  However, if there is a predisposition to addiction in your family, it is your obligation as a parent to help prevent your child from suffering with the disease she inherited from you. Today, more than ever, kids have access to information through the Internet where they can make dangerous drugs out of common household items and over-the-counter drugs that are easily accessible. They live with twice the amount of peer pressure I grew up with, which means they have to be twice as strong, twice as educated, and twice as secure with who they are to stay on the right side of the law.

  If you struggle with addiction, chances are pretty good that your kids will too. If you got help, they’ll need it, too. If you’re still struggling, get help together. There’s no gray area when it comes to getting sober. You can’t be a little bit of an addict.

  My grandpa used to say I was the greatest dreamer he ever met. He’d say, “Watch your fantasies because you’re the kind of guy that can make those dreams come true.” To this day I think of myself as a dreamer and totally believe that is one of my greatest gifts. I tell people all the time that I started off as an ugly caterpillar, but through a miraculous metamorphosis, I turned into a beautiful butterfly. If I can change my life with a seventh-grade education, as a convicted felon and a former drug user—anyone can.

  I spoke to the crowd at the Recovery Project event the same way as I am writing these words to you. My message comes from the deepest part of my heart and soul because despite everything I know as a parent, all of the positive messages I tried to instill in my own kids, and all of the life experiences I’ve had over the years, one of my children is still so very lost.

  I shared something very personal with the crowd on that special night, something that is always difficult to admit as a parent. My son Tucker was back in jail for failing his mandatory drug test. His probation officer caught him with the prosthetic penis he’d been using to pass the tests. In a show of mercy, his parole officer gave him the opportunity to come back the following week to retest. He told him to go get clean, but my son couldn’t do it. If I was still a part of his day-to-day life, I would have made sure he showed up clean as a whistle the following week. Unfortunately, I was unaware of his situation until it was too late. Baby Lyssa came to me to say Tucker was so messed up on drugs. She was as worried as the rest of us. Even though my son and her brother betrayed us, he’s still my baby. I thought about the story in the Bible where Jesus asks God to forgive the guys who were crucifying him, by saying, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” I always wondered why he didn’t call upon ten thousand angels to set him free instead of asking the Lord to forgive his enemies. After the news of Tucker had broken, I received phone calls from all sorts of people offering to “take care” of Tucker for what he had done to me. That’s when it occurred to me that the love Jesus had for those men was the same as the love I feel for my son. No matter what happened, I had to forgive Tucker “for he knows not what he has done.” So when I heard he was back in prison, I worried someone would hurt him inside the joint. I put out the word and prayed others would understand that I had forgiven him and they should too.

  Whether he wants it or not, I’m going to love him as much as I do Duane Lee, Leland, and all of my kids, for the rest of his life. The sad and ironic truth is that Tucker is back in prison for the exact reason I warned him about during our last phone call.

  I’d spent too many sleepless nights worrying about Tucker in the short time we’d been estranged. Every time I heard an ambulance or siren in the middle of the night I’d pop up in bed and beg God, “Please, help Tucker. Don’t let that siren be for him.” Now, when I heard a siren I could take a deep breath and know for sure it wasn’t for him. He was safe in jail. Only a parent who has exhausted every other option can understand the strange sense of relief I felt knowing it was better that my child be locked up than on the street.

  After I finished sharing this news with the audience that night, I looked up and saw parents putting their arms around their kids, to hold their child just a little closer. I looked into the front row and saw a bad-ass-looking, tatted up young man touch his mother’s knee. And then I noticed a little boy about Gary Boy’s age, certainly no older than nine or ten, lay his head on his mom’s chest and begin to cry. She was gently caressing him, consoling him because even this child knew that what I was saying was real. I don’t know the circumstances of that youngster’s life, but I’m positive drugs have touched his family in a way that scares him to death.

  When I was done speaking, I literally felt like I had given all I had to the crowd. I was mentally exhausted and physically drained. I thought about the story in the Bible where Jesus was walking along a path to speak on top of a mountain. A large crowd was following him along the way. Jesus’s disciples were holding back the crowd, who were trying to reach out and touch the Savior. They believed He could create miracles if they could just have contact with Him. The Bible says there was a sick woman who touched the hem of His garment as He walked by, and when she did, Jesus stopped to ask John who had reached out to Him.

  John pointed to the woman and said, “She did.”

  Jesus said he felt like a lot of virtue had gone out of Him. He turned to the woman and said, “You are healed,” and then kept walking. I felt the exact same way when I was done speaking. All of my virtue was gone. I poured every bit of myself into the crowd. Hearing testimonials from people afterward made it all worthwhile. I can’t think of any higher compliment than to hear someone tell me that something I said helped them turn their life around. I want to be the fixer for these people because they don’t have anyone else to turn to. I’m the guy who is going to give them that last bit of hope. I’m not satisfied unless they are, which means I need them to leave with a changed perspective and a desire to live a better life than they had before they showed up. I derive my happiness, wholeness, and feeling of being complete from knowing the crowd left pleased. That night was exceptional in every way. If just one person heard my message that night and decided to do something about it, I would have been satisfied with the result.

  Not long after that appearance, a man walked up and began telling me he’d just put his son in jail a couple days earlier. He said, “Dog, I heard your message and all you had to say a few weeks ago about losing a child. Putting my son in jail was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I realized you were right. There’s nothing I won’t do to help one of my children stay clean, even sending him to prison. I now know how you feel whenever I hear an ambulance or police siren late at night. I no longer wonder if it’s my boy they’ve got. I will not love my son to death. Thank you, Dog.”

  I was standing with a friend from A&E at the time. I put one hand on his shoulder and the other on this man’s. I looked at my buddy and said, “Here’s our one.”

  His response was quick and to the point. “I think there will be more than one this time, Dog. Many more.”

  My grandpa used to tell me that the military was successful in training soldiers because they could tear a man down and build him back up to be faster, smarter, sharper, and more aware than when they started. It wasn’t until I began studying with Tony Robbins that I realized you didn’t have to be in the military to have those methods work for you. I once asked Tony his opinion on how to help people get off drugs. We opened up a dialogue on whether addiction was, in fact, a disease. I told him I thought that addic
tion was like an uncontrollable virus that spreads. Tony said he felt there are always signs of a spreading virus. In some cases it may be lesions, while in others it could be a limp. “If they’ve got a limp, you’ve got to give them a crutch,” Tony said.

  That’s when it occurred to me that there were lots of nonthreatening crutches to offer. It could be the Bible, watching television, reading a book, or anything else that helps you relax and unwind from your stressed-out daily life. Taking a drink of alcohol, smoking a joint, or popping a pill here and there may not seem harmful, but I fully believe it’s not the long-term answer.

  In the spring of 2009, I got a phone call from a guy named Bobby Magnuson, asking me if I would bond out his girlfriend, who I’ll refer to as Darlene. She had been arrested on drug charges. Bobby told me that she had a terrible methamphetamine problem and that he would only put up the bond for her if she promised to go to rehab and quit doing drugs. She agreed to get clean, so Bobby put up the collateral to get her out of jail.

  They went to rehab together, but soon after they arrived, Darlene split in the middle of the night. Bobby left rehab to find her and bring her back. He called her over and over until she finally answered her phone. Bobby could tell she was high.

  “Why do you have to be such a big pussy? Why don’t you just leave me alone? I don’t love you. Quit calling me!” Darlene was lashing out at Bobby, but she was too wasted to care.

  “I’m going to kill myself if you don’t come back to rehab. I swear, I’ll do it. I can’t live without you!” I think Bobby believed that threatening her would help Darlene come to her senses. Instead, it backfired.

  “Why do you keep threatening to kill yourself? Why can’t you be a man and just do it already!” Those were the last words he heard from the love of his life before Bobby threw a rope over the tallest branch of the largest tree he could find and hung himself. Just before he put the noose around his neck, he called Darlene one last time and left a message on her voice mail.

  “I told you not to push me. I hope you’re happy now. It’s over.” Bobby hung himself, but his phone never disconnected, so Darlene could hear the sounds of him choking until there was dead silence except for one single bird chirping in the background. Bobby was dead.

  When Beth found out about Bobby’s death, she called Darlene up and told her to come in and see us. She was crying from the moment she walked through the door. I looked at Darlene and said, “You know that Bobby is dead because of you, right? You wouldn’t get off the dope, you dared him to kill himself, and now he’s dead. You’re under arrest.”

  Just as I told Darlene she was going back to jail, Bobby’s mother and oldest brother walked through the door. They were looking for anything they could find with his handwriting on it. She wanted something from her baby to hold. When the mother saw Darlene in my office, she started calling her every horrible name in the book. Who could blame her? I sat the mother down and told her about my daughter Barbara Katie. I assured her that I understood her pain because I had lost a child too. I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone in her grief.

  “He’s with you now and forever.” I started telling her all of the words of comfort that were said to me when I got the news about Barbara Katie, hoping they would relieve her anguish at losing her son. Bobby’s mother looked up and asked Beth if she could see Darlene. She wanted to talk to her. Beth was hesitant at first, but she wasn’t going to deny Bobby’s mother this simple request. If the meeting became heated, we knew we could handle it.

  To my surprise, they hugged each other and cried in each other’s arms. Darlene was cuffed at first, but when I realized what was happening, I uncuffed her so she could hold Bobby’s mother.

  “When you were hungry, didn’t I feed you? When you were cold, didn’t I clothe you? I knew you and Bobby were doing wrong things, yet I treated you like you were my own daughter.” The mother had her hands on Darlene’s shoulders. “Look at what your drugs have done. Don’t let your addiction kill anyone else. Get yourself clean, Darlene. If you do, I will always be there to hold you, help you, feed you, clothe you, and whatever else you need. If you do this, know you can come back to me.”

  I was moved to tears as Bobby’s mother held Darlene that night in my office. I was stunned by her show of mercy, her generosity of heart. I could only hope and pray that Darlene heard the words that were spoken to her, that she’d somehow find her way to get sober and clean up her life so Bobby’s death would not be in vain. I drove her to jail later that night with hope in my heart but doubt on my mind that she would find her way.

  It’s hard to know there are people in the world who, despite every chance given, will not make it. I get so discouraged and disappointed by them. It’s hard for me to hear that someone I had high hopes for is back in jail…or worse. It’s too sad to think about, so I try to avoid the “where are they now” conversations. I make it a point not to become friends with the people I bond, so I can’t possibly get dragged down to where they are. I pray for all of them, but I try not to think about them after they’re off the bond. It’s the only way I can leave my work in the office at the end of the day. I owe it to my family to be present for them, to be there for their needs and comfort them when they need it from their dad and when Beth wants it from me as a husband.

  If you’re struggling with drugs or addiction, think about Bobby and Darlene’s story. Don’t let your situation take you down to the point of no return. Ask for help or be willing to accept it if someone you love tries to tell you it’s time to make some changes. There is absolutely no reason someone has to die to understand how precious life is. When you’re in the gutter, there’s no place to go but up. Ask yourself, “What’s the worst-case scenario? If I keep doing drugs, what will happen? If I stay in this abusive relationship, what will happen? If I keep acting recklessly, making foolish choices and hanging out with the wrong crowd, what will happen to me?” In the end, I think you’ll find that none of those answers work in your favor. In fact, they all lead you toward the same result. Do something now to change your circumstances before it’s too late. If you don’t know how to take that first step, you can contact a local help line by calling 411. All calls are anonymous and will be held in the strictest of confidence. The help line will be able to guide you to a safe place in your community where you can get the help you want, need, and deserve. I often remind myself that writing bail means having to watch my heart. If a client jumps on me, it feels like one of my own kids is running. It hurts my feelings so bad when one of my clients jumps bail. I get mad at first, but only until I catch him.

  So many of the cases I’ve been a part of don’t have happy endings. I’ll sometimes spend hours explaining to my clients all of the reasons they need to get their lives together, much like you see me do on the show after we make an arrest. Those conversations in the backseat are real—they reflect who I am. I want these men and women to know that they have it in their power to change the way things are in their lives. Most of them won’t end up doing anything about it, but at least I planted the first seed toward change if they want it.

  Women who jump surprise me more than men. More female clients discover the straight and narrow path than males, although there have been some memorable exceptions. When I first started bounty hunting, I pretty much worked alone. I didn’t want anyone along for the ride or to share in the glory. I found it sometimes made things easier for me, especially when tracking down a female fugitive.

  Back in the day, one of the most memorable women I ever went after was a girl named Susan. I was chasing her for a buddy of mine. I’d spent a couple of days looking for her around Denver, when someone tipped me off on where she was staying. When I called the number my contact provided, Susan answered the phone.

  “Hey, baby. How ya doing?” I asked in my coolest, sexiest voice.

  Susan didn’t recognize me at all. Why would she? We had never actually met. I played like we had, though. I told her we hung out down at her favorite bar, the Blue Café. S
usan suddenly realized, or thought she had, exactly who I was.

  “Are you the guy with the beard and the blue eyes?” she asked.

  “No, honey. That ain’t me. I have the long blond hair.”

  “Ohhh. Right. Yes. Man, that was a couple of weeks ago. I was so hammered that night I could barely remember my own name!” And then she began shamelessly flirting. The more she talked, the less I had to. And boy, did she start to sweet talk me. That’s when I knew she was mine for the taking. When I asked her out on a date for the next night, she immediately said yes.

  I showed up at her door the next day looking sharp and ready for the night. I had a photo of Susan from her bondsman so I could be certain I had the right chick before arresting her. The moment she opened the front door, I knew it was her. I told her I thought we’d catch a movie at the local drive-in. It seemed like a good idea. Given the conversation we’d had the night before, I didn’t think she’d mind. I was eager to get her out to the truck, but then her mother came to the front door to meet me. I had to be polite, like I was excited to be taking out her daughter. After a few minutes of small talk, I took Susan by the arm and walked her to my truck. I opened the passenger door and did all of the gentlemanly things I would have done if this had been a real date. Just as I walked around to get into my vehicle, I noticed her brother walk up to the driver’s side door. He was wearing army fatigues and looked like a real killer.

  “Be cool with my sister, man.” I could tell he was being serious.

  “I will,” I said. I backed out of her driveway and headed to the drive-in. As we drove away, I asked Susan about her brother.

  “Your brother sure seems protective. What was he doing at your house?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got a little trouble with the law right now. I’m on the run and I wanted to be sure you weren’t a cop.”

  I just about swallowed my tongue thinking she might be on to me. About three minutes into our ride, I pulled over.