A willingness to work hard and serve the public leads to success.
One quality that all thriving bail agents seem to share is a superlative work ethic. Hall-of-Fame bail agent Russell Faibisch is fond of winking at newly licensed bail bond agents and letting them in on the real secret to his success:
“One night I went to the jail. Seven years later I went home.”
Florida bail agent John Milano seems to be cut from the same bolt of cloth. Milano is always working. We spent time recently with Milano at one of his Florida bail offices. Between taking phone calls and meeting with indemnitors, we discussed the myth of poor people languishing in jail and how come you never see pretrial release employees at the jail after 5pm. After he finished laughing, he also had a few things to say in response to the fabricated claim that bondsman don’t actually locate, apprehend and surrender their bail skips.
“They broke the law and many times they don’t want to face the music.”
Milano works during all hours of the day and night to help people to secure the release of their accused friends and family members. He routinely works with multiple family members in order to post small as well as more lucrative larger bonds.
With the posting of each bail bond he writes, Milano guarantees the State of Florida that his defendants will appear in court. He notifies each client of his or her court date. When a defendant fails to appear in court and absconds, Milano and his staff of licensed bail agents locate, apprehend and surrender the fugitive back to the county jail. On the rare occasions when they fail to accomplish this in a timely manner they pay the state a substantial penalty.
Milano — like all other private bail agents — does not charge the taxpayers anything to perform this invaluable role in our criminal justice system.
If you are of a certain age, perhaps you now have an infuriatingly insipid song about Jenny stuck in your head. You are welcome.
The world changes fast. I used to take pride in being able to quickly recall the telephone numbers of bail agents all across the country. It didn’t hurt that they were almost invariably good telephone numbers, ending in 7777 or 9999 or spelling “bail” (2245) or sometimes “bond” (2663).
Today, I have close family members for whom I don’t have the foggiest idea what their telephone number is. Driving in the car, I announce “Call Brian” and the next thing you know I’m chatting with my son.
I have 6,231 contacts in my telephone but if I lose that phone, I’d be hard-pressed to get a hold of my own sister.
I used to carry a “skypage” beeper everywhere I went. If you needed to reach me you would dial a toll-free 800 number and punch in your own telephone number at the prompt. I would call back pretty much instantly, even during an anniversary dinner. This partly accounts for why I don’t celebrate those particular anniversaries anymore. I took pride in always being available. I still do. It’s an occupational hazard, always being easy to reach. Now it’s also by email, text and Facebook.
After all this time one thing remains the same: the only thing worse than the phone ringing all the time is the phone not ringing all the time.
Amazingly (to me, anyhow) there are bail agents today who are difficult to reach. I have encountered agents that have messages that say “the user has not set up a voice mail box for this number.” Or even worse, “the voice mail box is full. Good bye.” Those agents don’t usually last.
Some jails only allow collect calls to a bail agent. I take them. Do you?
At the risk of sounding like the late Andy Rooney here, how long are we going to talk about “hanging up” a telephone?
Give me a call sometime.