Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given (2010) (24 page)

The IRS decided to audit me in 2006. I had been audited numerous times in the past, so I knew what to expect. For years, I spent countless hours accounting for every dime and deduction on my past tax returns. I even helped a group of auditors in Denver learn about the bail bonds business so they would understand what they were looking at when they examined my accounts. Every single time they audited me, they never found anything unaccounted for. My final bills were always zero. But this time was different. This time around the government based their assessment on inaccurate information, and it was up to me to prove they were wrong. Until I did, I was on the hook.

While they scrutinized every last detail of my financial life, I sat in limbo, unable to make any payments until they came to me with their findings and a final tally of what they believed I owed. I started saving
money in a special account marked just for my taxes, so I could settle up with them as quickly as possible once they were done. I received notice in 2008 that I owed the government for back taxes, penalties, and interest from the past several years. I nearly fell out of my chair when my accountants called with the horrifying news and numbers. How could I possibly owe more than I made? I was confused, shocked, and nearly paralyzed by the daunting task of paying off this debt.

Within sixty days of receiving their notice, I paid the government a substantial part of the sum they said I owed, as a gesture of good faith that we would be able to come to some understanding and agreement for a payment plan on the rest of the balance. When my tax attorney asked the IRS for some type of a payment plan and deal, the response was “No deal for the Dog.” The IRS told my lawyer that I had the ability to earn money, so there would be no deal for me.

Hmmm. I had to think about this reasoning for a moment because I was well aware that the Senate had just confirmed Timothy Geithner as treasury secretary only days after the fact surfaced that he had only belatedly paid $34,000 in income taxes. Tom Daschle withdrew as President Barack Obama’s nominee to be health and human services secretary, even though a day earlier, Obama had said he “absolutely” stood by Daschle in the face of problems over back taxes and potential conflicts of interest. Nancy Killefer, nominated by Obama to be the government’s first chief performance officer, ultimately declined the post because she didn’t want her bungling of payroll taxes on her household help to be an issue. The list of heavyweight politicians and Hollywood heavy hitters who have had tax issues is long and significant, and yet almost all of them are cut deals so they can settle their debts and move on. Why doesn’t this apply to everyone? How is it the government can cherry-pick who they give deals to and who they don’t? What exactly are their criteria? I keep thinking this has to be a bad dream, except it’s not. It has become my living nightmare. I know the Bible says that sometimes we ought to turn the other cheek, and so far I have, but I’ve hit my limit when it comes to the Internal Revenue Service.

In the meantime, I am back to where I started so many times in the
past. Flat broke—Willie Nelson–style broke. I can barely pay my bills again and am struggling to keep my office doors open. Yet I have an obligation to be a fugitive-catching machine for A&E or I’ll be in breach of my contract, which means I won’t be able to pay the government because they get 100 percent of my paycheck, leaving me virtually nothing to pay my other bills until my entire debt to them is paid in full.

I could have laid down at any time over the years, allowed my twelve kids to go on state assistance, collected unemployment, and let the government pay me for a while, but I didn’t. Even when I did file for welfare several years back after Amwest shut me down, I could only bring myself to stay on it for three short weeks. My pride was too great and my talent too big to waste doing nothing. I manned up for my family, went back to work, and persevered. I picked myself up and rebuilt our business, with Beth by my side, over and over again, until we had built back everything we lost.

Just when I thought I had made it through this last storm with the
Enquirer
and was about to get up on my feet yet again, along came the IRS, like a speeding freight train headed straight for me, saying, “Not so fast, Chapman.”

Life is funny like that because whatever it is you’re running from, whether it is the IRS or the Dog, you can be sure we’ll come back to get you when you least expect it, when you finally think you’re safe. Most people don’t have the stamina to undergo challenge after challenge, let alone become bankrupt and then make it again, only to repeat that cycle over and over, living life without any sense of stability.

When I got the news about the IRS, I turned to Beth and said, “Let them take it all, honey. I don’t care. I’ve started over before and we can do it again.” A few weeks after the accountants delivered the blow, Beth and I anxiously awaited the decision of two $50,000 bonds that were up in the air. Judge Hiatt, the same judge who gave me back my bond license after Amwest took it way, was at lunch pondering his decision. I knew he was never going to give me a break, but he will always rule with dignity in justice. He is one of the most honorable judges I have come across. I turned to Beth and told her he was going to rule in our favor. I was certain of it.

“He can’t, Duane. It’s impossible.” If the judge ruled against us, we’d be on the hook for a hundred thousand dollars. For the first time in years, I heard a defeatist tone in Beth’s voice. Her doubt shook me to the core.

“Don’t you give up on me, Beth. I know things are going to turn around for us. Judge Hiatt will rule our way and everything will be all right.” I took off my black wrap sunglasses and looked at my wife dead in the eyes so she would know I was being very serious. “You believe me, don’t you, honey?”

“Yes,” she said, but I still wasn’t convinced.

“Look at me,” I said. “Believe me. It will happen.”

“OK, Big Daddy. I’m with you all the way.”

I had to smile because inside her doubt, she found her faith. A half hour later the judge called to say he was all set to rule against us, but sometime during his lunch, for reasons he couldn’t or wouldn’t explain, he changed his mind. I think it was the Lord who spoke to him that afternoon. He must have said, “Be fair to Dog,” or something like that, because the judge ruled in our favor.

With Beth on my side, there is an undeniable power between us that makes us impenetrable and unstoppable. We are much stronger together than we are apart. Beth is my rock, my voice of reason, and my almighty protector.

I know I will survive this round of starting over, but it’s harder than it used to be. My heartburn is so bad and constant. I have trouble sleeping at night and can barely keep my eyes open during the day. Even so, I keep on going like the Energizer bunny because I have to. In a way, the IRS is nothing more than a federal money detective agency, so as I would any other detective, I’ve got to respect them, be nice, and cooperate. This too shall pass.

I won’t get beaten down. But I do find it a bit ironic that the very same country that fought to extradite me to Mexico for capturing one of its most wanted fugitives is now standing in front of me, gun to my head, with their hand out saying, “Pay us or else…”

(Lorrianne Paquette/Bella Miella Photography)

T
he greatest feeling in the world for a bounty hunter—especially this bounty hunter—is knowing justice will be served right after he’s caught a fugitive and put him in the backseat of the car. Something about that experience juices up my batteries and gives me the motivation to do it all over again day after day. If it weren’t fulfilling, I wouldn’t keep risking my life to do it. Not everyone is blessed with the opportunity to do work that they’re passionate about. I’ve always made sure that I had that chance, even when the risks outweighed the reward. As long as I am able to physically keep up the hunt, I will be in the field chasing down criminals and helping to make our communities and country a safer place to live.

It wasn’t until a recent fishing trip in the Colorado Rockies that I realized there are alternative ways to keep my batteries charged, without all the adrenaline-pumping risk and danger of bounty hunting.

Beth and I decided to take the kids on a two-day fishing trip during a short break we had from filming our sixth season of
Dog the Bounty Hunter
. We camped out, fished for our food, and cooked over an open campfire every night. We shared a couple of unforgettable days of family bonding and getting back to the basics. It is so easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of everyday life, especially when you’re juggling family, career, and looming financial obligations. I’m the type of
guy who doesn’t likes to slow down, because I fear I may not want to gear back up again. This trip was different though. I needed some downtime. I wanted to spend a couple of nights with my family, out of cellular range from the rest of the world. I told my manager, lawyers, accountants, and producers I was checking out for a few days.

“If you need to reach me, it better be an emergency.” With that message clearly conveyed, I knew I would have the peace, quiet, and quality time with Beth and the kids that I so desperately wanted and needed. With everything that has transpired over the years since capturing Luster, I hadn’t taken any significant time off to enjoy being with my family. I missed the days of all of us being together.

On the last day of our trip, we anchored our rented pontoon boat toward the center of the lake. I sat back, stretched out my legs, and breathed in the clean, pure Rocky Mountain air. I could feel the crispness in my chest as it filled up my lungs. The pine trees were fragrant as the cool light breeze and warm sun skimmed my weathered face. My body began to relax as I thought about all of the years that had passed by, my many blessings and, even more so, the numerous life lessons I’d gathered along the way.

For a few minutes it was just me and God.

For the first time in years, I was calm. I didn’t have a care in the world. I wasn’t concerned about the IRS, getting back into production for season six of the show, or any of the drama from my past. Nope. It was all just flecks of dust in the scheme of what was truly important in life. I realized how absolutely blessed I was.

I must have drifted off, as my mind began playing back the story of my life, like it was an old-time silent movie. I couldn’t hear any sound, but I could vividly see all that I held dear, with so much clarity that it felt real. The first person I saw was my mother, who was looking down at me from heaven, her eyes filled with light as she smiled with pride for the decent man I had become.

Barbara Katie was there too. The first thing I noticed was that she wasn’t wearing her glasses. My God, she looked so radiant and beautiful. She said, “Daddy, my eyesight is perfect now. I no longer need to wear
my glasses.” I could feel tears welling up and a giant lump growing in my throat because I was so glad to see her again. She was genuinely happy and finally at peace. I realized I could now rest easy, knowing she was safe because she was now in God’s hands.

Unexpectedly, Jerry Lee Oliver, the man I was convicted of murdering, appeared too. He looked exactly the same as the last day I saw him in Pampa, young and full of life. I was a bit startled as he turned to me and said, “I know you weren’t the triggerman. But you did your time and I want you to know that I forgive you. Now I am asking you to forgive yourself, Dog.” Those were the words I’ve spent the past thirty-five years waiting to hear. Even if it was only my dream, I felt a sense of relief and a strange feeling of freedom from Jerry’s acknowledgment.

Seeing Jerry Lee brought back thoughts of Boss Ironhorn, Warden Curly Horton, and all of the other guys I knew from back in Huntsville, who inspired me to go out and make something of my life. I smiled as I thought back on those eighteen months I spent behind bars. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for my future better than my time in Huntsville. It taught me how to survive, endure, and thrive in the face of hardship, challenge, and adversity and—most important—to face those things with courage and integrity. Without those eighteen months in prison, I am not sure I would have found my way to living on the right side of the law.

The movie in my mind began to speed up as visions of my twelve children and all of their children filled my heart with the greatest joy I have ever known. Even though I have a little anger toward some of my ex-wives, I can’t help but feel completely grateful for the children we share.

I could feel the boat gently rocking in the calm lake. The splash of a jumping fish coming out of the water startled me and woke me up. My eyes shot wide open. I had to focus for a moment, but then I noticed a bald eagle perched on the branch of a tree that hung about twenty feet above the water. I quietly pointed the eagle out to Beth and the kids. We all sat quiet and motionless as we took in the unforgettable,
once-in-a-lifetime moment. I slowly got up and reached for our bucket of fish. I grabbed the biggest trout I could put my hand on without making any abrupt moves and then tossed it into the water. I never took my eyes off the eagle. I wanted him to know it was safe—that we wouldn’t hurt him.

The eagle took flight, majestic and proud. He soared through the sky, circling above our heads until suddenly he dove headfirst toward the lake.

Swoosh!

He grabbed the fish in his talons and, in a single motion, took off toward the west and into the sun. We were mesmerized by his grace and beauty, yet touched by the trust and faith he and we gave to one another.

Bonnie Jo has a natural instinct when it comes to her love of nature and animals. “Throw another fish into the lake, Dad. Maybe you can get him to come back for more!” she squealed with delight.

Even though I tossed another fish into the water, I knew he was not coming back.

In Native American culture, the eagle is a symbol of power and perfection. It is also a witness, a sign, that everything is as it should be. In an instant, I felt as if I had no more secrets and that my life was finally on the right path. In that second, I felt as if mercy had ultimately been shown.

The thing about moments like this is that you can’t relive them because they cannot be re-created. That’s why it is so important to cherish every minute of bliss each and every day. Life can change quickly. You never really know where, when, how, or what to expect, so you may as well embrace all of your experiences, good and bad, with gusto.

There is no greater gift or blessing in this world for me than spending quality time with my family. Wherever I go, people always ask me about my children. Some of you have watched my kids grow up in front of your eyes, week after week, as each season of the show passes by. As a father, I often wonder which of my kids is destined to do greater things in his or her life than I have done.

Duane Lee has the brains to be a doctor or lawyer. He has the smarts to do and be anything he wants in his life. When I look at Duane Lee today, I see a lot of my father and quite a bit of me. Duane Lee isn’t abusive like my dad was, but he knows how to put up a good fight, stand his ground, and isn’t about to back down from anyone or anything, including his old man. Whenever he and I have some sort of disagreement, I have to remind myself that I may as well be standing there arguing with myself. I thought about an analogy I once heard where someone held up a mirror and began arguing with the face in the reflection. Who’s going to win that fight?

Even though Duane Lee is six two, I still see my baby boy in his eyes, the one that always reached his hands out to me and said, “I want to go with my daddy.” Today, of course, I stand behind Duane Lee as we crash through closed doors and into the unknown when we’re on chases, because he’s grown into such a fine man and excellent bounty hunter. He and I communicate with a single look. He never has to ask me what I mean when I give an order. He gets it, and does whatever I say without hesitation. He’s tough, smart, and fearless, and I’m so proud of who he has become in his life.

Baby Lyssa loves to write and has the potential to become a great author someday, but in the meantime she has turned into quite the bounty hunter. She studied with the best woman role model I can think of—Beth. Baby Lyssa is as tough and sharp as Beth in every way. I’ll never forget the first hunt we took her on. We were chasing down a fugitive who was giving us a pretty good run, when Baby Lyssa spotted him across a parking lot. She called it in on her walkie-talkie, but was on the ground with the guy before any of us could get to her. She’s got great spunk and spirit.

At twenty-two years old, Baby Lyssa has experienced so many of life’s ups and downs. She’s been through a lot of trauma, having survived a rape, drug addiction, the death of her older sister, becoming a teenage single mom, and the betrayal of her brother. It is a relief to see that she’s found herself after so many painful years of struggling. I watched happily as she married her sweetheart in the spring of 2009 in
the most beautiful ceremony on the north shore of Oahu. She was radiant in her gown, glowing with joy. We were surrounded by two hundred of our closest family and friends, who were there to help us celebrate the marriage of my oldest living daughter. I was moved by the realization that she would now hold her husband in higher esteem than me, and yet I was so relieved to see my baby finally happy and content. Baby Lyssa gave birth to her second child, Madalynn, on August 7, 2009. Even pregnancy couldn’t stop her from being in the field with her old man and brothers, helping us find fugitives. She proves to me every day that women can do it all.

There is no greater joy for a parent than knowing you’ve done all you can to prepare your children to go out into the world and seeing your influence and inspiration come to life as they mature and find their own way as adults. I have watched Baby Lyssa accept the responsibilities of becoming a parent in a different way than she did with her first child, whom she had when she was only fourteen years old, just a child herself. The attachment she has to her newborn baby is nothing short of a miracle.

Leland is the child I think has the greatest chance to follow in his old man’s footsteps. When Leland was born, I only had one son—that I knew about anyway. I didn’t yet know about my oldest boy, Christopher, whom I would discover was mine twenty-nine years after he was born.

There was something about Leland as my baby boy that made him extraordinary in my eyes. I’m sure most fathers feel that way about their sons, just as they carry a special place in their heart for their first-born too. It takes a man to make a boy, and at the time, I had two boys whom I loved with all my heart.

Leland and Duane Lee moved to Colorado Springs with their mother after I went to prison. Leland was a baby, barely nine months old, when I went in. Duane Lee was a toddler. I missed out on so many moments of their lives, special times that I’ll never get back. I take the blame for that. Even so, I hoped they would welcome me back into their lives when we finally reconnected.

I spent five years fighting their mother, LaFonda, in court before I
was awarded visitation rights to see the boys on weekends. I had waited seven years for the chance to get my boys back. As excited as I was at the idea of seeing them again, they didn’t share my enthusiasm. My boys were scared to be alone with me because I was a stranger to them, especially Leland, who was now nine years old.

It took time for the three of us to get to know one another again. Although the process was sometimes very frustrating and heartbreaking, eventually we began to bond. I showed them affection, gave them lots of hugs and kisses, and tried to be the best father I knew how to be.

I had finally begun to connect with Leland when I almost blew us back to square one when he came to show me a loose tooth one day. When I was a boy, my grandpa used to tie one end of a string around a doorknob and the other to my tooth. When the tooth was good and loose, he’d yank it out by slamming the door! I thought that was how all teeth got pulled, so when Leland came to me, I did what Grandpa had done. The problem was that Leland’s tooth wasn’t quite ready to come out. He went flying off the stool I had him sitting on and tumbled onto the floor. Duane Lee cracked up watching this disaster unfold, as his brother lay there crying, more from fear than pain. I felt awful, but it turned out to be a breakthrough moment for us.