Feb. 11-- Don't call the two men in black knocking persistently at your door bounty hunters if you have a warrant out for your arrest.
"We prefer bond enforcement agents," said local Tulsa agent Kenneth Harris Sr. "Bounty hunter has gotten sort of a bad name."
With TV shows about bounty hunting and a few disreputable bounty hunters in Oklahoma, Harris said, he and the majority of other bond enforcement agents in the state have strayed away from the moniker.
As bounty hunters work to regulate their industry, some state officials are working to do the same by getting bounty hunters licensed through CLEET, the Council on Law Enforcement Education and Training.
CLEET licenses and regulates various professionals in Oklahoma whose work involves firearms, including law enforcement.
Senate Bill 1872, filed Jan. 19 by Sen. Ralph Shortey, R-Oklahoma City, would require bounty hunters to be licensed under CLEET, according to the bill.
If passed, the bill would also require five years of experience in law enforcement and limit who is allowed to become a bounty hunter by dismissing anyone convicted of a felony offense or a misdemeanor "involving dishonesty or moral turpitude."
Shortey had a similar bill that failed last year after passing through the state Senate. The bill received attention after a group of Oklahoma bounty hunters broke into the wrong home looking for a fugitive in Midwest City and terrorized the family living there.
Several bounty hunters agree with the general idea of the new bill -- adding regulations to the bounty-hunting profession in Oklahoma. However, some are resistant to the bill's details that could force current bounty hunters out of their profession, according to the bill.
'Thrill of the hunt'
Harris, 42, and Lenny Biggers, 47, known by the people he captures as "Lenny B.," are Oklahoma bounty hunters with decades of experience between them.
Both men got into the business for the "thrill of the hunt," Biggers said, but they don't want card-carrying CLEET members to become weekend bounty hunters.
Harris owns an agency for bond enforcers whom he trains, licenses and works with on bounties in Oklahoma and other states, he said.
Harris and Biggers, who owns his own business, often partner up on bonds and drive through Tulsa streets in Biggers' Dodge Charger -- a car often used in law enforcement.
Both men have an unwritten dress code of wearing all black. Black shoes, black pants, black jackets, black hats -- all black.
As the men approached a house in one of the worst neighborhoods in Tulsa recently, Harris moved to the front door confidently as Biggers moved quickly to the backyard in case the target tried to make a run for it.
The idea is to minimize risk and maximize authority.
Bounty hunters are not allowed under any circumstances to claim to be law enforcement officers, Harris said.
However, if anyone assumes they are police officers -- or possibly even SWAT members, given their apparel -- it can make their job go smoother.
No one was home, so Harris and Biggers moved on to their next target with plans to come back later.
"It's not like on TV. We don't just go out and catch all of our people in one day," Biggers said.
Both men said they generally chase people for days or weeks while talking with family members and checking last-known addresses.
Harris and Biggers said they have chased people for months and traveled across the country if the bounty is big enough or the person is bad enough.
"We do everything from a $100 bond to a $1 million," Biggers said.
Bounty hunters generally receive about 10 percent of the bond they are chasing. Biggers' biggest payday was a $35,000 bounty stemming from a $350,000 bond, he said.
'No one knows'
James Carroll, chairman of CLEET's Private Security Advisory Committee, said holes in the law give bounty hunters in the state too much free rein.
"Nobody knows if they're trained," Carroll said. "No one knows who they are. They are scary."
Oklahoma statutes make bounty hunting legal, but bounty hunters generally cite legal precedent from federal court cases that give bond enforcement officers more rights to use weapons and to cross state lines, several officials said.
Steve Emmons, CLEET executive director, said members of CLEET's Private Security Advisory Committee brought the issue of licensing bounty hunters to the attention of agency officials and lawmakers.
Emmons said private security committee members want bond enforcers to come under CLEET regulation so that there can be a clear line in the state drawn between private investigators, private security officers and bond enforcers.
Bounty hunters can pretend to be private investigators as a side business even if they aren't licensed to be investigators with CLEET, Emmons said.
Harris and Biggers want bounty hunters to stay out from under CLEET regulation, hoping instead for bounty hunters to start an organization licensing themselves.
Harris said it would be up to bondsmen in the state to only give bond-retrieval permission to bounty hunters who have been licensed through the organization.
Barring being able to begin their own regulatory organization, Harris would like CLEET to license bounty hunters separately from other professions.
It would be dangerous, for instance, for a CLEET-certified private security officer to think he can go out and try to pull in a fugitive as a side job, Harris said.
Despite their reservations, Harris and Biggers agreed with CLEET officials that regulation would be important for the state and their profession, citing a small number of people in the state committing crimes under the guise of being bounty hunters.
"There is less than a handful of guys doing this, and it makes it bad for everyone else," Harris said.
Harris said there are a few bounty hunters in the state who have used their warrants to steal property, shake down innocent people and impersonate law enforcement.
"It makes the rest of us look bad, the people doing things the right way," Harris said.
Jarrel Wade 918-581-8367
Copyright 2012 - Tulsa World, Okla.
