Anyway -- we're at the car. Repkin asks, "You can't search it, can you? I got rights, don't I?" Horatio thinks not: "You violated your parole when you came within a hundred yards of a child. You know the rules. So shut up." Sadly, Horatio is right about that -- but the point remains that they cuffed this guy based on an illegally obtained fingerprint and ID'd him on that, so it's not like Horatio's a model of ethical conduct here. Also, this would be a fine time to talk about the way state and federal governments trample on the civil rights of parolees, but I've already gone on one self-righteous rant during this recap, and y'all don't need another one so soon. When the trunk of the car opens, things don't look so good for Repkin: it's a little girl's suitcase.
It's also enough to stick Repkin in a room with Horatio, who says, "I understand you did quite a bit of time in solitary on your first conviction." Repkin dismisses the validity of this observation: "That was bogus charge -- my bitch ex-wife, she ruined my life." Horatio points out that Repkin's daughter also made a statement that Repkin touched her during a swimming lesson. In one of the few genuinely creepy moments of this episode, Repkin protests, "I would never hurt her." Notice how it's not a denial, and how it bespeaks a world of delusion in one sentence. Notice how Horatio mows right over that and paints a picture of prison life that makes the average stint at Oz look like a trip to Club Med. Repkin points out that Horatio doesn't have anything. Horatio disagrees: "I've got footprints, I've got glitter, I've got your record, and I'm about to match a fingerprint." Wait, wait, wait -- we haven't confirmed either the footprints or the glitter, so one of two things happened here: either there's been some sloppy storytelling, or Horatio is bluffing pending final lab tests. Either one sucks. But faced with some flimsy circumstantial evidence, Repkin folds, admitting that he was planning on meeting his daughter and abducting her. "It's my visiting day," he says, leaving me to wonder exactly how "visiting day" is defined in the Florida judicial system if it entails unsupervised quality time between sex offender and daughter. Horatio, however, is busy shoving his hypothesis down our throats: "Instead, you picked up a substitute, didn't you?"