I saw him meander over to the scene
He didn’t seem to be in any hurry
She had already been murdered
There was no reason he needed to worry.
He was the one, the one they called
Every time there was a murder
He was the one who’d figure out
Exactly who had hurt her.
She was lying on the ground
Her face was in the gutter
She was middle-aged, maybe 40
Could have been somebody’s mother.
She had been stabbed at least six times
Then her body set on fire
Her hands and feet were bound
With a light weight, silver wire.
The scene had been taped off
A crowd had started to gather
The ME was busy working
The evidence was coming together.
Rigor mortis had not set in
It was just a matter of time
She hadn’t been dead very long
Cause of death already defined.
She was found under the overpass
The road, a dark isolated dead end
There was no traffic passing by
She had died sometime after ten.
They took her body away in a van
Down to the county morgue
No one came to ID the body
Her death was being ignored.
The name on her tag was “Jane Doe”
No one even knew her name
No one knew anything about her
Her death, a sad and senseless shame.
Image from Google Images: radaronline.com