There was a cop who should have arrested him. Thailand, maybe, or Vietnam. That's another thing he could stop to think about, but he won't. And when he stopped him afterward and asked him why, the officer began to tell him about Dirty Harry and Bullitt and the great bounty hunters of the Western tradition. And he explained (in a childish, roundabout fashion), that the laws the governments of a country will lay down aren't always enough, or their enforcement is corrupt, essentially that there is always something getting in the way of real justice. And he wanted real justice more than anything. "One outlaw sheriff," he said, in admirable English, "must recognize another."
Quite aside from being the most ridiculous argument Holmes had ever had the displeasure to listen to, he found it stunningly naive.
"Listen to me," he began, and had to stop. Organizing his thoughts to do anymore than interrogate a suspect was getting to be foreign, awkward. He gave them some semblance of order before trying again. "Listen to me. You're not smart enough. You're going to get yourself killed. There is no such thing as an outlaw, and no such thing as a sheriff, not anymore and not here. There never were. They're only like that in films. Your hat isn't white, and theirs isn't black."