Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [48]
William showed up with three of his coworkers, all black men, to protect us from the throngs of paparazzi that were there to greet us as well. William, Les, Isaiah, and Ronnie looked like the front line of the Denver Broncos waiting to block anyone from our path. I was instantly relieved because I knew William’s love for me transcended the story of what had happened. The guys quickly ushered us to a waiting bus while sending the paparazzi after two decoy SUVs they had brought to throw them off. We were so touched by their caring and warm welcome. It was ironic that the very people the media had said I despised and hated were the guys who met me, comforted me, and kept me safe throughout my time in Los Angeles. These guys had worked for me for years. They knew who I was inside my heart. They never once felt betrayed or dishonored by my use of the “N” word.
Not long after my appearances in Los Angeles, I was devastated by the news that William had been diagnosed with stage four cancer. He began chemotherapy treatments, but couldn’t take what it was doing to his body. He called me from time to time to let me know how he was doing. I pleaded with William to continue with his treatments, but he couldn’t do it. Every time we came to town, William did his best to see us until he got too sick and was no longer able to. I was so grateful for his friendship and loyalty over the years, I wanted to do whatever I could to make sure his last days on this earth were as comfortable as possible. I sent money to make sure he had groceries, could pay his rent, and was able to get whatever prescriptions he needed until he passed away. My friendship with William was as significant as my relationship with my old cellmate Whitaker. And, in a way, more so because he understood the ups and downs of living a fast-paced Hollywood life. He never gave up on me, nor I on him.
The interview with Sean Hannity was hard for two reasons. First, although I went in with a good idea of what he would be asking me about, I still didn’t know what I planned to say. Second, I was incredibly emotional. I cry at the drop of a hat, and I knew this interview would rattle my cage a bit. Thankfully, whenever I broke down or started to sway into a bad place, Sean would stop me, rephrase the question, and essentially let me start over.
When I tried to tell Sean about my experience at Mount Vernon, it came out all wrong. Beth was off camera practically stomping her feet, begging me to just stop talking. I was so emotionally upset that I messed it up badly. Beth and Alan were in the back watching, and at the break they came rushing onto the stage. I thought they both were going to kill me. “You just told America you were going to be buried at Mount Vernon,” Beth said.
“No, I didn’t.”
They both yelled at me, “Yes, you did!”
In my emotional state, I had told the world I had started the process to allow me to be buried with the slaves. What I’d meant to say was that I had contacted the foundation at Mount Vernon and hopefully started the process of buying them a marker for the slaves if they wanted to use such a marker. I also had wanted to tell Sean Hannity that I was so proud