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

my children. When Tucker came by the house the next day, I asked him if he had anything to do with the robbery. He was emphatic in his answer. “No way, Dad. I would never do something like that.” His denial felt sincere and that was all I needed to hear to put my mind at ease.
    Somewhere along the way, Barbara Katie, Tucker, and Baby Lyssamade a pact with one another: They would never rat on each other, ever. But I could tell something was going on because Barbara Katie kept telling me she had something to say but never offered up the information. Beth and I sat Tucker down again and reminded him of the time we called the police on him after he stole the Christmas gifts.
    Beth said, “Tucker, if you’ve got something to tell us, say it now before it’s too—”
    “OK, I did it!” he confessed.
    Beth and I looked at each other.
    “Did what?” I asked.
    “I stole the computers. I robbed the Japanese guy, Dad. I’m sorry!”
    His confession put me in the worst position I have ever been in as both dad and bounty hunter.
    “Son, you have to leave my house right now,” I said. “If my phone was to ring and it’s the police asking about you, I’d have to take you in. You need to walk out that door right now. I can’t harbor a known fugitive in my house, Tucker. I could go to jail. You have to go.” This time, there was absolutely nothing I could do to help my son. He was on his own. The anguish and guilt nearly killed me.
    Shortly after he fled, I received a call from local authorities who asked me to help them find Tucker. They knew for sure he was one of the guys who pulled off the heist.
    “Listen,” I said. “You’re talking about my son. How dare you call and ask me to help you find him. The mayor’s son has been wanted on drug charges four or five times and I am positive you didn’t ask him to find his kid. You wouldn’t call a fellow cop if you were looking for one of his kids. Why would you call me? I won’t do it. I won’t help you arrest my son.” I slammed down the phone.
    Tucker was apprehended a couple of weeks later, but not before putting up a good fight. In fact, I heard he was stopped in Honolulu.
    “Tucker!” It was a local police officer.
    Tucker spun around, got right in the cop’s face, and said, “What did you just say to me? Did you just call me a f**ker? Who the hell are you to call me a ‘f**ker’?”
    Apparently a crowd began to gather as Tucker and the cop had this exchange. My son got the police officer so flustered, he let him go. OK, I’ll admit, Tucker should have turned himself in right then and there, but I had to laugh when I heard about this incident because in a strange way, he made me proud with his Chapman charm.
    Tucker was sentenced to twenty years in jail, a stiff sentence for the crime he committed. He served four years in an Oklahoma state prison before being paroled. When he was released in 2006, he came to Hawaii to live with Beth and me.
    Prison had changed Tucker, but as his dad, I always chose to see my little boy inside the angry young man who stood in front of me. Growing up, I wanted to give him every shot I could at making something of his life. Instead of teaching him how to box like the other boys, I put him in front of a computer. I tried to keep him away from violence because I thought that would deter him from using drugs. It didn’t work out that way. I tried to overcompensate for his circumstances, and much like his mother, I became more of a friend than parent.
    There’s a great danger in being a friend to your children. For me, it ultimately cost me the most precious gift of all—one of my kids. Just before marrying Beth, I was faced with one of the hardest decisions I have ever made. As difficult as it was for me to accept, my daughter Barbara Katie, who was living in Alaska with her mother, had gotten in a lot of trouble with drugs. Every time she called home for a little money, I sent it. It was always the same excuse—that she