I had to readjust my knee, as I knelt down next to his head, as there was a small pebble on the carpet.
He lay on his back, his left arm out perpendicular to his body. He was wearing a red shirt and black trousers. He only had one shoe on. I hadn't seen the other one yet.
I reached across his chest with my right arm to reach for the knot in the Woolworth's carrier bag around his head. It took me a few minutes to undo it, especially with two pairs of rubber gloves on. I photographed the knot extensively, knots can be very useful evidence. I wanted to keep the bag intact for fingerprints.
I knew I was going to have to take it off eventually, but I wasn't really looking forward to seeing his face. The amount of blood visible through the carrier bag was a very good indication that whatever had happened, wasn't pretty.
I slowly took the bag off, trying to be as careful as possible as I did.
I concentrated solely on the bag and ensured I recovered it properly before focusing on his face, despite knowing that his face was directly in front of mine.
I put the carrier bag inside an open plastic bag and then sealed that, upright, inside a brown paper bag. This meant that the wet blood wouldn't soak through the paper bag before I had a chance to get it to the drying cabinet back at the station.
I turned back to face him. I'd seen photographs of him throughout his house and this didn't look like him. I mean, it was him, but it didn't look like him. He had taken a real beating. There were dents and lumps all over his head and face.
Apart from the offender, I'm the first person to see this gentleman like this. I photographed his face, documenting as many of the injuries as I could. I knew I was taking photographs that no one would want to look at. When he goes for a Post-Mortem, the injuries will be carefully washed and re-photographed, hopefully showing more detail and less gore.
This was a frenzied attack.
I called a colleague for help, this was going to take one person a long time, two people would speed the process up. I've been at work for thirteen hours already.
The press gathered outside, partly because no one was quite sure what had happened at this point. There was a missing person enquiry for the gentleman involved, but the sudden flurry of activity at his address had attracted every news van for every station. It was a small cul-de-sac. There was barely enough room for my van and the Police car, but now we had the BBC, ITV, Sky and a couple of freelancers all trying to find a space on the pavement outside the neighbour's homes.
This all came about after me and another colleague were asked to attend the address and search for any clues of a disturbance. Officers had already been and couldn't find anything.
We look for different signs. Our signs are much smaller than an upturned chair or broken window.
Someone had been cleaning. Cleaning blood. However, they weren't thorough enough.
I left the house and took a breather in the scene tent at the front of the property. We'd erected the tent so that I had somewhere safe to put all of my equipment and exhibits, out of the rain and out of public view. The tent also doubled as a useful spot to take a break. I emptied a 750ml bottle of Evian into me in about thirty seconds. It's hot inside, even more so with a scene suit, overboots, two pairs of gloves and a mask on.
Whilst I dug around my cases, desperately looking for a Snickers bar I was sure I had left there for emergencies just like this, my colleague arrived.
I abandoned the search for the Snickers, probably because I knew I'd have to share it.
I gave him a run down of what had happened so far and how we came to be where we were.
He kitted up and then we entered the scene. I gave him a walk-through of the scene so he understood how everything fits together so far. We used the aluminium stepping plates as the floor needed preserving for footwear evidence recovery.
We got to the bathroom and he gasped "Oh shit!" It was a nasty sight, despite him being prepared for it. We see it all the time, but it doesn't mean we don't think it's hideous.
Sometimes you find yourself just stood next to a deceased person, for what seems like five or six minutes, often next to a colleague, and neither of you say a thing. Just looking, thinking.
These scene are shocking but it's our job to deal with them. I've seen some of the most horrific things I'll ever see in my life whilst doing this job.
It's a job like no other.
We had a number of forensic exhibits to recover from the gentleman before removing his clothes. It's important that things are done in the right order here as taking clothes off may dislodge a small, yet vital piece of evidence.
I clipped the gent's fingernails. Always a strange task. When you clip kid's nails, they wriggle and whinge and sometimes you get a bit of flesh. This is much easier, yet a little eerie.
I recovered all of his jewellery, documenting where each piece was and it's condition.
I've never undressed so many people as I have in this job. Thing is, they're all dead when I do.
We recovered each item of clothing into separate bags, packing them as I did the Woolie's carrier bag. They'd need to dry in the cabinet when I get back to the station. If I were to seal wet clothing, whether it be blood or water, into a bag and put it into a dry store, it'd degrade very quickly and go mouldy.
So, there he is, face battered and broken, naked and cold. Now we have to zip him up inside a black plastic bag.
The black bags are new. The handles are stronger than the previous ones. I find them easier to use. Sometimes it'd be difficult to get anyone over six foot into the white ones. I sometimes have to resort to laying them diagonally in the bag to get the zip to shut.
I finished by photographing the serial number of the tag on the bag when we zipped tied the zipper closed.
Z09786401.
We wait what seems an eternity for the on call undertaker to arrive, but in reality it was only forty minutes. We help the undertaker get the gent out of the house and into the van.
I sign out of the log book at 0213. I've been at work for 19 hours and 13 minutes.
I jump into my van and open the glove box for the sat nav. The snickers falls into the footwell. Bonus.
Back in at 0700 for a briefing with the investigation team.
Showing posts with label Cordon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cordon. Show all posts
Fire Fatality
Fire Fatality
The call came over the radio:
"CSI Guy and Girl, can you please attend 123 Any Street, CID are in attendance, there has been a house fire with a fatality"
I looked at my crew mate, she had a puzzled expression on her face. I asked her how far away it was. It was only a matter of minutes away. We diverted to the station to collect extra kit. We needed our 'arson kits' that contain boiler suits, a special face mask and a hard hat. Although we weren't going to an arson (it was an accident) we would need the same protective equipment. My crew mate said that we normally require this kit as fire scenes tend to be dangerous, even after the fire has been extinguished.
As we approached 123 Any Street, there was a PCSO diverting traffic down a parellel road. He recognised our unmarked van and waved us through. There were three fire engines in the road. I could hear indistinct voices on their radios. The shutters were up on the side of each engine. There was dirty water in the gutter where excess water from the hoses ran over the small patch of grass regarded as a garden at the front of the flats.
The flat was the last on the ground floor of a block of twelve which was arranged four side by side on three floors. Both CSI Girl and I bent over and made our way under the police tape and gave our names and collar numbers to the officer managing the scene log.
We walked down the side of the flats and through the gate. The back door was open, there was what looked like rubbish scattered over the grassed area. It turned out that these items were personal effects from the flat that the fire officers had removed in order to gain entry to the flat.
There were one or two fire officers inside, without breathing apparatus surveying the scene. I stepped closer to the back door. The door was a UPVC frame with two large sections of glass, top and bottom. I put my hand on the glass, it had a thick coating of soot, my hand left a void in the soot.
I'd never smelt it before but I new what it was.
As I entered the flat, I stood in the living room. It was full of charred belongings, each item with a thick black coating. There was hardly room to stand. There were items everywhere that hadn't been moved for years. It was a one level flat, living room, kitchen, and bathroom. No bedroom. This was accommodation provided by the local authority for one elderly male. It was shocking. This male had been left on his own, without aid for months and months. There was little evidence of any substantial diet.
The hallway was the root of the smell. Naked from the waist down lay a seventy something male, on his back on top of a collapsed bicycle, an expression on his face of shock. His mouth was wide open.
Rigor Mortis had fully developed and was present in his face, jaw, arms, legs and hands.
I won't forget the smell. It was mixed with smoke and soot. It wasn't as strong as it could have been. The door had been open for some time when I had arrived which provided some ventilation.
The Fire Brigade had sent a member of FIT, the Fire Investigation Team, to determine the source of the fire. It transpired that there was an electrical fault on a light in an old display cabinet that had slowly burnt the chipboard.
It was unclear what had caused the elderly male to die. Had he died before the fire or as a result of it? He had soot in his nostrils, which may suggest he was breathing when the smoke was present. The cause of death wouldn't be determined until a Post Mortem was complete.
I held the male's arms in place as well as I could so that CSI Girl could photograph his hands and arms. This was done as a way to show that there were no injuries, defensive or otherwise. His arms were cold to touch.
CSI Girl took a number of photographs of the male. She also took photographs of the flat. This helps show the standard of living of the deceased male. The bath was full of belongings piled almost as high as the top of the door frame. The kitchen surfaces had rubbish and frying pans scattered over them with an additional layer of dust and dirt that had collected over the months.
It was decided that the fire was accidental and not suspicious. All the doors were locked and there was no sign of forced entry. The male was elderly and visibly frail. He had no injuries. The photographs would be kept for evidential purposes. The post mortem was likely to confirm the FIT's thoughts.
One thing that I will remember is that the smoke detectors had been removed. The elderly male was a smoker and didn't like going outside to smoke. If the detector was in place it may have given an early warning.
As we approached 123 Any Street, there was a PCSO diverting traffic down a parellel road. He recognised our unmarked van and waved us through. There were three fire engines in the road. I could hear indistinct voices on their radios. The shutters were up on the side of each engine. There was dirty water in the gutter where excess water from the hoses ran over the small patch of grass regarded as a garden at the front of the flats.
The flat was the last on the ground floor of a block of twelve which was arranged four side by side on three floors. Both CSI Girl and I bent over and made our way under the police tape and gave our names and collar numbers to the officer managing the scene log.
We walked down the side of the flats and through the gate. The back door was open, there was what looked like rubbish scattered over the grassed area. It turned out that these items were personal effects from the flat that the fire officers had removed in order to gain entry to the flat.
There were one or two fire officers inside, without breathing apparatus surveying the scene. I stepped closer to the back door. The door was a UPVC frame with two large sections of glass, top and bottom. I put my hand on the glass, it had a thick coating of soot, my hand left a void in the soot.
I'd never smelt it before but I new what it was.
As I entered the flat, I stood in the living room. It was full of charred belongings, each item with a thick black coating. There was hardly room to stand. There were items everywhere that hadn't been moved for years. It was a one level flat, living room, kitchen, and bathroom. No bedroom. This was accommodation provided by the local authority for one elderly male. It was shocking. This male had been left on his own, without aid for months and months. There was little evidence of any substantial diet.
The hallway was the root of the smell. Naked from the waist down lay a seventy something male, on his back on top of a collapsed bicycle, an expression on his face of shock. His mouth was wide open.
Rigor Mortis had fully developed and was present in his face, jaw, arms, legs and hands.
I won't forget the smell. It was mixed with smoke and soot. It wasn't as strong as it could have been. The door had been open for some time when I had arrived which provided some ventilation.
The Fire Brigade had sent a member of FIT, the Fire Investigation Team, to determine the source of the fire. It transpired that there was an electrical fault on a light in an old display cabinet that had slowly burnt the chipboard.
It was unclear what had caused the elderly male to die. Had he died before the fire or as a result of it? He had soot in his nostrils, which may suggest he was breathing when the smoke was present. The cause of death wouldn't be determined until a Post Mortem was complete.
I held the male's arms in place as well as I could so that CSI Girl could photograph his hands and arms. This was done as a way to show that there were no injuries, defensive or otherwise. His arms were cold to touch.
CSI Girl took a number of photographs of the male. She also took photographs of the flat. This helps show the standard of living of the deceased male. The bath was full of belongings piled almost as high as the top of the door frame. The kitchen surfaces had rubbish and frying pans scattered over them with an additional layer of dust and dirt that had collected over the months.
It was decided that the fire was accidental and not suspicious. All the doors were locked and there was no sign of forced entry. The male was elderly and visibly frail. He had no injuries. The photographs would be kept for evidential purposes. The post mortem was likely to confirm the FIT's thoughts.
One thing that I will remember is that the smoke detectors had been removed. The elderly male was a smoker and didn't like going outside to smoke. If the detector was in place it may have given an early warning.
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