Late, I work late. But tonight I finished at an earlier hour than usual, deciding to email a writing assignment before DMB. So I'm off to a few errands before filing at the newspaper office and one of the errands leads me to one block away from the home of the aforementioned busted (alleged) pedophile. I see camera crews. It's two in the morning and I'm thinking hostage? Legal announcement? Circled around the block and stopped across the street from the home and got out of the car and saw two people I know who told me that the accused killed himself in his bathtub. I said that I wasn't surprised that that's how it turned out and they looked at me in an odd way, but they had both been drinking around the corner. They left to go back to the bar and I stood and talked with one of the t.v. guys and all three affiliates were waiting out on the sidewalk and across the street neighbors quietly talked. Very windy night and I wondered if I was cold from the weather or the news. We all watched the police come and go and another photographer ran into the home and then left quickly and then returned a while later holding a bottle of Lipton Iced Tea which I thought was bizarre. What an odd time to get thirsty, or reach for a beverage, I thought. There was an oversized SUV sedan type of black vehicle in the driveway and after a while two people took a gurney from it, like the one I garbage picked a few days ago, but on it was a dark plastic bag. An old man left with a clipboard and wearing one latex glove and he went to his car and went back into the house. I wondered if I wished that I had my camera. I wondered what would happen to the archives of this photographer and to his possessions, and if he left a note. Maybe apologizing to all the boys and now men he did bad things to all this time. I thought, still standing there and between the fragments of conversation with the stranger from the t.v. station on the sidewalk, about how all of this pointed to guilt and how for a long time nobody came forward with a definite story or accusation before. And how because of the respect a lot of people had for him as a well-known photojournalist etc. how nobody ever said anything until that one strong fifteen year old had nothing to lose and spoke. I wondered if this man's ghost hovered over the scene, if he might try to be a presence one more time. There was a short and violent thunder and lightning storm a while ago and it seemed very fitting.