Larger than life bondsman left legacy

If you met Henry "Hank" Bayless on the streets of Clovis in his prime, you might have thought: this is not someone to mess with.

A towering 6 feet 4 inches, he often wore a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt, his long hair held back in a ponytail.

Longtime friend and reality television star Duane "Dog the Bounty Hunter" Chapman liked to say Bayless resembled a modern-day Doc Holliday.

It wasn't an act. Hank was a military veteran who went on to become, as one local attorney put it, the "king bail bondsman" of eastern New Mexico, for decades -- a job that requires a certain toughness.

But to his family and many friends, Hank's gruff exterior hid a warm, compassionate heart, and a person who used his decades-long bail bonding career as a way to connect with those seeking sobriety.

"I remember him helping people, like, all the time," said daughter Rachel Bayless. "He was an amazing human being."

Hank Bayless died Nov. 13 at his home in Clovis following several years of health problems. He was 81.

Military career, family

Hank was born in 1942 in Cowan, Tenn., about an hour outside Chattanooga. He served 20 years in the U.S. Air Force -- earning multiple commendations and medals along the way -- before retiring in 1979.

While stationed at Cannon Air Force Base in the early 1960s, the young airman met Dorothy Jouett. The couple married and had their first two children, Danny and Becky. The family was constantly on the move with Hank's military career.

The marriage didn't last -- at least not initially, according to daughter Rachel.

"My parents got divorced when my dad was in the service," she said. "He was in bad shape when he was an alcoholic."

Years later, Hank described his deployment to Vietnam as a low period, said Clovis attorney Michael Garrett.

"He said, 'You know, I went to Vietnam and I got drunk once, and I got sober when I came back,'" Garrett said.

But in the late 1970s, Hank quit drinking and dedicated himself to sobriety -- a major turning point that would define much of his life in the decades to come, according to family members and friends.

He and Dorothy remarried, and had Rachel, their third child.

By the time of his death, Rachel said, Hank had been sober for 47 years.

Life as a bondsman

After Hank's retirement from the Air Force, he and Dorothy returned to Clovis, where her family was from and where Hank would spend about 30 years as a bail bondsman and bounty hunter.

It's a profession that's all but disappeared since 2016, when New Mexico voters approved a measure to abolish the cash bail system.

But in Hank's hey-day, it was a career that kept him on the run -- constantly.

"I remember him leaving in the middle of the night because someone called and needed somebody to talk to or needed out of jail," Rachel said. "I even remember holidays -- Christmas, Thanksgiving -- him leaving our family to go bond someone out of jail."

Rachel once asked him why he would leave a holiday celebration to go to work.

"He said, 'Because they deserve to be with their family too,'" she said.

Daughter Becky Duffield, who worked alongside Hank at his bail bonding business for years, said her father was tireless.

"If a mama called and said, 'Hey, I'd like my kid out,' he'd never refuse," Duffield said. "He'd find a way to help that mother get her kid out."

If one of his bondees went missing, Hank would shift to bounty-hunting mode. He was generally helped along by the fact that, as attorney Garrett said, "he knew everybody."

Once, Hank and Duffield were driving back to Clovis late at night after dealing with a bond in Santa Rosa when they spotted someone walking along the side of the road. Hank pulled over. He had recognized the person by their walk.

"He recognized somebody in the middle of the night, walking down the road," Duffield said. "He stopped, picked him up and gave him a ride."

Hank's work could be dangerous. In 2005, he was arrested and criminally charged after shooting and injuring a suspected bail jumper during a violent confrontation. Hank also shot a longtime employee in the fray. She later said Hank had saved her life, describing the incident as self-defense.

The case went to trial, where a jury acquitted Hank.

Rachel said it was a frightening and frustrating chapter for the family, who feared that all the positive impacts he had made on other people's lives might be blotted out over what she called a "bull... charge."

"We all knew he didn't do anything illegal," she said. "The guy that he was trying to apprehend was really dangerous."

Driven by compassion

It was not a conventional lifestyle, but Hank's family and friends said bail bonding work suited him.

Dog Chapman, who met Hank at a convention years ago and who became a close friend over time, said what set Hank apart was his compassion.

"A bail bondsman ... in my world doesn't just get you out of jail," Chapman told The News. "The good ones put you in a program, have you on a check-in list. ... Hank was so like that."

Bart Bartosiewicz, a now-retired Clovis Police Department deputy chief who was often at loggerheads with the bondsman over whether defendants should be released from jail, agreed.

"He was compassionate," Bartosiewicz said. "He was a guy that talked to them in a language they understood."

Now-retired Clovis Police Sgt. Al Lewis said Hank sometimes bought groceries for family members of some of his clients, or helped them pay their rent.

"He was kind of an angel in disguise," Lewis said.

Family members said Hank was driven by his own history with substance abuse.

"He saw (his work) as a platform to share his experience as a recovering alcoholic," Rachel said.

Hank was instrumental in many people starting their own journey to sobriety.

"He helped everybody he ran into that needed help with alcoholism," Garrett said. "It didn't matter whether it's a judge or people out on the street."

Duffield said Hank would drive people "all over the state" if they wanted to get into a treatment center or get drug or alcohol counseling.

Sometimes he went even further afield.

Keith Arnold, who now lives in South Carolina, said he was a drug addict when he first met Hank more than 30 years ago. When Arnold, a fellow military veteran, decided he wanted to get clean, Hank drove him to a program in Amarillo and later helped him into local drug and alcohol recovery programs.

"He was always there for me, no matter where I'd be," said Arnold, who said he has been sober for more than 25 years. "... I'm thankful for the Lord and Hank Bayless."

Larger than life

In his home life, Hank was a devoted family man, who enjoyed the small things. He had a sweet tooth, and favored vanilla ice cream adorned with a miscellaneous assortment of toppings -- crumbled up Little Debbie cakes or blended strawberries.

He had a gift for turns of phrase and loved to "razz" people, up to and including his most famous friend, Dog Chapman.

"He would (say), 'You did a really good job on Fox News, Dog," Chapman said, laughing. "... 'You need to keep that shirt buttoned one more.' I'm like, 'I'm not a priest.'"

He was a gifted mechanic who loved to rebuild cars. He was also an inventor, whose design for a toolbox drawer liner to secure maintenance tools before flights is still in use by the Air Force today, Rachel said.

Hank was a bit larger than life, and made an impact on everyone he met.

He once was riding a motorcycle up near Roy, when a wind shear picked him up and drove him off the road. Hank held on, and rode the motorcycle straight down into a ravine before kicking off.

To top it off, Duffield said, he refused to take an ambulance.

Another time, Rachel said, he was driving down Main Street in Clovis with his wife when he saw a man beating up a woman. Hank pulled over.

"All 6-4 of my dad walked up to this guy and yelled at him, ... 'Hey, knock it off, we don't treat women that way,'" Rachel said.

A few years ago, Rachel said, a woman approached her parents when they were out in town and asked Hank if he remembered her. He didn't.

"Her response was, 'I'm the woman whose life you saved on Main Street,'" Rachel said. "... He just had one of those personalities and characters that I think people remembered."

In addition to his wife and daughters, Hank is survived by a son, Daniel Bayless of Clovis; a sister, Mary Deverell of Covington, Tenn.; eight grandchildren, and 15 great-grandchildren. In accordance with Hank's wishes, services will not be held.