Bounty Hunters’ Reality Has Little in Common With Reality TV

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

Chet Pietrzak rattled off a list of his on-the-job injuries: one left palm slash from a knife fight in Japan; one switchblade gash on the top of his right hand; one bullet hole in his right thigh, and one scar on his nose, from when a fugitive shoved a knife through his nostril, piercing his septum, and out the opposite side of his nose.


“Just for the record, this line of work is nothing like it is on TV,” Mr. Pietrzak, 31, a bounty hunter and the director of instructors for the New Jersey-based U.S. Recovery Bureau, said. “This is a dangerous business.”


Bounty-hunting has long been an appealing subject for moviemakers, whether in the spaghetti western “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” or the space epic “Star Wars.” Now, bounty hunting is enjoying a resurgence of attention thanks to two new reality television shows. Both “Dog the Bounty Hunter” on A&E and the HBO series “Family Bonds” follow bounty hunters on the scent of bail-skipping fugitives.


But while the TV bounty hunters’ on-camera theatrics make for good ratings, with “Dog the Bounty Hunter” in its first season attracting close to 2 million viewers, Mr. Pietrzak and his team said the “Hollywood” shows are giving the bail-enforcement business a bum rap.


“Eventually, someone is going to get hurt the way they do things,” Alex “Spike” Wilson, 34, a wiry bail-enforcement agent with the U.S. Recovery Bureau who is the hefty Mr. Pietrzak’s right-hand man, said this month.


Bail is a guarantee that a defendant will return to court. For a negotiated fee, a bail bondsman will guarantee the entire bail amount for a person who wishes to go free while awaiting trial. If the person “skips bail” – that is, fails to show up for a court date – then the bondsman will commission a bounty hunter to track down and re-arrest the fugitive.


Mr. Pietrzak stands to make good money if he catches the fugitive. Typically, a bounty hunter gets a 10% cut of the amount put up for bail for a successful catch.


“I can make in two cases what most cops make in a year,” Mr. Pietrzak said.


But the estimated 8,000 American bounty hunters, who account for nearly 40,000 arrests a year, take part in this high-stakes game with little oversight and without any standardized licensing or training requirements.


Without training, according to Mr. Pietrzak, the result is often sloppy work and improperly handled cases.


In late November, two American bounty hunters crossed the border into Ottawa in search of a bail-jumping Canadian who had been arrested in Cleveland. For extricating the man from Canada, the duo could now face international kidnapping charges. In another highly publicized case, an innocent Arizona couple was shot and killed during a 1997 raid by three bounty hunters who were searching for a California man who had skipped out on a $25,000 bail bond.


Mr. Pietrzak said there really are no federal laws governing bounty hunters. “The Supreme Court sets our rules,” he said.


An 1872 Supreme Court case, Taylor v. Taintor, granted bounty hunters almost limitless federal authority when pursuing a fugitive. Though state laws vary, a bounty hunter can enter a private residence without a warrant, bring a fugitive across state lines, and benefit from a high threshold on the use of nonlethal force.


Mr. Pietrzak wants to change the system. Together with the U.S. Recovery Bureau, he plans to start lobbying New Jersey lawmakers soon to institute statewide training standards, and he wants to push for national standards.


“You can’t just put on a badge and carry a set of handcuffs and start arresting people,” Mr. Pietrzak said.


After training legions of new bail enforcement agents, Mr. Pietrzak may be able to foment his own revolution in bounty hunting. But he doesn’t harbor any illusions that standards will make this business any less dangerous.


“These are criminals,” he said. “You’re not going to get a Christmas card from them. They are not your friends.”


Surrounded by his latest class of 20 would-be bounty hunters on the roof of his downtown Passaic office, Mr. Pietrzak barked orders as he demonstrated the safest ways to handcuff a fugitive.


“C.D.T.: Compliance, Direction, Takedown,” he shouted as he administered a single karate chop to Mr. Wilson’s neck, sending the man tumbling to the ground.


“This will leave no marks and no permanent damage,” Mr. Pietrzak said, “but it will incapacitate anybody.”


The New York Sun

© 2025 The New York Sun Company, LLC. All rights reserved.

Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. The material on this site is protected by copyright law and may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used.

The New York Sun

Sign in or  Create a free account

or
By continuing you agree to our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use