I vividly remember sitting in the back of the ambulance, Chrissa, the brunette EMT with the scar on her cheek tending to the laceration on my arm.

She was making small talk about this and that and congratulating me on my save moments before. I tried to listen but my ears were still ringing from the explosion and quite frankly, I only wanted a moment of silence.

This one took a toll on me. You would never think that you would respond to a church which was filled with a youth choir just hours before. A building that was supposed to be a safe haven, a place for those young girls to worship and build their sense of community. But I just sat in the back of that ambulance staring at rubble and ash, knowing that the only person we were able to save was their choir director. A man who has already lived over half his life, probably already established in a nice house on top of the hills.

Those poor girls will never see the age of 16, never get their license, never go to prom. I was devastated but not as devastated as I am at this moment as I sit at my captains desk reading a horrendous newspaper article.

“Kurt Fields, 67, Previous Choir Director at Hanson Creek Catholic Church arrested for the Murder of 12 girls.” I read to myself, avoiding eye contact with the Captain. I feel every inch of me turn upside down and before I even realize what I’m doing I grab his trash bin and vomit.

“Nelson…you couldn’t have known.” Sergeant Whitley hovers over captain and I and reaches over to console me. But I can’t bear the touch of anyone right now and pull away.

I finally gather myself and look at the both of them, wiping the remnants from my mouth.

“Do you…” I gather my thoughts and clear my throat “do you think he started that fire? Do you think he is responsible for those kids’ deaths in the church too?” I dare to ask.

“They are investigating it. The reports all came back that no foul play was found, but these other bodies have different levels of decay. They are thinking that he has been at this for at least 20 years. So he is obviously good at hiding his tracks.” Captain responds. The both of them shaking their heads in unison.

“Where is he now? What prison?” I ask, anger firing in me as if the devil himself possessed me.

“Why? You aren’t thinking of paying him a visit are you? This is out of your hands, Nelson. Let the detectives do their job. I know this feels personal but you need to remember what your duty is, and you did that on that day. You save lives, no matter who they may be.” Whitley says firmly and though I know he is right I aim to find this man that I saved, so I can look him directly in his eyes and show him that God is not the only one to put fear into someone.