"Find him." She said. They tried.
They used DNA. They used federal agents. They used snipers. They used mind readers. They used surveillance cameras. They used satellites. They used Gordon Ramsay, but he honestly wasn't much help. By the time they'd realized that he was a master chef and not a Master Chief, he'd spent their entire budget on caviar-filled croissants. Granted, they were delicious, but that didn't help their investigation much.
When they did finally catch him, it wasn't thanks to snipers, DNA or satellites. What finally caught him was Chocolate Gunsmoke, the best black private eye in Elevation City.
Music of the now: Dr. Wanna Do, by Caro Emerald