Free Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given (2010) by Duane Dog Chapman

great. That is, until those girls started coming around. Once he began dating Monique, everything started spiraling out of control. We told him from the start that we didn’t like her, that we both believed she was a bad person. I tell all of my children, “You are who you hang out with.” And it’s true. You become who you hang out with. And still, Tucker refused to break up with Monique.
    Beth would get frustrated with his half-assed approach to doing things, and that sometimes caused an argument between the two of them. He’d do whatever we asked without a major fuss, but he’d always only do it halfway. If I asked him to sweep the floor, he’d forget to pick up the piles of dirt. If I asked him to water the plants, he’d leave the hose unraveled and on the ground instead of putting it away when he was finished.
    Tucker was a good kid when he was a youngster. Up to the age of eleven or so, he got good grades, never missed a single day of class, and was never in any trouble. It was around this time that he started going back and forth between my place and his mother’s house. He visited her regularly over the course of the next couple of years. He’d go for a week or two and come back a totally different kid than when he left. I was shocked when I saw him for the first time after coming home from an extended visit with his mom. He had left a clean-cut young boy and returned two weeks later a petty thief with his fingernails painted black.
    Beth and I began to notice random items showing up around the house that we both knew Tucker could never afford to buy—like a fogmachine! The only conclusion we could come to was that he was stealing the stuff. Although I tried to talk to him about his behavior, the more I spoke to him the worse his attitude became.
    As they got older, Tucker, Baby Lyssa, and Barbara Katie had each figured out how to play mom against dad. It’s a pretty common trait among children of divorced parents. Add stepparents into the equation, and you’ve got a recipe for constant conflict and drama unless all of the adults find a way to work together and in the children’s best interests—something I should have done with their mother, but didn’t.
    The atmosphere at my ex-wife’s house was decidedly different from the one at mine. For one thing, the kids told me there were no rules at her house. They said their mother had become more of a friend than a parent, which made for a pretty inviting environment for three prepubescent teenagers. They could stay out as late as they wanted, didn’t have to go to school on a regular basis, and were exposed to a party lifestyle that impacted all three in unimaginable ways. My children were not only exposed to hard drugs, they were invited to join in on the partying. They were too young and impressionable to understand that what they saw their mother doing was wrong. By the time Tucker was thirteen, he was old enough to understand what was really going on at his mom’s house. He said he didn’t want to visit her anymore because he hated what he saw happening to his mother and sisters. I think it was a constant internal battle for Tucker, who tried but failed to keep his sisters out of trouble. He wanted to be the heroic brother who protected his sisters from harm. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t stop them from acting out in ways that would eventually hurt them both.
    Of course, when the kids returned to our house, Beth and I were always the bad guys because we had rules they had to live by. We set pretty tight boundaries and had expectations that had to be met. The kids all had chores and responsibilities, which they didn’t like very much. Whenever Beth and I told them to clean their room or take out the trash, their usual response was “I’m going back to Mom’s!” I felt so bad, I usually caved in and let them have their way when I ought tohave practiced some tough love and been stricter and more secure in my parenting.
    Over time, I became