You Can Run but You Can't Hide (49 page)

tire family. But after nearly three years, we had gotten back to living

life as usual.

That is, until the morning of September 14, 2006.

Beth gets up early in the morning to get the younger kids ready

for school. Summer vacation was over. The kids were just starting

to get back into their regular routine. We had been filming the tele-

vision show all week. I had made a bust the night before, so I was

trying to sleep in. Beth was awake but still lying in bed when she

thought she heard a car door close. It was five-thirty in the morn-

ing, so she dismissed it, thinking it had to be one of the kids milling

around. Then she thought she heard people whispering and rustling

about, outside the sliding glass door of our bedroom. We live in a

single-story U-shaped house. There’s a pool and a large cement

patio in the backyard, which is flanked on every side by our home.

There are large glass sliding doors from every room leading to the

lanai. The sound carries and echoes inside that U. If someone is

outside, we can generally hear every word they say.

I could feel Beth move close to me and snuggle up like she does

every morning. She kisses me from my shoulders to my ears, nuz-

zling and holding me close before she gets out of bed. I watched her

as she put her robe on, something she hardly ever does. She’s usu-

ally in a G-string for the first ten or fifteen minutes. I love watching

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her move in the morning sun that creeps in through our bedroom

window. She always looks sexy to me in that light.

Beth slid open the glass doors from our bedroom and stepped

outside to take in the gorgeous Hawaiian sunrise. I just drifted off

back to sleep.

Baby Lyssa helps get the younger kids ready for school in the

mornings. She was up too.

“Beth, Beth! There are men outside! Beth!” Lyssa was hysteri-

cally screaming as she came running into the kitchen. “There are

strange men in the house!”

Beth grabbed all of the kids. “What do you mean there’s men in

the house, Lyssa?
Inside
the house? What the hell do you mean?”

Beth always puts her warrior armor on when she senses we are

about to come under attack.

“They’re cops, Beth. I swear.”

“They’re not cops.” Beth and Lyssa often disagree about things,

but this morning was not the time to doubt each other.

Clunk! Clunk!
Just then, the double front doors were kicked

open and a whole pack of SWAT guys invaded our home.

Beth came running out of the kitchen yelling, “Stop! Stop!” She

tried to block the front door to prevent anyone from coming in, but

it was too late. I could faintly hear her from the bedroom, but I had

no idea what was really happening. I just thought Beth was yelling

at one of the kids.

“We’re here for . . .” It wasn’t just local cops. They were U.S.

Marshals and men from the the Sheriff’s Department!

“For who? What are you here for?” Beth yelled to Baby Lyssa to

get television cameras to the house as fast as she could. Lyssa raced

into the kitchen to call our crew from the A&E show to come down

and film the whole event. Beth wanted this all documented on tape.

“There will be no cameras!” one of the marshals announced.

“You’re not going to tell me there’ll be no cameras in my own

house! Lyssa! Get the cameras here . . .
now
!”

The crew lived in a production house about twenty minutes away.

There was no way they’d make it, but Beth wanted the marshals to

believe they were already on their way. The threat of filming the

arrest was not something they wanted to deal with. They began to

rush the process to get me out of there before the crew showed up.

“Ma’am, we’ve got a warrant for. . . .”

F e d e r a l M a r s h a l s

305

“For what?”

“For the Mexico case . . . it’s a warrant for Duane Chapman for

kidnapping.”

“Duane was never charged with kidnapping. This isn’t right. They

just called us a few days ago and said the warrant was expiring.”

The officers and SWAT team kept pouring into the house. They

started breaking off into teams, surrounding every room from in-

side as well as outside the home.

Now, I’m going to tell you something no one really knows about

this old Dog. I’m a pretty vain guy. No one sees me in the morning

except my family. I never leave the house without taking a shower

and making sure I look just right. I’m a clean-freak. My clothes

have to be perfectly pressed and crisp and my hair has to be done.

The last time anyone saw this Dog looking less than perfect was

three years ago, when I got back to the States from Mexico. Beth

knows this about me, so she pleaded with the officers not to bust

into the bedroom.

“Please let me wake him up so he doesn’t have a heart attack

when he sees all you guys.” Beth was genuinely worried about my

health. I’m a fifty-three-year-old man who’s been through a lot in

my life. I was still having horrible nightmares about Mexico, so

Beth knew a shock like this might actually give me a heart attack.

But, she also knew I would have been humiliated to have anyone see

me first thing in the morning, especially my fellow law enforcement

people.

The marshals followed Beth into the bedroom, stopping at the

door, which they insisted she leave open as she woke me. I heard the

door crack open, but still I had no idea what was going on.

Beth stood next to the bed. Quietly she said, “Duane. Wake up.”

I jumped right up. I thought something happened to one of the

kids. The last time Beth woke me like that was the morning Barbara

died. I had that same feeling when I saw Beth at the side of the bed

again. She only wakes me when it’s bad news. My heart ached wait-

ing to hear which kid was gone now. I was terrified.

“Duane, honey. Wake up.”

“What’s the matter?” I jumped up but was still half-asleep.

“The marshals are here to arrest you for Mexico.”

All I could say was, “No. No. No. . . .” Even in my disbelief of

what was happening, I was relieved none of my children were gone.

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Before I could gather my thoughts, the marshals surrounded the

bed with their guns drawn. I froze in fear. I could see some of the

guys smirking at me. For a second I actually thought I was being

Punk’d.
We had been asked to do the MTV show, but I didn’t want

to be part of it. I was afraid of coming off dumb or losing my tem-

per in front of the cameras, so Beth and I decided to decline the

opportunity. But I kept hearing Beth scream, “Where are the cam-

eras?” A couple of the guys were smiling just a little too big to be

for real. One even apologized. That’s when I thought for sure I was

being
Punk’d
.

“OK, you all got me. Good one. Great. Nice try. Let’s stop this

now.” I thought I’d play along, you know, let them see I was in on

the joke.

But this wasn’t a joke. It was real. Very real. I read the situation

all wrong. Two of the marshals looked as confused as I felt.

“This ain’t no joke, brother. This is real.”

“This can’t be real. It’s a damn misdemeanor, man. What are

you doing here?” I could now see it in the marshals’ eyes. They were

taking down the Dog. Yeah. They were happy as hell to be there.

They had a valid warrant for my arrest, but no search warrant.

Just the paperwork to take me in. My first inclination was to run.

Jump. Go out the back door, down the street toward the beach, and

run like the wind. I am innocent. I know not everyone who bolts is

guilty. Some are overwhelmed by the system, others are just plain

scared. The warrant expired in twenty-six days. I actually believed

I could have made it if I tried.

I was worried about Leland and Tim, too, because I knew they

were probably going through the same thing that morning.

I was half-dressed, wearing only an old pair of jeans. I have trou-

ble with my stomach in the morning too. It takes me a solid forty-

five minutes to get myself together. I can barely move my hands in

the morning from all the years of boxing, and now I had handcuffs

around my wrists!

“Beth, get my wedding ring. I want my ring, baby.”

One of the sheriffs turned to me and said, “You ain’t gonna need

that where you’re going, Dog.”

“I need a cigarette, man. Can I have a smoke?”

“This isn’t your damn show, man. You ain’t gettin’ a smoke. You

ain’t gettin’ shit.”

F e d e r a l M a r s h a l s

307

Beth told me she’d rather keep the ring because she worried I

might never get it back. I wore a gold band around my thumb the

entire time I was hunting Luster in Mexico. Beth had an identical

ring with diamonds all the way around it. I liked knowing we both

wore our rings while I was gone. It made me feel connected even

though I was thousands of miles away. After I was arrested, some-

one stole that ring. I know who it was and he knows he did it. I

hope he reads this and returns it anonymously. Someday I will re-

trieve it from him.

I thought about the news crew from NBC who had just come to

shoot some footage of me a few weeks earlier. One of the guys told

me they had gone out with twelve federal marshals to get some

footage of them capturing fugitives. They got nothing. Zero cap-

tures. He said that the entire time they were on the hunt, all the

marshals kept talking about me, like they were jealous, envious.

That was the first time I connected jealousy and envy. It’s a lethal

combination when it comes to judging a guy like me. These mar-

shals looked at me with utter disgust and pure anger. I could feel

their hatred, even if I didn’t understand it.

They took hold of me by the arms and began dragging me from

the bedroom through the house toward the front door. My little

son, Gary Boy, stood with his hands over his ears screaming as he

watched his daddy being brought around the corner in handcuffs

by several scary men with guns.

“Beth. Get Gary Boy. I don’t want him to see me like this.” I

tried to protect my son, but it was too late. He was already trau-

matized, and Beth’s attention was on watching me go out the

door. By now Cecily was awake. She grabbed Gary Boy and tried

her best to hug and console him. Bonnie Jo came out just as I left

her line of sight. Thank God she never saw me in handcuffs. In

their eyes, Daddy’s a superhero. Daddy’s not a lawbreaker. He’s the

guy who handcuffs the bad guys; seeing me in handcuffs confused

them.

One of the marshals kept asking me if I knew where Leland was

at. He was either taunting me or trying to find my son. Either way, I

wasn’t answering. I’d never give up one of my children to the cops.

Baby Lyssa put a lit cigarette in my mouth as I walked down the

driveway. I was able to get three or four drags off of it before one of

the cops tossed it in the bushes.

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“Where’s Leland?”

Beth was screaming, “Find him yourself.”

Beth was right behind us as they shoved me in the back of the

black SUV.

“You’ll see your day in court, you motherfucker.” Beth was still

yelling as we drove away. She was wild and angry. They had her

man. Beth doesn’t take too kindly to anyone who wants to hurt me

or any member of our family.

She tried to reach Leland and Tim on their cells, but they never

answer their phones. Ever. She finally got Tim’s wife, Davina, to an-

swer the phone. “Why don’t you answer your damn phone?” Beth

was screaming at Davina. “They’re coming, Davina. They’re coming

for Tim.”

“They just split open our sliding glass doors and came into our

house while we were sleeping. I was naked, Beth. It was horrible.

They surrounded the bed like we were criminals.” Davina wept as

she told Beth what happened. Beth later told me she could hear

Tim screaming in the background. He’s not one to go down with-

out putting up a solid fight.

Beth sent Tucker up the street on his moped to wake Leland. She

wanted to get to him before the cops did. Tucker took off as fast as

he could.

Beth finally got Leland on the phone. “They don’t know where

you are, Leland.”

He threatened to run. Beth talked him down. The first instinct is

always to run but it’s not the best way to go.

“Don’t run. Don’t run. Just stop. Stay where you are. Just don’t

call anyone. Get off your cell phone right now. Call me from the

landline, got it?”

Beth knew from our own experiences bounty hunting that cell

phones are easy to trace. It’s called
pinging.
The authorities can get a

cell phone number a lot faster than they can track a current address.

Since the television show and because of the inherent danger in what

we do as bounty hunters, all of us are unlisted in the phone book. I’d