Wordcraft -- What happens at a crime scene, II

Earlier in this blog I reported from a writer’s point of view on the procedures involved in forensic investigations. Today I’ll conclude that discussion from this spring’s DFW Writers’ Conference by noting what the professionals involved in such investigations have to say to writers -- and whether it’s possible to commit the perfect crime, at least on paper.

For starters, it’s not all about DNA, including what autopsy surgeon Dr. Tasha Greenberg, autopsy surgeon and Tarrant County deputy medical examiner calls “the CSI effect.”

Although Greenberg believes the situation may improve “as people get better educated in science,“ in some cases, “juries were not convicting if we didn’t have DNA evidence.” Reminding the audience that DNA is contained in body tissue including fluids, Greenberg asked us to consider the situation of a person shot from a distance of several -- perhaps a hundred or more -- feet. Without the killer’s personal presence on the scene, there’s not going to be DNA evidence from the killer.

And then there’s the time required for forensic testing. Although TV necessarily wraps up fictional cases within an hour, professionals such as forensic death investigator Amy Renfro must often explain to families of victims “that science isn’t instant -- you can’t do toxicology in a day.”

Or Greenberg with “autopsy reports the next day, but I can’t put that out in a vacuum” of an ongoing investigation.

So how can a writer kill a character while keeping the cause of death mysterious?

“Probably poison,” Greenberg said.

“Barium is wonderful,” Dr. Robert Johnson, chief toxicologist for the Fort Worth medical
examiners office. “So are heavy metals.”

Just don’t use cyanide, he warned. Its distinctive scent is something most people would notice.

In fact, for anything chemical, awareness of smell is essential. If you’re a writer looking for a likely bomb component, remember that bombs need both an explosive and an initiator, according to explosives expert Dr. Guido Verbeck, and check the smell of both. (There are standard texts for these.)

And not every death outside what the pros terms “controlled conditions” -- such as in a hospital -- will even get the benefit of a medical examination. In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll admit that because of a family situation and a novel in progress, I was interested in the possibility of the cause of death, even a violent death, escaping detection, and of possible concealment of the victim’s identity.

In counties without a medical examiner’s office, Greenberg said, elected justices of the peace may choose to rule on identity and cause of death, apparently accidental death, without referring cases to a regional medical examiner. Even when deaths are referred for examination, “we don’t do a complete autopsy on every case that comes in. It’s a matter of judgment if there’s no evidence of trauma.”

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If I’ve piqued your interest in the DFW Writers’ Conference, consider registering for the 2014 meeting, with horror/thriller writer Jonathan Maberry as keynote speaker and special workshop leader Donald Maass. Early ticket prices now through Labor Day, September 2, 2013, are $295. See http://dfwcon.org/.

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(I may drop information from the DFW Writers’ Conference into this blog as time permits, but next Monday, I hope to report on Khaled Hosseini’s appearance in Dallas in connection with his new book, And the Mountains Echoed.)

Wordcraft -- What happens at a crime scene

l-r, Drs. Johnson & Verbeck

This post comes with a warning -- if discussions of violent death make you feel faint, stop reading now. Just realize you’re condemning your characters never to experience violence in any form, not even a quick peek at a traffic accident. It’s the nice quiet kind of life most of us would like to lead. But writing isn’t about the kinds of lives our characters like. If they got everything they want, we wouldn’t have anything to write about.

The annual DFW Writers’ Conference is packed with inspirational speeches by big name writers, lectures on writing craft, interviews with agents and editors, and the usual gossip and commiseration by writers thrilled to find other people who speak our special language. This year the conference added something new -- panel discussions by forensic science professionals and law enforcement officials.

I’m going to take the forensics experts, all from the Fort Worth medical examiner’s office -- forensics death investigator Amy Renfro, deputy medical examiner Dr. Tasha Greenberg, chemistry professor and explosives expert Dr. Guido Verbeck, and chief toxicologist Dr. Robert Johnson. The panel moderator was Dr. Michelle O’Neal, an anthropological investigator and member of the DFW Writers’ Workshop which sponsored the conference.

What do these people do? And what makes them do it?

Renfro is usually the first of the group to be called to the scene of a death, starting the photographic documentation of bodies. Please don’t call her a CSI technician. Despite what we see on TV, in real life, CSI teams do not examine corpses. Strange though it may seem to TV viewers, neither do police officers.

And although police officers are allowed to inform the deceased person’s next of kin about the death, the job often falls to Renfro, who prefers to do it in person if at all
possible. Sometimes, however, the next of kin isn’t even in the state. Or the country. And exactly who is “next of kin” calls up a legal hierarchy based on, among other things, the deceased person’s age and marital status.

Greenberg performs autopsies on bodies she receives through a designated chain of command from autopsy technicians. She and Amy “I like dead people” Renfro both admit to having a strange sense of humor. “If we couldn’t laugh, we couldn’t handle it,” Renfro said.

And although the job “does make you appreciate your life and the lives of those around you,” Greenberg said, “I get excited. I love my job.”

To do Greenberg’s job, you need to be a physician. In the state of Texas, you’ll have the title of medical examiner or deputy medical examiner. I was embarrassed to learn that I’d referred in a story to the person examining a case of violent death as a “coroner,” a position that exists in some states, but not in Texas.

Johnson spends his time in a lab determining causes of death involving alcohol or drugs. Except that the actual drugs most likely aren’t still in the body, forcing him to look for other chemical indicators. “I avoid the morgue unless I’m forced to,” he commented
wryly. He’s also the one to talk to if you’re a writer looking for that least likely to be found poison to use in a murder mystery.

In his primary job as a teacher, Verbeck said, “I have to prepare students for (the gruesome facts). My first couple of lectures are shock and awe.”

Verbeck, who aided the investigation of the recent West, Texas, fertilizer plant explosion is also the one to go to if you want to know the right explosives -- or the more technical term, “energetic materials” -- to use for a particular crime.

(Squeamish audience members questioning Johnson and Verbeck invariably used some formula of “if I want to poison someone,” or “if I want to blow something up.”)

(Next Monday, I’m taking a break from the forensics discussion, but be prepared later for more specifics of an investigation, including the “CSI effect.”)