In Defense of Bounty Hunting

Bounty hunters and bail bondsmen have a bad rap: The American Bar Association calls their line of work "tawdry," and Supreme Court Justice Harry Blackmun declared it "odorous." But bounty hunters have an unlikely ally: Alex Tabarrok, an economist at George Mason University, who argues in The Wilson Quarterly that bounty hunters are "unsung" heroes of an overbooked justice system.

Bail and bounty hunters have a long history. In medieval England, suspected criminals often had to stew for months until a traveling judge arrived to conduct a trial; in the meantime, the court would release the defendant to a "surety," often a friend or brother, who would guarantee that he would show up in court. "If the accused failed to show," Tabarrok explains, "the surety would take his place and be judged as if he were the offender." Sureties were, unsurprisingly, given broad powers to chase down their charges; today's bounty hunters have inherited them (they can legally break into the houses of their targets, search their property without probable cause, and pursue them across state lines).

Read more here and follow us on Twitter!

Foreign Fugitives Delaying Justice

Two years ago today, a little girl in West Chester was left parentless. Her mom bled to death from stab wounds. Her dad, accused of being the killer, went on the run.

That sad scenario helps motivate Detective Lori Beiser to keep chipping away at a seemingly impossible task: finding a foreign fugitive who could be anywhere in the world, using virtually any name.

“I keep thinking about getting justice for the little girl – and for Jackelin,” Beiser said.

The girl’s mother, Jackelin Romero, 24, suffered more than 20 stab wounds on Sept. 23, 2006. She lay undiscovered while relatives, caring for her 5-year-old daughter, filed a missing-persons report. The next day, police found Romero dead in her bedroom at the Trails of West Chester apartments.

Romero’s husband, Melvin Ramon Mejia, a native of Honduras, fled as West Chester police were charging him with murder.

“He headed south – and he was gone,” Beiser said.

Local authorities say Mejia is among a rising number of fugitives who are believed to be hiding in foreign countries to dodge prosecution. The charges they face range from theft to rape to murder. Some are foreign-born suspects who return to their homelands. A few are U.S. citizens who reinvented their lives abroad under assumed names.

Most stand little chance of being captured.

Clarksville Woman Has Home Broken Into – Legally

Ashley Gholston had just put her 4-year-old daughter to bed when she noticed red laser dots appear in her darkly lit home on Daniel Street.

Flashlight beams shone through her daughter's window, and she heard pounding at her door and voices telling her to open it.

Gholston, 21, said her first instinct was to grab her daughter.

Her boyfriend, John Bradley, 24, jumped out a back window and ran.

Moments later, four bounty hunters stormed through her front window and ran through the house, chasing Bradley, she said.

When they couldn't catch him, they came back in the house and approached Gholston.

"I was shaking," she said. "My daughter was crying the whole time."

Gholston said she thought one of the men pointed a gun at her, but she later discovered it was a taser.

He told her she could go to jail for housing a fugitive.

The men were bounty hunters, and until then, Gholston didn't realize her boyfriend was on the run from them.

When police arrived, Gholston said she learned Bradley owed on a $5,000 bond from Clarksville Bonding Co. in a case that stemmed from a June 2006 drug-related charge, according to court documents.

Hannah Christy, co-owner of Clarksville Bonding, said they have been looking for Bradley for a few months, and he has told them he would turn himself in.

Gholston said after talking to police she found out she had no rights to press charges against the Clarksville Bonding or the bounty hunters they hired for breaking into her home.

If she had known Bradley was wanted and was there, she could have been arrested for harboring a fugitive, police told her.

In fact, Gholston said she's certain they will come back looking for him.

"I'm going to just open up the door the next time they come looking for him and let them search the house," she said. "They said they are going to keep on doing it. ... They can't say I'm harboring a fugitive.
How it works

Someone can be classified a bond jumper if he fails to notify the bonding company that he moved, if he misses a court date without any notification or if he fails to pay his bond fees, Christy said.

Bonding companies are then told by the courts that the person has a warrant out for his arrest, and bond companies have the right to hire bounty hunters to search for the bond jumper.

Christy said a bounty hunter must see the bond jumper go into a house before they go in the house after him.

Jeff Moorhead, lead bail enforcement agent at Bail Busters, another local bail bonding company, said that under Supreme Court law precedent in Taylor vs. Taintor (1872), bondsmen or bounty hunters have the right to seek out and arrest a person owing them money.

Moorhead said when a person is initially arrested and comes to a bail bonding company, the company can charge 10 percent of the bond plus $37.

After that, paperwork is filed with information including numerous phone numbers, addresses, family member names and employment and a co-signer guaranteeing the person charged will make his court appearance.

If the person charged does not appear in court, a warrant is issued for his arrest and the bail bonding company must act quickly, Moorhead said.

"We have 180 days to find that person and surrender them back to jail, or we forfeit the total cost of the bond to the court," he said.

Many bail bonding companies hire bounty hunters, or help to search out the fugitive, Moorhead said.

There are certain rules when it comes to seeking a bond jumper.

"You can't just go kick in the door," Moorhead said. "You got to make sure the person's there ... you have to act in good faith."
Working it out

In Gholston's case, Moorhead said the bounty hunters weren't in the wrong.

Even Gholston said she noticed a car sitting outside near her house. The bounty hunters were making sure Bradley was inside.

"If he was there, they can kick in the door," Moorhead said.

Moorhead said anyone owing bond can set up a payment arrangement to avoid being surrendered back to the jail.

"The bondsmen are trying to help you out," Moorhead said about those whose bail they pay.

"It's not all about the money to us — we want to help people. I always believe in the good in people. If you make an agreement, pay your bondsmen because they are trying to help you out."

Christy said she hopes the bounty hunters find Bradley or she will be out $5,000.

If he turns himself in, Christy said, it will be better for everybody.

"As long as he turns himself in, I'm glad," Christy said. "I don't want to be looking for him, and I know he doesn't want to be looking over his shoulder all the time."

Bounty Hunters Need Training

It's time for the Washington Legislature to revisit the issue of bounty hunters to ensure that they are properly trained.

The Legislature took a positive step in 2004 when the House and Senate unanimously passed House Bill 2313 to set minimal expectations for the bail bondsmen industry.

It's a tough job.

When a person is booked into jail, the defendant generally turns to a bail bond agency to post a bond to guarantee that the defendant will appear for future court dates. A friend or relative of the defendant usually pays a premium, generally 10 percent of the bond amount, for this service, as well as providing collateral such as a lien on a home. If the defendant does not show up as scheduled for court, the defendant is considered a fugitive from justice and the bail bond company is liable to pay the entire amount of the bond. A grace period is generally granted so the employees of the bonding agency — so-called bounty hunters — can try to track down the defendant and get that person back before a judge.

It's dangerous work because bounty hunters are searching for fugitives who don't want to go back to jail.

In the 2004 legislation, lawmakers established a system of mandatory licensing for bounty hunters. The law requires prior notice to local law enforcement agencies including identifying clothing information when bail bond recovery agents make a planned forced entry to apprehend a fugitive.

The Legislature said bounty hunters must be at least 21 years of age and cannot have been convicted of a crime in the past 10 years. Bounty hunters must have 12 hours of training.

And with that minimal training, Washington's bounty hunters are using firearms, handcuffs, batons and stun guns to apprehend bail jumpers and bring them back to justice. Their training pales in comparison with that of law enforcement officers who use similar tools to apprehend criminals.

The state's oversight once a bounty hunter gets a license is minimal, and that's why legislative remedies are warranted.

For one thing, Sherri Lonsbery, manager of the state's bail bond licensing program, said the standards for what's an offense of a bail bond company are unclear. "We don't regulate bad behavior," Lonsbery said. "We don't regulate their actions once they're licensed, necessarily. If they break down the door to the wrong house, (state law) doesn't say they are responsible to replace that door."

Washington requires bounty hunters to receive training, but doesn't specify what most of it should entail or establish a certification process for trainers. And the state doesn't endorse trainers who teach bounty hunter skills.

Most other states that have licensing requirements, such as Virginia, also regulate the trainers of aspiring bounty hunters, said Mel Barth, executive director of the National Association of Bail Enforcement Agents.

Barth said he was surprised that Washington doesn't do so. "That's a little crazy, to be honest with you," he said. "I don't approve of that."

Prior to 2004, anyone could call themselves a bounty hunter and go after fugitives. The legislation that was passed that year helped bring bounty hunters under state control. It was only a start. It's time for the Legislature to set standards of acceptable behavior for bonding companies and to put licensing requirements for trainers in place.