Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [58]
“Hello?” a voice answered after about a dozen rings. I could hear guys playing basketball in the background. I asked who I was talking to and where I was calling. He said he was in the yard of the county jail in Parrish, Florida.
“You’re in jail?” I asked.
“Yeah. What’s it to you, asshole?”
“Is there a Warren Halligan in there with you?”
“No. Never heard of him.”
That’s when I noticed a name written next to the phone number on the pizza box—Dan Fields. It was worth a try.
“What about a Dan Fields?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s in here.”
“What does he look like?” I was starting to get a strange feeling that Dan Fields and Warren Halligan were the same man.
“He’s got long brown hair, blue eyes…”
I interrupted him to ask, “Does he have any tattoos?” Warren had a distinctive tattoo on his chest.
“I have no idea, man.”
“You’ve got to look and find out for me. It’s worth a lot of money.” I stopped myself from saying anything more, because I didn’t want to blow my cover if this Dan Fields in fact turned out to be Warren. “Look, he’s come into a lot of money, but I need to make sure he’s the guy I’m looking for. I’ll call you the same time tomorrow. Can you help a brother out?”
“Who is this?” The guy was beginning to smell opportunity for himself.
“Never mind who this is. I’ll make it worth your while if it turns out to be him. What’s your name?”
“Chuck.”
“Okay, Chuck. I won’t forget this. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I told him and then hung up.
I didn’t tell Mary Ellen about the new lead because I didn’t want to get her hopes up just yet. Even if it was our guy, he was sitting in a cell in Florida, which meant I’d have to get him out before Mary Ellen could be released from the bond.
“Do you believe in God?” I asked Mary Ellen, knowing full well she did.
“C’mon, Dog. What kind of question is that?”
“Remember, G-O-D spelled backwards is D-O-G. Put your faith in me. I won’t let you down.” If things worked out, I’d be a hero. If this lead turned out to be a bust, I’d blame it on the big man upstairs.
I called Chuck the next day.
“It’s him. He’s got the tat,” he said.
Blam. Got him.
When I told Mary Ellen the news, she was in shock. “It can’t be,” she said.
“Mary Ellen, I’m the Dog,” I told her. “God’s not going to let me fail. I’m one of his disciples, one of His messengers here on earth. God is always going to show me the way.”
This was the first time I learned to follow my gut. We all have an inner voice that tells us the right thing to do. If that voice tells you to turn right, don’t turn left! I had searched countless homes before, but this time my inner voice told me to flip over that pizza box. I instinctively knew a vital clue would be there. I knew for sure I had my guy. From that day on, I realized I had a special gift, something I call the “bounty hunter blessing.” That’s the ability to sense things others cannot feel.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved the story of Sitting Bull and his infamous Battle of the Little Bighorn. The battle was the most famous action of the Great Sioux War. Sitting Bull led the Lakota and Cheyenne tribes to victory over General George Armstrong Custer’s Seventh Calvary. This was the battle known as Custer’s Last Stand because seven hundred troops fell to the leadership of Chief Sitting Bull, who had a premonition of his victory months before the battle took place. The chief saw bodies falling from the sky, which he interpreted as defeating Custer and his cavalry. Legend has it that Sitting Bull rode his horse in front of the cavalry sharpshooters several times, but they missed with every shot. Not a single bullet hit its mark. “No white man’s bullet can harm me,” Sitting Bull is believed to have said that day.
Every time something happens in my life where I’m told I can’t do something, I remember the words of Sitting Bull. I’ve never feared anything in my life because I know I will never be harmed.