DENVER -- Bounty hunter Linda Ownbey knew something was wrong when the two men stepped into her Phoenix office, looking for work.
"I took one look at them and thought: no way. These guys are trouble,'' she recalled Tuesday. "They were wearing black pants, black T-shirts and combat boots, and they had a 'we're big and bad' attitude.'' She ran them off twice.
Ownbey counts 20-year-old Matthew Brackney and his father, David -- suspects in a bungled raid that left a young Phoenix couple dead -- among the problem fringe elements of her trade.
That problem resurfaced at 4 a.m. Sunday, when five men calling themselves "fugitive recovery agents," in black clothes, ski masks and body armor sledgehammered into a Phoenix home in search of a California bail jumper.
But it was the wrong house.
Two of the masked men, authorities say, tied up Luisa Sharrah, who had been asleep in a bedroom with her two daughters, ages 12 and 16. One of the intruders held her, her daughters and her 11-year-old son at gunpoint. The others kicked down the door to the bedroom where Christopher Foote, 23, and his girlfriend, Spring Wright, 21, were sleeping.
Foote grabbed a 9-millimeter handgun, emptying his clip in self-defense and wounding two of the bounty hunters in their arms and legs.
There were 29 bullet holes in the wall behind the couple's bed and in an adjacent hallway.
The next day, relatives tearfully scrubbed off the bloodstains in the home that Foote had lived in for 13 years.
Police arrested Matthew Brackney, and Michael Martin Sanders, 40, both of Phoenix, and charged them with two counts of second-degree murder. David Brackney, 45, who was injured in the gun battle, was expected to face similar charges upon release from the hospital.
An intense manhunt continued Tuesday for two accomplices. Police regard them as armed and dangerous.
In the wake of the incident, law enforcement authorities are dusting off old lawbooks and facing the fact that bounty hunting is the most unregulated arm of the U.S. justice system.
Operating under broad powers granted by the Supreme Court more than a century ago, the United States' estimated 2,000 bounty hunters routinely enter homes and automobiles without search warrants. They are held to looser standards than conventional law enforcement officers. And they enjoy almost carte blanche to use deadly force in self-defense when tracking down and apprehending their prey: wanted criminals who skipped bail.
In most states, there is no formal licensing process for these pseudo-cops, although organizations such as the 1,500-member National Association of Bail Enforcement Agents offer their own classes, training manuals and equipment.
"There's been little change in the law since the territorial days when bounty hunters were used by sheriffs to look for people who had robbed stagecoaches,'' said Arizona Senator John Kaites.
"In 1997, we need other means to keep innocent people from getting hurt.''
With prisons overflowing and more people being released on bail, the bounty hunting industry is booming. Experts say about 35,000 people jump bail annually in the United States.
"I took one look at them and thought: no way. These guys are trouble,'' she recalled Tuesday. "They were wearing black pants, black T-shirts and combat boots, and they had a 'we're big and bad' attitude.'' She ran them off twice.
Ownbey counts 20-year-old Matthew Brackney and his father, David -- suspects in a bungled raid that left a young Phoenix couple dead -- among the problem fringe elements of her trade.
That problem resurfaced at 4 a.m. Sunday, when five men calling themselves "fugitive recovery agents," in black clothes, ski masks and body armor sledgehammered into a Phoenix home in search of a California bail jumper.
But it was the wrong house.
Two of the masked men, authorities say, tied up Luisa Sharrah, who had been asleep in a bedroom with her two daughters, ages 12 and 16. One of the intruders held her, her daughters and her 11-year-old son at gunpoint. The others kicked down the door to the bedroom where Christopher Foote, 23, and his girlfriend, Spring Wright, 21, were sleeping.
Foote grabbed a 9-millimeter handgun, emptying his clip in self-defense and wounding two of the bounty hunters in their arms and legs.
There were 29 bullet holes in the wall behind the couple's bed and in an adjacent hallway.
The next day, relatives tearfully scrubbed off the bloodstains in the home that Foote had lived in for 13 years.
Police arrested Matthew Brackney, and Michael Martin Sanders, 40, both of Phoenix, and charged them with two counts of second-degree murder. David Brackney, 45, who was injured in the gun battle, was expected to face similar charges upon release from the hospital.
An intense manhunt continued Tuesday for two accomplices. Police regard them as armed and dangerous.
In the wake of the incident, law enforcement authorities are dusting off old lawbooks and facing the fact that bounty hunting is the most unregulated arm of the U.S. justice system.
Operating under broad powers granted by the Supreme Court more than a century ago, the United States' estimated 2,000 bounty hunters routinely enter homes and automobiles without search warrants. They are held to looser standards than conventional law enforcement officers. And they enjoy almost carte blanche to use deadly force in self-defense when tracking down and apprehending their prey: wanted criminals who skipped bail.
In most states, there is no formal licensing process for these pseudo-cops, although organizations such as the 1,500-member National Association of Bail Enforcement Agents offer their own classes, training manuals and equipment.
"There's been little change in the law since the territorial days when bounty hunters were used by sheriffs to look for people who had robbed stagecoaches,'' said Arizona Senator John Kaites.
"In 1997, we need other means to keep innocent people from getting hurt.''
With prisons overflowing and more people being released on bail, the bounty hunting industry is booming. Experts say about 35,000 people jump bail annually in the United States.