‘Graham said he understood. He said he hadn’t got on with his parents either and he knew what it felt like to be a black sheep and blah, blah, blah. Anyway, he tried to groom me. He asked for photos so I sent him some of some kid I’d found on the Internet. He said I was a good-looking boy and that he really wished he could give me a hug to make me feel better about my life and –’ he makes a winding motion with his hand – ‘to cut a long story short, he asked if he could email me so I set up a fake email account. And that’s when things started getting sexual.’

‘He asked for naked photos?’

‘Yeah. So I had to find some.’

Mark points at the laptop. ‘You know you could go to prison for what’s on there, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, but I was using them to catch paedophiles, not to jerk off to.’

‘And you think the police would buy that, do you?’

‘Enough!’ I hold up a hand. ‘Tell us what happened next, Jake.’

Mark sighs but says nothing. Jake looks relieved.

‘So I sent the photos and he asked for my mobile number. That’s when he suggested that we meet. He said he’d bring poppers and vodka. The plan was to meet in the loos at the car park and then go to the Downs in his car and have a little party, just the two of us. I took the van. I had no idea you were following me. I thought you were in the loo when I slipped out. You must have been watching through the window or something.’

‘And then what happened? When you got to the car park.’

‘I went into the men’s toilets, where I was supposed to meet him. And there he was, this scrawny little scrote with grey hair and a potbelly. He had a plastic bag with him. I could see there was a bottle of vodka in it. He pretended he was washing his hands when I went in but then I said, “Graham?” and he looked up. That’s when I went for him.’

The image of the knife, bloodied and skidding across the tiles, flashes before my eyes. ‘You stabbed him?’

‘I hit him. The knife was in my back pocket. Just in case he was a psycho.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mark says under his breath.