Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [15]
Although I was off the hook in Mexico, my own country refused to back down. People often said we did the right thing by capturing Luster, a convicted felon. I knew God had forgiven me for any wrongdoing in the matter because I took one of the bad guys off the street when no one else dared to. If I had grabbed the wrong guy off the streets of Mexico, I’d be speaking Spanish and eating Mexican food from my cell instead of writing this book. But I didn’t. I nabbed someone who had fled America to dodge his sentence for eighty-six counts of rape, drugging his victims and videotaping their encounters. The morality in Mexico supported what I did. They don’t want our rapists fleeing to their country to run free, raping their women and children. They didn’t want to put me in prison any more than I wanted to be there, and they proved it by dropping the case.
Days after Mexico dropped all of the charges against us, I was on the road promoting my first book. So while I wanted to celebrate the good news that came from Mexico, I had embarked on a thirty-day tour that took us across the United States. What a whirlwind experience that was. I toured for four straight weeks, shaking hands with my brothers and sisters—white, Asian, African-American, Latino, young, old, blue and white collar—signing their books, and hearing how my story had somehow inspired them to live better lives. I was absolutely blown away by the cross-section of America that had turned out to receive me with open arms and love. I feel the same way about each and every one of them. Everywhere I went, from Atlanta to Los Angeles, people wanted to meet me, say hello, and thank me for sharing my truth. I will never forget the faces of the tens of thousands of you who took the time to read my story and let me know you liked it.
The book tour was the craziest experience I’d had in years. I felt like the world’s biggest rock star as I made my entrance to each and every venue. The fans roared and cheered when they got a glimpse of Beth and me. The feeling I got when I heard the crowd reminded me of my early boxing days. My dad once asked me why I was never really in the fight until I got hurt. At the time, I didn’t care so much about the actual fight as I did the sound of the crowd cheering for me when the announcer called out my name. I told my dad how I felt. He said, “Son, why do you have to be in the ring to do that?” I didn’t know what else I could do where I would receive that type of reaction—until now.
Most book signings are done in an hour or two. When that time runs out, regardless of whether or not people are still standing in line, the signing is over. “Sorry, can’t sign your book, but thanks for buying it anyway” just wasn’t how I moved through the world. I told Alan, my manager, to make sure the store knew that I would stay and sign every last copy. Outside of my family, my fans are the most important people in the world to me. I vowed I would do my best not to disappoint a single one.
The crowds were enormous and bookstores were running out of copies days before our arrival. Alan told me he’d never seen so many people at a book signing. He was as surprised as anyone when a thousand and often two thousand or more people lined up to buy my book. Forty-five hundred people showed up at a signing at a Walmart in St. Louis, and a few spent the night in the parking lot just so they could be at the front of the line. With Beth and my manager by my side, I stayed late into the night to make sure I met every single person who had waited so long to meet me. Then we were escorted to the freeway with three local police cars holding back the traffic so fans wouldn’t chase us while we were driving back to our hotel.
There was another unforgettable