Bounty hunting is a family affair

GLENWOOD SPRINGS - Katie Biorn plays the flirt, drug addict and other roles to find "clients" who skip court on her dime.

Her bounty hunter's uniform consists of street clothes that cover six butterfly-heavy tattoos spread across her 27-year-old body. She carries a hidden badge and mace, but never a gun. Her tongue is pierced.

"I'm really a prissy girl, not the girl you'd expect to be a bounty hunter," said Biorn, whose parents own Glenwood Springs-based Ross Bail Bonds, which issues bonds in Glenwood Springs, Aspen and Eagle.

Two months ago, Biorn and fellow bounty hunters staked out a Wyoming methamphetamine lab waiting for a missing client known to frequent the spot. The man failed to show after 10 hours, so the bounty hunters went inside and posed as his friends to find out where he was. The homeowner told them he was staying nearby.

"I'll act as a decoy to get information," she said. "You kind of have to feel the situation to determine what role you take."

The bounty hunters went to the house, where parked in the open garage they found a Harley-Davidson they knew belonged to the man. Biorn and the others were let into the house where they saw a mysterious arm partly hanging out of a closet.

They pulled the man out.

"It's definitely an adrenaline rush because you never know what's going to happen - if they're going to freak out or if they're on drugs," Biorn said. "Once you get them in the car it's a feeling of relief knowing you don't have that bond hanging over your head."

Biorn brought the man back to the Glenwood Springs jail

Tattoos and Hawaii

Biorn dropped out of high school when she turned 16 and got married. She got her general education diploma and went to cosmetology school. Pregnant three years later, she discovered not one or two, but three girls were on the way.

"It was crazy. Very unexpected," she said. "Truthfully, it's really a big blur those first few years."

Tragedy struck shortly after when Biorn's 21-year-old sister died from asthma, leaving behind a son. Biorn adopted him, adding fourth child to the family.

She owned two tattoo shops and taught at beauty school in the intervening years before she became a bounty hunter. She used her experience in cosmetology to tattoo permanent lipstick, eyeliner and eyebrows on customers - even on her mother.

"It's the same thing as a tattoo, you just have to have a really steady hand," she said.

She turned 23, got divorced and became a bounty hunter. A year ago she sold a tattoo shop. She snowboards at Sunlight Mountain with her kids on the weekends. In the summer, she leaves the kids with her ex-husband and travels Canada and the states. Hawaii is her favorite.

"I really enjoy it there," she said. "That would be the place I'd move for sure."

Quote "Once they're caught they're handcuffed and usually not violent. Most of the time what they do is cry." - Judi Ross, bounty hunter

Family affair

Four bounty hunters work at the business - Biorn, Dick and Judi Ross, and Chris Truax.

"I love working with my family," she said. "It definitely works out. We have each other's back."

Ross opened the bonds business 11 years ago. He knew from years working as a Garfield County Sheriff's deputy that bondsmen can earn good money, he said.

"It can be lucrative if you play your cards right," wife Judi Ross added.

Clients pay 15 percent of their bond and a co-signer vouches for the rest. The bond is supposed to ensure someone charged with a crime shows for court.

But when a client misses court, can't be found and no one pays, the Rosses must pay the court themselves, which only happens about once every hundred times, Judi Ross said.

"Every day you pray you don't get a certified letter, because that's how you know someone has missed court," she said. "We try to put good bonds together so it doesn't come to that point. We have to be cautious. Transients and illegals we have to be very careful about because they're very hard to track."

Non-violent offenders

When tracking someone, the Ross Bail Bonds bounty hunters are careful. They don't carry guns, they'll call police if they need help and they avoid dangerous situations where their clients might become violent.

"No bond in our opinion is worth a life, including the person with the bond," Judi Ross said. "We're not in the business to get anybody hurt. We're in the business to make sure they get a fair trial."

Besides, the people who skip town normally act civilized when they're caught.

"Most of the time you find them in closets or under the trailer skirting or at a friend's house," Judi Ross said. "Once they're caught they're handcuffed and usually not violent. Most of the time what they do is cry."

As Biorn searches for bounty, her kids often stay with grandma Judi Ross and play bondsgirl or bondsboy. Biorn hopes the next generation chooses another profession.

"It's cool, but being an attorney or judge would be awesome," Biorn said.



Staff Writer J.K. Perry can be reached at 748-2928 or jkperry@vaildaily.com.