Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [86]
It wasn’t unusual for me to taunt skips like this. Whenever I talked about their moms or sisters, I knew I’d get their blood boiling and it would be just a matter of time before they made a fatal mistake allowing me to make my capture. I’ve gotten really good at tripping the psychological triggers of fugitives over the years. The more personal I get, the easier they are to find. And whenever I can’t get to them, I know I’ve got the person in my posse who can—my Beth.
I started bringing Beth on bounty hunts a couple of years after I met her in 1988, mostly because I would come home and tell her stories that she wouldn’t believe. I said she ought to start coming with me to see what happens with her own two eyes. She was a real natural our first time out. Over the years, she has become an integral part of what I do, although her presence has forced me to change the way I work. I used be able to use my charm and good looks to get information out of people, especially women. My sweet talk was my secret weapon. These days, whenever I try to go there, Beth is right up in my business making sure I don’t. That’s when I call in one of the boys and tell them to go talk to the woman for a while. I’ll call him over, give him a wink, and send him into the lion’s den until we get what we need. Duane Lee will go right over, no hesitation. If we send Leland in, Beth will tell him to let down his ponytail because there aren’t a lot of women out there who don’t think that boy doesn’t look good with his long loose hair. And let’s be clear, what’s good for the goose is also good for gander. If Beth tries to point her “double-barreled” so-called shotguns in someone’s face, I tell her to cover those things up!
People sometimes think of Beth and me as the Bickersons, but there’s nothing more meaningful to me than being in a relationship with a strong woman who believes in me, has a mind of her own, and totally understands everything about my life. Even if it doesn’t always look like it, we’re usually working toward the same goal.
It’s true that I debate with her a lot and let her win those fights…most of the time. Even when I know she’s wrong, I always try to let her think she’s right, and to be totally fair, she usually is. Even so, I always try to be a gentleman with her. In the field, however, I’m completely different with Beth. She’s no longer my wife—she’s a crucial member of the team. Sometimes she gets upset with me when I get stern or order her to do something out on the road, but she knows I still love her. More important than that, Beth is often the reason we get our guy. I wouldn’t be able to do it without her by my side.
The guy I was taunting on the phone was a client of Mary Ellen’s, and Mary Ellen didn’t like to lose money, so not finding him wasn’t an option. Beth looked up the corresponding address to the phone number he had called from and discovered that it was a rural farmhouse in Brighton, a town just outside of Denver. We called the Brighton police to let them know we were on our way. They said they’d give us thirty minutes to get to the farm or they’d make the bust themselves. Thirty minutes was a push for us to get geared up, make the drive, and get our guy.
Beth and I jumped into my car and floored it, driving ninety-five miles per hour in order to get there on time. I was hoping and praying we didn’t get pulled over on our way down. Beth, who is usually the driver, was on the floorboard the entire time, scared we were going to crash.
When we got to the property, we saw that the farm was set way back off the road. There were fields as far as the eye could see. If someone was looking out the window of the house, they’d spot us coming up the driveway because of the dust and debris our car kicked up on the dry dirt road. There was no way we could ever sneak up on them without being noticed.
By the time we arrived, the cops were already searching the trailer we suspected our fugitive to be hiding in. We waited outside until they finished up