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Da Kine Bail Bonds

Monday, May 12 2008


Da Kine Bail Bonds, Honolulu, Hawaii
Duane "Dog" Chapman became an expert on the American legal system at a very early age -- from the wrong end! With 18 armed robbery convictions and a murder rap under his belt--and 18 months in a Texas state prison--he was intimately familiar with the workings of the court system, including, of course, bail bonds. Dog's career as a a bail bondsman and bounty hunter began when Chapman was in court himself, disputing child support. When he told the judge he didn't have the money to pay his support, the judge offered him a deal: bring in a fugitive and in exchange the judge would pay part of Chapman's child support.

He started his first bondsman business in his hometown of Denver, Colorado before moving to Hawaii in 1989 with his wife, Beth, and their children. In Hawaii, Dog started De Kine (a Hawaiian term roughly equivalent to "whatever" or "whatchamacallit") which he operates as a family buiness. His associates include long-time business partner, Tim Chapman; Dog's sons Leland and Duane Lee; his daughter, Lyssa; and his wife, Beth, who runs Da Kine Bail Bonds' operations.

The bail-bonding system has some powerful incentives built into it: A bond agent pays the bail of a defendant awaiting trial, guaranteeing his or her appearance in court and releasing him or her from jail and, technically, into the agent's custody. In return, the agent charges the defendant a fee of 10 percent of the bail. Underwriting the agent's bond is a large insurance company, which charges the agent a portion of the fee. If everything goes right, money flows up and down this pipeline. However, if the defendant runs, or "skips," a chain reaction is set off. The court's bond will always be paid, thanks to the insurance company, but the bond agent faces massive losses if he or she is unable to catch the defendant. Enter the "loss-prevention agent," the bounty hunter.

A good bail-bonding business isn't founded on the ability to catch skips; a successful company is one that prevents clients from running in the first place. Besides choosing their clients carefully, effective bond agents also have to do some babysitting, checking up on their charges on a regular basis. This isn't to say that bounty hunters aren't an important part of any bail-bonding business. While they account for little or no cash flow, the "recovery agent" does provide things that are nearly as important: credibility and image. A bail company with a highly visible, successful bounty hunter on its staff makes crooks think twice about running.


Beth: Hard at wrok at Da Kine
According to one source, out of 100 bonds that bondsmen write, about 90 percent make their court dates without any problems. The remaining 10 percent have to be found. Many of these have just forgotten about their court dates or have overslept. Some are in the hospital or have died. Others run. Some estimate that, on average, bondsmen have to pay 1.5 bonds for every 100 they write. The Chapmans are below that industry standard, with three out of 10 of their clients running. However, according to the Chapmans, Dog always gets his man, so Beth rarely ever pays a bond.

Razor-thin profit margins may make bail bonding one of the toughest ways to make a living, but people on the brink of bankruptcy make dogged pursuers. Police departments are often understaffed and overwhelmed by their own duties. This may be one reason Dog got his lucky break in court that day, his services were needed! Still, until Dog tracked down and apprehended Max Factor heir and fugitive Andrew Luster in Mexico in 2003, his business often teetered on the verge of bankruptcy. The tabloid case landed Chapman in a Mexican jail, but when he was released four days later, he emerged as America's favorite bounty hunter.

Dog's new fame helped land him his show, but what's good for television isn't necessarily good for the bail bond business bottom line. Beth says she's often pissed when they go out to hunt a fugitive because tracking crooks is expensive! Every time she gathers her posse together in Honolulu for a hunt, it costs her $1,500. "If you detect a little hostility in my voice when we go out on our hunts, it's because I am," she says. "I'm irritated by the fact that we have to spend all this money to hunt this guy down when all he had to do was call us up. Financially, bounty hunting does nothing for business."

Added to that is the constant barrage of phone calls and fans dropping in, hoping catch a glimpse of Dog or his posse and making it hard to get any work done. Still, the visibility and good reputation that goes with being a successful bounty hunter on TV hasn't hurt the business in the long run. While Da Kine itself may not turn a huge profit, "Dog the Bounty Hunter" has generated enough income for the Chapmans to expand the business. Dog keeps it all in perspective: "We're not rich people," he says. "Before the show, I didn't have a nice car or a boat. Today, I still don't have a nice car or boat. It's always been about feeding my kids and sending them off to school."


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