Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [28]
I loved her so much, but I believe I loved her to death. Every time I tell someone that, they tell me how sorry they are for my loss. The reality is they shouldn’t feel sorry, because I have dealt with it in every way.
After Barbara Katie died, I received a call from a man who told me he was in a car that was driving behind the vehicle she was in when it flipped. He told me he saw the horrible accident as it happened. When he ran up to the overturned vehicle, he felt the pulse of the man behind the wheel. It was very weak. He told me he talked to the man and tried to tell him everything was going to be OK. Even so, the driver said he was going to die. That’s when the man looked over and noticed another body too. It was my daughter. He explained to me that her head was hanging down to her chest. It was obvious she had broken her neck. The man on the phone told me that he watched the son of a bitch driver who killed my baby take his last breath. He said he called to tell me he was there when the guy died and wanted me to know it was a miserable death.
I thanked him for calling and hung up. I got up from the table, began walking in my backyard, circling the pool, and then I started to cry. Why didn’t his phone call make me feel better? Why was I feeling mercy for the bastard that took my baby’s life? I couldn’t believe I wasn’t finding any comfort knowing that man choked on his own blood.
“God, why? Why do I feel this way?”
And then God spoke.
“This is why you will go out there and share your message with people, Duane. You have a forgiving heart like me. That’s why you’re the Dog. This is what you’re supposed to feel like.”
Being angry with the driver wouldn’t bring my baby back. It wouldn’t heal my shattered heart any quicker, and it wouldn’t allow me to set an example of the true meaning of mercy. Instead of cursing him, I forgave him. I haven’t forgotten any of the pain from that experience, but I’ve let go of my anger. That act alone gave me the foundation to tell others that they have to do the same thing. Who pays the price when we carry around negative emotional baggage? We do. And where’s the good in that? There is none.
So maybe Barbara Katie’s death was a way for me to reach out and help others see what they choose not to in their own kids. Perhaps her death will remind you to take the blinders off, get your head out of the sand, and pay attention to your kid’s addictions. Don’t love your kids to death like I did. It’s not too late to reach out and pull them from the abyss—but you’ve got to take action before something terrible happens or you will regret it for the rest of your life. It was too late for Barbara Katie, and now I saw the same thing happening to Tucker.
Tucker’s attitude had become noticeably worse since meeting Monique. It was obvious that he was going downhill fast, and despite everything I knew in my heart, I did nothing to stop his spiral. He appeared desperate and without proper moral judgment. He didn’t feel good about himself. He’d moan about his felony and the many tattoos he had all over his body that he now regretted. I don’t think he felt desirable, so when Monique began paying attention to him, whether or not I approved of her was pretty irrelevant. She made him feel wanted, and who can blame him for that?
Tucker and Monique started spending a lot of time in clubs. It’s a pretty well-known fact in our family that Chapmans and booze do not mix. It’s a dangerous, deadly, poisonous combination. It basically turns us all into idiots, and Tucker was no exception. I never felt comfortable with Tucker and Monique’s party lifestyle, and I now had a growing concern for my son’s safety and well-being.
I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or something worse, but his temper had become unpredictable and combustible. I suspected that he was on methamphetamines because