All That Remains: A Renowned Forensic Scientist on Death, Mortality, and Solving Crimes

by Sue Black

rigor mortis (‘stiffness of death’),

Rigor starts in the smaller muscles first, usually inside five hours, and then spreads to the larger muscles, peaking between twelve and twenty-four hours postmortem.

livor mortis (‘blue colour of death’).

The livor colouration then becomes fixed and can be a useful indicator in the investigation of suspicious deaths. It may reveal how a body was positioned in the hours immediately after death and help us to evaluate whether it might subsequently have been moved.

Researchers sampling the bacteria from the ears and nasal openings of cadavers have found that, using next-generation metagenomic DNA sequencing, they may be able to predict TDI very accurately, perhaps to within a couple of hours, even where death has occurred days or weeks before.

putrefactive stage, the cells start to lose their structural integrity and their membranes begin to break down

autolysis (literally, ‘self-destruction’)

This process releases a variety of chemicals, including propionic acid, lactic acid, methane and ammonia, whose presence can be used to detect where a decomposing body has been hidden or buried.

Active and advanced decay, the sixth stage of decomposition,

seventh and final stage is skeletonisation,

Some researchers have called for the building of additional human taphonomic facilities

where remains are left out in the open air and studied with the aim of providing researchers with a better understanding of the decomposition process.

a name

becomes a significant component of who we believe ourselves to be.

Our fascination with identity is reflected the world over in folklore and literary tradition, where stories featuring disguise, assumed identity, mistaken identity or identity theft abound, not to mention foundlings adopted or exchanged at birth. Such themes are a feature of most of Shakespeare’s comedies; indeed, much of his work deals with the concept of identity in one way or another. They provide endless plot devices for exploring the nature of society, conflict and how human beings relate to each other.

Yet there are still plenty of instances where a proverbial skeleton has rattled its way out of a family closet. To find out after many years that you are not who you thought you were can come as a tremendous shock and precipitate a genuine crisis of identity.

When a lie is exposed, everything we believe about ourselves and our place in the world can tumble down around our ears.

DNA analysis, the new kid on the block, has been in our forensic toolbox only since the 1980s.

When testing parents, we prefer if possible to use a mother’s DNA, as obviously there can be some doubt as to whether Dad is the natural father.

but as there are those where such a revelation could cause great upset, caution and discretion are always at the forefront of such investigations.

Unbeknown to them, and perhaps to him, he had been adopted as a baby – a secret that was eventually confirmed by an elderly aunt. The sisters now had to deal with a double blow: the loss of their brother and the discovery that he was not their biological sibling.

The obvious starting points for the collection of antemortem data are the existing national police-controlled DNA and fingerprint databases. However, the deceased will only be represented here if he or she has come to the attention of the police

(DNA is also held on different databases for all active forensic investigators, police officers, the armed forces and others, either for identification purposes or to exclude them when samples from a crime scene are being analysed).

So unless you are in the police, the military or have been previously convicted of a crime, it is highly unlikely that your identifying features will appear on any database.

It was these basic characteristics that generated those 1,500 potential identities. Clearly the police cannot pursue such a vast quantity of vague leads as the drain on resources would be immense. To give them something they can work with, we need to reduce the number of possibilities to double, or preferably single, digits.

facial reconstruction to recreate the man’s features from the contours of his skull.

The face was reproduced on posters displayed around the area where the body had been found and circulated more widely via newspapers, television, a missing persons website and INTERPOL. After the case was covered by the BBC television programme Crimewatch,

It is not our place to speculate about or judge what led him to commit suicide, but by giving him back his name, we allowed his story to be told. We were able to provide answers for a distraught family and to return his body to them. The news we bring to relatives is rarely happy, but we believe it is delivered with a kindness, honesty and respect that will ultimately help to set in motion a coping and healing process.

records such as a universal DNA database or compulsory identity cards would certainly make it easier to identify those who don’t. However, the notion of officialdom keeping any closer tabs on us than they do already is controversial and raises concerns for many about the erosion of civil liberties and the right to privacy.

an entirely different matter from coming face to face for the first time with the newly dead body of someone I cared about deeply.

For some reason he loved blowing raspberries, which made him irresistibly naughty to us children.

Like the captain of a ship disappearing under the waves, he raised his hand to his forehead in salute as he descended, rather gracefully, his legs straight out in front of him, until he came to rest on his bottom. The picture shows him roaring with laughter at his farcical plight and you cannot help but smile with him. He had little in life but he was a hugely contented man.

Uncle Willie died in a way that would have made him laugh just as heartily, had he been capable of it.

I realised that day that when the animation of the person we were is stripped out of the vessel we have used to pilot our way through life, it leaves little more than an echo or a shadow in the physical world.

But even though the rational part of my brain knew that, the disconnection between how he’d looked in life and how he looked in death was very perplexing.

I thanked him silently for being who he had been and, with a crystal-clear conscience, returned to my father and reported that all was well with Uncle Willie.

of course I understand now that death and grief do strange things to a mind.

It confirmed that I could compartmentalise: as well as bringing compassion to my dealings with the bodies of strangers, I could manage the emotions and memories involved in viewing the mortal remains of a person I had known and loved while accessing the detachment required to inspect him professionally and impartially without falling apart.

What we can manage is how we approach and respond to our uncertainties.

Asimov put it: ‘Life is pleasant, death is peaceful. It’s the transition that’s troublesome.’

For me, this is the perfect death, the kind I would wish for anyone I loved. In the short term it is a shock for the bereaved. My mother had no time to prepare for the sudden removal of the man who was effectively her father, no time to gear up for her own grieving process. The dying ritual she had expected had been denied her and the being dead part had come without warning. In the long term, though, those left behind are invariably comforted to know that the person doing the dying did so in the least physically and psychologically distressing way possible.

it can be difficult to know what our loved ones want to happen when their time comes, and indeed how we should go about getting ready for that.

an attempt to plan for the management of elderly lives in such a way as to maintain dignity and independence for as long as possible.

She had never managed to make the transition comfortably from the mother-child relationship to its mother-adult daughter phase and we rarely held deep grown-up conversations. As a result, she really knew little about me, found me impenetrable at times and was therefore reluctant to share either her fears or her hopes.

my mother had in the past voiced the view that, with organs in such short supply, transplanting them into old people was a waste.

In our busy lives we try to juggle what we think we should be doing with what we must do and what we want to do.

a mother who had always lacked self-esteem and, although kind of spirit and heart, was fundamentally sad, lonely and unfulfilled. So I regret simply accepting it as the ‘norm’ that she would be cared for in a hospital and that, in my absence, she might be visited by others.

Maybe I am being hard on myself, but nobody will ever convince me that she did not hang on for us to visit her one last time when she could have been at peace sooner.

A hospital ward, devoid of warmth, love, character and memories, can be such a sterile environment for the dying and their loved ones to try to prepare themselves for the most personal, private and irreversible of moments.

Experiences of death have the power to alter attitudes and even to change the course of lives.