Once again, I find myself prowling the streets near the train station. The sun is setting, and I am no closer to my objective than I was at the State Fair. I'm never sure how my feet keep me moving forward, it seems they must step of their own accord. I look at the mugshot once again, at that face I have memorized so many times. Yes, the oversized glasses and the smug look, I will know him when I see him.

I catch a glimpse of the perp's last-known clothing. I rush forward only to find my eyes were playing a trick on me. I need sleep but I can't - not yet - not after those children he killed.

It is a closed casket. Her parents are directly behind it. I want to go over to comfort the mother but there is nothing I could say. Nothing but the killer dead will alleviate their grief. The man who did this, the man that killed this little girl, he must pay.

I shake my head of the memory. I cannot afford to dwell on the past. Again, I see a flash of what could be his shirt. I am second-guessing myself at every turn; I imagine him in every stripe I see. Still, I must be getting closer. I must press on.

This time I've got him, his back is to the ocean. There are other people on this beach but that won't stop me, can't stop me. He is not going to get away; I've found him. I sneak up on that red and white shirt, the ridiculous hat, that jovial smile. It makes me sick to see him smile like that after what he did to those children.

I know that I should have just slapped cuffs on him - and I would have, for any other criminal. Not this time; he needed to feel pain, or maybe I needed to cause him pain. Either way, we've stopped him now. I don't regret what I've done.

Where's f****n' Waldo? On his way to hell.