Bail bondsmen make crime pay

It's what Debbie Kitchen has dubbed "the call."

It comes at any time: During the early-morning hours while she drinks coffee and watches golf on TV. In the evening while she's trying to have dinner with Darrell, her pipe fitter husband. It may even wait rudely to come late at night after David Letterman has long since signed off the airwaves.

But Kitchen is a bail bondsman. And "the call" from a person wanting out of jail is her bread and butter.

"They can be pretty desperate," said Kitchen, one of about eight bondsmen in Cape Girardeau County and one of the few women in the business. "They generally aren't worried about what time it is."

But it is that desperation that has helped create what can be a lucrative business for bail bondsmen -- a patchwork position that is part insurance salesman, part counselor and part baby sitter.

"It's a real interesting job," Kitchen said. "And it's gratifying for me to take people who're in so much trouble that they can't see the light of day and help set them in the right direction."

Kitchen finds it gratifying, but she also finds her job draining. After all, her business involves activities most never have to worry about -- day-to-day dealings with those charged with crimes involving narcotics, child abuse, robbery, burglary and assault.

"I have come close to quitting," she said. "It's not something that's everybody is cut out for."

Other bail bondsmen agree.

"It never ceases to amaze me the predicaments people get themselves into," said Lee Ragland, a bail bondsman in Cape Girardeau for 23 years. "They all have explanations and, as a general rule, they're not guilty. Not a one of them."

Ragland admits the job wears on him, these days more than when he first started.

"Today it's a different element," he said. "Before, it was people charged with having marijuana or DWIs. These days, it's a lot of meth, and that really has changed things."

No surprise. Missouri is the country's largest methamphetamine producer, and it is an erratic drug that Ragland said makes people say or do anything, including skipping a court date.

"I don't deal with people charged with meth; those people aren't trustworthy," Ragland said. "Even less trustworthy than the rest of them."

'You've got to get me out'

The phone rang at 2 a.m. It was Dustin's father and he was calling from jail.

"I've been picked up for DWI," he said. "You've got to get me out."

Dustin -- who asked that his last name not be printed -- was told that bond had been set at $2,000, a relatively small amount but certainly more than Dustin had lying around.

Dustin's friend made a suggestion: Call a bail bondsman.

"Normally, you think your dad is going to have to bail you out, but here I was bailing my dad out," Dustin said. "It wasn't a good feeling."

For about 10 percent of the bail, a bondsman would put up the rest, Dustin's friend said, and Dustin's dad would be out. The friend even had a name and a number from a previous legal skirmish.

They called Debbie Kitchen. Dustin scraped up the $200 he was saving for a trip and met Kitchen at the sheriff's department in Jackson.

"Debbie was pretty caring about the whole situation," Dustin said. "But she was firm about her business."

That's because first and foremost, bail bonding is a business. It has expenses, profits and sometimes losses. Bail bondsmen are bonding agents usually hired by bonding companies, which are similar to insurance companies. Bondsmen collect a percentage of fees and pay a percentage of any forfeitures.

When someone skips town and doesn't show up for court, it's a loss. That means the bail bondsman can forfeit the entire amount of the bond -- generally 10 times more than the fee they collected. When a defendant fails to show up in court, the judge generally will give the bail bondsman time to go out and find him.

No license required

Most bail bondsmen don't do their own bounty hunting, but hire outside help from those who are almost given limitless freedom to do whatever it takes to go out and find someone. While bail bondsmen are licensed by the Missouri Department of Insurance, there is no licensing procedure for bounty hunters, who have a wide range of things they can do.

"We can get whoever we want and they do whatever it takes," Ragland said. "When you sign on the dotted line, you become my property. Most of the time, nothing ever comes of it, people show up in court. It's when they don't that it causes a problem."

Bounty hunters can break into your home. They can restrain you. They can handcuff you. They can set up surveillance. They can even transport you. That has created problems. There have been local complaints about rough treatment.

Just two months ago, a Kansas City man died after an altercation with bounty hunters in his home. Witnesses said that when the man struggled, the bounty hunters hit the man on the head with their flashlights and one put him in a choke hold.

By the time police arrived, the man was unconscious, his eyes were rolled back, and blood had poured out of his mouth. He later died and the bounty hunters were charged with murder. The victim's family has been asking for sweeping changes of the law, saying bounty hunters should be licensed and undergo training. Some in the Missouri General Assembly have discussed the matter.

Need more training

Kathyrn Turner, a supervisor of investigations at the Department of Insurance, said that the only real law governing bail bondsmen is a court ruling from 1872. The ruling says: "it is likened to the re-arrest by the sheriff of an escaping prisoner."

"Nothing through the years has changed that," Turner said. "We can say when a bounty hunter does some misconduct, but there's nothing that lays out what that is. We can only say that someone goes too far and unfortunately that can only happen after something bad has already happened."

Turner said she'd like to see bounty hunters licensed.

"I can't speak for the department," she said. "But I see it as a good idea to make sure what happened in Kansas City doesn't happen again."

Local law enforcement officials agreed that training bounty hunters and requiring them to take a test to get a license would be a good idea.

"Questionable practices have been used in the past," said Cape Girardeau police chief Steve Strong. "They have gone to extremes in the past. And I agree 100 percent that they should undergo training. They break into people's houses without any training and our Special Response Team has monthly training on how to do that. Some of the people I've met who are doing that for bondsmen don't seem to me like they've been too well trained, if at all."

Ragland and Kitchen both said they had no problem with getting bounty hunters licensed.

"The more professional we all are, the more training we have, the less likely an accident is going to happen," Kitchen said. "I think that would be a good thing. It'd be better for everyone. Nobody intends to hurt them, but I've heard that happens."

Interesting characters

In addition to fees and the criticism, the bondsmen also collect their share of stories.

Ragland bailed out the girlfriend of the man who shot two Cape Girardeau police officers in the Motel 8 a few years ago. The girlfriend had been arrested on methamphetamine charges. He also bailed out three of the men charged in the high-profile hazing death several years ago of Michael Davis at Southeast Missouri State University.

Ragland acknowledged some may not have liked that he did that.

"But why not?" he said. "Those are good bonds. The higher profile the case, the better the bond. They're the least likely to take off."

Kitchen recalls a recent case in which a man jumped bond and wasn't found for three weeks. He was wanted by the SEMO Drug Task Force.

"I was always with somebody, but we went on car rides to put out the word that he was wanted," she said. "Finally, we got a call from a live-in girlfriend that had called saying he had shown up and beat her up."

And while you think law enforcement might resent bail bondsmen, it doesn't seem to be the case. For one, they keep jail populations manageable and save the county food costs, said Cape Girardeau County Sheriff John Jordan.

"They really provide a service to the community," Jordan said. "Our job is to investigate crimes and arrest criminals and they have their job. Under the Constitution, a suspect has a right to bail. Bail bondsmen play an important role."

smoyers@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 137