You Can Run but You Can't Hide (37 page)

video even showed him placing a lit joint inside a woman’s vagina.

Worst of all, every single woman was unconscious, which made a

pretty compelling argument that this was not consensual sex.

When I heard about the sex tapes, I talked to a forensic expert

who specialized in sex crimes. His analysis of Luster was that he was

a necrophiliac, meaning he desired having sex with dead women. He

drugged his victims until they were unable to move, simulating the

act of necrophilia. In his professional opinion, it was only a matter

of time before Luster turned from rapist to killer. His victims meant

nothing to him. They were merely practice for his real fantasy—

killing and then screwing his victim.

I’ve seen some pretty sick stuff over the years, but Luster was by

far the worst case of cruelty toward innocent, helpless women I had

ever been privy to. His case made me ill.

I prayed every day, “Lord, this pervert is an inch away from be-

coming a serial killer. Help me find him before he hurts anyone else.”

I was working against an invisible clock. Every second that ticked

was one second closer to Luster striking again. I had to stop him.

The police were able to identify two additional victims from the

tapes. In addition to Shawna Doe, they found Carey Doe and Tonja

Doe, both of whom were treated with unimaginable callousness by

Luster. Because the three women were willing to come forward and

testify against him, police were able to charge him with eighty-seven

counts of poisoning, forcible sodomy, and sexual assault.

When Luster appeared in court on these charges, he stood in

Ca r e y, S h aw n a , a n d To n j a D o e

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front of the judge and pleaded not guilty on all counts. The judge

set bail at ten million dollars.

The case took nearly eighteen months to go to trial. The delays

were shrewd tactics created by Luster’s high-profile and very expen-

sive defense team. His lead attorney was Roger Diamond, a well-

known and highly respected criminal defense lawyer from Santa

Monica. He was able to convince the appellate court to reduce Lus-

ter’s bail to a million bucks. Ironically, AmWest, my old insurance

company happened to be the underwriter for the bail bondsman

who posted the bond. The company went belly-up, but when the

judge told Luster his bond wasn’t good anymore, he said he could

pay it in cash. The judge accepted $700,000 and allowed Luster time

to come up with rest. He made a Dean Witter wire transfer in the

last few days of the grace period to cover the remaining $300,000.

With his bail paid, Luster was free until he went to trial. Because

of the nature of the charges against him, the court ordered him to

wear an electronic ankle bracelet twelve hours a day to monitor

where he was during those times. The fact that he was unmonitored

during the other twelve made it easy for him to plan his escape.

Luster’s defense team did their best to discredit each of the

women, even going so far as to claim their client was an aspiring

soft-core porn filmmaker. They actually tried to convince the jury

these women were acting. The lawyers did their best to paint Luster

as a respectable, well-liked citizen. The defense claims about Lus-

ter’s budding film career were absurd. It was becoming obvious that

he was going down.

C h a p t e r F o r t y - o n e

ON A MISSION

FROM GOD

Despite the defendant’s
absence, Judge Riley ordered

the prosecution and defense to resume the trial. In the meantime, I

had a lot of work to do if I was going to find him. The first forty-

eight hours after a fugitive runs are the most crucial. Investigators

from the FBI, the Ventura County Sheriff’s office, and the U.S. Mar-

shals were all out looking for Luster. And now, so was I.

I’ve always told Beth that if we were ever in a situation where we

had to flee, we’d run with only the clothes on our backs. It’s essen-

tial to leave everything behind that might connect you to your past.

When Luster ran, he took all of his warm-weather clothes, his col-

lection of pre-Columbian artifacts, and his dog, Max. Thank God

he did. His inexperience helped me find him.

Beth pushed me every day. Failure was not an option. My career

was riding on this one. If someone else caught him, I would be the

laughingstock of the business.

I remember Beth saying, “Prove to me you’re the best, Big

Daddy. Let’s see what you’re made of.” She taunted me every day.

Besides, we had lost credit for so many cases to the cops and the

feds. I didn’t want to be shoved aside again.

By January 15, 2003, Andrew Luster was charged with flight to

avoid prosecution. That put him on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. It

also made him “Dog’s Most Wanted.”

O n a M i s s i o n F r o m G o d

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I had no time to lose. Every minute mattered. Beth and I went up

to the Ventura County Court to get a copy of the warrant. I walked

into the courthouse looking like someone straight out of a movie. I

was wearing my badge, my dark glasses, and my bulletproof vest. I

had feathers in my hair and bands around my arms. They had never

seen the likes of me in Ventura.

“Hi, I’m Dog the Bounty Hunter. I am here to get a copy of the

warrant for Andrew Stuart Luster.” I smiled and acted like this was

no big deal. The truth is, I am not a law enforcement officer. Get-

ting a copy of the warrant was impossible. Who was I to ask for that

document?

The clerk looked confused, because she knew what I was asking

for was something she wasn’t supposed to give me. But I could tell

she recognized me from TV. I held up the local paper, pointed to my

picture, and said, “You see? This is me. I’m the guy who is going to

capture Andrew Luster. I need your help.”

As charmed as I thought she was, she told me to wait in the cor-

ridor while she went to see the judge. I looked at Beth. We both

knew this was a long shot. A couple of minutes later the clerk came

back.

“Here you go.” She handed me a certified copy of the warrant

and Luster’s mug shots. She was practically still blowing on the ink

to make sure it was dry.

I was stunned. Floored.

“What did Judge Riley say?” I had to know why the judge com-

plied with my request.

“He said, ‘Good luck, Dog.’ ”

We made a call to Samantha Hart at the Hollywood History

Museum (formerly the Max Factor Museum of Beauty) to get as

much information about the family as we could. She had given us a

brief overview when we spoke on the phone, but we needed a more

in-depth evaluation of who we were dealing with. I was looking for

something to stir things up. I needed an explosive bit of informa-

tion that would rattle the family. The lack of a blood tie between

Luster and the Factor family later proved to be a useful weakness.

It’s called shaking the tree.

I remember hunting down a fellow in Denver named Rick Ivy. I

kept putting the word out that I was looking for this guy. I spoke to

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Yo u Ca n R u n , b u t Yo u Ca n ’ t H i d e

everyone I thought might be connected to him. Eventually, the heat

got to be too much. One day, my phone rang. It was Ivy. He said,

“You don’t have to keep looking for me.”

“Oh, yeah? Why is that?”

“Because now I’m looking for you.” Ah, the hunted becomes the

hunter. It happens all the time, but it hardly ever means a thing ex-

cept I’m going to get you sooner.

Another time I shook down a fugitive’s momma. Within minutes

he was on the phone asking me what I was doing at his momma’s

house.

“I was rifling through her panties. Mmmmm. She smells nice,

too.” I’ll say anything to get these guys riled up. This one was so mad,

he kept calling me back. One time he forgot to hit *67 to block his

number. Oops. Fifteen minutes later, I had him in custody.

That approach is a deliberate part of the psychology behind

what I do. I want people to think I’m a duck out of water, in a new

land, without a clue about what’s really going on. Let’s start calling

his momma names. Let’s start saying he’s an undercover cop. I will

do whatever it takes to get a reaction, because a reaction puts me in

touch with the fugitive.

While we were still in L.A., I began thinking about possible

clues. There were two big ones that helped me nail Luster, and the

first came right away. I knew his dog was missing, and I was certain

Luster ran with Max. I had a gut feeling that the proof was in the

pooch. I even said that on
Geraldo
a few days earlier. I had to come

up with an approach no other bounty hunter would see. So I began

hunting the dog, not the guy.

Now, I own a couple of dogs myself. I know how hard it would

be to leave your trusted companion behind. For Luster, it wasn’t an

option. The police claimed they found Luster’s dog at his mom’s

house. My sources were telling me it wasn’t the same dog, that Lus-

ter had the real one with him. They told me Luster bought a look-

alike. That turned out to be a lie. I felt like Sherlock Holmes, never

knowing who I could trust or if what someone said was real. But

one thing I did know: Find Max, and I would find Luster. Ulti-

mately, Luster did have his dog with him, but it wasn’t my break in

the case that led me to Luster.

The second clue that helped me find him was his missing car. I

found it odd his car hadn’t shown up anywhere. I called around for

O n a M i s s i o n F r o m G o d

229

two straight days trying to find his SUV. Beth and I were driving in

Malibu, doing fifty miles per hour on the Pacific Coast Highway. A

cop spotted us, whipped around the two-lane highway, and pulled

us over. He immediately recognized me.

“What are you doing in my neighborhood, Dog?”

“We’re looking for Andrew Luster.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that going?”

I explained we were trying to track down his missing automo-

bile, but so far we were unable to locate it anywhere.

“Well, let me call that in for you, Dog.”

The cop walked away to radio in the information we had. He

took my cell phone number and said he’d give me a call if he heard

anything.

A few hours later my phone rang. It was the Malibu cop. He said

he tried to run the information, but the license plate number I’d

given him for Luster wasn’t even on the BOLO (Be On the LookOut

for) list.

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. It wasn’t even a wanted

vehicle? How could that be? Luster was one of the most wanted

fugitives in America and his car wasn’t something anyone was look-

ing for?

I pleaded with the officer to get the car on the BOLO. “You’ve

got to get that car wanted right away.”

“You got it, Dog. But, we never had this conversation. I never

saw you today, got it?”

One of my favorite things that people, especially people in law

enforcement, say to me is “This meeting never happened.” No one

ever wants to take responsibility for bending the rules in order to do

the job better.

I thanked the cop for calling. Earlier that day, Luster’s mother

told us she thought he’d gone surfing. If that were true, his car

would be parked at or near a beach. I drove around the area for a few

hours, scouring beach parking lots, following my instincts. I knew

the car had to be somewhere nearby. Beth and I headed east toward

Santa Monica. We drove around for a while but found nothing. We

spoke to a couple of Santa Monica cops and told them what we were

looking for. They told me they would get on it right away.

Time was running out. Beth and I had to get back to Hawaii to

shoot our pilot episode of
Take This Job
for A&E, which sub-

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sequently became our show,
Dog the Bounty Hunter
. We left Los

Angeles later that same day. I was frustrated by the lack of tradi-

tional law enforcement emphasis being placed on Luster’s disap-

pearance. I couldn’t comprehend the incompetence or nonchalance

being demonstrated by the authorities.

The very next day, thanks to my getting the car on the BOLO,

two Santa Monica policemen found Luster’s abandoned vehicle on

San Vicente Boulevard. It was immediately towed to an impound

yard.

The jury took two days to determine Luster’s legal fate. On Feb-

ruary 18, 2003, they found him guilty of eighty-six of the eighty-

seven criminal counts. They broke it down like this:

Guilty of twenty counts of rape by the use

of drugs.

Guilty of seventeen counts of rape of

unconscious persons.

Guilty of two counts of poisoning.

Guilty of four counts of drug possession.

The jury was deadlocked on one additional count of poisoning,

unable to determine whether he was guilty or not. It didn’t matter.