Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [30]
I spent years studying and learning from Tony Robbins, who taught me that if a person doesn’t understand what you’re saying, you have to continue to change your approach until the person does. So I begged Tucker to leave Monique in every way I could, giving him all the reasons why I felt the way I did and why I thought she was bad news. I’d initially gotten on the phone to explain to Tucker why he couldn’t bring her around my house, to tell him that she was trouble. But the more I tried to make my point, the less I thought I was getting through to him. Stupidly, I kept hoping I would somehow get through to his stubborn Chapman ass. Tucker didn’t have much to say as I talked. One of the only things I remember him saying was “If Baby Lyssa was dating a black guy, you wouldn’t be acting this way.”
“If Lyssa was dating a n***er, we would all say f*ck you…and you know that. If Lyssa brought a black guy home ya da da…it’s not that they’re black, it’s none of that. It’s that we use the word n***er. We don’t mean you fucking scum n***er without a soul. We don’t mean that shit. But America would think we mean that. And we’re not taking a chance on losing everything we got over a racial slur because our son goes with a girl like that. I can’t do that, Tucker. You can’t expect Gary, Bonnie, Cecily, all them young kids to because ‘I’m in love for seven months’—fuck that! So I’ll help you get another job, but you cannot work here unless you break up with her and she’s out of your life. I can’t handle that shit. I got ’em in the parking lot trying to record us. I got that girl saying she’s gonna wear a recorder…”
Looking back, I realize that, deep down, I instinctively knew this was going to end up in print somewhere. I was trying to protect everything I held near and dear—my family, my career, and most of all, my son. The son I’d delivered into this world with my bare hands. When his mother went into labor, she let out such a loud scream I thought she was dying. She passed out cold after her water broke. I picked her up, carried her into the bedroom, and did what I could to make sure she and the baby were safe. Thankfully, my mother didn’t live far from our house. I called her to say I needed help getting my wife to the hospital. By the time Mom got to me, Lyssa was already giving birth. I could see the baby’s head in between her legs. Even though I didn’t know why I needed it, I told Mom to get me some hot water. I remembered watching episodes of Gunsmoke as a kid and hearing people yell for hot water and towels when a woman went into labor, so I did too. Mom came running into the bedroom with hot water and a towel.
I reached between Lyssa’s legs and began to pull gently on the baby’s head. She was screaming while I yelled, “Push, push!” I pulled until one little shoulder popped through and then the other. Within seconds I was holding Tucker in my arms. But something was wrong. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t crying, and now I noticed he was completely blue.
“He’s dead,” I said to Mom as tears streamed down my cheeks.
I put his little body to the side while I pulled on the umbilical cord. When the placenta came out, I thought it was another dead baby. I was absolutely beside myself with grief.
“Good job, Dad,” a voice said from behind me. It was a paramedic who had arrived and then taken a large scissor and cut the cord.
Tucker began to cry. I never felt so proud in my life. I had brought this little baby into the world, and I felt a bond from the very moment I held him in my arms. I named him Tucker D. Chapman. His initials were the same as the Texas Department of Corrections. I looked into my son’s eyes and thought, This is the son that I’ll be a good guy for. I hadn’t been a model citizen up until that point. But something about Tucker made me want to live an honest, honorable life.
I have a soft spot for all