Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [96]
“Yeah. I’ve got a little trouble with the law right now. I’m on the run and I wanted to be sure you weren’t a cop.”
I just about swallowed my tongue thinking she might be on to me. About three minutes into our ride, I pulled over.
“What are you doing?” Susan asked.
“This ain’t no date and you’re under arrest, you bond-jumping bitch!” I yelled, quickly slapping the cuffs on her. That’s when I realized where I had chosen to pull over. There’s a portion along Highway 85 between Brighton and Denver that all bounty hunters and bondsmen know because it’s the darkest stretch of road on the route. I’ve always referred to that stretch as the Brighton Triangle because so many accidents and incidents happen there. I always held my breath as I made my way through that area, hoping nothing would happen. Unfortunately, this was where I’d chosen to stop. I thought Susan was secure as I sped toward the Adams County jail, but before I knew it, that crazy bitch came right out of her cuffs! She started beating on me while I was driving seventy miles an hour down the highway, taking wild swings with her fists at my head and neck.
“What are you going to do now, you mofo?” she screamed at the top of her voice.
I started swerving in and out of traffic trying to avoid both her fists and oncoming cars at the same time. She finally connected and hit me pretty hard with the cuffs, and then she did it again, over and over. I was in trouble. Finally I thought, Lord, I don’t want to hit this woman, but what am I supposed to do? God told me to settle her down. I pulled my truck over to the side of the road, pulled her out, subdued her like a man, and slapped the cuffs back on her wrists. This time, however, I made sure they were on good and tight. I wanted to be sure there was no way she could bust out of them until the cops themselves took them off her wrists. I was pretty sure there would be a mark when they removed them.
By the time we got to the jail, Susan was screaming to anyone who would listen that I had beat her. She already had a black eye when I picked her up, but now she was insistent that her injuries were from me. The officers sequestered me while they tried to get the story from Susan. She was pushing for assault charges, but it was her word against mine. Thankfully, I remembered the photo her bondsman had given me that was in the glove box of my truck. She had the same black eye in the picture taken two weeks before I picked her up. Once I showed her mug shot to the cops, I was off the hook.
That was the last time I picked up a female fugitive alone. I couldn’t afford to be accused of assault or worse. It wasn’t long after that bust that Beth started coming with me on all my hunts, especially when I was looking for female fugitives. The first time I asked Beth to come on a bounty hunt with me, I asked her to drive me to the house of the woman I was looking for. I was partying and in no condition to drive myself. Of course, this was back in 1988, before I got clean and sober.
At first, Beth refused, but I was somehow able to convince her to drive by the address one time or I would have to do it myself. We were slowly passing by the house when I spotted the woman I was looking for in the yard. I leapt out of the still-moving car and started to chase her. She ran into the house and out the back door. She finally locked herself in a corner apartment down the block. I had her. When I kicked in the door, it accidentally hit her friend in the head. Fearing I was getting close, the woman I was chasing ran again. This time, she went out the back door and into a junkyard behind the apartment building, where she hid in a doghouse.
“I’m out of here, Duane. I don’t want any part of this!” Beth was yelling at me as I went to grab the woman.
Just then the police showed up and told us to freeze. They wouldn’t let me capture my fugitive. Instead, they arrested both Beth and me.
In Colorado, the law states that anyone who enters and remains in a dwelling to commit a felonious act is guilty of first-degree burglary. Beth and I were booked