My View - The art of bounty hunting

Bounty hunting is alive and well in Alexandria.

And there’s plenty of business to go around. I bring this up because of all the hoopla from Dog the Bounty Hunter’s derring-do which has gained much acclaim from his popular television show.

Duane Chapman is an entertaining character who wears blond hair extenders, pointy-toed black cowboy boots and black jeans and shirt. He always gets his culprits. Of late, though, the Mexican authorities have decided they didn’t appreciate Dog’s help finding a dangerous three-time rapist they couldn’t locate. In a reciprocal deal, U. S. marshals grabbed Dog at his home in Hawaii.

I am not one who copied Chapman’s attire. But I wasn’t averse to using various means to find the bail jumpers either.

For a decade in my eclectic professional career I enjoyed the bail bond business. It was interesting and was fun. I made a lot of friends. Some still owe me money but can’t pay because they’re serving long jail terms. On occasion I had to go hunting [for the jumpers.]

One particular weekend, I had to find an Alexandrian on which I risked a $5,000 bond.  The court agreed to a brief extension or else I’d have to fork over the cash – every dollar. I didn’t want to do that. I checked out every address, including his girlfriend’s apartments (he had numerous female companions) and other assorted places to no avail. When I least expected it his mother called and said he would be on a Metro train stopping at Braddock Road in Alexandria. He was coming to mama’s house for supper. My good fortune.

So not to alarm other passengers and users of public transport, I donned a clerical collar with a sporty shirt and Panama hat. A bicycle-riding Metro Transit policeman was taken aback when I introduced myself. He was willing to help me, though. As we discussed technique, the 5:15 p.m. train arrived. I looked up and there was my man, walking smartly down the steps. He was all smiles with a pretty girl on his arm. I walked up to him as though I was passing out a religious tract and slapped the handcuffs on him. He didn’t know what to say. I said “bless you, my son.”

Sometimes bounty hunters can run into jurisdictional disputes that can be testy, similar to the one facing Dog the Bounty Hunter and the Mexican government. The Alexandria General District Court had given me a document authorizing the arrest of a young man on another $5,000 criminal bond. The catch was he lived in southeast Washington, D.C.  I headed across the 14th Street Bridge, visited the police precinct in southeast to present my credentials and court orders. No professional courtesy I found. I was warned by the commander I’d be arrested for kidnapping if I picked up the defendant. No way to that.

The District doesn’t allow bondsmen or bounty hunters to arrest its citizens. I wouldn’t risk spending one second in the D.C. facility.

I tracked down the bond-jumper, though. He simply didn’t want to return across the Potomac River.  He may be getting a job, he said.  I gave him a choice on the phone.

Would he prefer the D.C. jail or the Alexandria jail?

Without hesitation, he agreed to meet me on a street corner and ride back to Virginia. He didn’t want the D.C. jail either.

On another occasion, we chased a young mother through a heavily Latino area near Columbia Pike [Arlington] finding her in a third floor apartment housing nine men, hiding in a 50-gallon trash bag. None in the room could speak English nor would they point out where she was hiding. We poked and prodded every closet and then the trash bag. She attempted to jump out of the bag and the third floor window.

It can be a dangerous business for some fugitive recovery agents around these parts.  Caution is always important even though sometimes it can be humorous situations. A very good bondsman in Prince William County was caught off balance apprehending a dangerous guy known for fighting.

The bad guy grabbed the bondsman’s gun. He grappled to avoid the handcuffs, tore off his pants, and then shot the bondsman in the leg.

One Thursday afternoon a fellow riding his bicycle down King Street thought I was out looking for him. He tried to run over me in front of the flag pole in front of the Alexandria Courthouse. Two alert deputies jumped him. I didn’t have any warrant for him but the sheriffs did.

“Be Prepared” is a very good motto to remember. A bondsman or bounty hunter can’t be too careful. On a spring Sunday morning, I tracked an elusive bond jumper to a Whiting Street convenience store. The 24-year-old decided not to come quietly with me, he wouldn’t cooperate when I tried to handcuff him and most certainly he wasn’t returning to jail. I struggled with him for a moment. He pulled away and then I drew my .38-caliber gun as I held on to his arm. I threatened to shoot him dead on the spot. Fortunately, an Alexandria police officer came to my aid. The guy kept yelling that “the old guy” was threatening to shoot him.

“I know him,” said one of Alexandria’s finest. “I believe he would have shot you, too.”

At that moment I realized youth was a thing of my past.

And, it was probably time I looked for another line of work or perhaps return to my computer keyboard. There are a million stories out there and these are just a few in “the Naked City.”

Harry Covert lives in Alexandria.