Twenty-six years had passed since the grizzly murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Gold.

Every morning James awoke with one goal in mind; he would capture those responsible for this heinous act. Today was no different, he thought as he lay in his bed, the murderer had to be down at the Beverly Hills Golf & Country Club.

He was certain of it, plus a round of golf and a pop or two sounded like a good way to review the years of evidence amassed in his head. Finally dragging his ass out of bed he headed to the kitchen where he’d ingest his daily dose of Orenthal ℞ washed down with a glass of Tropicana OJ.

Completely unaware that something miraculous was about to happen, the Juice would turn to his left and solve the murders; staring back, the killer would ‘once again‘ reveal himself in the mirrored doors of the hall closet.