Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given (2010) (11 page)

Now seemed like as good a time as any to reach out and reconnect with Tony Robbins. I had spent years training with him, and I also sometimes spoke at his seminars. He has been one of the truly great teachers of my life. Since both our schedules had become so busy, Tony and I had lost contact over the past few years, though we try to touch base from time to time just to check in and see how the other is doing. Tony has got a lot of kudos coming to him because he helped change my entire way of thinking after I was released from prison.

I first met Tony in 1985 through my friend Keith Paul, an FBI spe
cial agent I befriended in Denver several years earlier. I liked Keith from the day we met. Despite his youthful appearance, Keith had a daunting presence. But I was never intimidated by him. We spoke the same language and we both liked to get things done.

One night, after a bust, we went to the White Spot diner, as we often did, to recap the evening’s events. Keith began telling me about a guy who’d come to the Academy to train all the agents in his office. He said this guy was just like me, except he used bigger words. Keith was insistent I meet him. “His name is Tony Robbins,” he gushed.

I had heard of Tony because of my exposure to motivational speakers while selling Kirby vacuums. I knew that guys like Tony changed people’s lives, but I had no idea how meaningful his lessons and insights would become in my own.

A few weeks later I received a call from Tony. I was stunned to hear his deep and very recognizable voice on the phone. He called to ask me if I’d be interested in coming to one of his upcoming seminars in Texas as a guest speaker.

Texas? Did he say Texas?
The day I walked out of Huntsville, I swore I’d never step foot in Texas ever again.

“No way, buddy.” That was my firm and definitive answer.

Tony isn’t the type of guy who takes “no” sitting down. He’s a smooth cat, and before I even knew what had happened, I was on my way to the Lone Star State.

At first, I was worried that it might be some type of setup, that someone had made a horrible mistake by paroling me early. I thought the Department of Corrections had tricked me into coming back to Texas under the auspices of speaking for Tony Robbins. All they had to do was get me over the state line, where I figured they’d be waiting to take me back to prison.

But a few hours after landing in Austin, I found myself on stage speaking to a thousand strangers. I loved every second of it. I was so pumped up from the adrenaline, I felt like I was back in the ring boxing, like when I was in the Disciples. I’ve always loved the sound of a cheering crowd, especially when they’re rooting for me. I walked
down the long aisle, giving high fives and shaking hands with everyone within reach. I felt like a rock star and couldn’t get enough of the adulation.

When I had first arrived at the venue, I spotted Tony off in a corner, in the front row just left of the stage. He was enormous in stature and presence. He towered over me like a giant. When we shook hands, his devoured mine. He is an engaging, warm, and powerful guy in every way. He stepped on stage and introduced me.

“This is Dog Chapman. His story is one of the greatest examples I have ever heard of a criminal gone wrong. Please put your hands together and give Dog a great big welcome!” Tony said as I walked onto the stage to speak to the crowd.

I never forgot those words because it was the first time someone identified me as “a criminal gone wrong.” He later explained that I was the antithesis of what most criminals become after serving hard time. I chose to lead by example, by making something of myself. I found my strengths and created a life that took my inner criminal out of the equation, while still choosing to use all of my knowledge and understanding to aid me in my pursuit of justice and upholding the law. If I’d been a criminal gone right, I’d still be on the other side of the law.

That explanation is classic Tony Robbins thinking. He has a way of helping people see things differently. Thankfully and gratefully, Tony and I shared an instant bond that day. Our interaction on stage was compelling and garnered a standing ovation at the end. I had tears of joy being on that stage next to Tony. From that day on, I was filled with the great hope and inspiration that I had the power to help change people’s lives.

I totally believe that it should be mandatory for anyone coming out of the prison system to hook up with Tony Robbins. It ought to be a parole requirement because recidivism for parolees ranges from 50 to 60 percent. Most inmates coming out of the joint have spent their time getting hit with clubs and being mentally browbeaten, while living in a cage they’re let in and out of under someone else’s watchful eye. Then, one day, that same officer comes up to you, opens the door, and says,
“Forget about all the crap you just lived through, learned, and suffered. Now, go out there and make something of your life.” Someone like Tony Robbins has the skill set, knowledge, and experience to help these guys and girls not only get on but stay on the right track. Had it not been for my newfound friendship and association with Tony, I’m not sure if I would have made it.

From the day we first met, Tony became one of my most trusted mentors. I began speaking at his seminars on a pretty regular basis. I loved the experience for many reasons. Mostly to hear two little words: “thank you.” I was a bad guy for many years and never heard those words from anyone. I had listened to Tony talk at numerous seminars over the years about the struggles of life, something I often heard my mom talk about too. I spent years with Tony being both speaker and student. He taught me how to navigate any situation and emerge with the result I was seeking. He taught me how to talk to people in a way that makes them feel like they’re the only person in the room. He showed me how to be a good listener, a skill that helped me get whatever I wanted from people without making them feel used or unimportant. He helped me realize and accept that I am the only person who can change my circumstances. Whenever I found myself blaming others for something, I thought back to the choices I had made that led me there, which always made me realize that the problem I faced was one of my own making. Tony showed me how to take responsibility for those decisions, accept them, and move on. And above all, Tony Robbins taught me the importance of living a life of dignity, truth, honesty, clarity, and purpose. His influence has been tremendous. I am forever grateful for all the wisdom he added to my life.

As we spent more time together, our families began to bond too. His stepson, Josh, used to come spend a couple of weeks every summer with my family in Denver. Josh became another sibling to Duane Lee and Leland, and my boys tortured him like the kid brother he had become. They’d spray shaving cream on him late at night after he fell asleep or place a little doll under his arm and take a picture. They teased each other all the time, but it was all in good adolescent fun.

Josh’s background was the complete opposite of my boys’. He grew up in the lap of luxury, surrounded by mansions, maids, and fancy cars. Our home was rather modest, with lots of rules. We also required all of our kids to do their chores. When Josh first came to stay with us he had no idea he’d have responsibilities to attend to, but he didn’t seem to mind pitching in.

Josh would believe any story you’d tell him, so I’d make up these incredible tales about flying and other stuff, fairy tales. He soaked in every word like I was preaching the gospel. There were lots of nights when the boys and I would camp out in the backyard. Sometimes we’d pitch a tent, while other times we’d hang out in an old trailer I got from one of my fugitives. What was considered normal for us was definitely “roughing it” for Josh. It didn’t take long for him to adapt to his new surroundings though. In fact, I think he began to like how different our lifestyle was from his.

As a boy, Josh spent endless days and nights traveling with Tony and his mom. He was constantly on the move. And while I suppose he had opportunities to see places most kids his age can only read about, I got the distinct sense that he liked being stationary when he stayed with us.

He spent a lot of his time working in our office answering phones and filling out bond applications. Josh quickly became completely obsessed with going on an actual bounty hunt with me. He was fascinated by the adventure of tracking down a fugitive. To be honest, what thirteen-year-old boy wouldn’t love the chance to capture a bad guy and play cops and robbers for real?

In order to be on my team, Josh was going to have to learn the basics of the trade. I explained that hunting a fugitive was no different from anything else in life you really want. When a woman hunts for the perfect wedding dress, she knows exactly what she’s looking for. She knows what it looks like, where it is made, what style flatters her, and how it will ultimately come together when she walks down the aisle. I told Josh it’s the exactly the same when you track down a human being. You have to know their weaknesses, who made them the way they are, who they love, who their enemies are, and where they hang
out. You want to become their friend as naturally as possible. But you can’t get too close to the fire. That’s why I have no friends who are or were ever fugitives. Convicts? For sure. Fugitives, never.

The big day finally came. When I told Josh he’d be riding with me, he nearly jumped out of his skin with excitement. He was with me every step of the way while we chased a fugitive named Merrill. When I finally captured the guy, I cuffed him and put him in the backseat of my car.

“Slide in next to him, Josh,” I said. I could see he was a little confused about the direction I was giving him. That’s when I turned to Merrill and said, “I know you can see this kid sitting next you. Don’t be fooled by his appearance. He ain’t no baby. He’s got a first-degree black belt in karate and he’s studying the ancient martial art of Dim Mak, also known as the touch of death. Make one suspicious move and I’m going to have my partner here take you out once and for all, got it?”

Josh was shaking in his shoes. He didn’t know karate or any other kung fu stuff and he definitely didn’t know how to put a death touch on someone. Even so, I looked back at Josh in my rearview mirror so he would catch a glimpse of my eyes. He knew I wanted him to get it together and not make a liar out of me, so he did the only thing he could do; he sat straight up in his seat, leaned forward, turned toward the fugitive, and let out a little growl. At that move, Merrill was more scared than Josh. I looked back in the mirror one last time before we got to the county jail. I gave Josh a wink to let him know I was proud of him, real proud.

(credit: Chaz)

M
y life has been filled with trying moments when my faith has been tested over and over again. Tony Robbins used to say that there was great power in positive thinking and positive confession. The words you speak are crucial to how you live. Your mind believes whatever you tell it. If you constantly tell yourself, “I’m so fat,” or “I’m lazy,” eventually that is how everyone will see you because that’s how you’ll act. If I move through the world like a leader, people will see me as one.

All those years studying with Tony Robbins helped me realize that every challenge is an opportunity to strengthen my faith, to make it stronger and to use that situation to learn and grow. Even knowing this, calling Tony after the
National Enquirer
broke the story was a lot harder than I’d expected it to be. I was certain he’d heard the news by the time I phoned. What I wasn’t sure of was how he would react. Back in the days when I first started working with Tony, his wife Becky used to tell me that I needed to improve the language I used. She said I didn’t speak with enough sophistication. She even gave me a dictionary to study so I could find ways of saying things that weren’t so blunt or abrupt. I thought about that as I listened to the phone ring, waiting for Tony to answer on the other end. If I had taken Becky’s advice back
then, perhaps I wouldn’t have found myself in the jam I was in. I guess it didn’t matter much now.

“I don’t know the answer, Duane, but you do.” Those were the words Tony spoke when I asked him what he thought I should do. He said I could come to his home in Fiji and hide out for a while if I thought that was the best solution. He told me and Beth to fly on down for a couple of weeks. He was there doing a seminar, but he’d be able to spend some time talking it through if we wanted to. I gave his generous offer a lot of consideration. Two weeks halfway around the world on a private island sounded pretty appealing. I could hide from the world if I wanted to. But in the end, after a lot of deliberation, the answer was still no.

For the same reasons I didn’t choose to go the “rehab” route, I didn’t want anyone to judge me for seeking the advice of a guy so many view as a “guru” rather than as the good friend Tony Robbins has been to me. The more I thought about how Tony had answered, the more I realized that, once again, he was absolutely right. I didn’t need two weeks in isolation to find out that the correct choices lived inside me. All I had to do was find the right words, let them flow from within, and hope I wouldn’t make things worse.

It wasn’t until I reached my fifties that I realized education wins out over stupidity every time. For years my manager warned me that educated men don’t use the “N” word. Alan accompanied me to a speaking engagement in Canada a few months prior to the
Enquirer
story. We were driving to the event when I referred to a white girl as a “n***er.”

Confused, Alan asked, “Why did you use that term on a white girl?”

“I’ve never used that word to describe the color of someone’s skin. It’s about who they are, how they operate. It doesn’t matter if she’s white, red, yellow, or black. It’s about who she is on the inside.”

Although he understood what I was trying to say, he continued to strongly discourage me from using that word at all. I often tried to defend myself to Alan by rattling off a dozen names of educated Hollywood types who in fact use the word all the time—black and white men alike. Even so, Alan never bought into my rationalizations.

Growing frustrated and worried that my ignorance had now bit me in the butt, Alan said, “Please don’t get mad at me for being the messenger, Duane, but this ridiculous, ignorant, stupid hillbilly dumb-ass act is going to be the end of your career. People will never understand you’re not being prejudiced when you use words like that. You can’t plead innocence and expect the educated person to believe you.” Alan’s words closely echoed the advice I’d heard from Becky, Tony’s wife, years before that had so clearly fallen on deaf ears when she tried to impart her wisdom to me.

Alan Nevins is an elegant man who hangs around sophisticated people a lot more than I do. A guy like that always bets on the winning horse. He never takes a chance on the long shot. Alan was hired on the same day the federal marshals kicked in my door and arrested me for the Luster case. He had his work cut out for him from the very start. When we first met, Alan saw something inside me that made me a winner and someone he wanted to represent. Even with his undying support, I was beginning to wonder if I was too much of a loser to know when I had won. Was I really a dumb convict who just got lucky? Or was I like a moldable piece of clay that could be taught?

When I asked Alan what he thought I should say to Sean Hannity and Larry King, he deadpanned, “Anything but n***er.” We both laughed for a moment and then Alan got serious. He told me that there wasn’t much I could say that would make things worse than they already were, so I should just speak from my heart. He went on to explain that anyone who had met me and knew me already knew what was in my heart, and now the time had come to let the public see my true self and not hear only empty words when I spoke. Only then would they understand that I didn’t say anything out of hatred for black people—it was just my naïveté. He gave me three or four pointers, reminded me that I am the Dog and that, for many people, that stood for something good. Other than those pearls of wisdom, though, for the most part, he left it to my own volition.

Within days after the incident, e-mails and letters of support began pouring in from fans. The officer who had encountered Monique and
Tucker outside Lulu’s earlier in the summer even publicly came out to share his experience with them that night to try and shed some light on what type of person Monique was. All of the support I received meant the world to me, but there was one letter in particular I received via e-mail that deeply touched my heart, so much so that I will never forget it. The e-mail was titled, “My Grandmother Is Crying….”

It was written by a woman whose eighty-six-year-old grandmother religiously watched the show despite the fact that she didn’t watch a lot of television. She said her grandmother disliked motorcycles, tattoos, long hair on men, bleach blondes, high heels, shorts, and overbearing men, but loved the Dog and never missed an episode of
Dog the Bounty Hunter.
Her grandmother said she admired me because I was not afraid to show the world I was human, believed in love and forgiveness, and would cry when my heart hurt. I had to stop reading the letter when I saw those words because I was overcome with emotion from the woman’s kind words.

When her granddaughter told her about my show being pulled from A&E because of my remarks, she wouldn’t stop crying because the one thing she looked forward to every week more than tending to her garden and cooking for her family was watching my show, and now it had been taken away from her. When the granddaughter discussed my situation with her, her grandmother imparted the following wisdom: “Christians come in all sizes, shapes, and from every walk of life. We don’t all have to fit into one mold.” She asked her granddaughter to write the letter to Beth and me to let us know she supported us no matter the outcome and to let A&E know she won’t be watching their network again until they put me back on the air. She encouraged the network to give our advertisers the thousands of letters they had received like hers so they would be seen as heroes to stand by me instead of abandoning me.

What Tucker had done was tragic. He didn’t understand that the hopes and dreams of so many, from little children to grandmothers, all over the country had been shattered. He had taken Dog off the air. But I was the one who had uttered the very words that brought me down.
No one held a gun to my head. I said what I said without any thought it would hurt so many people.

I’ve read that e-mail several times since receiving it that day. I was hopeful the woman’s words and sentiment would be representative of how most people felt, but I didn’t count on it. Her understanding of my situation reminded me that there are lots of people in the world who get the meaning of compassion. Although I never met this woman or her grandmother, I feel like I will always be connected to them in spirit for the strength, kindness, and mercy they showed me in one of my darkest moments.

One of the most meaningful letters I received during this time came from my son Wesley, whom I hadn’t spoken to in some time. I’d tried to reconnect with him over the years, but he always kept me at arm’s length. I was surprised when Beth told me about the e-mail that came in shortly after the news of the “N” word incident. After years of limited correspondence, Wesley wrote to say he thought I could use a friend at my lowest moment. And boy, was he right. When I later asked why he chose to reach out to me at that time, he said, “So you could be absolutely certain I don’t want anything from you.” I was deeply moved by his love and support. His fortuitous e-mail opened the lines of communication between us in a way they had never been before. I would never have guessed it would take something like my public lambasting to bring my son back to me. I suppose the sad irony is I temporarily lost one son but permanently gained another from that experience.

For the most part, the letters I received were very kind. They assured me that I hadn’t lost my fans so much as I had disappointed them. There was lots of love and support in the countless pages I read those first few days. Their kindness overwhelmed me, especially in the midst of the unbelievably untrue things that were being said about me by people who clearly didn’t know me. However, I also received many letters that were angry that I was capable of saying something so cruel. Judgment calls were being made based on assumptions in the press and short clips from a twenty-five-minute conversation that were being used out of context. That was a tough pill to swallow, but I managed to
let it go until my upcoming interviews with Sean and Larry, where I planned to explain everything the best I could.

The day before my scheduled appearance on
Hannity and Colmes,
I was finally given the good news that I no longer faced extradition to Mexico. Judge Barry Kurren had finally dismissed the extradition complaints and canceled the arrest warrants against Leland, Tim, and me, essentially making us free men. While the news was gratifying, I was very much focused on the events of the past week and my upcoming interviews. My troubles with Mexico seemed distant compared to the difficult and daunting task that was ahead of me.

Beth and I flew to Los Angeles to do the scheduled interviews with Sean and Larry. We had no idea what awaited us as we touched down on the mainland. I had been secluded and protected in my island sanctuary, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Our anxiety grew as we crossed the Pacific. We knew the press would be there, but we had no idea how many or how bad it would be. When we deplaned, Beth and I made the long walk down the corridor through the terminal at LAX. When we emerged from the long escalator leading down to baggage claim, I was relieved to see William, my longtime driver and friend, waiting for us. I was worried I had hurt William with my careless words, because he was a proud black man. I also knew he and I had a long history together and I considered him my brother in every way. We used to call each other the “N” word all the time. I can only recall one occasion where he whispered that word into my ear instead of saying it aloud. When I asked him why he’d whispered it that particular day, he said it was because he was worried there were a couple of people around us who would be offended by our banter. We looked at each other, with a knowing glance that he was probably right. Even so, it never stopped us from affectionately using that word—that is until that day he met me at the airport in Los Angeles.

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.