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Poem
The scene kept playing over and over in my mind.
   With such detail, but there was still something missing I could not find.
This was a matter of life and death of that I knew.
    There was something I couldn’t put my finger on as tension grew.
The E-Mail bomber was about to strike again.
     And the clues he gave us this time were just too thin.
He has struck three times in succession.
     Just random violent acts of aggression.
The only link in common is they were targeted on the poor side of town.
     Mostly where you find the homeless and those that are really down.
Each time he’s struck he has wounded or killed no less than thirty in these 
savage attacks.
     Never does he leave a clue, and he so cleverly covers his tracks.
This time he boasts to double his count.
     He claims he won’t be stopped and what he does is paramount.
I’ve got a hunch he’ll strike down by the docks.
     Where they use migrant workers and they all hang around in flocks.
We set up surveillance and just waited to see, 
      When about three in the morning an old van was parked close to where the 
workers would be.
 As we sat and waited for someone to exit the van,
     I just happened to catch the appearance of a dark clothed man.
He was slumped down as if hiding and he wasn’t readily seen.
     I quietly radioed for backup and told them to try to approach him unseen.
With in a matter of minutes we had our man,
     And he was holding a remote control device he used to drive the van.
We called out the bomb squad and they quickly found the source.
     Two hundred pounds of dynamite strapped under a barrel of bolts and a timer 
of course.
As bad as he thought he was he never attempted to fight.
    To me he acted like a little crybaby that’s why he had to hide in the night.
If I wasn’t a cop I think I’d lock him in his van and let him taste his on revenge.
    Sit him on top of those bolts where he could see the timer and be the first to 
feel the twinge.
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