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“If America can forgive Kennedy for something like that, surely they will find mercy in their heart for you,” the old man said. “What you uttered is nothing compared to that incident. You will be forgiven and yes, this will pass.”

I have always been a huge fan of the Kennedy family and all they have done for our country. I think about the late Senator Ted Kennedy today and how the world loved him. His legacy will live on forever.

I understood the message the old man was trying to convey, and yet the words of the Old Testament kept coming back to me, “lest ye forget.” I hoped and prayed the old man was right, but I feared he was just being kind and consoling. I had a long road ahead of me to turn around the thoughts of all the people I had hurt, but I believed it could be done, because I know most people have mercy and forgiveness in their hearts.

After my appearances on Hannity and Colmes and Larry King Live, the phones didn’t stop ringing with requests to be on numerous other talk shows. Producers from Dr. Phil repeatedly called to see if I’d be willing to appear with two leaders in the African-American community, T. D. Jakes and Al Sharpton. I refused the invitation several times before they stopped calling. In my absence, Dr. Phil went on the air and called me a coward. No one does that to me without some type of fight, so I started referring to Dr. Phil as the “Great White Dope” in all of my interviews. Dr. Phil kept pushing my buttons by challenging me every chance he got, but I wasn’t falling into his trap. He tried as hard as he could to get me to my breaking point, but he never put me over the edge.

Dr. Phil wanted the drama of a confrontation between honorable men and a supposed racist, all in the name of television ratings. I wasn’t going to serve as his puppet. If I was going to be confronted by someone like Al Sharpton, I thought it would be much better and more effective to meet him head-on, so I called 411 and asked for his number. I hunt people who don’t want to be found for a living. Finding someone who doesn’t even know I’m looking for him is a cakewalk.

When the young woman operator gave me the number for Sharpton’s organization, the National Action Network, I dialed it right away.

“Hello, is this Al Sharpton’s place?” I asked.

“Yes it is. How can I help you?” The woman’s voice on the other end of the phone sounded like she got a thousand phone calls like mine every single day.

“I need to speak to Reverend Sharpton. My name is Duane Chapman. I’m Dog the Bounty Hunter and I am in a heap of trouble.”

There was a short pause and then I heard, “Yes, I believe you are, sir.”

I was relieved the young woman on the other end of the line was so gracious when she heard it was me. I half expected her to slam down the receiver without another word, but she didn’t. I explained I needed to get in touch with the reverend’s secretary or assistant. I knew that would be my best shot to get my message directly through to him. I’ve learned over the years that assistants and secretaries hold the keys to the kingdom. That’s pretty universal in the world of business. If I could make a connection with one of Sharpton’s main people, I’d have a shot with him too. Time was of the essence because Reverend Sharpton is notorious for setting up highly public displays when he is boycotting something. I was worried he was going to organize a march in front of the A&E headquarters to pressure them into firing me for being a racist. It was important to convince someone at his organization that I was a good man who’d made a terrible mistake. I was willing to beg for mercy if I had to.

“Look,” I continued, “I know you’ve probably read the stories and heard the recording of the conversation I had with my son. I am so sorry about what I said, but I need Reverend Sharpton to know that I am not a racist.” I was pleading with the receptionist to put me in touch with the right person.

“I think you’ve got an uphill climb, sir,” she told me.

I swallowed hard. It was the end of the road. And