I always considered myself a law abiding citizen. It was no surprise to me when I became interested in bail bonding back in 2001. As a bail bondsman, I thought, great, here comes a business right up my ally. I mean, nothing really scares me.. I have four children. I was burned when I was two, and orphaned at eleven. What's left? Although I was a little nervous around police men, that quickly faded once I began to see them on a regular basis.

But, then there became a dirty little side to the business that I really didn't expect. People were always offering to go help us find skips (defendants who don't come to court), but when push came to shove, they all chickened out. So, it was me and Big Wade... my partner, my best friend, and the father of my children left to take that ride into the unknown of bounty hunting.. excuse me, fugitive recovery.

One thing a lot of people don't understand about the bail bond business, is that, if someone doesn't show up for court, the judge sends out this little piece of paper that demands we pay the money, or find the defendant. Our time is short, so it pretty much takes over our very thought process.

It should have been no surprise to us that we received this paper on the notorious "Boo Man".  I mean, after all, we knew it when we started the business. It was a risk. We put our faith in people to do the right thing. Who would purposely want our family to loose $2589.00?

Our defendant, thats who. What's even worse is if that if he was in another state, we had to follow their rules. Which can be strange. Some states do not even allow us to pick up skips. I will keep which ones a secret.

After the initial shock was over, our search began. We spared no expense looking for our skip. At first we started doing some background research. We found that our co-signer was in jail, and that every reference that was given on record had their phone disconnected. His family had disowned him. This one was going to be a tough one.

We eventually found out that this young man lived in a small community called Hurtsboro, luckily in our home state of Alabama. We took the two hour drive down south only to find out that "Boo Man" was a popular drug dealer. Not only did we stick out like a sore thumb, people laughed at us as we sat outside the only store in town that was left open.

The town was so small, they didn't even have a grocery store, or even a working police department. I dialed 911, and I got a recording. I left three messages, and I got no response. I thought surely we would never find our skip.

As luck would have it, I met a nice young lady who worked in the store. I went in for a pizza. She was grinning ear to ear. Big Wade and I were the only white people for miles. She asked me if I was having any luck. I shamefully told her, "No, but I am enjoying all the smiles I am getting". She slipped me her phone number and said, "Call me tonight".

Later that evening, we went home, and  I called this young lady who told me that she didn't know where my skip was, but that she knew his girlfriend had just had a baby, and that her name was "Kat".

An idea began churning in my head. Big Wade and I took off out the door again, a few weeks later. We drove a different car, I dyed my hair a different color, and pullled it up. We stopped at a grocery store, bought some diapers and bottles, along with other baby items, along with a big gift bag.

Big Wade said, "What are you going to do"? as we started driving into the town again. I saw some women sitting on their porch, and just told him to pull in. I jumped out the car, ran to the opposite side of it, brought the bag out, and informed the ladies on the porch that I was bringing some baby items to Kat.

"Oh"! They exclaimed. You are at the wrong house. "I am"? I replied with a dumbfounded face. Those two ladies gave me exact directions to where my little man was waiting. We were less than two blocks away.

As we approached the house, to my surprise, he answered the door. He had no clue who we were because my son had written the bond, asked us to come in and have a seat while he pulled off his pants and laid on his couch, boxers shining.

Weary of the game, I unzipped my jacket, showed him my badge and lifted up my handcuffs. His face.. well.. let's just say, his jaw hit the floor as he exclaimed, "You good!, I can't believe you found me". "Boo Man" lifted himself off the couch, covered his boxers and we were back on our way to Talladega.

The drive was long, but the adrenaline rush of seeing him opening up that door, ready to receive gifts from his bondsman was something neither I nor Big Wade will ever forget.

We left the baby gifts and Kat behind. She had no idea that he was running from the law, and the young lady at the store, I found out she had four kids who had nothing for Christmas to speak of.. well.. not until I hung up the phone.

At least I didn't have to drive two hours, I just sent them to a PO BOX.

It's funny how most of all from this experience, I remember, Boo Man's boxers.