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

aware of what was happening at their mother’s house and tried to talk to her about it, but I never stopped any of the kids from seeing her whenever they wanted. Looking back, I realize that I should have forbidden them to be in her presence until she stopped her partying ways. I should have gone to court and demanded sole custody. I should have told my kids that I’d cut them off and that they’d get nothing from me if they didn’t stop using drugs. But I didn’t. I passively allowed things to continue until it got so bad that I had to put a stop to it.
    When Baby Lyssa was raped and became pregnant at the age of thirteen by her twenty-seven-year-old boyfriend, I hit my breaking point. It was time to intervene. Tucker was living with me while Barbara Katie and Baby Lyssa were living with their mother. My teenage daughter’s only influence was that of a woman who was partying hard and endlessly dating. She didn’t pay any attention to the kids, often working or staying out until two in the morning and sleeping all day. I needed to get the girls out from under her before one of them ended up dead. Beth and I stepped in and brought Baby Lyssa to live with us in Hawaii so we could get her off drugs and look after her new baby. She hasn’t left since.
    In the meantime, Tucker was getting into more and more trouble. His stealing got worse. He was always taking things like money, jewelry, and other valuable stuff he could easily get his hands on. He’d steal from anyone without a care or thought about what he was doing. He showed no conscience. He even stole all of his little brother’s and sisters’ Christmas gifts one year, leaving nothing but the discarded wrapping paper under the tree. He cleaned us out, taking everything, including a laptop Beth had bought, jewelry I’d given to her, and even a precious ring my mother had given to me before she passed away.
    It was hard for me, but I told Beth to call the police even though I knew we were reporting my own son. This was the first time I had ever done anything like that against one of my children. It was a painful yetcrucial decision because he was out of control and there was nothing I could do to stop him from stealing. I thought the cops might be able to rattle him into straightening out. I was enraged by the situation, but I also understood my son needed help, help that he wouldn’t accept from me. I could hardly bear to listen as Beth made the call. When Tucker was sentenced, the judge told him “there will be a time when your dad cannot and will not be able to help you.” Thankfully, because Tucker was only seventeen and a half, the judge took mercy on him and sentenced him to probation because he was a juvenile.
    Even though the judge was easy on him, it wasn’t enough to deter his behavior or keep Tucker out of trouble. By the time he was eighteen years old, his stealing had become even more out of control. One night, Beth and I were watching the evening news when we heard a story about a robbery in a local hotel room. Two men had broken into a hotel and stolen computers and other electronic equipment from a Japanese businessman. They duct taped the man’s hands and feet together so he couldn’t move and covered his mouth so he couldn’t yell for help. Beth looked over at me and said, “That sounds like something Tucker would do.” And she was right, because Tucker always had duct tape around. At first he used it to amuse Bonnie Jo, who was just a baby. She loved touching the sticky part of the tape. And then one day we came home to find Bonnie Jo’s hand taped to the side of her head. Beth warned Tucker not to do that ever again. But that didn’t stop him. Another time, we found the baby’s wrists bound by the tape.
    “Someday that tape is going to be the end of you!” Beth warned Tucker.
    Although Beth had her suspicions, I never once thought that my son would commit such a serious crime. I have a knack for ignoring the obvious when it comes to