tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85852479102898150002024-03-13T01:02:03.625+00:00UK Crime Scene InvestigatorA blog that follows the day to day work of a real life UK CSI. This blog is anonymous to allow me to cover aspects of the work that would normally identify those involved. I hope to use this blog to give a realistic insight to the types of incidents we attend and the work we do as CSIs.CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-87060537780379286582017-07-28T17:00:00.001+01:002017-07-28T18:54:59.804+01:00The Day I Found a Body..<div><div style="text-align: center;"><img id="id_7d54_def4_a7f_74" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0JLnnK58CCQ/WXt6cnq6tUI/AAAAAAAAAMk/P6RMRvUqRzAAnmQs_7JN988b0GRl43nJQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 274px; height: auto;"></div><br></div><div><br></div>As I removed the blue council recycling bin, I saw a pair of feet, covered in a Tesco carrier bag.<div><br></div><div>That's not right. Blue means paper.</div><div><br></div><div>We weren't expecting to find a body here, this was a missing person enquiry. I most certainly wasn't expecting to find a body. </div><div><br></div><div>My immediate reaction was a gut wrenching blow to the stomach. I thought I was going to be sick. I see cadavers all the time. I touch them, I move them, sometimes my face is side by side of theirs whilst I look closely in their ear or eye. I'm use to cadavers. They don't worry me. </div><div><br></div><div>Except this one. This one is different. </div><div><br></div><div> I've just found a dead body. Normally other people find them and then I rock up expecting to see one.</div><div><br></div><div>This one is different.</div><div><br></div><div>I called to my colleague, who was in another room. Thing is, I was so confident that we weren't going to find a body, I'd joked only ten minutes ago about finding the occupant in a large compost bin. My colleague fell for it, until I laughed out loud and then we carried on, after an expletive or two.</div><div><br></div><div>I said 'Hannah, He's in here. I've found him under the boxes in the lean to'</div><div><br></div><div>Hannah clearly thought I was pulling her leg again. 'Ok' she said, 'I'm going for lunch'</div><div><br></div><div>'I'm being serious, Hannah, He's in here. I''m not fucking joking.'</div><div><br></div><div>She didn't say anything else, she just came to the door way, where I was stood, doubled over, holding my stomach with my right hand. </div><div><br></div><div>She saw his feet and gasped 'Shit' followed by a long silent pause, we just looked at each other.</div><div><br></div><div>The family had reported the single elderly occupant missing, he hadn't been seen for more than a day, which was unusual. Police had attended, searched the premise and took misper (missing person) details and left. It's not unusual for people to come back a few hours late, having been somewhere or done something and not told their family. This didn't appear to be any different to that. As time passed over the next two days, family members noticed things missing, like the TV which should have been inside a cabinet in the front room, the iPad which should have been in the sofa tidy. Police came back, re-searched the house, under beds, in sheds, compost bins, nothing. </div><div><br></div><div>The occupant's vehicle was missing, presumed to be with him, so Officers were also searching local areas or it, pub car parks, shopping centres. There was even a press release with a photo of the van. No one had seen it. </div><div><br></div><div>We were called in to examine the house, see if we could find anything unusual, we did, within seconds of arriving. I noticed small amounts of blood on the utility room floor. We're trained observers. </div><div><br></div><div>Someone had tried to clean up, poorly. </div><div><br></div><div>The blood was diluted, as if it'd been washed. I could see small blood stains on the kickboards of the cupboards. Something happened here.</div><div><br></div><div>Someone was injured. There were drag marks in blood on the conservatory floor. Towards the door. The flooring was a dark wood, so the blood was difficult to see. I wouldn't have expected Officers to have noticed this. But we're trained observers. </div><div><br></div><div>Now I often wonder if we'd been victims of confirmation bias. We'd been told that the house had been searched, twice, and the occupant wasn't there. The blood raised the game, but the fact that the car was missing and there were drag marks made us wrongly assume the occupant had been taken elsewhere. We relied on the information we'd been given to form our opinion. Maybe we should have challenged our thoughts more. </div><div><br></div><div>Turns out the drag marks were away from, not towards the door. </div><div><br></div><div>The van had been stolen by the suspect.</div><div><br></div><div>Even though we thought that the victim wasn't there, we searched anyway, turning beds upside down, moving wardrobes, inside cupboards and the likes. The problem here was that the lean to was tidy, it looked like a lean to was supposed to look, empty cardboard boxes for home appliances, washing baskets, empty recycling bins. But, we're trained observers?</div><div><br></div><div>The victim lay here, undiscovered for days. In our defence, the male was well concealed, under a pile of neatly stacked boxes, with a void carefully constructed in the centre. </div><div><br></div><div>'I'll call the SIO' Hannah said. </div><div><br></div><div>'Rather you than me' I said. That's going to be an awkward conversation. </div><div><br></div><div>'Hi Boss? You know that body we said definitely wasn't here? Yea, well, about that'</div><div><br></div><div>I continued to uncover the male, box by box, taking photographs after each one. Tesco toaster, in hot pink, Hobbs coffee maker in beige, Britta water filter, Ikea washing basket, times two. </div><div><br></div><div>All of these boxes and baskets can provide forensic opportunities, I handle them with great care. My brain is chucking thoughts and scenarios at a thousand miles per hour whilst I'm working.</div><div><br></div><div>Once all the boxes have been removed, the male lays there, covered in black bin liners. His sock covered feet are poking out of the Tesco carrier bag.</div><div><br></div><div>For the first time, I felt uncomfortable at a murder scene. I didn't want to touch the male, I didn't want to unwrap the bin liners. When I got to his head, which had been subject to incredible blunt force trauma, I didn't want to look at his face. </div><div><br></div><div>I guess there's a little bit of me that feel responsible for not finding him sooner. If it's any consolation, he was definitely dead before we even got the call about him being missing. The pathologist confirmed this. At least it meant finding him sooner wouldn't have saved his life, which makes me feel better in a strange kind of way. </div><div><br></div><div>I text my girlfriend and said 'I just found a body' Not the text she was expecting when she slid the notification to the right on her iPhone.</div><div><br></div><div>Normally, at this sort of job, we get on with the tasks required, like fibre taping exposed skin, swabbing areas for DNA transfer, removing jewellery and clothing. When we do this, we talk to each other, about normal things, like what films we've watched, what we're doing on our rest days and the ridiculous things the boss said to us last week.</div><div><br></div><div>This one is different. </div><div><br></div><div>We both worked in silence, only saying the odd word or two, which related to what we were doing at that moment. </div><div><br></div><div>Talk to any Officer or CSI and they'll tell you about that one job that sticks with them. That one job they'd rather not talk about. That one job their family has no idea they dealt with. </div><div><br></div><div>I remember all of the murder scenes I've been to, but I'll definitely not forget this one. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-87266456681634160292017-07-04T14:49:00.001+01:002017-07-04T14:49:24.618+01:00Time Flies<div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><img id="id_63d2_f8d8_e9d6_98d6" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-juu5t0cPWvI/WVubgeb1GPI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/uA4OTTZ2NWEkCYo37JnID7a6ABq1K9d3ACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 524px; height: auto;"></span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm leaning on one knee whilst resting my right hand gingerly on the window ledge, I'm looking obliquely at the sill. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There's at least seventy three blue bottles. Some are on their side, some on their back. One or two look like they're spooning each other. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm using one of our new face fitted masks, so there's no smell, yet. </span></div></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The occupants haven't been seen for a week. The neighbours noticed the curtains closed for a few days. We don't get a build up of milk bottles on door steps anymore, in fact, I can't remember the last time I saw a milk man.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Officers have attended because of concerns for the occupants by neighbours, they've not been seen for a week or more, which is unusual.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">How long do you leave it before raising the alarm? You don't want to worry anyone, or cause undue panic, do you? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When officers have arrived, they found a side window ajar and the probationer was made to climb through. Not only his first 'concern' call, not only his first discovery of a body. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This was also his first discovery of two bodies.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Two deceased persons in one place without an obvious cause is good reason to be suspicious. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Officers are often first to attend scenes where people are discovered dead, but they're not experienced at recognising what petechiae looks like or understanding what blood patterning looks like. Is that blood from the nose or is it purge? Is that an injury or is that fluid escaping from orifices after death? Has the person been moved after death? Does the lividity match the circumstances? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">These are all questions a CSI and CSM will consider when attending a sudden or suspicious death. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Regardless of the outcome here, there's a bit of work to do, including lifting and moving the people found inside. I'll need help on this one. I called ahead and arranged for two CSIs from the local division to meet me at the address.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Before we do anything, I want to have a look, I want to see what we've got. I like to do this on my own, so I can just look and think, without distraction or bias from anyone else.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We're only human after all, if someone makes a suggestion, gives a reason for what we see, my mind keeps hold of that. I don't want to be influenced unintentionally.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When I do this, I don't touch or move anything. I want this scene to remain exactly as I found until I make a decision with the Detective Inspector as to how we're going to proceed. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I take my logbook, a pen and my CrimeLite. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Sometimes it's easy to be drawn to the people in a scene and get tunnel vision. I deliberately leave the deceased persons until last. I want to look at the post, what dates are on it? Has any been opened? How much credit is left on the electricity meter? Which lights are on? What channel is the television on? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I start in the front bedroom on the first floor. The curtains are pulled. The lights are off, I use my CrimeLite to see the way. The CrimeLite is probably brighter than the 40W energy saving light in the fitting anyway. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It's like I've walked into a time capsule. This room looks like it's sixty years old. Nothing has been changed or updated in the last half a century. The furniture looks like the stuff you see at the British Heart Foundation, after someone's passed away and the family can't sell the furniture so they give it away. It'll end up being a 'shabby chic' item on eBay in a few weeks. Although dated, there's nothing out of place in here. There's a double bed, but only one side of the quilt is peeled back. On the opposite side of the bed is a pile of genltemen's clothes, neatly folded. There's a perpetual calendar, which shows 'May 1st 1992'.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm confident that they've not been dead for 25 years. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Maybe that's when the wife moved into another room. It's a common occurrence at these jobs, the male and female have separate rooms, normally due to ill health or mobility issues. I've been to one house where the couple had no contact at all on a day to day basis, the house was literally divided in two and they lived separate lives.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Each to their own, I'm not here to judge.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I walk down the hallway and I can't help but stare at the carpet. It's probably the original carpet, as in it's always been here and has never been replaced. It's an odd style. Full of browns and mustard colours. I shine my CrimeLite on the floor as I walk, it'll show up any blood or foreign articles easier. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This floor looks like one of those colour blind test pages.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I tour the house, taking time to soak up what I'm seeing in each room, I make notes of some things and mental notes of others. Sometimes, something so insignificant at first can become vital as an investigation continues. I remember one job where the murder victim's laptop was stolen and the investigation team were trying to track it down using digital forensics. They needed the serial number but no one had it. I remember noting a HP laptop box in the garage when I did my walk through. We went straight back to the photos, zoomed in on the boxes and there it was, serial number on the side of the box. This helped tracked down the laptop at a Cash Converters which then identified a suspect.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Sometimes, something looks odd or out of place, to me or my colleagues, but may be the norm for the occupants of the address. There was what looked like the corpse of an animal on the kitchen floor. Technically it was. It was a carcass of a chicken, which appeared to have been put down next to the cat bowl. This stank. Even through my mask. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Sometimes you can't explain what you see. Sometimes you don't need to. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The female occupant was in an armchair in the conservatory, she still had her glasses on and a copy of the radio times on her lap. On the table next to her was a quaint cup and saucer, with just a small amount of tea in the bottom. There were two 'church window' biscuits on the table next to the saucer. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">She's got a flowery skirt on that comes down to her shins. She's wearing tights and slippers. Her slippers are a blue velvet material with a trim of 'fluff' over the top of the foot. I can see that her legs are deep purple in colour. The blood has settled in the lower extremities, this is normal. If you can call this normal. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Nothing gives me cause for concern here. When she's been photographed, I'll search her whole body for injuries, I'll open her eyelids and check for any signs of strangulation, I'll open her mouth and check for anything obstructing her airway, I'll check her hands, front and back for offensive or defensive injuries, has she got skin and or blood under her fingernails? I'll only make a decision when I've fully examined her from head to toe. I'll tell the DI what I've seen and noted. Sometimes, the DI will be there whilst I do this, sometimes they'd prefer not to be. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The male is on the kitchen floor. He has no top on and he's just wearing underwear. Unusual, it's two in the afternoon. However, it could have been two in the morning when he ended up here.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">He's got a good head of hair. I'm jealous. I lost mine when I was 19. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It's easier to search the male for injuries as he's almost naked. He's got what appears to be a skin complaint, with what looks like a bad case of eczema all up one arm. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I can see that the process of decomposition is well underway. His abdomen is distended, it's purple and green in colour and there's the distinct smell of Pickled Onion Monster Munch that surrounds him. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Anything that's moist, lovely word, will attract flies who then lay eggs. Nostrils, mouth, genitals and any wounds are all fair game, full of maggots. Looks strange the first time you see it, looks like the person is moving.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I finish my tour, noting everything I can and go outside. It's not a hot day, but the moment I step outside I feel the cool breeze on my face. Wearing this PPE makes you hot and sweaty real quick. I brief the two CSIs as to what I've seen and ask them to photograph the entire address. When they head in, I take my suit off, it's nice to have the chance to cool down.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I finish making some notes out the front of the address. Passers by are stopping and staring, some of the braver ones approach the PC at the front gate and ask them 'What's happened?' And they get the stock answer. 'Nothing to worry about' and the conversation normally stops there. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The DI is on the phone, he's briefed his DCI as to the current situation. I wait for him to come off the phone and tell him what I've seen and what I've noticed.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There's nothing inside that indicates to me that the couple have died a violent or offensive death. The DI asks if their death could have been as a result of carbon monoxide poisoning, which is a good call when you've got more than one person deceased at a location. I recorded that there is no gas supply to the house and there are no small independent appliances that could have caused this. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Sometimes, depending on the DI, we have the discussion about 'Let's do a forensic Post Mortem, just in case' and my response is always the same. We <i>can </i>do a forensic PM, but we treat the whole scene and investigation as a 'suspicious or unexplained' death if that's the case. We can't do half a job. It's either suspicious or not. If there's one small thing that doesn't make sense or appears suspicious, then the whole job is suspicious. There's no fifty fifty. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The CSIs finish and come outside for air. I suit up again and this time so does the DI, I need to show her what I've seen and give my advice and interpretation of the scene.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Now the scene has been recorded, I move each of the couple in turn, checking them from head to toe for injuries and anything that can help with a version of events or circumstances that led to their deaths. There are no injuries on either of them, offensive or defensive.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It appears they've each passed away within a short time of each other. It's a sad story, someone has lost two relatives at the same time. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">People die every single day, sometimes we're involved, sometimes we're not. Sometimes it suspicious, sometimes it's not. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There's dozens of points to consider when deciding whether or not deaths require further investigation, and I couldn't go through them all here. Every incident is different and unique and each presents varying factors to consider. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When we're involved, we make sure we're one hundred per cent it's either non suspicious or otherwise, when there's any doubt, we continue investigating until we're convinced one way or the other. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><br></div>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-5414960452777983522015-10-12T14:55:00.000+01:002015-10-12T14:55:06.573+01:00What is the Worst Thing You've Seen?<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's a question I hear all of the time, as soon as people find out I'm a CSI. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I love my job, so why wouldn't I want to talk about it?! I love talking about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I'll often ask them to tell me about the worse thing they've seen first. It hardly ever compares. So then I think to myself, do they really want to know about the worst thing I've seen?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Most people really wouldn't want to hear about the worse thing I've seen, let alone see it. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Most of the worst things ultimately involve death. The death of someone's son or daughter, mother or father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Once you've seen it, you've seen it. There's no unseeing. Not only have I been there and seen it, I've smelt it, I've touched it and moved it. I've taken photographs of it, I've put it in a bag, I've undressed it, I've picked bits up from the other side of the room and pieced them together, taken it out of the boot of a car, from the bottom of a wheelie bin, from the conveyor belt of a recycling centre.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">These things don't bother me. I'm not affected by them. It's not because I'm heartless or cold. It's because I don't know these people. This is my job. My career. Someone has to do this and I'm proud that it's me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Just because it doesn't affect me, it doesn't mean I don't do these tasks without compassion. I treat every person I deal with, with the utmost respect. Sometimes the things we do appear undignified, which is where I often find myself talking to the person who has passed, making a quick apology for the way we're doing something. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I'm very rarely alone when I see these things, there will no doubt be at least another CSI or two with me. My colleagues see and smell the same things. We talk about it, whilst we're doing it, in the van on the way to McDonalds afterwards, in the office when we're writing the job up or weeks later when something reminds us of the job. We talk about it together because there's very few people who would want to talk about these things in the detail we do.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So, my question to you: What's the worse thing you've seen?</span><br />
CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-45441603551773978392015-01-13T12:57:00.000+00:002015-01-13T13:07:13.523+00:00The Rhythm of My Life<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had to readjust my knee, as I knelt down next to his head, as there was a small pebble on the carpet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I slowly took the bag off, trying to be as careful as possible as I did. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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 <i>was</i> 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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was a frenzied attack.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We look for different signs. Our signs are much smaller than an upturned chair or broken window. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Someone had been cleaning. Cleaning blood. However, they weren't thorough enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I abandoned the search for the Snickers, probably because I knew I'd have to share it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I gave him a run down of what had happened so far and how we came to be where we were. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's a job like no other.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I recovered all of his jewellery, documenting where each piece was and it's condition.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've never undressed so many people as I have in this job. Thing is, they're all dead when I do.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, there he is, face battered and broken, naked and cold. Now we have to zip him up inside a black plastic bag. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I finished by photographing the serial number of the tag on the bag when we zipped tied the zipper closed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Z09786401.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I sign out of the log book at 0213. I've been at work for 19 hours and 13 minutes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I jump into my van and open the glove box for the sat nav. The snickers falls into the footwell. Bonus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back in at 0700 for a briefing with the investigation team.</span><br />
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CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-64243914121372061242014-08-26T17:19:00.002+01:002014-08-26T17:19:55.293+01:00KFC<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyltJUSX4Ms2MK7BIOiDVyGx6qMgmE4RFhbkIb39HbA0fR9vfVqPwQdzPjjxU2oxo8CcpGZIGgtdfleTdsVoBFtAGbMF8Tctk1BlqR8CRso5lsbymZP6ciYO_lNRHj0pYqYTknFvz4ILPr/s1600/group_familyburgerbox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyltJUSX4Ms2MK7BIOiDVyGx6qMgmE4RFhbkIb39HbA0fR9vfVqPwQdzPjjxU2oxo8CcpGZIGgtdfleTdsVoBFtAGbMF8Tctk1BlqR8CRso5lsbymZP6ciYO_lNRHj0pYqYTknFvz4ILPr/s1600/group_familyburgerbox.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I'd been out in the van no longer than twenty minutes, I was on my way to deliver an urgent statement to CID for a court case this week.<br />
<br />
My radio went, I almost missed it as I was singing along to 'Millennium' by Robbie Williams.<br />
<br />
It was a really sunny and warm day and I was happy.<br />
<br />
"CSI Guy, go ahead, over"<br />
<br />
"CSI Guy, we've got an unexplained death for you, if you'd be so kind"<br />
<br />
I took the address down. I could get the rest when I arrive at the scene. Officers are still there, waiting for me to arrive.<br />
<br />
Whilst I drive towards the scene, I'm going through my plan of action in my head. I don't know a lot about the scene yet but I do know what is required of me at these type of scenes. There's some things that I will always have to do.<br />
<br />
I don't need to check the kit in the back of my van, it's always topped up if I'm using it. I'll need stepping plates, scene suits, two body bags and my camera as a bare minimum.<br />
<br />
I arrive at the scene and I'm met by a familiar face. The PC who responded to the job was the same Officer I met at a suicide last week.<br />
<br />
"Hello CSI Guy" She said. "It's a shame that death brings us together!"<br />
<br />
It's true. I've only seen this Officer twice, ever, and in fact I've not seen her since. We cover such a vast area, on shifts, that I could go months without matching up to the same response team again.<br />
<br />
We stood at the back of my van, at the end of the driveway to the house where the scene was. The sun was beating down on us. It was really warm. I wasn't looking forward to putting a scene suit and mask on.<br />
<br />
She gave me the run down of what had occurred. She was holding a tissue in her right hand. Turns out they were on their way back from KFC with hot food when they were asked to attend. She wanted to eat, but before she could get a chance to ask if anyone else could attend, her colleague accepted the job. She rolled her eyes when she told me this. Her KFC was sat on the dashboard of their response car. At least it'll stay warm, I thought.<br />
<br />
I could smell 'that' smell from the front garden. Her colleague told me that I'd need to spray something in my mask, as the smell was unbearable. "I'm used to it" I told him.<br />
<br />
Truth is, you do get used to the smell. It's instantly recognisable. There's nothing quite like it. People relate certain <a href="http://psychology.about.com/od/memory/ss/ten-facts-about-memory_8.htm">smells to memories</a>, and the smell of death always reminds me of pickled onion Monster Munch.<br />
<br />
This is what I know before going in: The sole occupant of the address is a middle aged white male. He's an alcoholic. He has a dog. He doesn't have any family nearby. His friends visit from time to time, but only when he's been paid his benefits and he has alcohol in. What are friends for if they can't share your alcohol?
<br />
<br />
The Officers have entered, realised he's deceased, rescued his dog and left.
The male was last seen around a week ago when he was walking his dog by an elderly neighbour, Doreen. "He always asks if there's anything I need from the Co-op, he's ever so polite" she says.<br />
<br />
Those with less, tend to give more.<br />
<br />
He had a Doctor's appointment four days ago, but he never arrived. Not something that would set alarm bells ringing though.<br />
<br />
I suited up, put my camera strap over my neck and started to take photos of the lead up to the house.<br />
<br />
The front door has ben obliterated by an Officer who's just passed his method of entry course. He did do the fabulous task of noting what position the locks were in and noted that the keys were in the back of the door before he commenced. Job well done.<br />
<br />
When I got to the front door, I put my mask on, partly due to the smell, but mainly to avoid me contaminating the scene with my DNA should this be a suspicious death.
The quicker my nose gets use to that smell, the better it'll be.<br />
<br />
I'll only really notice it if I leave the scene and come back in.<br />
<br />
The property was a two bedroom, ground floor maisonette. The door was wooden framed with two fixed pane fire glass windows, one in the upper and one in the lower section. The wood was painted blue, but I could see flakes of red paint underneath. It was painted poorly.<br />
<br />
I took photos of everything I saw, most things will be covered by at least two photos. I make sure I record <b>everything</b>, as it's not uncommon for something that first appears irrelevant and meaningless to become the most important thing someone wants to know six months later.<br />
<br />
I get the not so gentle aroma of death, mixed with a hint of stale beer, dog faeces and the smell of an unclean home.<br />
<br />
The first bedroom had a badly stained mattress on the floor, no bedding except one yellow tinged pillow. There were some empty supermarket home brand lager cans on the floor. The spare bedroom you think? No, this is the master bedroom. There's a bottle of urine in the corner, so I guess it's en-suite.<br />
<br />
I pass the bathroom, it's got the obligatory unflushed toilet with something growing out of it.<br />
<br />
Three, two, one, I hold my breath, go in, photograph the bathroom from two angles and depart, closing my eyes as I take a 'fresh' intake of air.<br />
<br />
I push the door open to the kitchen and it's as expected, a mess.<br />
<br />
There's dishes piled high. Some have rotten food on, some have been used as ash trays. I can see a collection of what appear to be toe nails in a small drinking glass. There's a black bin liner on the worktop by the window, I think the sink is underneath that.<br />
<br />
There's a Co-op bag on top of a pile of old leaflets on the table. Inside is a four pack of Fosters lager, with one missing, the plastic ring is stretched as if one has been removed. There are two tins of Pedigree jelly dog food and a receipt for all of said items. It's dated a week ago, just after Doreen last saw him.<br />
<br />
The living room is where I'll get the money shot.<br />
<br />
The male is laying on his back. He's got a brown leather jacket on, open at the front, a polo shirt with a hooped pattern underneath. He's wearing black blue denim jeans with no buttons on the front, an ill-fitting belt is holding the jeans up. He's wearing black shoes.<br />
<br />
He's decomposed quite badly. His skin has turned a really dark colour, somewhere between purple and black. His stomach is distended, it looks ready to burst. I lifted his polo shirt up slightly, I can see the skin is starting to slip off. I need to be really careful when I try to move him that I don't pull the skin off.<br />
<br />
Something's not right here. The male's left hand is open and by his side. There's a can of Fosters lager open and on the floor less than a foot from his hand.<br />
<br />
But where is his right hand? I can see that it's not tucked underneath him nor is it in his pocket.<br />
<br />
It's not there. His hand is not there. He has no hand.<br />
<br />
I lift up his right arm by lifting the jacket sleeve, all I can see is his forearm with a small section of his Ulnar or Radius protruding.<br />
<br />
The section that is protruding is clean. No gunk, no skin, no fat, no blood stains, nothing. Just clean bone.<br />
<br />
Well, this is new.<br />
<br />
As I look around, I realise that there are small pieces of bones on the sofa, the window ledge and by the back patio door.<br />
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They look like pieces of the hand and fingers. All completely clean.<br />
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I know that the only forced entry is by Police Officers. This property is secured from the inside.<br />
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There's only two suspects for this. The first one is laying on the floor in front of me. He hasn't put his finger bones all over the room.<br />
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The other suspect has gone, he's been allowed to leave the scene by Officers. In fact, Officer's arranged for transport for him.<br />
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The dog.<br />
<br />
It looks like the dog got so hungry, and couldn't find anything else to eat, that he's decide to eat part of his best friend.<br />
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Apparently, a dog will start to lick exposed flesh in an attempt to rouse it's owner. If the owner is dead, that's clearly not going to happen. The smell and lack of reaction tells the dog that you're dead. The next level from licking is biting and it goes from there.<br />
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I've read about a case where a dog has decapitated it's owner. the face and head is a favourite, apparently. It's animal instinct.<br />
<br />
I picked up all of the pieces of bones I could find and with the absence of any other physical injuries, this was a natural death with an unfortunate subsequent event.<br />
<br />
It's likely that the dog will probably pass the bones I'm missing. Someone's going to have to arrange to collect those.<br />
<br />
I put the male into a body bag and zip him up, with the assistance of the undertaker.<br />
<br />
When I get outside, I'm dripping with sweat. It's still really hot. I take my kit off, leaving my gloves until last and I put it all inside a large plastic bag for the biohazard bin back at the nick.<br />
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I sign out of the scene log with the Officers and I can't help but smirk to myself when I see the motto on the side of the KFC box on the Police car dashboard.CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-84472134056160059122013-03-11T22:03:00.002+00:002013-03-11T22:03:43.185+00:00A Day at a Murder Scene<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBkFlWg7Xb_5PhD_ehpGl9Qa8D6GCI68Xdai0fxOvUgFLZrJIxPUdphXiqcw98VwWMXxcRdkHeTwv4Hde6e8r8E2XYr2V4KoVT3H2ghwg6fMPJVza1B6MHHI84AXVP_ax6mg5eCOKZ-DWA/s1600/photo+(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBkFlWg7Xb_5PhD_ehpGl9Qa8D6GCI68Xdai0fxOvUgFLZrJIxPUdphXiqcw98VwWMXxcRdkHeTwv4Hde6e8r8E2XYr2V4KoVT3H2ghwg6fMPJVza1B6MHHI84AXVP_ax6mg5eCOKZ-DWA/s320/photo+(3).JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I saw my work van on the BBC News at the scene of a murder. My immediate reaction was that I hope the van was still tidy and well stocked. If I use someone else's van, I'll always return it as I found it- sadly, not everyone has the same qualities.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I turned into work expecting to spend the day either at the scene or at a Post Mortem, I knew this job was well underway.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A colleague was waiting for me when I got to the office. We were going straight to the scene, in <i><b>his </b></i>van. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">'Your van is at the scene, CSI Guy'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">'I know..' I replied. Turns out my van was in pretty much every photo and video shot taken by the press that day, everyone had seen my van. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I put a large flask of hot water together to take with us, We were going to be there all day, food and drink is often overlooked, it shouldn't be but it's the way it is on high profile jobs. It's not unusual to go to a scene for ten or twelve hours with only a mars bar and a bottle of water to keep you going.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This murder had hit the front pages of every paper. It was 'breaking' news on every TV channel- we were under the spotlight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thankfully, there was a Police campervan at the scene, this gave us somewhere to change in and out of our white suits. When I say campervan, think more Sooty and Sweep rather than a Winnebago.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I walked in the scene via the side door. The front door was likely to have been a point of entry or egress by the offender and we wanted to ensure we didn't disturb any evidence that may be present. I stood inside the door as I lay stepping plates ahead of me, the kitchen floor was linoleum and the hallway floor was laminate. These surfaces would need to be examined for footwear evidence, but not yet. There was a lot of work to be done before we got to that stage.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The victim had been murdered in the bedroom on the third floor. Despite this, the smell was clearly evident throughout the house. Death, mixed with the rusty smell of blood. The victim had already been taken away by us, late the night before, but the smell gets worse as each day goes on. The longer we spend in the property, the more we get use to the smell. You often think you've got something from the scene on you or your clothes when you get home, the smell lingers in your nostrils, it's not on your clothes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'd been tasked with collecting certain items of interest from the room where the murder took place. I play the game of step on a plate, lay a plate for twenty plates. I got to the stairs and there was carpet. The CSM had decided that the carpet had been checked for footwear evidence and it's clear. I don't need plates here. I've got my footwear protectors on anyway.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I make it up to the third floor, the loft room. It's warm up here, and it doesn't help that I've got all of my uniform on as well as a giant, white onesie- I'm sweating. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The blood is all over the wall beside the bed. There's hair and skull fragments on the floor. Beside the mess? A claw hammer. These aren't coincidences. This is the murder weapon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This victim didn't pass peacefully in his sleep, or pass in a loved one's arms. He didn't pass of old age. This victim died a horrible and violent death, fighting for his life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He lost.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The blood spatter was on the ceiling, the window, the bedspread, the wardrobe door and all over the wall. The blood spatter tells a story on it's own- the blood on the ceiling and wall were indicative of what we call 'cast off', where blood transfers from a weapon to a surface when it is swung back and forth. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We'd most likely get a Forensic Scientist who specialises in blood spatter to attend this scene. Their expertise would go a long way to showing a version of events.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">These scenes aren't completed in a day, sometimes they aren't even completed in a week. They take as long as they take, everything needs to be done methodically and thoroughly. One mistake could be the difference between catching the offender and not. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm in a white suit, on my knees, in a stranger's house, inches away from flesh, blood, hair and skull. I don't get this close to my pillow. I didn't see the victim, but from looking at this scene, his face would be unrecognisable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We come and go from the house all day, each time we change our white suits. The bag of rubbish gets bigger and bigger, each box of gloves contains fifty pairs- I'll use two boxes at a murder. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's my task to get the claw hammer packaged for transportation to the lab. I photograph the room from each corner, ensuring that there is something in each photo from the last one. Once I have the room covered, I work my way towards to claw hammer. As I get closer to it, I change to my macro lens. I love the level of detail this lens provides. It shows things I can't see with my naked eye. I lay an 'L' shaped scale next to it to provide perspective. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I carefully turn it over, taking my outer layer of gloves off before picking my camera up again. I don't want anything from the weapon on my camera. Once it's photographed in it's entirety, I secure it in a box. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I use a cardboard window box. It folds closed with tabs to keep it secure. The top section has a vinyl plastic window. This allows the exhibit to been seen without opening it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The next task is to secure the claw hammer inside the box. Easy you'd think? Wrong. I need to decide where to place sterile cable ties around the hammer to secure it to a card insert in the box. I don't want to put the ties where they could destroy or disrupt DNA or fingerprint evidence. I use only two. One at each end to hold it in place. It's likely this will hand delivered wherever it goes, due to it's great importance. I tape every edge of the box with brown tape. Taping the edges provides the exhibit with some integrity. The tape also prevents anything getting in or out of the box.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All in all, we spent eleven days in this scene. The offender was apprehended and convicted for murder. Our work is one part of a giant jigsaw. We provided a vast amount of information and intelligence from the scene that allowed the Detectives to develop the investigation further.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, where's that Mars bar. I deserve it.</span><br />
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<br />CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-88669977395802573142013-03-11T18:28:00.000+00:002013-03-11T18:28:55.516+00:00There's Been a Murder<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Its not Cracker. Robbie Coltrane is nowhere to be seen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I work in a very busy force area. We have a large number of Murders compared to many other forces.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've been in service with this force for four years. In this time, I've attended more Murder scenes than some CSIs in other forces will in their entire career. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've seen some things that are truly horrific and I've seen things I never thought one human could do to another. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Don't get me wrong, we don't have a Murder every day, not yet, although sometimes it feels like it. Most of our time we visit volume crime scenes, we visit dozens of houses a day for burglaries. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some Murder scenes I've worked on have been high profile, in the news for days and days. Some never even make the local rag. I've seen myself on most of the major News channels- I know it's me, you don't. I look like every other person in a hooded white suit!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I remember all of the murder scenes, I especially remember the people. When you see someone in such horrendous circumstances, you don't tend to forget them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I remember the first time I saw brain and skull pieces on the floor, as small as confetti. I wondered what it was, now I recognise it instantly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The smell is unforgettable. Strangely, you get very used to it. I'll never eat pickled onion Monster Munch again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Murder scenes are ultimately what we train for. There's not many other crimes that will need more attention than a Murder scene.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The jobs come to light in many ways. People report not seeing their neighbour for a few days, the milk bottles are stacking up. Someone calls us after hearing a disturbance. Someone calls an ambulance after bashing someone's head in. They call us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Whichever way it's reported, the initial attending Officers will secure and preserve the scene. A cordon is raised and no one else enters the scene. A log book is then kept and everyone who needs access to the scene has to give their name and it's recorded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">By the time this has happened and we're notified, it could be another hour before we arrive. There's usually some press interest, depending on the time of day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We'll often speak with CID before attending. There will be a team of Detectives assigned to the incident too. The Senior Investigating Officer (SIO) will often have a briefing with the Crime Scene Manager and devise an initial plan of action.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We don our white suits, two pairs of gloves, a mask and footwear protectors. This usually gets the press interested, you know straight away that we're not here for a car break.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If required, we'll lay stepping plates. Small, metal, square plates, raised slightly off the ground which allow us to walk through a scene without disturbing any footwear evidence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Someone is nominated to record the scene with a video camera as well as a digital camera. I hate hearing my voice on a camera, it sounds nothing like I think it sounds, but exactly as everyone else hears it. I often volunteer to do the video, the more I do it, I guess the less I'll hate it... Plus this gives me a good chance to have a look around the scene, take it all in and have a good think about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the priorities, aside identifying the offender(s), is to process the victim, in order to get them transported to a mortuary for a Post Mortem examination - see my post on my first PM <a href="http://ukcsi.blogspot.co.uk/2009/10/my-first-post-mortem.html" target="_blank">here</a> . Depending on the nature of their death, will depend on what we do when processing the victim.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We'll often try to recover trace evidence before moving the victim. We have a supply of sealed kits for recovering various different types of trace evidence. Being sealed and one use, means that they are sterile before we use them. Taking the time to do this before we move the victim minimises the risk of losing any evidence when transporting them to the mortuary. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We take hair combings, nail scrapings or clippings, swabs from various external parts of the body and sometimes fibre tapings. These minute pieces of evidence could be the difference between linking an offender to a scene or not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We'll often take nail clippings from victims. Holding a lifeless, often cold hand, whilst clipping their nails over a large sterile white sheet is an odd task. You think clipping a child's fingernail is tricky? Give this a try.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One thing that I'll never get use to doing is undressing the victim. Their clothes provide forensic opportunities and require seizing and individually sealing in appropriate evidence bags. A colleague once seized Crime Scene Investigation pants from a victim. If only they knew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The victim will almost always leave the scene naked. They will always be inside two 'body' bags. The inner bag is lightweight and thin. The outer bag is heavy duty and are larger than the first. The outer bag has a number of handles manufactured in it to make it easier to carry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Standby for a post on a specific Murder case I attended.</span><br />
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<br />CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-10409764126963060792012-07-17T19:03:00.000+01:002013-03-11T17:48:04.600+00:00Fingerprinting a Decomposed Male<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguqc9LYXCL6SkW86CfQZzP9p0N_lX8FwcSMinF04Ud_tUo-jyl7320fh8HIvUsnJJ3B8_LrkfonlfIEtcAFObVFAa8dXUOR5u07NrhUWwtbYyd6sqXI7qmxpsySRwwfcBtCgzL81aW7ycz/s1600/Mortuary2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguqc9LYXCL6SkW86CfQZzP9p0N_lX8FwcSMinF04Ud_tUo-jyl7320fh8HIvUsnJJ3B8_LrkfonlfIEtcAFObVFAa8dXUOR5u07NrhUWwtbYyd6sqXI7qmxpsySRwwfcBtCgzL81aW7ycz/s1600/Mortuary2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was a particularly slow day at work, unusually so. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's days like this when I get a chance to catch up on paperwork. Statement requests for upcoming court cases are always dropping into my inbox. I take time and care with my statements, they are detailed and factual. Some colleagues make their statements brief on the belief that they can elaborate when giving evidence at court. I prefer my theory; provide as much information as possible to ensure any questions the prosecution or defence may have are answered in my statement. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I very rarely go to court so my theory seems to work.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was finishing up on a statement when my radio went off. It was a colleague, they asked if I could assist them at the mortuary. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">'Post-Mortem?' I asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">'N'ah, just fingerprints' he replied.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">From time to time, we assist the Coroner in identifying someone who cannot be identified in a traditional way.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My colleague has done this type of job before and knew I would snap at the chance to help, we agreed to meet at the mortuary in an hour's time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The mortuary was in the City centre, we don't use this one often. Parking is a nightmare, so I found a 'Police' parking bay nearby, I put the CSI sign on the dashboard and got my kit together. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I met my colleague at the entrance and he rang the bell. It didn't look like a mortuary- It was an old Victorian building and was stunning to look at. You could walk by and have no idea that there were fifty or so fridges inside, built for deceased people.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The mortuary technician let us in and seemed to know my colleague. He knows everyone, he's done the job for twenty years.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The place stank, more so than normal. The normal mortuary smells, but there's often a clean smell there somewhere too. Not here. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There's no office, no changing rooms and no where to put my case. I'm very particular about where I put my case, it goes everywhere with me, from murder scenes to burglaries. It's got to be kept clean, and I'm something of a clean freak.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The technician leads us part away along the fridge lined corridor. We stop and he says 'He's in here' and opens up a fridge door at about waist height. He lines a trolley up to the door and pulls the tray out. There's a black body bag on it. He pushes it towards us and says 'All yours lads, give me a shout when you're done.'</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He slams the fridge door shut and begins to walk away. I've intimated to my colleague that I don't want to put my case on the floor. The smell was a warning. My colleague asks if there is a table we can borrow. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The technician walks back along the corridor and reappears a few moments later with a trolley. A trolley they use to move deceased people about on. 'This is the best we've got' he says, I can see now why we don't use this mortuary very often.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I lay some green paper towels on the trolley and put my folder on them. That'll have to do for now.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My colleague suggests that we should be able do what we need to do without getting dirty so white suits won't be needed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He pulls back the zip and that smell hits me, hard. It's a smell that I recognise instantly. It's death. There's no other smell like it, and it's bad. I can normally bear it, but this guy is badly decomposed, I have to wear a mask to feel comfortable.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There are hundreds of maggots. Hundreds. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I take a closer look. His eyes are clouded and have shrunk in their sockets, the skin that remains on his face his saggy, It's hanging from parts of his face. His mouth and nostrils and full of maggots.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">They are slow moving as they've been in the freezer and have defrosted in the fridge. They're slowly coming back to life. A single Bluebottle can lay up to 300-2000 eggs in clusters of 30-150. The eggs are often laid on moist areas, which explains why maggots appear in nostrils, eyelids, mouth and genitals as well as open wounds.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't know what ethnicity this male is, it's hard to tell as the decomposition has discoloured his skin badly. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">His hands are together, tied with string. At first, this set alarm bells ringing, but this appears to be something the mortuary do when storing people.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As a result of his hands being tied together and being placed on his stomach, his hands had sunk into his body. They are surround by fluid. An off brown fluid.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I retrieve a scalpel from my case to cut the string around his hands. That's definitely not going back in my case. His hands need drying before we can print them. My colleague takes hold of a hand and begins to dab the male's fingers with green paper towel, The green paper quickly changes colour to match the fluid it's drying. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There are a number of ways that we can take this male's fingerprints, using various powders and recovery techniques. My colleague suggests that we start with the easiest. I like that idea- I don't want to be in this place any longer than is necessary.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We have small brushes for this very purpose, which are disposable. We used aluminium powder, it's silver and like a very fine dust. It's a flake powder, which means each flake sits on top of the last. It can be applied steadily and built up, it's best to start with too little and keep adding powder. I haven't filled my ally' pot up for twelve months or more- a little goes a long way.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My colleague held the male's wrist.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I put the brush on the edge of the make shift table and grab a some fingerprint tape. This is the same tape we use to recover fingerprints from scenes. I apply it carefully to the male's thumb and pressed it. His hands were cold, his fingertips were wrinkled. By pressing hard, I hoped to get as much detail from between wrinkles.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Whilst doing this I could see that the maggots were becoming more and more lively. As they were warming up they were become more active, almost giving the illusion that the male was actually moving!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We both became very aware that the maggots were spilling everywhere and that maybe we should have worn those suits after all.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I slowly and carefully peeled the tape away from his thumb and stuck the tape on a piece of clear acetate to be photographed later. We repeated this step for each digit, some gave better marks than other, but I was confident we had enough detail to make an identification. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Clearing up our stuff needs to be in a specific order to ensure that dirty things are disposed and anything clean is handled with clean gloves. I'm very careful to ensure this is the case. Sometimes I stop and speak out the order in which I am going to touch things to make sure clean is clean.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Once everything is in an orange bag and away from me I gather my clean items in order to leave. I keep a clean glove on my right hand to carry my case to the van, as soon as its outside the mortuary, I'm scrubbing it!</span>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-23904659867675827642012-06-05T16:39:00.001+01:002012-06-05T16:39:53.821+01:00Deja VuI can't speak French, but I know I've seen this before.<br />
<br />
I was given the address over the radio. I wrote it down and then copied it onto my Sat Nav.<br />
<br />
I like to pride myself on my attention to detail. I have a very good memory, normally for numerical information.<br />
<br />
It just didn't regsiter in my mind. <br />
<br />
Maybe I hadn't processed the information fully, I <em>was</em> concentrating on getting to the job.<br />
<br />
The Sat Nav took me to the start of the street. I drove down it at about 15mph so I could see the numbers. Not many houses have their number visible. It's a guessing game sometimes. If I ever meet the person responsible for numbering some streets, well...<br />
<br />
There was the number '27' in red glass, in the centre of a fixed pane window above a large Victorian door.<br />
<br />
It's coming back to me now. I've been here before.<br />
<br />
I let the control room know that I've arrived and I got my case out of the back of the van. I put a pair of gloves on and walked towards the door.<br />
<br />
All the while, I'm looking at the property, trying to figure out why I have been here before. I can't quite put my finger on it.<br />
<br />
There were a set of six doorbells on the right hand side of the door frame. There's a red painted step up, from the driveway.<br />
<br />
I've got it. I've been here before for a suicide.<br />
<br />
Standby, this could be a bit awkward.<br />
<br />
I rang the doorbell for number six. That's the flat I went to last time. Top floor. <br />
<br />
I was buzzed in and the occupant met me in the stairs. <br />
<br />
I held my breath as I heard the occupant walking towards me. I let out a small sigh of relief when I realised that it wasn't the same family as it was when I was here last.<br />
<br />
"Hiya Luv" "Come on up" She said.<br />
<br />
I followed her to the flat door. <br />
<br />
She had been burgled. I was there to examine the scene for evidence.<br />
<br />
As far as I'm aware, she had no idea that someone had commited suicide in her flat, only a few months ago.<br />
<br />
She walked me through the flat. All of her stuff was there, but it looked just as it did before. There was an atmosphere, but nothing like when I was here before. I created this atmosphere.<br />
<br />
She took me to the point of entry, a sash window beside a fire escape in the single bedroom.<br />
<br />
As I walk in, I see the very same wardrobe that the twenty-something lad had used to hang himself. The furniture in the room hasn't changed. It's all <em>exactly</em> as it was. <br />
<br />
The male had used his belt through the closed wardrobe door. His girlfriend had commited suicide six months earlier. <br />
<br />
He left a poem that explained how he felt and why he felt he needed to go. There were two or three atempts that had been screwed up in the bin. <br />
<br />
I've said it before, no doubt I'll say it again; It's a sad situation that people think suicide is the only answer.<br />
<br />
I examind the scene and retrieved some footwear exhibits. I fingerprinted a jewellery box and had two fingerprints that belonged to the offender. <br />
<br />
Job done.<br />
<br />
CSI Guy<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.samaritans.org/?gclid=CJL1ubKvt7ACFWchtAodFhfn7g" target="_blank">Samaritans</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-28856927907566606772012-02-06T20:28:00.000+00:002012-02-06T20:28:19.915+00:00Attempted Suicide<div align="center"><img height="224" id="il_fi" src="http://www.henrybootconstruction.co.uk/wp-content/gallery/towerblocks/tower-blocks-3-rs.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="320" /></div><br />
<br />
I only had two burglaries and I was done. I looked at my watch, it read 1554. I've not been on duty two hours yet.<br />
<br />
Now, what to do whilst I wait for the next job? A certain High Street coffee shop gets a large portion of my salary.<br />
<br />
Why not, I've got time.<br />
<br />
I park the van in the staff car park at the rear, they've told me to do this before. There's always a few spare spaces.<br />
<br />
"Black Forest Hot Chocolate?" The Manager asks,<br />
<br />
"Go on then...!" <br />
<br />
I held it in my hand for no more than three minutes when the radio went. <br />
<br />
An attempted suicide. An <em>attempted</em> suicide?<br />
<br />
Its about seven miles away. Enough time to drink my hot chocolate I guess.<br />
<br />
The job is on a different division to the one I'm on at the moment.<br />
<br />
"CSI Guy to Control, over"<br />
<br />
"Ah, good afternoon CSI Guy, go ahead" <br />
<br />
"Good afternoon. I've been asked to attend Flat 56, Huge Tower, Any Road. I'll be twenty minutes, over"<br />
<br />
"Noted, Thank-you"<br />
<br />
I use the Sat Nav on my iPhone, so I programme the address in and set off.<br />
<br />
Whilst I'm driving, I'm trying to figure out how this is an attempted suicide. I've heard small bits over the radio but not enough to understand it.<br />
<br />
I arrived in just over twenty minutes.<br />
<br />
As I approach, access to the small service road ahead of the tower block is restricted by a Police van. <br />
<br />
The passenger gets out and I wind down the window. She says "The gaffa is just down there" and she points towards a bin area at the right hand side of the block.<br />
<br />
I park up and grab my clipboard. I write down the time in the top right corner of the front page. <br />
<br />
As I walk around the fence of the bin store, there's an Inspector and Sergeant staring towards the sky. The Inspector is tapping his finger towards the sky and squinting.<br />
<br />
There's claret all over the ground. Thick, dark red claret. There's Paramedic paraphernalia on the ground around the blood.<br />
<br />
The Inspector gives me the run down.<br />
<br />
Turns out that the thirty-something male tried to hang himself from the balcony railing.<br />
<br />
Tried being the operative word.<br />
<br />
Depending on which way you look at it, this guy was either very lucky or very unlucky.<br />
<br />
He lowered himself over the railing with the ligature around his neck. His fiance and two four year old twin girls were inside. <br />
<br />
By all accounts, he only hung there for about three seconds before his fiance came out to see what was going on.<br />
<br />
She tried to help him back up. He had changed his mind. <br />
<br />
He didn't want to die.<br />
<br />
She pulled with all her might, he was seventeen stone in weight, she was ten- it wasn't going to work.<br />
<br />
She lost her gripped and the ligature tightened. Then it snapped. <br />
<br />
He fell nine stories and landed on his back beside the bin area, he whacked his head on a skip as he did.<br />
<br />
He was still alive. The Paramedics had whisked him off to A&E before I got there.<br />
<br />
It was my job to ensure there was no foul play and to document the scene in case he did pass away.<br />
<br />
I've mentioned before, I don't like lifts. Thankfully it was <em>only</em> the ninth floor.<br />
<br />
A case in each hand and my clipboard under my left arm. <br />
<br />
I opened the door to the flat.<br />
<br />
It stank. Not a smell I'm use to at home. I've grown accustomed to it, its skank and dirt. People and clothes that haven't been washed for a while.<br />
<br />
The corridor had a number of doors leading off of it.<br />
<br />
Each internal door had holes in the main panel. I see this a lot in these blocks. I used to wonder what these were. They are fist holes. <br />
<br />
Someone gets angry and punches the nearest thing, three or four times. At least it wasn't his fiance, or his twins.<br />
<br />
There is no carpet, there use to be floor tiles. Some of them remain, broken.<br />
<br />
It should be a two bedroom flat. The master bedroom has a 50 inch flat screen on the wall. There's a double bed and a single bed. Everyone sleeps in this room.<br />
<br />
The second bedroom is full of junk. There's what looks to be the remains of a cannabis grow room. This is the room that the twins <em>should</em> be sleeping in.<br />
<br />
I take photographs as I progress through the scene. I take a few steps and take another. <br />
<br />
As I get to the living room I can see the door to the balcony. I walk outside and the remains of the bed sheet is flapping in the wind. <br />
<br />
There are marks on the rail and the wall beneath the balcony, most likely to be where he desperately tried to climb back up.<br />
<br />
I take a photograph from the balcony showing the ground. I need to shout down to clear officers out of the scene. <br />
<br />
I take the remainder piece of the bed sheet and exhibit it. <br />
<br />
I make note of some other bits and pieces that I can see about the place that may be relevant later. <br />
<br />
I walk back downstairs with my cases and take some photos of the bin area. The rest of the bed sheet is on the floor, it's been cut of by Paramedics. <br />
<br />
The guy didn't die. He was in hospital for some time. I'm unsure of what his circumstances are now.CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-9385615846958257032012-01-13T16:07:00.001+00:002012-01-13T16:08:05.276+00:00A Load of Cr*pI sat at my desk with a coffee at about 0645 hours. I start at 0700.<br />
I had a flick through emails, responding to some and flagging others to deal with later.<br />
<br />
The control room called up: "Any CSI on the air?"<br />
<br />
I replied "CSI Guy, go ahead, over"<br />
<br />
They passed me a log number that needed attendance as a priority as the owner was waiting to leave.<br />
<br />
It was a break in at a nightclub. The manager had been working all night and wanted to get going.<br />
<br />
I arrived by about 0725, missing most of the traffic on the way there.<br />
<br />
I knew of the nightclub, but hadn't been to it. This would be the first time I see the inside. <br />
<br />
As I pulled up to park the van, I couldn't see any obvious signs of a break in. There was a small blue Fiesta in the car park, that must be the manager'. I'll park there.<br />
<br />
The manager opened the door before I knocked. He must have seen me coming.<br />
<br />
"SOCO ain't it?"<br />
<br />
Technically it's CSI, but hey, SOCO works for me.<br />
<br />
"Yes fella, what've we got here then?"<br />
<br />
I followed the manager in the door. I could smell stale alcohol and sweat. We walked past five or six large wheelie bins full of glass bottles.<br />
<br />
"Busy night?" I asked. <br />
<br />
"It was alright, bloody student night wasn't it?" <br />
<br />
I laughed. No idea what he meant.<br />
<br />
We walked through the nightclub. My feet stuck to the carpet each time I took a step. <br />
<br />
We went through the bar area and along a corridor. The break in was in the office space upstairs. <br />
<br />
As the manager opened the door, there was an awful smell. <br />
<br />
I didn't say anything incase that was normal here.<br />
<br />
The manager was pointing out rooms that had been broken into, drawers that had been opened and the space where the safe use to be.<br />
<br />
And then he said "And I've been told to leave this for you" <br />
<br />
He was talking about the smelliest pile of faeces I had ever seen. <br />
<br />
"Right" was my reply. This was a surprise to me. No one had mentioned this before I attended. <br />
<br />
It turns out an offender had entered the office area whilst the club was open and the staff were busy with 'the bloody students'. The offender had a sudden urge to defecate and couldn't make his way to the toilet at the other end of the corridor so squatted down at the top of the stairs.<br />
<br />
I'm also assuming that he had no toilet roll. There was a brown swipe across the Health and Safety poster on the wall. <br />
<br />
It's before 0800, I've had no breakfast and I'm about to scoop up someone else's excrement.<br />
<br />
Oh Joy.<br />
<br />
I'm not touching this stuff without a suit and a mask. There is no chance that <em>any</em> of that is ending up on me.<br />
<br />
I want to keep the pile as a pile. I've got some tubs the size of a small ice cream tub in the van. I'll use one of those. <br />
<br />
This is going to be a tricky mission. The success of this depends on the consistency of said faeces. I get a piece of acetate that is usually used in footwear recovery. I slide it slowly into the base of the pile and push. It works it's way through and underneath. <br />
<br />
All sorts of smells are now hitting me. My face is no more than two feet away. This stinks.<br />
<br />
I hold the stool on the acetate in my right hand and without moving my eyes off of it, I slide the tub closer with my left hand. It goes in, just. The lid is touching the top of it. <br />
<br />
I pull the poster down and roll it on itself. <br />
<br />
I recover a few fingerprints and take some photos. <br />
<br />
The prints didn't give me a match against anyone. <br />
<br />
The faeces are sent off to the lab. This costs a fortune; probably because the task is so unpleasant. <br />
<br />
Thankfully I got a name from the faeces and the guy is locked up for the job.CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-48673484709822906322011-11-30T10:24:00.000+00:002011-11-30T10:24:24.848+00:00Selfish<span style="font-size: large;">Someone called me lazy and selfish yesterday.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">They may be right, I'd like to think they are not.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Have a good day off" They said.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm striking. Not for a day off, although it's nice. Not because I'm selfish, far from it. Am I lazy? Hell no.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm a member of Police Staff, a Public Sector worker.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Today is a day of action against proposed pension reforms. The Government want me to pay a greater contribution. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But you'll get it back when you retire, you say? No I won't. If I'm still alive when I reach pension age, I won't get back this additional contribution, in any form. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These extra payments are to help pay off the UK deficit.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I rent my flat. I can't afford to buy a house. I pay for my own gas, electric, water, Council tax, contents insurance, TV licence and so on. Nothing I have is paid for by the Government or anyone else. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm proud of that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm engaged to Miss CSI, our wedding day planning has made us realise, we probably can't afford that either. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Do we still invite that annoying cousin?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm on a decent wage, but I don't live the life of Riley. I have a few hundred pounds a months as disposable income. Most of which goes on diesel for my car. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I, like most Public Sector workers put in 150% at my job. I work through my lunch, I don't take breaks and I very rarely go home on time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Do I moan about it? Sometimes. Most of the time, I just get on with the job. Why? Because I love it and it makes a difference and that's the way I am.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I work for a living.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My working week a few weeks ago:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Monday</strong>: Rest Day - Volunteered for ten hours with a neighbouring Police Force as a Special Constable - Travelling 100 miles round trip for this force. Most of which is paid by me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Tuesday</strong>: (0700-1500) At work at 0645. Worked through lunch. Got home at 1615. No overtime.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Wednesday</strong>: (0700-1500) At work at 0645. Worked through lunch. Got home at 1600. No overtime.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Thursday</strong>: (1000-1800) At work at 0930. Had a sandwich whilst at a job. Got home on time. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Friday: </strong>(1400-2200) At work at 1330. No lunch or dinner. Home at 2230. On call until 0700. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Saturday:</strong> (1200-2000) At work at 1130. Cup of soup before I went out. Off duty at 2030. No overtime.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Sunday: </strong>Rest Day working as we haven't got enough staff. Overtime paid. Tomorrow will be my first day off in seven.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This is a typical working week. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes, home is just where I sleep.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On top of the Pension reform. The Policing budget has been cut by millions of pounds. By next year, my department will be thinner on the ground. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We're likely to lose all overtime, weekend working allowances, shift allowance and on call payments are to be hacked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The new shift pattern will include nights and seven out of nine weekends at work. With no additional payment. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm often on call between 2200 and 0700. I'll get a call and I need to be at the scene within an hour. Anytime of the night, anywhere within the force area. For being on call through the night, I get about two hours worth of pay. I'm happy with this. This will be halved.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">All of this means a pay reduction for most people.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The Autumn statement yesterday suggests that even more public sector jobs are to go, which will affect me and my colleagues. If I am still here then, my pay is to be capped after the current freeze.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't get expenses for gardeners, second houses, drivers, cars, advisors and I don't take home millions in bonuses. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Think of all the inconvenience you'll cause" I'm aware of that. What would the point be in striking and no one noticing? None. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'll lose a day's pay. I should, I'm not at work. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I went to burglary the other day, the tenant let me in. The house was cold. Did she shut her windows and doors? No. She lit all four gas rings on her hob, turned them to full whack and they remained on the whole time I was there. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I ain't paying for it mate" She says whilst laughing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I'm the selfish one.</span>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-16993290163438099952011-11-09T22:20:00.000+00:002011-11-09T22:20:21.687+00:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img height="200" id="il_fi" src="http://www.tacitgolf.co.uk/uploads/productlarge/life_bouy_m.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="250" /></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I walked along the path beside the water towards fluorescent jackets, I could see their reflection in the clouds in the murky brown water as the wind blew ripples in it, Fire, Ambulance, Police, Special Rescue and others were up ahead.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">One of the firefighters had a long pole, on the end of the pole was a man.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Floating. Face down.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Contrary to popular belief, bodies don't float straight away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When someone dies in water, they normally sink. This is often as a result of the water filling their body, normally through the lungs. As decomposition continues, the bacteria in the chest and gut produce gases. These gases cause the person to float, normally by the torso. The head and limbs often follow suit.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Bodies that fall into the water face down, already dead, may float from the off. This is normally because the air in the lungs can't escape.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This man was wearing a green three quarter length jacket, a scarf, grey trousers and black shoes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He wasn't young.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He had to come out of the water, the Fire Brigade were itching to get him out, they had been there for a while.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When people see someone in water, they're not sure who to call first. Normally, each Emergency Service will contact the other and notify them. All services are likely to go to such an incident.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was with another CSI, and we lay a plastic sheet on the ground in line with him. The Firemen pulled him out, as gracefully as they could and lay him on the sheet, then it was up to me to search his pockets for ID.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I had gloves on but he was cold. I could feel that much.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He had a hanky in his left pocket, which along with everything else, was soaked through.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I checked him for injuries as I went, but I couldn't see any. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He had his watch on his left wrist, the hands surrounded by water. A bubble remained inside the face, it looked like he'd worn that watch every day of his life, and now his death.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As I put my hand into his left hand inside pocket of his jacket, I struck gold. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A clear Lloyds moneybag; inside was a driving licence with current address, a roll of notes, a shopping list and two Rover keys. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This doesn't look like someone has bopped him on the head or pushed him in for his valuables. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I checked under his clothes for injuries and marks. There were none. I checked front and back of his neck, nothing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He had very hairy ears.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It turns out the gent had left home earlier that morning to go to the City to do some shopping with a friend- he never got there, and now he never would.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He was widowed and lived alone, so no one would have missed him at home. His friend wasn't sure why he hadn't arrived but wasn't worried, supposing there was no reason to be worried.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Whilst I was there, a police unit had found the male's car parked up and secure only a mile away. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The male had no injuries and he had all of his valuables. There was nothing suspicious about his death. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This wasn't a crime. This was a tragic accident. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">CSI Guy</span>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-72233165912248711482011-10-06T13:08:00.000+01:002011-10-06T13:11:00.341+01:00Suspicious Death<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The words "Suspicious Death" came over the radio.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's going to be the next job, I thought. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pretty much everything else will be put on hold for such a job.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A death can be labelled as suspicious for many reasons and by a number of people. The most common scenario is that a Paramedic has attended a job and found a person deceased. The Paramedic will normally make an informed decision as to whether or not two and two make four.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If it doesn't add up then they will call us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The normal response is an Officer or Supervisor, sometimes both, will attend the scene and collect the facts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An Inspector and a PC attended this job and they agreed with the Paramedic that the death appeared suspicious. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes the Officers don't agree, but Supervision will often ask for CSI in order to confirm or deny these suspicious aspects. That's always a tough one. Diplomacy at it's best. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If a death is likely to turn into a murder investigation, then a Crime Scene Manager (CSM) will always be appointed. The CSM will coordinate department's response.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Luckily for us, CSM Lady was on duty. She's been off for a while. It's nice to have her back. I asked if I could come along to assist and she agreed. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I drove to the scene. I've got a shiny new van, full of kit. This would be it's first decent job. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The address should have given it away. Maybe I hadn't noticed, maybe I was thinking about other things. This part of town has a large number of tower blocks. They're not called 'Sunny Tower Block' but they're all called 'Something' 'House'.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know if it's the Council's way of brightening up a deprived area, or whether or not the person in charge at the time, thought it funny. They don't look like a house, they don't smell like a house and it's downright misleading to call them a 'House'.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wouldn't live there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I reversed the van up next to the Police car, so we could access the back doors of the van from the pavement. We put a collection of equipment into a small box to carry it to the scene, grabbed our cases and headed inside.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You get used to the aroma by the time you reach the stairs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We looked at each other in realisation that the scene was on the top floor.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two options, two flights of stairs for each floor for sixteen floors or the lift.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CSM was in charge. Sixteen flights was an awful long way to walk with the kit.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The lift it was.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hate the lift. There was the usual; graffiti on the wall, smell of urine, chewing gum on the buttons. Someone here though had taken it up a notch. Faeces on the ceiling. Great.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We get out on the correct floor and we are met by a bobby guarding the scene. Half an hour ago, this floor was buzzing with people. Paramedics, a handful of bobbies, neighbours and Council workers. All in a space impossible for two people to pass each other.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now it was the PC, CSM Lady and me. I prefer it this way.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CSM had a discussion with the bobby and then a conversation on the phone with the Inspector who attended.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CSM Lady delegates the videoing of the scene to me. She volunteers to take the photos. She takes the photos first. I follow behind her, making sure I'm not in any of them.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This place is a mess. I wasn't expecting much, but this is a wreck.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The guy has very little furniture. The living room consists of a single mattress with a waterproof cover as a sheet, an avocado coloured arm chair and a television.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was no carpet on the floor, no door handles on the doors, no light bulbs in the lights and no food in the cupboards.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There were six empty cans of strong cider, an empty packet of Monster Munch and some chocolate wrappers on the floor amongst the other rubbish.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The floor was covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime. I'm glad I have my white suit and footwear protectors on. As always, two pairs of gloves.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a property provided by the Council. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This <em>is</em> Social Housing.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The kitchen sink had dried blood and mucus in it. It was clear this guy wasn't well. No wonder, looking at where he sleeps and lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was on a cocktail of drugs for various conditions. Empty boxes lay on the floor, as did the odd crushed tablet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The male lay on his back, on the mattress. He was in his late forties. He looked in his late sixties.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The TV was still on, but just giving out static. I wonder what he was watching before he died?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once all the photos had been taken, it was my turn to come in with the video.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The video won't show anything that the photos didn't show. The video is often used at any subsequent briefing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I started at the front door. I pushed record. I took a breath and began. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I am CSI Guy 999 of Anytown CSI and the time is 1100 on the 1st January 2001"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It felt weird at first, talking to the camera. I soon got into the swing of it. As I progressed through the property, I gave a commentary.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People use the camera in different ways. I try to stand still whilst it's recording and pan from left to right. I will talk about what can be seen and then hit pause. I will then move to another part of the room and do the same again. I will do this from each corner of the room, ensuring that everything is captured on film. Some people try to walk with the camera or use the zoom, I've seen one of these videos and it feels like a roller coaster ride. The screen is all over the place and it's difficult to keep track of what is where.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It felt like I had been in the property with the camera for fifteen minutes. The elapsed time was 05:04. Not long at all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There wasn't much to see.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was hot inside. Not because the heating was on, I doubt this flat ever had the heating on. Being in a suit, with a mask and gloves on whilst working can work up a sweat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only clean place to put the camera was an Argos catalogue. It couldn't have been here long. I put the camera down on top of it and I stepped out onto the balcony. I'm on the sixteenth floor, no one's going to see me in my suit up here. I could see for miles and miles. It was a brilliant view. I'd love to get a photo from this balcony at night. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not sure I'd want to walk in this area at night, let alone with my camera. It's sad really, there are some really nice people that live near here, I'm sure. The problem is, there are some really nasty people too. Once an area gets a reputation, it's difficult to shake it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not sure if this was the highest building I'd been in or not, the cars look like toys on the road below.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once I finished with the video, I went back into the hallway. CSM Lady was on the phone to the Inspector. When she finished we went back inside.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The suspicious element of this job came about when and how the male was found. There was nothing else to suggest his death was untoward. We always check the person for any injuries. That was next.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is where my double gloves come in handy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CSM Lady took some close up photos of the male. She took one of his face, square on, this may be useful if his identity is unknown. The male had some tattoos and she photographed these too. I held his arms and hands in place for photos.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We need to check his back. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I took hold of his right arm and right leg and rolled him away from me. He was stiff. Rigor Mortis had set in. When I rolled him over, his back was different colours. Parts of his back were deep purple and some were pale, almost white. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When someone dies, the blood in their body stops circulating and as a result of gravity, will sink to the lowest accessible parts. This is known as 'Hypostasis' or 'Lividity' as well as other similar names. This can be useful determining whether or not someone has been moved after death. After a period of time, and this varies, the blood will remain fixed in the lower parts of the body. If a person is then moved, it will be clear to an investigator that the body isn't in the position it was when it died. This difference can also be seen in a person's organs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The white parts of the male were where his body had been against the mattress. It was visible on his shoulders and his buttocks. The pressure on the skin prevented the blood settling there. These white areas can be seen on most people when they've died. Elasticated socks, tight belts, bra straps, watches and any ligature will have the same effect.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I could also see the dirt and grime from the mattress that had stuck to his back, along with a few copper coins. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He had no injuries that would give CSM Lady or myself cause for concern. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CSM Lady decided that the male would have a Post Mortem to determine the cause of death. Until that was completed, the property would remain secure.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We brought in two body bags. We lay the first one out next to the male. We unzipped it and lifted him into it. We lay the second body bag out next to the first and lifted that one into the second. Once they were both zipped up, the outer bag needs a tamper evident seal. This allows the Dr at the PM to be confident that the bag hasn't been opened in transport or storage. CSM Lady photographed this.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn't go to the Post Mortem, it took place the following day whilst I was off. It turned out the male died as a result of the numerous conditions he suffered from and there was no indication of foul play.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Council will be happy that the can let that flat out again. I wonder what the next tenants would do with the place.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CSI Guy</span><br />
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<br />CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-82721302347918651562011-09-16T21:03:00.001+01:002011-09-16T21:03:35.342+01:00Murder<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Apologies for the delay in getting a new post up. I've been busy recently. Work takes up a lot of my time.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'll discuss my thoughts of a job I did over a year ago now.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was on lates, which is a 1400-2200 hour shift. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For once, I was off on time. To tell the truth, I left ten minutes early. Who's to know?</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It had been a busy few weeks, it may have been the time of year, it may just have been luck. Or the lack of it.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I hadn't eaten whilst at work so I put some left over chicken pie, potatoes and peas in the microwave. Two minutes and thirty seconds later and a splash of brown sauce and all was good.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I hadn't quite finished the plate when the phone rang.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm on call. And that's a call out. It has to be.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There's been a murder. Never quite the same as Taggart. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I live close enough to the station to be able to finish my food before I get ready to go again. I got in the office within twenty minutes, it felt like I'd only been here a couple of hours ago. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had been.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I read the incident on the computer system, it had been running for just short of three hours and was already on page thirty two, most incidents are two pages long, maximum.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The incident normally includes details from the initial caller, descriptions, address, telephone number and what has happened. From there, details of responding officers are attached, decisions that have been made, observations, names of witnesses, suspects and much more will be placed on an incident. It soon adds up. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was already a Crime Scene Manager (CSM) at the scene. A CSM will always take the lead on a murder. The CSM makes decisions on how to process the scene and the CSI will normally carry out the work. The CSM will work closely with the Senior Investigating Officer (SIO) to progress the investigation.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The CSM had requested a CSI to assist him at the scene. I like the CSM at this job. He's knocking on a bit but a great guy. He's experienced, calm, professional and has the best sense of humour in the office. Except for me.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I called the CSM on the radio, using a point to point (a personal conversation on the radio system), and checked to see if he needed anything in particular from the store room before I headed his way. I grabbed a few bits and pieces and put a flask of coffee together, anticipating a long night.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It didn't take long to get to the location, there was hardly any traffic on the roads. I knew the road where the incident had occurred, though the Police vans and scene tape on approach gave it away. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was a particularly cold night so I had my force issue woolly hat on, it looks ridiculous, but keeps me warm and Miss CSI says I look cute, besdies which it's not a fashion show, especially at this time of the night. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I approached the cordon, an Officer hastily jumped out of the passenger side of the van, he was probably sitting in front of the heater, he put his hat on and started to point towards a side road. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm not going down there. I'm coming in the cordon. He just doesn't know it yet.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I got closer, it wasn't my van, it wasn't my uniform, nor was it my radio giving off an incredible amount of light, it was my hat that made him realise who I was. "You must be SOCO, with a stupid hat like that. Your colleague is over there, he has one of those!"</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He lifted the tape as I drove under it. The tape is strecthy and usually goes over the top of the van easily. I parked up and the CSM came out to greet me. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He gave me a run down of what happened. "It's not good" He said.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I gathered as much, seeing as someone had been murdered.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I took my hat and jacket off and put on a white suit and footwear protectors. I slipped on two pairs of gloves. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The CSM took me towards the door of the property, the deceased's place of work, and I could smell blood. There was a tent over space in the back of the building, as I entered the tent, there was a lot of blood on the floor. This is probably the most blood I've seen in one area before. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As we entered the door into the property, there was a trail of blood.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This wasn't blood drops, nor was it cast off from a weapon, this was blood transfer. Something, or more likely, someone, wet with blood, has moved across this floor. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The transfer went in the door, down the steps, around the corner and across the floor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At the end of this trail, I knew there was going to be a person. This trail was the last movements of the man who had been murdered. Dragging himself along the floor trying to get help. Not many people will see this, thankfully. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The floor was covered in footwear impressions trod into blood. It was clear people were here at the time of the incident or after it. I could see at least four different impressions, there would be many more that can't be seen which would be developed later. It's likely that some of the impressions would belong to paramedics and Officers.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">None of them will belong to me, I can make that promise.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The male had been attacked whilst at work by strangers, this doesn't happen very often. The offenders are normally known to the victim or there is normally a connection of sorts.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Not here, apparently.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I spent a few minutes just looking, taking it all in. The male way laying on his right side. There was a small pool of blood on the floor beneath him. His mouth was wide open. His left leg was on top of his right leg. His Adidas jacket had six or seven holes in it. These holes were were the knife had ripped it open before it was plunged into his body.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This had been a frenzy. A book shelf lay on the ground ahead of the male, books were strewn all over the floor. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Both the CSM and I had to prepare this male for removal to a mortuary, this almost always means taking clothes and jewellery off. Each piece of clothing has to be packaged seperately, I had to do this. The problem with these clothes were that they were still wet. Normally, clothing goes into brown paper bags, but blood would have soaked straight through. I wrote the exhibit details on the outside of the paper bag and then I placed the wet clothing in an open plastic bag, then placed it inside the paper bag.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I never thought I'd have a job taking other people's clothes off, especially in these sort of circumstances.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Any such clothing removed would need to be dried before being sealed completely, we have cabinets for this back at the station.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I was doing this, the CSM was videoing the scene and taking photos of other important points.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I put the bags of clothes into the back of my van, it was nice to step outside into the cold air. I remembered I had a flask of coffee and felt fully deserving of a break, as did the CSM. I went back inside with my flask in my hand, the CSM's eyes lit up.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We took ten minutes aside to have a coffee and got back to it.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Before we put the male in a body bag, we had to cover his hands, feet and head. I've discussed this before, but it never stops feeling completely unnatural to put a plastic bag over someone's head, even when they are deceased.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I pulled the black drawstrings on the bags, tightening the seal on each.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Putting the male in a body bag was a two man job. CSM had packed the video camera away and changed gloves. I'm not sure why he changed gloves, he hadn't touched anything except the camera yet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We had to find a clean space to lay the bag out. We've got new bags. They've got stronger handles. I wonder who makes these items. Bags for heads and bags for bodies. I thought I had a strange job.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There's no graceful way to put someone in a bag. I held him by his arms, CSM held him by the legs. Once inside the first bag, the male goes into a second bag. Inner and outer bags.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I left people were starting to head to work. The road closure was causing chaos. It didn't bother me, I was driving the opposite way. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This job made the National News. Thankfully, I was tucked up in bed before the TV crews got there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-701260011255833892011-07-24T10:59:00.000+01:002015-02-12T19:55:02.882+00:00Play it safe<div align="center">
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Every now and then a keen gardener, a developer or a metal detector enthusiast will discover bones during their adventures.<br />
<br />
My force, like most forces, will have a protocol for dealing with such incidents as and when they arise.<br />
<br />
The idea is to treat any find as a potential scene until it can be determined that it isn't. <br />
<br />
Play it safe. Works well.<br />
<br />
I'd been in the office towards the end of my shift for an hour or so already. I was catching up on some paperwork, a regular challenge in this line of work, when the phone rang.<br />
<br />
It was the control room for the division in which my station is based. This isn't normally the division I cover, just where my station is. I didn't know the controller so the conversation was brief.<br />
<br />
"I've got a Sergeant over at Anytown Station who has a bone"<br />
<br />
Now, I'm not sure if this was a deliberate play on words or not. In the split second it took me to reply, all sorts of witty comments went through my mind, shall I? <br />
<br />
Better not. Play it safe.<br />
<br />
"Righto. What's his number, I'll give him a call" I said.<br />
<br />
The Sergeant was also a stranger to me, this happens a lot due to the size of my force. Even on the division where I spend most of my time, it's difficult to meet the same Officer more than once. When you do, it's like you've met an old friend!<br />
<br />
I've learnt to make friends with the DS's and DI's. These are the people that want to know what I think when I am at a scene. It makes it easier if you are on good terms. Some CSIs I know have feuds with some of the DI's (for good reason) but it doesn't half make it awkward when they get together at a scene.<br />
<br />
We can't like everyone, nor expect everyone to like us, we are all human after all.<br />
<br />
I rang the Sergeant at Anytown Station and asked him about the job. He told me that this bone had been discovered at an allotment whilst they were turning over the soil.<br />
<br />
I've heard that there are waiting lists for allotments that are longer than the waiting list to be in the audience of Top Gear. <br />
<br />
Seriously? A shed and some soil? <br />
<br />
"It looks like a child's hip bone" the Sergeant said.<br />
<br />
He doesn't want to be saying things like this for two reasons. One, it scares me, and two, it scares the DI in CID.<br />
<br />
The Sergeant thought it'd be a good idea to put the bone in a Tesco carrier bag and take it back to Anytown Station in his car. Not a great problem if he knew it wasn't human, but he's told me already he thinks it's a child's hip bone!<br />
<br />
I ask a few questions about the allotment and who is guarding the scene. They are rhetorical questions. I know no one is guarding the scene. <br />
<br />
They should be.<br />
<br />
It turns out that the allotments have been locked up and the owner is aware that we may, at any point, come back and excavate his radishes. <br />
<br />
I ask the Sergeant to carefully bring the bone to me at CSI HQ. <br />
<br />
"Straight away, CSI Guy." I could hear a quiver in his voice. I think he's just realised that he may actually have the remains of a person on the back seat of his panda in a carrier bag. <br />
<br />
Really, the only person who can say whether a bone is human or not is a Forensic Archaeologist. I can have a go, but it'd need confirming. <br />
<br />
Some forces have Forensic Archaeologists, some don't. Some are available 24/7, some aren't. It turns out that I had the number for one who was on call 24/7. I gave her a call and asked her if I could send some photos to her to have a look at.<br />
<br />
"Go for it CSI Guy, I'll call you straight back."<br />
<br />
This sort of service is invaluable. This Archaeologist could get a call from any one of the UK Police forces at any time day or night, to look at a bone. She is always willing to help.<br />
<br />
I bet her husband loves her getting up at 0400 to have a look at photos of bones sent by Police Officers. No play on words, honest.<br />
<br />
I meet the Sergeant in the car park and lead him to the examination room, he's holding the carrier bag in his hands, palms face up and at arms length.<br />
<br />
I've mentioned before how particular I am with my photos. I like them to be right. In the examination room we have use of a copy stand, it's like a table top tripod, but isn't.<br />
<br />
The Sergeant puts the carrier bag on the desk next to the copy stand and stands back. I can sense his relief, he's passed it to me now, not his problem. <br />
<br />
I prepare my camera, format my memory card and fix the camera to the copy stand.<br />
<br />
I put brown paper over the copy stand base, I don't want bones on the copy stand. I put two pairs of gloves on. <br />
<br />
I take the bone out of the carrier bag with my right hand, there's a receipt in the bag, Walkers salt and vinegar crisps and a prawn and mayonaise sandwich. <br />
<br />
"Not mine!" the Sergeant says.<br />
<br />
I smile at him and raise my eyebrows.<br />
<br />
I turn the bone around in one hand, looking at each side of it.<br />
<br />
It looks like a hip bone to me, it looks odd though, which I hope means that it isn't human.<br />
<br />
"I think it's human" I said to the Sergeant. <br />
<br />
He went pale and quiet. He used an expletive. I didn't let on then I was having him on.<br />
<br />
"Lets photograph it and get it off to the Forensic Archaeologist" I said. <br />
<br />
He nodded in agreement. "Play it safe" he said.<br />
<br />
It was mean I know, I shouldn't have strung him along like that. <br />
<br />
I took a series of photos with and without a scale. I took a photograph of each side, one edge of the bone appeared as if something had damaged it. It was sharp.<br />
<br />
The photos took about ten minutes.<br />
<br />
During this time, the Sergeant was on the computer in the examination room, using Google to find images of human hip bones. <br />
<br />
What would the Police service do without Google? Seriously. I use it a lot. I often use my iPhone to google names of things, locations and postcodes. It's great.<br />
<br />
I left the bone on the copy stand. Depending on the reply from the Forensic Archaeologist, will depend on what I do with the bone.<br />
<br />
I took my CF card out of the camera and went to the office. The Sergeant stayed in the exam room. I got to the car park and realised he wasn't with me. I walked back to the exam room and he's stood where I left him. I look at him and say "You alright Sarge?"<br />
<br />
"Oh, I'm coming with you? Right, of course."<br />
<br />
I emailed the photos to the Forensic Archaeologist and within ten minutes she called back.<br />
<br />
It's a cow she said. That's the answer we all wanted. I'm sure she was a little disappointed though. Imagine how many photos she studies and how very few of them are bones from humans.<br />
<br />
The Sergeant was distracted with his Blackberry. I put the phone down and completed my report on the computer. <br />
<br />
I turned and looked at him. He looked up from his phone and smiled. I explained that the phone call was from the Forensic Archaeologist. <br />
<br />
"She said it's human"<br />
<br />
He put his head in his hands. <br />
<br />
"I'm joking, it's a cow!"<br />
<br />
He called me every name under the sun. Twice. He shook my hand, said thanks and left.<br />
<br />
I'd always reccommend that Officers take extra precautions at jobs like these. It's difficult to backtrack at a later stage. It turned out that there use to be a slaughter house near the allotments and the bones are likely to be from that. It had been chewed by a rat or two over the years. No dramas.<br />
<br />
The bone is still on my desk in a window box. I don't want to throw it away. I'll use it at school talks or training inputs.CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-51935501092890649622011-06-30T11:04:00.096+01:002011-07-05T11:20:42.553+01:00Cultivation<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMHTjWWbFo72zJe1JEEP_9yl2mQGY09dkfW-BhB_ZEqvZsHBjUfeRL2RS50bBOmD08PnzS0FXe9bsdyh3Dc5l-7FhZr2M0KNsPJYGj-glRw6LaTchVIjlpiiBDcEQVrzJ6pFwlmYEJNeC/s1600/RAH_0030+(3).JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614805779972903346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMHTjWWbFo72zJe1JEEP_9yl2mQGY09dkfW-BhB_ZEqvZsHBjUfeRL2RS50bBOmD08PnzS0FXe9bsdyh3Dc5l-7FhZr2M0KNsPJYGj-glRw6LaTchVIjlpiiBDcEQVrzJ6pFwlmYEJNeC/s320/RAH_0030+%25283%2529.JPG" style="display: block; height: 214px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You'll hear them referred to as 'farms' or 'factories', the reality is they rarely look anything like a farms or factories.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In this job I have seen hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of Cannabis plants. Probably more.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People who go and see their local dealer "Rob" or "Dave" don't realise, or choose to ignore the fact, that it is <em>this</em> demand that creates the need for these factories to be constructed.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Its just a ten bag. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I turned in to work in the middle of a set of shifts. It was a Sunday. I was on an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">earlies</span>, 0700 start. I often find myself at my desk at about 0630 anyway. It gives me a chance to have a cup of tea and some toast.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Butter or Jam? Its a very difficult decision at this hour. An Inspector once told me that toast tastes better when cut in triangles. I think he's right.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I switch my radio on when I get in. I have a clip on my belt where the radio lives all day. Wherever I go, the radio goes. I've learnt to listen to the radio when performing other tasks. My ears perk up when I hear <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">SOCO</span> or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">CSI</span>. It's normally an Officer adding a job to our list. Sometimes Officers will ask for advice over the air.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I heard the words 'Cannabis Factory' and '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">SOCO</span>'. That job is mine. My favourite jobs are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">arsons</span>. My second favourite jobs are Cannabis factories.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I answer the call over the radio, having a '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">talkthrough</span>' with the Officer. This is a conversation over the air with another person, whilst everyone else can hear. The control room just keep quiet. It's always polite to thank the control room. I mentioned before about keeping the control room happy.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">CSI</span> Guy to Control, thank you, over"</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The other <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">CSI</span> I was on with was busying himself with writing a statement for CPS, that was required that morning. He was more than happy to leave me to go to the Cannabis factory.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Crack on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">CSI</span> Guy" He said, barely looking up from his keyboard as he used his index fingers alternately, to type.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I finished my cold toast and tea and sent a few replies to emails.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got my cases and put them in the van, most things I'll need at a Cannabis factory will be in my case, the rest will be in the van.</span></div></div><div><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Driving that early on a Sunday is a breeze. Journeys that would normally take half an hour can be done in ten minutes. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I stopped outside the house where the Police car was. It's a giveaway and saves me looking for house numbers.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I stood for a second and looked down the road. It was just a normal street, a row of houses on each side, most had driveways where gardens should have been. Curtains were still pulled. This street was still asleep, like most in the City on a Sunday morning. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like to have a look at the scene before I take my cases in. I find it helpful to plan the way in which I'll do things.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I spoke to the bobby at the front door. I could smell the cannabis, I find it hard to believe that these places go unnoticed for so long. I gave the bobby my collar number and name. He'd not been there long, he was still in good spirits.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I walked inside. It was a two storey, semi-detached house. It was a nice house, normal.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many of these factories are often booby trapped. Not always to harm members of my establishment but to keep others out and protect the crop. Before I'm allowed inside, policy says the electricity board needs to attend and confirm it's safe to enter. This often results in the electric supply being terminated.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-beds-bucks-herts-12655861"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-beds-bucks-herts-12655861</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> This is a BBC News story relating to a booby trapped house in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Bedford</span>. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To avoid detection and large energy bills, the electricity supply is often bypassed. Normally in a very poor way. It may appear a clever idea, but the reality is that it's extremely dangerous.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Inside, this place was wrecked. It was clear that this house had been rented solely for the purpose of cultivation. The landlord has no idea how much the repairs are going to cost, and most insurers will probably wriggle their way out of any claim.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My torch lit up a system of silver ducting through the walls and ceilings. The reflecting light catching the wall and ceiling as it hit the curved section of the ducting. The ducting finished in the loft space. Each and every room had plants at various stages of growth and there was soil everywhere. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The gardener wasn't very neat. I doubt he'll be getting a reference.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I placed a yellow photo number marker in each room, I number the rooms to show where I recover items from. With each room being a mini greenhouse, it's difficult to decide which room is the front room and which is the bedroom.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The kitchen was a state. It was however cleaner than some of the kitchens I've seen in 'normal' houses. There was a plate of cooked fish on the side. It was covered in flies and it stank. I see this a lot at Cannabis factories. I don't know if the people who look after the house really like fish or more likely, it's used to mask the smell.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was a double mattress on the floor next to the rear door. This was home for some unlucky soul. There were empty <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Jaffa</span> Cake boxes next to the mattress. Someone loves <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Jaffa</span> Cakes as much as me.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This factory had been discovered after a break in. A neighbour had seen unfamiliar people going over the back fence with their faces covered. I wouldn't recognise someone with their face covered either.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
<br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's a shame the local <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">nominals</span> found out about this place before the Police. It's just the way it happens now. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They wanted some of the plants; actually, they wanted them all.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They had of course fled before the Police arrived. One was chased and detained by a Policeman with a German Shepherd Dog on the end of his arm. I think he suffered a gentle lick or two. I'm led to believe no pain was involved.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once the photo markers were down, I took photos from the front garden to the loft. Everything inside the house was captured at least twice on film. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I use my flashgun with a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">hotshoe</span> cable, this means I can direct the flash where I want it to go. With so many obstructions, shadows can be a problem but I make an effort to eliminate as many as I can.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What was the master bedroom now resembled The Eden Project. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There were lights hanging from the ceiling, eight of them, suspended from the ceiling by thin metal chains. The light bulbs were shaped like large test tubes. Great for fingerprints. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There were probably around 25 plants in black plastic pots. There was no soil in these pots but dirty orange clay pebbles, apparently the balance of nutrients in some soil isn't as good as the pebbles. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The walls in this room were covered with plastic sheeting. The sheeting was black on one side and white on the other, I believe is the idea of this is to avoid heat detection equipment from Police helicopters. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was a system of black boxes screwed on a piece of chipboard on the wall. These boxes were electric transformers, each slightly smaller than a shoe box. There were enough power extension cables here to light up Disneyland. There were a number of timers set to operate the lights on a cycle.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like photographing the timers with my macro lens. I fill the frame with the timer, the detail is incredible. The period of light and dark the plants have, can determine what stage of growth it is at.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like to try and collect a piece of evidence </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">from each room. I don't like giving up on a room until I find something that I'm satisfied with. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wanted a piece of that sheeting, there's had to be prints on there. I knelt down to my case and took out my multi tool from the void carefully crafted into the foam in my case, it lives there. </span></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When it's not being used, that's where it'll be. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I flicked the knife open with one hand, it clicked into place. I started to slice through the sheeting. I feel like Ray <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Mears</span>. No, I'm Bear <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Grylls</span>. He's awesome. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I cut out a section of the sheet, I could hear it ripping as I sliced <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">trhough</span> it. I stuck a small white label on the reverse. The label had the exhibit reference on it, my initials, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">CSI</span>, and a number, 7. I then folded the piece of sheet up and placed it inside a tamper evident bag.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I carry a small plastic container with me into jobs like this. Jobs where I know I'll have many exhibits. This allows me to keep them altogether and clean and tidy.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a few minutes, you get use to the smell. It's rather pungent. Sweet. The house is full of this smell. I notice it when I go in and out of the house. It stays on my clothes for hours.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cannabis plants go through a number of 'growth' stages. I've made it my business to understand these stages and how to identify them. I'm surprised that the books I've bought from Amazon haven't triggered a knock at the door! Cannabis run through the cycle of germination, seedling, vegetative growth and flowering.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't like dealing with something that I don't understand. If this happens, I'll often research it.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've got two roles at this scene. I need to collect evidence for the cultivation, but I also need to gather evidence for the burglary offence.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I often feel that I've cleaned the place up a little whilst I've been there. I stack things as I go, then I know I've dealt with them.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know that Officers have been through this place before I arrived, they needed to make sure there were no <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">offenders</span> lurking <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">anywhere</span>. I'm always weary of noises though. A colleague of mine found the 'gardener' hiding below floor boards at one of these not that long ago.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The plants are seized by the Officers, once I've done. They take two plants at each stage of growth. The best bet is to take two from each room, the 'gardener' will often have each growth stage in a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">separate</span> room. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The plants are taken out of the soil, the roots are knocked to remove excess soil. They are then placed in brown bags. If the plants are taken in pots with soil, then the Police themselves continue to cultivate the cannabis. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not something you'd want the Daily Mail to get hold of.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I probably spent about two hours at the scene. The length of time these scenes take often depends on how big they are. A colleague of mine, just the other day, went to a factory with around 3,000 plants. He was there a number of hours. </span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I needed to head back to the Office to write the job up straight after this job. There was someone in custody, I needed to present my evidence to assist with any interviews or charging decisions. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I stopped at MacDonald's on the way back. I was just hungry, I could see the girl at the window look at me in an odd manner, then I realised, she could smell the Cannabis! I'm glad I'm in an unmarked van.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CSI Guy</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-2938959023334704032011-04-27T17:28:00.018+01:002011-05-19T00:15:59.453+01:00Sexual Assault<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cEFtE2XvcAxu-gHs8tmN4Qh0ySevJsxq33bYPUXWobZrhqiocSKoVSU0NELRx4VFPqSDMmxdei2sEXwc_aszLuISoxhnW9vvhJneghZdzsAo5egwQbLfTcODQG9NVT7eCQkA56KG4lbg/s1600/gcc.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 208px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 208px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607443141987666610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cEFtE2XvcAxu-gHs8tmN4Qh0ySevJsxq33bYPUXWobZrhqiocSKoVSU0NELRx4VFPqSDMmxdei2sEXwc_aszLuISoxhnW9vvhJneghZdzsAo5egwQbLfTcODQG9NVT7eCQkA56KG4lbg/s320/gcc.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Aft</span><span style="font-family:arial;">er reading the '<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jizz</span> Inspectors' by Sue Carney - </span></span><a href="http://www.lilaclounge.me/"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">http://www.lilaclounge.me/</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">, it reminded me of a scene that I had attended. I haven't yet blogged about rape or sexual offences.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">It's difficult to say how common this type of offence is. I work for a large force, and like other crimes, we see a larger number of rapes than a smaller force would.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I was on call on this particular day and had got home at about 2330 hours. I often work over on a late shift. There's no one to hand work to if you haven't had time to finish it.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I hadn't eaten properly during my shift, unless you count the two Fox's Custard Creams that is.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">My better half had made dinner earlier in the evening and had set some aside for me. I flicked the switch on the kettle, and put my bowl of food in the microwave.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I made tea.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I sat down and put the television on. I find it difficult to go home and go straight to bed, I need time to switch off and shut down.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">After a few episodes of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">QI</span> on Dave, I went to bed at about 0145 and went straight to sleep.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I was dreaming about the Royal Wedding when I was rudely awoken by my iPhone vibrating and ringing, getting louder and louder.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I'd imagine that only a second had passed, but in this time I thought it was my alarm clock, and it was time to get up. Then I thought I was in the house I use to live in. Then I thought, don't ask why, that I was in fact ringing someone myself.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">"Hello" I said in a panicked voice.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">"<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> Guy it's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> Supervisor, you <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">ok</span>?"</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">"I'm sweaty" I said. I'm sweaty!? What on earth <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">possessed</span> me to say that? This was a supervisor I hadn't even met! She didn't really know me.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">"Too much information" She said with a giggle.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">"Um, yea, uh, sorry, what can I do for you?"</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">She then went on to explain the details of the call out, the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">DS</span> who wanted a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">phonecall</span> from me when I got in, and the log number and address of the job. The supervisor will often ask if I have a pen, I always say yes and pretend to write things down, reading out loud what I am meant to be writing down. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">"<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Seevvveen</span>, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Plannnt</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Streeeeet</span>"</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The thing is, the job will be a piece of cake to find on the system when I get to the nick, so writing this down now is pointless. I always read the log to ensure nothing has been missed, the information often goes through three or more people before I get the phone call. It does no harm in spending ten minutes when I get in to double check everything.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I hung the phone up and walked back towards the bedroom, where my uniform was. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I looked at the clock. It was only 0226, I'd been in bed for no more than 41 minutes. It had felt like I had slept for hours. I mean, in my dream, I had been to Westminster and back!<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I had a quick shower and got changed. I was in the office within twenty five minutes.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The scene was inside. It's unusual to get a call out to an indoor scene. If it's indoors, it can usually be preserved until 0700 when the other <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSIs</span> come on duty. This avoids unnecessary overtime.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">For one reason or another, it was decided that I was needed at the scene sooner rather than later. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">A rape was reported to have taken place at an address on the other side of the City. There was a bobby on scene guard at the front of the property.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">There is always an urge to get scenes processed as soon as possible, not as quickly as possible. The problem with rushing in and scooping everything up is that it can can mean that if something comes to light later on, it may be too late to change the way the scene is processed.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Some scenes can often be processed the same way, burglaries for example. I go in, have a short talk with the victim and crack on. Fingerprint everything the offender has/may have touched, take items for chemical treatment and look for other forensic opportunities.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">With a rape, the full circumstances need to be obtained before I go and start the scene. This if for many reasons, reasons that probably don't need explaining here.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I had a full brief on the circumstances from the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">DS</span>.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I checked that I had a condom module kit or two in the van- I did. I grabbed a few other bits that may come in useful. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The condom module kit comes sealed. There's a sterile plastic tub and lid. When the lid clicks down, it can't be removed without breaking the seal. There's a blue clip to put on the open end of the condom and a tamper evident bag to put everything in for transport.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The clip is like the sort of thing you clamp around your bag of peas for the freezer, only smaller. It keeps fluid on the inside, inside; and the fluid on the outside, outside.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I drove to the scene, past a football ground. The area around the football ground is eerie. I don't like it. The plus side is, there's a CCTV camera on each street corner. I don't like football.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I got to the scene within about fifty minutes of the call. The bobby had been there for about two hours at this point. He knew very little. About the scene that is. I'm sure he knew lots about other things.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I opened the front door and walked in, it stank. I couldn't put my finger on the smell, I don't think I wanted to.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I walked into each room, one at a time, making notes.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The kitchen, or the room that was meant to be the kitchen, was full of rubbish. I get grief when I leave a plate next to sink overnight- "It washes easier if you do it straight away..." She moans.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">This place was something else. The only way this place would be clean is if a team of five gutted it out and started again.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">It turns out the property was residence for a lone male. The property however was meant to be empty. I think there was some <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">discrepancy</span> over ownership. That was what we were being told anyway. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><br /></div></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The downstairs living room had a single bed in one corner. There was a small coffee table next to the bed with various pieces of debris on it. There were magazines everywhere, old magazines. I saw something dated 1996. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><br /></div></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I went through the upstairs rooms. They were full of boxes and inside the boxes were possessions. They look like possessions of an <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">elderly</span> person. I thought that maybe the old occupant of the property had passed or moved away. Irrelevant anyway, the offender wasn't <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">elderly</span>.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The bathroom was at the front of the house. It was dark, the light didn't work. The light tends to blow in the bathroom more than anywhere else in a house. I have no idea why. I know that's where <em>I'd</em> want a light. I used my crime lite to look around. The bright white light caught something in the bowl, it was a mix of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error">faeces</span> and paper. I held my breath. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The offender wasn't in custody. I had to gather evidence to be used when he was arrested. This was his residence, if you could call it that, I had to collect the evidence before he returned. The officer was there to make sure I was safe and to arrest the offender should he return. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error">Someone's</span> got my back. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><br /></div></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Once I made my notes, I went back to the van. It was nice to walk into the cold night air. I had a slight sweat on. I think it's because my body knew I was meant to be in bed.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I took the gloves I had on, off. I was about to touch my camera, I didn't want anything from the house on my camera. I put two new pairs on. This meant that if I touched something dirty, I could take that glove off and still have gloves on. It makes my hands wrinkly though.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I went back into the house and took photos of each room. I take the photos so that anyone viewing the album feels like they are 'walking' through the scene. If I photograph something of interest, I will take a general shot to show it's location in the scene and then a slightly closer shot and then a close up shot using my macro lens. My macro lens shows an immense level of detail. I can take a photo so close, that the item will fill the frame.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Once I had finished the photographs I went outside. The officer was just as bored as when I had arrived. Up to this point, I had probably been there for at least an hour already. The officer had a small supply of bottled water, it was a welcome gift. I took a few minutes outside having a drink of water and talking about <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error">allsorts</span>. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I thought to myself, "I hope he doesn't ask me about football" I haven't got a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error">fricking</span> clue.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">We finished our chit chat and I got ready to collect evidence. I put a white suite on at this stage. This was for two reasons. The first, the property was a hole. I wanted to go home without any of the house left on my clothes. Secondly, I was going to be looking for used condoms now. I don't fancy <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">spermatozoa</span> on my work boots. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I had a mask on at this point as I would be close to evidence that could contain DNA. I don't want the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error">FSS</span> to identify me as the offender. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error">That'd</span> be a career buster.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The single mattress had no bed sheets on it. It had a variety of stains all over it. There's two ways of recovering these stains. I could cut the top of the mattress off and bag it up, or I could just take the whole thing. We have bags for mattresses.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I turned it over, initially to search underneath. When I looked at the underside, there was a large stain. It was a body fluid but not the obvious one. This stain gave cause for concern, this meant the mattress had to be seized, in it's entirety. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I can't get a mattress into a bag alone. I went and spoke to the bobby and helped him into a scene suit. It took us a few minutes but we managed it, though it was a bit like an episode of The Chuckle Brothers.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">We struggled down the hallway and outside to the van. It was the early hours of the morning but I could still see people watching us. There was one female across the street in a first floor window. There was a net curtain, that she <em>thought</em> kept her from view. I could see her, watching. I wonder what she thought was in this large bag.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The Officer kept his suit on after that and stood at the door. Maybe he thought I may need his help again, maybe he liked the suit?</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I searched the upstairs rooms and recovered a couple of items of clothing. These items could belong the victim. They were in my photos, to show the location.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I didn't find anything in the kitchen, amongst the piles of rubbish. I find searching rubbish both interesting and disgusting at the same time, you can tell a lot about someone by looking at their rubbish.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">This guy loved chicken, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-error">KFC</span> in particular. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Chicken bones, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">mayonnaise</span>, sweetcorn, tissues, boxes, receipts, crisp packets, tea bags and a sock, a sock? There's always rubbish that you can't figure out what <em>exactly</em> it is. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I got to the hallway and the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-error">understairs</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">cupboard</span>. There were two black bin liners of rubbish, I opened the first and started to sort through it. Luckily, there was an unused bucket next to them. I put the things I wasn't interested in into this. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I wonder when the bins were last collected? Are the bin men on strike? Is this guy on strike? There was weeks worth of rubbish here. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I'd <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-error">gotton</span> used to the smell by now, this wasn't an issue. There was the odd fly that wanted to know what was in the bag too. Probably hungry, there was plenty for him to eat. I worked my way through the rubbish, I thought it was going to be a wasted task. It wasn't.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I quickly found a torn condom wrapper, things are looking good. There's got to be a condom in here somewhere, right?</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Halfway down, on the side of a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-error">KFC</span> Pepsi Max cup was a used condom. I removed a pair of gloves and took a close up photo of the condom's location. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I fastened the blue clip over the end of the condom and placed it delicately into the container. I clicked the lid down and put it into the tamper evident bag and then sealed it.</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Now, I didn't know which rubbish bag was the most recent. Just because I had found a condom and wrapper, I still had to look through the rest. I worked my way through both bags. This took some time, but in total I found four condom wrappers and five condoms. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">The incident I was investigating was <em>one</em> act of sexual intercourse. Where were these other condoms from? A girlfriend? One night stands? Other victims?<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I found the last wrapper in the beans tub, inside a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" class="blsp-spelling-error">KFC</span> box, inside a carrier bag. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">No stone unturned.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I gathered all of the evidence together and loaded the van. I carefully took my suit off, ensuring that the outside of the suit didn't touch me, or my clothes. I put that into a brown bag I had made for rubbish and then took my gloves off, turning them inside out as I did. Gloves are always last off.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I did one last sweep of the place to ensure I had everything that belonged to me and headed off.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">It only took my a short while to get everything written up and a report filed. The condoms went in the freezer. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">I headed home just as the first early crew were coming in the door. Time for bed and probably Westminster again.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> Guy</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div></div>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-39137736820205910312011-02-04T11:40:00.004+00:002011-02-07T21:35:55.504+00:00Cup of tea?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZNbHMIzCvI5AKVVIQ_OCngRmh5JQyxYMG4JTfebz8K3cObndvt2Q7rY9DjNI1JPvcgHo-f3ZDXptNkbXqunrTTDypirkk7zNEqrSiZV5L1FDRzVWw3EPNRjFwes14-Sg4Z0Lw1cAcXUS/s1600/cup+of+tea.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 230px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571064461741440002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZNbHMIzCvI5AKVVIQ_OCngRmh5JQyxYMG4JTfebz8K3cObndvt2Q7rY9DjNI1JPvcgHo-f3ZDXptNkbXqunrTTDypirkk7zNEqrSiZV5L1FDRzVWw3EPNRjFwes14-Sg4Z0Lw1cAcXUS/s320/cup+of+tea.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I was on late shift, 1400-2200, I got into the office slightly early as I needed to sort a few things out.<br /><br />I only had one job to go to, which is unusually a quiet start to the shift. I knew I had to get some statements typed up and sent out for a couple of serious jobs I'd attended recently. One related to a murder investigation, the DC had asked me to complete it as soon as possible. The album of photographs had already been on my desk for three days.<br /><br />I like looking at my photos in print. Although the photo lab had put one of my photos in on the wrong alignment. That bugs me. I like things to be right.<br /><br />It only took me an hour or so to get the statements sorted and the albums exhibited for court.<br /><br />I left the office for the burglary on another division. The bobby at the job had point to pointed (ptp) me for advice.<br /><br />The airwave radios we use allow us to have a personal conversaion between two users. This avoids taking up space on the normal channel, the control room can continue to despatch officers to other jobs. This is known as point to point.<br /><br />It turns out the offender had been disturbed by the occupants and had run through gardens to get away. In the panic and fence hopping, the offender had dropped his woolly hat.<br /><br />Bonus.<br /><br />The Forensic Science Service work very hard to abstract DNA from items such as hats for me, well, us.<br /><br />I gave some advice to the officer about how to recover the hat and how to preserve any DNA for me.<br /><br />When I got to the address, the officer had already moved off to the next job. I fingerprinted a number of the things, including the point of entry and the games console cases dropped in the garden. </div><br /><br /><br /><div>I was stood in the kitchen when the occupant offerred me a cup of tea. I could see the state of the kitchen, it wasn't like my kitchen. "No thanks, I don't drink hot drinks" Which was a complete lie. A white one however.<br /><br />I quickly became aware of very distinctive glove marks. Its always disappointing. I double check that the occupants havent worn gloves inside for any reason. I never stop fingerprinting straight away when I find glovemarks, for two reasons.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>The first reason, there may be more than one offender, the second offender may not be wearing gloves. It happens, a lot.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>The second reason, demonstrated very well by an Officer recently. When you are weaing gloves, performing certain tasks can become difficult. It only takes one slip of the mind, to whip a glove off and complete the task without the hassle of a glove.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>At this particular address, the offenders weren't inside for very long and had touched very little. I found glovemarks on all the items they handled. I sealed the wolly hat up and left.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>I was passed another job to photograph a poor old chap at the local hospital who had an argument with an axe. Well, the argument was with the person holding the axe, which was repeatedly struck on his head. Blade side.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>He'd been on the ward for a couple of days. </div><br /><br /><br /><div>I don't like hospitals. They are full of germs. The parking is a nightmare too. I found a large box which said, NO PARKING. I parked there. I checked in with Security, who confirmed that space was often used for the 'likes of you'. The likes of you? What did he mean by that? Smile and walk away CSI Guy.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I got to the ward and spoke with some lovely nurses on the ward reception desk. They had a little joke about my Hummer and CSI:NY. I made a joke about Holby City. They asked if I wanted a cup of tea. Two offers in one day.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>Now, tea at the hospital was likely to be a good idea. it would probably be in a disposable cup, which hadn't been used before and was likely to be from a machine. It would also be made by a nurse, who wouldn't do anything untoward. I didn't have time though. Injury photographs take no time at all. I told them I'll come back for the tea another day. </div><br /><br /><br /><div>I'll add that ward to the list of tea stops.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>The gent with the head injuries was sleeping. The nurse woke him up to take his blood pressure reading so I got in straight after that. I took a number of photos, one of his head and shoulders, so when we look at the album in months to come, we know who it it. I then took a number of close up photos of the injuries with a scale. I used my macro lens.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I enjoy taking photos, they're normally not of stapled head wounds though.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I had another two burglaries to go to after the hospital. They were both next to each other in a block of flats.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I had heard of the estate before, I knew where it was but hadn't been there yet. It's on a different division to where I normally work. I parked outside and I wasn't impressed. It looked horrid. </div><br /><br /><br /><div>I got my van from the back of the van and walked towards the front door. Beer cans littered the pathway outside, there was a used condom and a distinct smell of Cannabis coming from an address nearby.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>This will be fun, I thought.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>I knocked at the door which swung open, it had been broken in during the burgalry. I saw a figure approach the porch door through the marbled glass. The door was opened by an eighty year old female. She was a lovely person. Her flat was tidy, clean and had lots of photos of grandchildren. One showed a young lad with a vest and shorts on at a sports day. </div><br /><br /><br /><div>She saw me look at it, and said "That's Tommy. he's twelve now. He won that race"<br /></div><br /><br /><div>It looked like the offenders had picked the whole flat up, shook it and dropped it back down again. There were things everywhere. She had kept coins in coffee jars in the wardrobe. She had sorted the coins into denominations in each jar. She had placed a small amount of kitche towel in the bottom of each jar. One jar had been smashed, there was glass all over the bed.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>She offerred me a cup of tea and a sandwich. She reminded me of my gran. Her flat was a mess, her valuables had gone and she was alone, yet she wasn't worried about that. She wanted to make sure I was looked after. I agreed to the cup of tea, with one sugar but politely declined the sandwich. I couldn't eat her food as well as drink her tea.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>She told me that she had been burgled three times including this occassion. She had toughened to it. She said "Those buggers are lucky I wasn't here, I would have given them what for with my stick"</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I laughed with her.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Good thing is I left with lots of fingerpints and some items for chemical treatment. </div><br />CSI Guy<br /><br /><br /><div><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /></div>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-75884929316190096742011-01-15T15:04:00.012+00:002011-03-22T22:21:58.159+00:00Arson<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDD5Um86rltH5mOk1mi79y17ZqErq6hw8OwVXUOoDtuxi9HXaUfBlYeVzxm916F_mCEf_q3cjtHDts92-DQy4jpB4qZM7JIWfhj_EDkR2-QKVqIVOVbh1LB46psK131WIIzPjOYCII3idF/s1600/fire-fighter-courage-image-31000.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 219px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587030050528182114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDD5Um86rltH5mOk1mi79y17ZqErq6hw8OwVXUOoDtuxi9HXaUfBlYeVzxm916F_mCEf_q3cjtHDts92-DQy4jpB4qZM7JIWfhj_EDkR2-QKVqIVOVbh1LB46psK131WIIzPjOYCII3idF/s320/fire-fighter-courage-image-31000.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It seemed like I hadn't been to an arson scene for months, in fact it was only seventeen days.</div><br /><div>I had spent two nights a few months ago with the local Fire and Rescue Investigation Team. When I say team, I mean one. We'll call him Barney <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">McGrew</span>. No, No, we'll call him Sam. Yes, Sam. There is a number of Investigators on the 'team' but they often work solo, passing at shift change. Unfortunately when I spent two nights with Sam, fourteen hours each night, we didn't get a single job. </div><br /><div>I read every Fire Brigade issue magazine going. Twice.</div><br /><div>I am lucky enough to be able to investigate suspicious fires and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">arsons</span> within my force area as a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span>. If a fire is obviously arson, then I will be the only investigator who will attend. If the cause is unknown, but suspicious, then I will attend along with a member of the Fire <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Investigation</span> Team.</div><br /><div>The initial decision on the cause of the fire will often lie with the fire crew who attend. If there is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">accelerant</span> used or there is more than one seat of fire, then it's clear. It's deliberate. I'll be going.</div><br /><div>I like to have everything I may need at a scene so I've put together a toolbox for fire scenes. It contains different bits and pieces for sifting through debris, removing fixtures and fittings and assisting with recovery of evidence. I keep this in my van and I allow my van partner to use it. I made him promise that if it gets dirty, he cleans it and if he removes something, he replaces it!</div><br /><div>I'd heard the job come over the radio when the control room despatched officers to the scene: </div><br /><div>"Control to Sierra Sierra One One, over"<br /></div><br /><div>"Go 'Head"<br /></div><br /><div>"Immediate response to 12 Camberwick Green, fire, persons reported"</div><br /><div>"En route, over"</div><br /><div>Persons reported isn't something you want to hear. It means that people are trapped inside. We race to the scene, but often there isn't a lot we can do to get people out of burning houses. That's Trumpton's job and they're very good at it. A lot of the time the Fire Brigade arrive before the Police as they will be passed the emergency call first.</div><br /><div>The job went on for an hour or so from the initial call. Luckily, everyone was out and not hurt. A couple of the family members were taken to hospital for smoke inhillation, but that's as serious as it got.</div><br /><div>It turns out it was arson. Two seats of fire and an accellerant was used, which meant I would be riding solo on this one.</div><br /><div>Because I was listening to the job as I was busying myself at burglaries, I knew that I was going to get called. The officers at the scene hadn't asked for me yet, but I knew that when supervision attended, it would be one of the first things they'd request.</div><br /><div>Arsons can take a long time to investigate, some last days. I hadn't eaten during this shift yet so I popped back to the nick. I had four salami and ham sandwiches in the fridge. Cut diagonally and wrapped in tin foil. Brown bread. </div><br /><div>I have a litre thermos flask too. I filled it with hot water whilst I ate my sandwiches. </div><br /><div>Whilst I was in the office, I had a look at the arson incident on the computer. Its always nice to read as much into the incident before your attend. There may be things on the incident that officers at the scene may miss or forget to pass on.</div><br /><div>Half way through my second sandwich:</div><br /><div>"Control to CSI Guy, over?"</div><br /><div>"Go ahead control"</div><br /><div>"Officers are at a scene of an arson and requesting you, over"<br /></div><div>"Is that 12 Camberwick Green, over?"</div><br /><div>"Yes Yes CSI Guy"</div><br /><div>"No problems, ETA fifteen minutes, over"</div><br /><div>I made a coffee in the flask and grabbed my clipboard.</div><br /><div>I put the address in the Sat Nav and off I went.<br /></div><br /><div>When I arrived, I could see two fire tenders. There were a few firemen standing around. I wanted to see what I had to deal with before I got kitted up. I grabbed my clipboard from the passenger seat and walked towards the property. </div><br /><p>As I got out of the van, I could feel the cold. It was dark, with orange streetlighting here and there.</p><p>There were three fire hoses trailing towards the property.</p><p>I could hear the radio in the fire trucks, giving out mainly static and white noise, the truck's engines were running, it was a noisy scene. </p><div>There were trails of water running across the pavement, desperately trying to find the nearest drain.</div><br /><div>There were people on the balconies of nearby flats, stood watching. </div><br /><div>I spoke to the chief fire officer who nodded towards the flat as he said "That's the one up there, my guys are standing by"</div><br /><div>The Fire Brigade wanted to gut the flat, taking away all of the burnt material. This prevents the fire starting again from anything that may be smouldering away.</div><br /><div>It turns out that the ex partner may have started the fire deliberately as way of revenge for the split. The split was three years ago.</div><br /><div>An old school CSI once told me "It'll boil down to one of two things son, sex or money." I guess if you think about it, most things can be attributed to both.</div><br /><div>Come to think of it, Jeremy Clarkson once said "Money and rumpy-pumpy are the twin engines powering everything we do"</div><br /><div>Its decided. They're both right.</div><br /><div>I love fire scenes, absolutely love them. Each one sets a different challenge. </div><div></div><br /><div>The fire had been extinguished at this job, there were Police Officers speaking to neighbours and taking statements nearby. Turns out the ex partner hadn't been at the property for a few weeks, though they were still in touch.</div><br /><div>My job was to establish how and where the fire had started and identify any offenders. Regardless of what I know, I must remain open minded about who or how this had happened.</div><div></div><br /><div>I put a white suit on and some boot protectors. This was more to protect my clothes from soot than anything else.</div><br /><div>The first thing I do, as with most serious or major crime jobs, is to document the scene as I find it. I did this with photographs, long, mid and close up photos.</div><br /><div>Arsons tend to be very dark, for two reasons. The first is, the walls and ceilings tend to be burnt and covered in soot, the second, the electricity is normally damaged and off, so no lights.</div><p>One seat of fire was in the living room, beside the sofa. The sofa had been reduced to a wire frame with a yellow and orange mess in the middle. There was a mark on the wall in the shape of a letter V, this is known as a plume pattern- the V shape forms above a fire. The closer the fire, the narrower the V shape is, so these patterns can sometimes look like a letter U.</p><p>There are other fire patterns that help identify the development and spread of a fire, which I noted down.</p><p>I placed some photo markers in various places to help identify areas of interest, they also help the viewer of photos to get an idea of the layout of the property. If I get a number six photo marker in one shot, and then the next, It shows how each view relates to the other.</p><p>I always use a tripod, it's fiddly but more than worth it. I know some CSIs would hand hold the camera, but I wouldn't. I like using a flash extension cord, this allows me to effectively direct the flash and avoid shadows.</p><div>I photographed what I determined to be the seat of the fire, where the fire started. I indicated an area much bigger than required, to ensure when I start excavating the debris, I don't miss anything. This is known as the radius of error.</div><br /><div>Once I had taken general scene photographs, I made some thorough notes.</div><div></div><br /><div>I went to the van to get my tool box. It was nice to get some fresh air, it gets so warm in fire scenes, the heat builds up in the building. I took the opportunity to get a cup of coffee from my flask. I run on coffee.</div><div></div><br /><div>I stood at the back of my van, between the two open doors to give me a little shelter from the prying eyes. People often see me and know who I am. Not because they <em>actually</em> know me, but because they know I'm the CSI.</div><div></div><br /><div>There were still neighbours watching from the balconies. </div><div></div><div> </div><div>I put a new suit on and went back in. I excavated the seats of the fire and recovered a sample of debris for accelerant analysis. Anything with accelerant on needs to be packaged correctly, we use nylon bags as these prevent accelerant leaking through the bag. Normal polythene bags would let accelerant through.</div><div></div><br /><div>The exhibit is double bagged in nylon bags and sealed.</div><div> </div><div>Accelerant analysis can be completed on an offender's clothing also.</div><div></div><br /><div>I also recovered a partially burned newspaper, that days newspaper. It didn't belong to the occupant, so it may have been left by the offender. </div><div></div><br /><div>Excellent. </div><div></div><br /><div>I packaged this into a rigid box to enable me to safely transport it back to the office, the paper was fragile, but may hold some fingerprints.</div><div></div><br /><div>I spent just over two hours inside the property, the photography took half an hour alone. </div><div></div><br /><div>It was a busy scene with lots to interpret, fire scenes hold lots of information and evidence. Most people think that fire destroys evidence- not true. A lot of the time, the nature of a fire can protect a lot of evidence.<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-88911222520433187922010-11-29T20:14:00.013+00:002011-01-05T18:01:38.399+00:00HangingI've been busy over the past few months and have neglected this blog somewhat. I apologise.<br /><br />We've all been busy with a variety of jobs, mostly serious jobs. There's been a strange increase in the number of dead people recently. We blamed it on the full moon at first, then the snow.<br /><br />I'm going to share my experience of a suicide by hanging.<br /><br />Most forces insist on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSIs</span> attending all suicides. There's two reasons, the first is that we can ensure that it is suicide. The second is that the scene needs to be recorded for the coroner.<br /><br />If an inquest is held into the death then the scene will be an important aspect, as it is in any criminal investigation.<br /><br />We have a new van at work at the moment. Just the one. Its on trial. If we like it then we'll have some more. The van that I share with my colleague is on it's last legs so I took the new van out.<br /><br />I had a list of burglaries to go to, we call them <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">BDH's</span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">BOB's</span>. Burglary Dwelling House and Burglary Other Building. I had printed the logs out and was on the way to my first job.<br /><br />I got a call over the radio to ask me to attend a hanging. This would be my first hanging on my own. I'm not sure if excited is the right word, but my professional curiosity was certainly peaked.<br />I happily accepted the job. I stopped the van and opened the back doors. It was a new van and I was unsure as to what kit was in the back. I had a good rummage and checked I had everything I needed for a suicide.<br /><br />I changed the destination in my Sat <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Nav</span>. Twenty three minutes. Driving through the City is a nightmare at anytime of the day. I like to watch other drivers and silently criticise their driving. Every now and then I'll inhale deeply and say "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ooo</span>" whilst exhaling.<br /><br />Brief details were given over the radio by attending officers. I knew that the deceased person was male and had been found by a relative.<br /><br />The correct procedure for any incident of suicide is that officers should secure the scene and request attendance of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span>. Sometimes, CID will attend or at the very least, a supervisor from uniform will attend.<br /><br />Its very important to go to any incident of suicide with an open mind. I will listen to the views and opinions of attending officers, but it's vital to interpret the scene myself. It would be a very <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">embarrassing</span> error to decide a death is a suicide to later find out it is a murder. It'd also probably mean the loss of a lot of evidence.<br /><br /><br />There was something in the news recently whereby someone has confessed to murdering his estranged wife and police officer partner some 20 years ago. It appears that the scene presented itself as a suicide by carbon monoxide in a car. The offender in fact gassed both victims, dressed them and transported them to the 'scene' in the boot of a car. Have a look <a href="http://http//www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/local-national/northern-ireland/ulster-dentist-killed-wife-and-husband-of-exlover-15007519.html">here </a>for more information.<br /><br /><br />As I approached the garden path I could see there was a police officer stood at the front door. The relative had been taken away to be spoken to further.<br /><br />An Ambulance Crew had been to confirm the male was deceased. The term often used is 'Life Extinct'. I don't like this, I think it's cold. I try never to refer the deceased person as a 'body' either. If I know their name, I'll use it. Its polite and it's respectful.<br /><br />As I walked onto the path, I could smell the distinct smell of decomposition. The front door was slightly ajar.<br /><br />The police officer appeared to be on his own. He held a scene log in his hand. Officers in my force are pretty good at securing a scene when a body is found. They'll start a scene log too. This is where everything that happens at the scene is recorded. Who has gone in, who has gone out and more importantly why.<br /><br />Some higher ranking officers have a liking in my force to believe a scene is theirs and they can come and go as often as they like, touching, sniffing and pondering. I have no idea why, especially the sniffing.<br /><br />I did have a warmed (as opposed to a heated) discussion with a Police Inspector a few weeks back. It was also a suicide. There were a few unanswered questions about some injuries on the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">deceased's</span> body. The scene had to be preserved in case there was foul play.<br /><br />The Inspector wanted to go 'have a look'. I politely declined his offer. It wasn't an offer, it clearly wasn't an offer. He knew that, I knew that. He wanted to know why he couldn't go in. I explained he needed to wear a white suit. "I've got gloves on." he said. I passed him a suit and explained he wasn't going into the room unless he was wearing that. Ten minutes later he joined me inside, fully suited.<br /><br />I digress.<br /><br />I spoke to the Police Officer at the door who explained what had occurred at the property prior to my arrival. He gave me a run down whilst I put on a protective suit and overshoes. I wear two pairs of gloves at jobs with deceased bodies. An experienced <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> told me why. If I need to move or touch anything with bodily fluids on, and then go back to my camera, I can take the outer pair of gloves off and still have a pair on. It works well. Body bits <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">don't</span> mix with a Nikon.<br /><br /><p>A relative had found the deceased male after visiting him and getting no answer at the door. This is one of the common ways of suicides being found.</p><p>People who commit suicide can be very resourceful when they have an idea in their mind. I've seen some very <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">inventive</span> methods since this one. I've also been to some rather strange ones.</p><p>I gave my details to the Police Officer at the front door. The door had been opened from the inside by the Paramedics to allow easy entry. The deceased male was against the hallway door. It was difficult to get through from the back.</p><p>As soon as I approached the door, I could smell it. I hadn't smelt it like this before, it smelt like pickles. I like pickles. </p><p>No, I <em>liked</em> pickles.</p><p>I opened the door, looking at the lock and frame for any signs of damage or forced entry. None.</p><p>I could see personal <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">possessions</span> about the room. Mobile, wallet, watch and an amount of cash. This male hadn't been robbed. </p><p>This male had hung himself from the top of the living room door using a belt. The belt and buckle was around his neck at one end. The other end had a knot in it. The knotted end was passed over the top of the door and the door closed. The belt was thin enough to pass over the closed door, the knot stopping it from pulling through.</p><p>Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to be off the ground to hang yourself. Partial hanging is just as common as complete hanging. Hanging is the constriction of the neck by a ligature, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">tightened</span> by the weight of the body. This can be achieved in a number of ways.</p><p>One thing any investigator may note when attending the scene of a complete hanging is the victim's tongue may be protruding. Due to the weight of the body, and sometimes the force applied in the 'fall' of a hanging, the constriction around the neck can force the tongue out of the mouth. Once decomposition begins, and the tongue is exposed to the environment for a period of time, the tongue becomes discoloured. Often it is black.</p><p>This <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">male's</span> tongue was big and black and sticking out of his mouth.</p><p>After a thorough visual examination, I came to the conclusion that he had jumped from furniture (which was underneath him) with the belt around his neck. This provided to force to make the tongue stick out. Then over a matter of days, the weight on the belt and the door was enough to make it slip. The knot pulled through the top of the door.</p><p>The heating was on in the house and it was hot. I had my normal uniform on, plus a protective suit. The suit, by design, has no <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ventilation</span>. I'm not unhealthy, but I was sweating. I had to wipe my forehead a few times.</p><p>I took photographs of the scene, showing <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">every room</span> in the house. There were tablet and prescriptions in one room. I took photos of these. At this stage I can't tell if the male had <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">taken</span> tablet prior to hanging himself. There weren't many missing however. There was a receipt from a local pharmacy, it was only four days old. </p><p>The male had decomposed quicker than normal. It's likely the heat in the house was the main contributing factor to this.</p><p>I had to ensure that the male had no injuries about his body. I also needed to check pockets for personal belongings. </p><p>I had to straighten him out slightly, he was in an awkward position. I took hold of his arms at his wrists. I tried to pull his torso towards me, almost into a sitting position. The skin on his arms moved, his arms didn't.</p><p>I was going to need assistance.</p><p>I opened the front door and the bobby looked at me, I said "Are you busy?" I caught him unaware, he looked around, desperately trying to find an excuse. He couldn't. </p><p>"Can you just give me a quick hand in here?"</p><p>"<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error">Uuu</span>, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error">erm</span>, yea, sure"</p><p>This is my job, I 'enjoy' working out what has happened and how this male has ended up this way. It's not the bobby's job. He likes chasing bad guys and locking up criminals. I explained what I needed him to do, and asked if he was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">OK</span> with it. I explained that if he wanted to stop at any point, then just say.</p><p>I gave him the key to the van and told him where to find the suits. He got to the van "Are there any extra larges?" He said. "Top shelf, in blue" I replied.</p><p>We straightened the deceased male out, rolled him onto his left side. The bobby held him there whilst I checked his pockets and lifted his clothing to check for injuries. None. Onto the other side and the same again. None.</p><p>The bobby stayed in the suit for a while, watching me whilst I finished with some close up photos. He asked a few questions. Decent questions, not "Do you do Weddings?"</p><p>I don't mind dead bodies. In the short time I've been a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span>, I have lost count already as to how many I have encountered. I will try to recall each and see if I can come up with a number, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">another time</span>. I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">don't</span> mind the smell of most things; <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-error">decomp</span>, blood, urine or <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-error">faeces</span>. I have however found that I'm not too fond of vomit. </p>I was looking at some Journals the other day at work, and discovered interestingly that the UK has a low Suicide rate. The most recent figures I could source were from the Office of National Statistics and were dated 2008. Per 100,000 of population, The UK had a suicide rate of 6.1, Lithuania had a rate of 28.4 (the highest) and Cyprus had a rate of 2.2 (the lowest).<br /><br /><br /><br />Now, back to that list of BDHs and BOBs I had at the start of the shift.CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-38756044515875039982010-09-26T23:15:00.008+01:002010-10-08T13:57:12.429+01:00Murder<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqeI9eNjshNy3RWQPWUXCWtkPhxxZrlAnnLRJ6YGe8qwUXbERfOqLr0i4BHBrYD5E674K5yrNa5ES2vT0w4wNtwUEJ5c3_0mKZL30raXEBxJPHS5dmAVL-Ggg0hJUOGnryIjjR3h7p-R1/s1600/crime-scene-do-not-enter-2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 278px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525658449785951058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqeI9eNjshNy3RWQPWUXCWtkPhxxZrlAnnLRJ6YGe8qwUXbERfOqLr0i4BHBrYD5E674K5yrNa5ES2vT0w4wNtwUEJ5c3_0mKZL30raXEBxJPHS5dmAVL-Ggg0hJUOGnryIjjR3h7p-R1/s400/crime-scene-do-not-enter-2.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I came on duty at 0640 on a Sunday morning, booked on duty and sat at my desk.<br /></div><br /><div>I opened my emails, I had a few to get through. I had been off for four days. I often get email requests for statements, usually for volume scenes I had attended whereby an offender had been identified (an 'Ident') from the evidence I recovered.</div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I recently reached fifty Idents since February. Fifty separate offenders identified from the evidence I collected at scenes. I love it. I don't remember all of their names, but I hope some of them remember mine when my statement is read to them.<br /></div><br /><div>I was the first one in that morning. I had put coffee in the cafetiere and it was brewing on my desk. I like the smell of coffee in the morning. Another CSI came in just before 0700.</div><br /><br /><div>I was working my way through my emails, deleting some and flagging others to deal with later, when the phone rang. It was another CSI office, where a supervisor was. CSI Man answered the phone, he is a Crime Scene Manager (CSM)</div><br /><br /><div>CSMs manage major scenes, attend strategy meetings and coordinate multiple scenes. They make all the big decisions, which makes major scenes easier for normal CSIs as all the decisions have already been made.<br /></div><br /><div>The phone call was to ask CSI Man to attend a murder scene and take me along to assist.</div><br /><br /><div>We had to go straight out. CSI Man asked me to get a few things together that we'd probably need at the scene.<br /></div><br /><div>The incident had happened in the early hours and another CSM had originally attended the scene to secure fragile evidence, take initial photographs and give advice on how to preserve and secure the rest of the evidence. This CSM was one of the on call CSMs and was probably now at home in bed.</div><br /><br /><div>I'm glad I had breakfast before I got to work because today was likely to be a long day.</div><br /><br /><div>I didn't have time to read the log in regards to the incident and typically such an incident will have so many pages, it'd take a while to actually read it.</div><br /><br /><div>I went to the equipment store downstairs and got together a supply of various plastic bags, paper bags, swabs, water modules, hazard tape and knife tubes.</div><br /><br /><div>We got in the van and CSI Man drove as he knew where the incident was. He gave me a brief run down of what had happened whilst we drove there.</div><br /><br /><div>When we arrived there were two marked police vans and a marked car. The cordon was clearly visible and was around the complete outside of a small tower block of residential flats.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We got to the scene at approximately 0800. The sun was out and the sky was clear, it was warm already.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>There had been officers at the scene all night. The scene needs to be secured and the evidence preserved. No one can enter the scene as it could be claimed evidence has been spoiled or contaminated.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>There was a Police Sergeant from the dog section waiting for us. The flat where the incident had taken place had two dogs locked in one of the rooms. One of the dogs was believed to be a Pit Bull terrier and it was in a fighting mood.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I don't fight with dogs. They tend to win.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>CSI Man asked me to go to the flat and prepare the hallway so that the dogs could be taken out without any footwear evidence being damaged in the hall. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I took a white suit from the back of the van, extra large. I'm not a large guy, honest. For some reason the suits are made in sizes that don't seem to make sense. The first time I put a suit on I chose a medium. No chance. I only just got my arms in and the damned thing ripped from top to bottom along the back.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I also wore footwear protectors. This have the word 'POLICE' indented along the bottom so if my footwear impression was recovered, we would know it was from me. I put a pair of gloves and and took a mask too.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I gave my name and collar number to the Police Officer with the scene log. This is recorded and is disclosed as part of the investigation. It keeps track of who enters and leaves the scene at what time and why.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I went up a couple of flights of stairs. There was some blood to photograph in the hallway and swab. I'll get to that after the dogs are gone.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The hallway was similar to any other tower block in the City. Bare concrete walls and stairs with the odd red tile here and there. It smelt too. I don't think that was as a result of the incident either.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I won't explain how I prepared the hallway, it was unusual. It may make the incident recognisable. That's the last thing I want.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Stepping plates are usually used to avoid direct contact with the floor. I'm sure one could imagine how difficult it could be for a Police Officer to try stepping from plate to plate with an angry dog in tow. The stepping plates were removed from the equation.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Inside the flat was a deceased male. He was fully clothed. Which I was pleased at. This would be the first deceased body I have dealt with whereby he wasn't naked.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The place was a mess. I learnt quickly not to assume that the mess was due to what had happened.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I remember a burglary I went to just after Christmas. The occupant was showing me around and explaining what had happened.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I said "They've made a right mess in here, haven't they?"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>She said "They've not been in this room"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Oops. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The Sergeant came up with a PC and they had some shields, a fire extinguisher and some dog catching poles. I'm sure they've probably got a real name. The dogs didn't really struggle and were out of the building within a few minutes. People quickly cleared a path outside when they got to the front.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It appeared the male had been murdered. There was an array of weapons laying around. The male had a number of wounds about his body.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It wasn't a pretty sight. Flies were already starting to settle on his face and hands.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>There was blood everywhere. The floor, the walls, the sofa and the ceiling. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>There is a lot to do at a scene like this and there is no rush (most of the time) to get it done. The scene examination needs to be methodical, structured and thorough.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>CSI Man had decided what we would achieve today and we set about it.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He was going to video the scene. This would be used for briefing purposes. It can be showed to the Senior Investigating Officer (SIO) and the team of DCs investigating it. This prevents them having to enter the scene and increasing the risk of contamination and loss of evidence.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Whilst he did the video inside the flat, I photographed and swabbed the blood in the hallway I mentioned earlier. Each area was marked with an arrow sticker, the location photographed from a distance and up close. I used my macro lens for the close shot. Once this was done, each was swabbed. I used a wet swab then a dry swab. The blood had dried, so the wet swab helped to removed most of it. The dry swab then scooped up what was left.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I had finished this before CSI Man had finished the video so I went outside to get some fresh air and a drink. It gets very hot in that suit. I was sweating. Maybe I should go to the gym more often. A female PC gave me a tissue, she didn't tell me that it was an Olbas Oil one, I wiped my forehead with it. At least it smelt pleasant.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I went outside and took the suit off, folding it into itself as I did. This meant any nasties I had on the suit were out of harms way. I had a drink from the van. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>As I stood there looking around the estate I could see lots of people watching. It's surprising how many people find things to do outside when a scene pops up. It's early on a Sunday morning and there's people pulling weeds, brushing footpaths, washing cars and windows. I'd imagine they want to have a look at what's going on. I bet some of those weeds have been there for years.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>One gent approached me and said "Is you CSI?" I think he was asking if I was a CSI.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He asked if I wanted a drink. I have only ever had one drink at a scene and that was a school canteen. Maybe it's natural, maybe its training or maybe its just instinct. I don't trust people to give me a drink in a clean cup which is made with clean things and nothing 'extra' is put in the drink. In addition to that, I can't say I've ever had the desire to drink out of jam jars.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I have a reply lined up for every time I'm asked: "No I'm fine thanks, I've just had one before I came out and I'd only need to run to the loo all day!" Laugh a little and move on.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Then it came. The real reason he approached me. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>"What's happened? Has someone been murdered, I won't tell anyone?" </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I'm sure he won't.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>"I can't tell you mate, I'm sure it'll be on the news later"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>As he left, he double checked I didn't want a drink. I just gestured my water bottle to him.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>CSI Man finished and after a drink, we suited up again and went back into the flat.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The most important thing was to process the deceased male so he could be taken to the mortuary for a Post Mortem.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>There was a suspect in custody for the murder. It could be relevant to compare fibres and hairs on both the suspect's and the victim's clothing. CSI Man gave me the task of taking fibre tape lifts from the victim's clothing and face.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The most effective way to do this is to lay a fibre tape, which is in simple terms a large piece of sterile sticky tape, on the body and pull it off and cover it with acetate.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I had drawn a sketch of the male and on the sketch I indicated a number which related to each tape. I wrote the corresponding number on each lift and sealed each in a tamper evident evidence bag.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I did approximately fifteen or sixteen tape lifts. Some had some very obvious fibres in, some had bits of skin and blood that had fallen from injuries. The whole time I was doing this, I was knelt next to the male. The smell wasn't too bad. It wasn't nice either. Flies kept landing on him, and moving off again when I moved. As long as they don't land on me, I'll be happy.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When I was applying pressure to the tape to pick up as much as possible I could feel that the victim's ribs were bust in a couple of places. His torso felt unusual.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Once I had done this, we both checked the floor around the victim for other pieces of trace evidence. A couple of things were recovered, which turned out to be significant. I won't mention what they were.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I had blood on the outside of my suit where I had been kneeling. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Whilst I was doing the fibre tapes, CSI Man was taking photographs of everything in the flat, in every room.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It was now time to put the victim in a body bag for transport. It's good practise to cover hands and the head with bags to ensure any fragile evidence isn't lost in transit.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The same would be done if the feet were uncovered.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I know that the victim is deceased and has been for a number of hours, however, there is something that feels unnatural about putting a bag over someone's head. CSI Man lifted his head off the floor and I pulled the bag down and tied it. We did the same with each hand. The victim was cold to touch. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>As I had managed to protect the hallway earlier, we could now use the hallway to lay the body bag in. We started with the inner body bag. This appeared to be a nice new style bag. It had reinforced handles at strategic points, a pouch for documents and large zippers.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I wonder who designs these things for a living? What is their job title?</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>CSI Man was happy to take the torso and asked me to take the legs. It was important to handle the victim in a way that we would damage or distort any of the wounds he had. I took hold of his trousers and used them like a sling on his legs. I walked backwards into the hall and CSI Man walked towards me with the torso suspended in the victim's jumper.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It was a good fit. The victim was just the right size for the bag. Making sure all limbs were inside the bag, we zipped it up and sealed it. The seal was photographed.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We now had to lift the victim and the inner body bag into the outer body bag. This was also sealed and photographed. The undertakers had been called and were en route.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Deceased bodies really are a dead weight. It's surprising.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We went outside to change suits, the one's we were in were bloodied a lot. It looked like we'd been in a fight. As we left the building I became immediately aware of a clicking sound. It was the press. They love the white suits. They took a few shots and asked a few questions. We directed them to the press office. The press office will release relevant details to the press in relation to major incidents. There were some film cameras there also.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The undertakers turned up about twenty minutes or so later. We took them inside and showed them where the victim was and helped them get him into a further bag. He was then taken down the stairs and put onto a trolley. Their van was just outside the door so not too many people caught a glimpse of this bit. We're good at standing in the way when this bit happens.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The undertakers were followed to the mortuary by a police officer. This allows the police officer to evidence that the victim went straight to the hospital and when they do the PM, the same officer will normally attend to say it is the same seal and person from the scene.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>CSI Man and I went back inside, we took some photos of where the victim had been laying. This is to show the space underneath him. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>There was lots more to do in the property but CSI Man had decided that it may be relevant to wait until the PM had been done and the suspect had been spoken to. If it turns out something comes to light that is useful, it could change how we would process the scene to a degree.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>For example, the PM could indicate which weapons were used from the mess of tools on the floor. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The outside of the tower block and the hallway had been searched by a support group whilst we were inside. This meant we could reduce the cordon to just the flat. A police officer would be posted there until the scene could be released. It turned out this was a few days. The officers would swap every few hours.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Two other CSIs went to the PM later that evening.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>CSI Man had to go to another strategy meeting with the SIO in regards to the scene. I stayed back in the office and got my report sorted. I left the office by about 1930, so not as late as I was expecting. I should have finished at 1500 though.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I made it on the local BBC news, coming out in my white scene suit. It was my first TV appearance so apparently I have to buy cakes for everyone in the office. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Can anyone smell Olbas Oil?</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-65350595449234420572010-08-18T21:17:00.018+01:002010-08-31T22:31:00.120+01:00My first call out<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-PAvW__smntyYHyI06NUAb6LsdCnZ5L10WsLD3tOd6_FB7TyehfQoU3pLFvMlMnN5ZKAobV5dopN3NGPri8nptPGtXwiMV_GlKO4gr2SzML1DALoN48HLmVAQWBoaSZc1tXsiiZEAgcc/s1600/murder-road-rage-415x275.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511684184594337138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-PAvW__smntyYHyI06NUAb6LsdCnZ5L10WsLD3tOd6_FB7TyehfQoU3pLFvMlMnN5ZKAobV5dopN3NGPri8nptPGtXwiMV_GlKO4gr2SzML1DALoN48HLmVAQWBoaSZc1tXsiiZEAgcc/s400/murder-road-rage-415x275.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>Each <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> in my force is required to be on call a number of times a month. It works out that one of us is on call once a week for each office. An on call shift will almost always follow a late shift.</div><br /><div>I had a particularly busy late shift and didn't get back in the office until 2200 hours. I had to then complete the reports for each job I had attended and sort the evidence I had recovered.</div><br /><p>I should go home at 2200.</p><div>I was lucky enough to be joined on my late shift by another <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> in the same office, so at least I had someone to talk to whilst I worked. We had both been worked well that shift, so were both still in the office listening to Florence and The Machines on my iPhone whilst typing away.</div><br /><div></div><div>The clock got to about 2345 when the phone rang on the desk between us. </div><div></div><br /><div>We're not normally there at that time and the officers know that too. </div><br /><div>It must be a supervisor, either calling to tell us to go home or, far more likely, asking us to go to a job.</div><br /><div></div><div>We looked at each other briefly, I answered the phone.<br /></div><br /><div>The supervisor wanted one of us to go to a Section 18 Wounding scene which was outside just around the corner from the nick. She passed me the details which I wrote on a scrap of paper on the desk. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> John was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">eagerly</span> reading the note over my shoulder as I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">scribbled</span> away.</div><br /><div></div><div>Lots of "yep" "Uh <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hu</span> "OK"'s and I hung up.</div><br /><div><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> John had the gist of the scene but I explained it to him in the way the Supervisor had. The supervisor said she required one of us to go and didn't mind who it was. I really wanted to go but we decided to flip a coin, it was overtime <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">after all</span>.<br /></div><br /><div>Heads, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> John won. Rubbish.</div><br /><div>I packed up my kit and went home.</div><div></div><br /><div>I got home and flicked the kettle on. I had a cup of tea and went to bed, pretty certain I wouldn't be called out.</div><br /><div></div><div>The phone rang at 0342, it was my supervisor who wanted me to attend an outside scene.</div><br /><div></div><div>It turns out one of the City's finest decided he was bored of sleep at 0300 hours and wanted to see if he could kick and punch the nearest passer by as hard as he could. The victim fought back but came off <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">noticeably</span> worse than the other and had a fractured skull.</div><div></div><br /><div>The offender had left a substantial amount of blood at the scene. Bonus.<br /></div><br /><div>I live only about five minutes from the station. I jumped in the shower, cleaned my teeth and signed in at the office at 0410. I printed the log and put my cases in the van. </div><div></div><br /><div>I stapled the four pages of the log together and put it on my clip board.</div><div></div><br /><div>I called up on the radio:</div><div></div><br /><div><em>"<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> Guy to control, over"</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><div><em>"Good morning <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> Guy, go ahead, over"</em></div><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>"Good morning to you! Can you let the officers at Any Street know I'll be with them in fifteen minutes please? Over"</em></div><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>"No problems"</em></div><div></div><br /><div>I got in the van and started the engine. Tripod! I ran back up the stairs and fetched the tripod from under my desk. Night time photography is <em>impossible</em> without a tripod.</div><div></div><br /><div>It didn't take long to get to the scene. It was on a different division to the one I normally work. I was greeted by the shift <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Sergeant</span> who had a handful of swabs...</div><div></div><br /><div><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hmm</span>. Swabs...I thought? I've got my own.</div><div></div><br /><div>They had blood on them. Not so good. It turns out the bobbies on the scene were under the impression I wasn't going to be turned out. They made the decision to recover the evidence themselves.</div><br /><div></div><div>Luckily for me, and them, there was still enough blood on the pavement and road for me to spoon up.</div><div></div><br /><div>I grabbed some yellow number triangles and began to place them down at points of interest, these were a number of spots of blood and a broken bottle. The markers help to identify each location in relation to the next in a series of photos. Also, when recovering an exhibit, I can identify it 'from next to marker 3' etc.</div><div></div><br /><div>I took a photo up and down the road to show each side of the scene. I then took a general photo of marker one. I then put the macro <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">lens</span> on, I'm a geek like that, other's probably wouldn't. I want as much detail as possible in the image.</div><div></div><br /><div>Whereas a photo taken during the day would probably only take a 125<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> of a second to record, at night it can be anything between 1-30 seconds and sometimes longer. The camera has to be completely still during this time, otherwise the image will appear to be blurry.</div><div></div><br /><div>One of my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> elders told me that if a job is important enough to be called out for, it's important enough to be photographed. I'll remember that one. We don't take photos at <em>every</em> job, there's no need. </div><div></div><br /><div>Once the photos were complete, I put my camera in the van and grabbed my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error">SOCO</span> kit. We still call it <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error">SOCO</span> kit. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> kit doesn't suit it.</div><div></div><br /><div>The first evidence bag contained three swabs. One was a control sample of the sterile water I was using, the second was a wet swab of the blood and the third was a dry swab of blood. A control swab should always be taken. Depending on the circumstances, surfaces and time elapsed etc, depends whether or not a wet and dry swab are taken.</div><br /><div></div><div>Each swab is labelled with the exhibit number, time and date. These three swabs go in the same exhibit bag and have the same exhibit number. The exhibit number changes when the sample location changes.</div><div></div><br /><div>I did this for the other location and recovered the broken bottle.</div><div></div><br /><div>It doesn't seem a lot, but I was at the scene for just short of an hour. The photos take the longest amount of time.</div><div> </div><div>When there is a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> officer on duty at 0400 hours then you'd be surprised how popular you are. You are often the only one on duty for the force. I'm convinced there's secret messages sent between control rooms on divisions letting each of them know I'm on duty. Control rooms and supervisors will often try to get you to another job after the one you've done. I'd love to stay on, for two reasons, I'm already awake and more importantly; it's overtime. Unfortunately the overtime needs to be authorised by a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> supervisor. There s always a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> supervisor on call overnight to answer calls and refuse or authorise a call out. </div><div> </div><div>The Inspector wanted me to go to the hospital and photograph the victim's injuries. I wasn't allowed. The injuries will still be there tomorrow, a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> on normal time will be tasked with it.</div><div></div><br /><div>I went back to the office and put the report together on the computer. I put the blood swabs in the freezer.</div><div></div><br /><div>I signed out of the time book just after 0730 and stopped at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">MacDonald's</span> on the way home for breakfast. In bed by eight and got the rest of that day off.</div><div></div><br /><div>I checked the progress of the job Yesterday. It turns out the victim has decided not to pursue a complaint against the fool who almost killed him. It means the swabs are destined for the bin. I still get the overtime however.</div><div></div><br /><div>I've been very busy recently and have so much I want to blog about but I need to wait until the cases are done and dusted.</div><div></div><br /><div>I'll go back and see what I can blog about from a few months ago.</div><div></div><br /><div>Speak soon.</div><div></div><br /><div><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> Guy</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-4303531059778784262010-08-03T19:20:00.018+01:002010-08-03T21:55:32.494+01:00Armed Robbery<span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-R0BoydlFLDSjjQulQK39BISJXwnFZALdZb4ldaGDF04rMeaHiI7XpIuTC55bXfIS1njPkjExAnKwpwW18oR8nOzqsR6bLRLMM9qzGtiKawUMt2gR6qkwNeFO5YjsX3VVBpwICDjSti4G/s1600/Gun.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 251px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501250448267956642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-R0BoydlFLDSjjQulQK39BISJXwnFZALdZb4ldaGDF04rMeaHiI7XpIuTC55bXfIS1njPkjExAnKwpwW18oR8nOzqsR6bLRLMM9qzGtiKawUMt2gR6qkwNeFO5YjsX3VVBpwICDjSti4G/s400/Gun.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I was about an hour into my late shift. Lates almost always include being on call until 0700 the next day.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It was a warm day, I only had my force issue t-shirt on and combat style trousers. I don't like my uniform. I think it looks scruffy. I'd much rather wear a short sleeve shirt and trousers. We'll see what happens with that.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I do need new boots though. I must look on the internet for those.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I digress. It was about three o'clock when I was just leaving the station to go to my first job. My colleague had left moments before me to go to a different division. I suspect he was on the same airwave channel as me though.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The first transmission came "Any unit for an emergency response to 123 Mytown Jewellers, panic button activated"</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Now sometimes these things go off and people have no idea. I've been one of many who have piled into a public house on the outskirts of town, to be stared at by five or six shocked onlookers. The manager didn't realise he had a panic button, let alone that he'd activated it!</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The second call came, seconds after the first.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"We've had a second call now, armed robbery in progress at 123 Mytown Jewellers, firearms seen"</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">You can almost feel the buzz., the adrenaline running through the officers fingers as they respond to the radio call. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The force helicopter, lets call her '99, was up on a different job but it wasn't as important as this one. The transmission came from her crew. You know it's them before they tell you, you can hear that they're in a helicopter. They wanted a piece.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I was on my way to a burglary just around the corner from our station. I got my kit together and got in the van. I knew I'd have time to do the burglary first.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">My colleague made a sharp exit from the station car park. He knew I'd have heard the job come in. Secretly I wanted to go to it anyway.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">As I left the station, I could hear '99 getting closer. She makes such a racket when she's low. I like seeing her though. There's something reassuring about her presence.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I eagerly listened to updates from responding officers. The four masked men had made off with a substantial amount of very expensive jewellery. The description of the car was given, along with an index. The index was incorrect. It was likely to be on false plates. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I arrived at the address of the burglary. It was only four streets from the Jewellers. '99 was above me now.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again. No answer. I shouted through the letter box. When I opened it, at 300 decibels came Michael Jackson's Billie Jean. This could take a minute.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I got in eventually. I left about twenty minutes later with fingerprint lifts.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I pre-empted the request for CSI from responding officers and called up.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Control from CSI Guy, over"</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Go ahead CSI Guy"</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"ETA for 123 Mytown Jewellers, four minutes, over"</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Appreciated CSI Guy, we were about to call you"</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">You've got to keep the control room happy. The bobbies amongst you will understand that one.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I drove down the road approaching a police van with lights flashing, blocking the road. It took me a minute to wait for the other road users to perform three point turns and go back the way they came.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have a laminated A4 card for the dashboard which has the force crest and Crime Scene Investigation on it. It helps when I park up at scenes in odd places, then all the tape and police cars move and my van looks odd. I took it from the glovebox and put it on the dash.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I drove towards the female officer stood in the road, my window down and waved at her. She shook her head and arms frantically. "You can't come in here sir......oh, sorry, I thought, uh, sorry..."</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Makes me laugh everytime.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I could see the Jewellers. The front door was a mess. Glass everywhere. A Sergeant and a PC (who I'd met before) were stood outside with a scene log.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I drove the short distance from the road block to the Jewellers. As I drove down the road, other shopkeepers were stood in their doorways watching, watching everything. I could feel them looking at me and my van. It wasn't clear who I was. Why was <em>I</em> allowed through the block?</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I got my kit, camera and my 'spare kit' bag and made my way over to them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The Sarge gave me the run down. The PC told me that he'd been first on scene, he got the owners out and no one had been near it since. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I love it when that happens.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The immediate area outside the Jewellers was taped off, using parked cars as points to tie the tape to.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I set my case down behind one of the cars, inside the cordon. I needed to take photos, but I didn't want any of my kit in the shots.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I walked back out of the cordon, I took a photo up and down the street looking back at the Jewellers. I took a photo square on to the shop front, ensuring I wasn't in the reflection of the glass. I took a close up shot of the door that had been forced and made my way inside.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I wore footwear protectors to ensure that I didn't contaminate any footwear impressions I would later recover. It helps to be wary of where you step, however, I <em>had</em> to step somewhere. We have stepping plates which allow us to move through a scene without our footwear touching the surface any offender's footwear may have. I didn't require them in this case, as long as I was careful.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The inside of the shop was pretty small. It was hot. I was glad I only had my t-shirt on. I could feel the heat warming me up rapidly. I saw a fan and a stand alone air conditioning unit. The problem was, they were already on. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It was nice to get inside, shut the door and listen. Listen to the silence. There was so much going on outside. People were gathering on the pavement opposite the Jewellers. Now they were watching me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I took a minute just to stand and look around. It helps me massively to look and plan in my head how I will process the scene. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Enough planning.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The glass cabinets had been smashed to pieces. There was broken glass everywhere. There were pieces of jewellery on the floor, mixed with glass. I'm not fond of jewellery. Probably because I don't understand it's value. Like flowers, I guess.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">A whole pane of glass had come from the inner door when it was forced, and lay on the floor, complete but shattered. I powdered this, and it was covered in footwear impressions.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The footwear impressions are recovered using a black gelatin lifter. Its placed on top of the powdered (or unpowdered) impression and lifted and secured. It produces a replica of what can be seen on the treated surface.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Each footwear impression is recovered in turn, labelled and sealed into a tamper evident bag. All exhibits are written up and sealed at the scene.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's not somewhere you'd normally find footwear impressions. Good find. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I recovered a bag left by the offenders. They had brought a number of bags with them, in order to carry the jewellery. The bag was probably purchased just for this job. It looked brand new.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I recovered a number of fingerprint lifts too.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">When the offenders forced the door, they used a tool of some sort. The victims hadn't seen what this was. I was curious. The PC suggested the head of a sledge hammer, but I wasn't convinced. The shape seemed too clean and conforming. I took a gel lift of the impression it left.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I tidied up a little as I worked through the scene. I stacked jewellery I collected from the floor onto a unit. I placed larger pieces of glass into a pile also. I think it helps the victim clean up later if I make an effort as I go.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">CID arrived. I was perched, powdering items on the floor. I could see them in the corner of my eye, I wanted to finish what I was doing before I got up and went back outside to talk to them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I could do with stepping outside to get out of the heat.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I spoke to the DC. She was pleasant. I hadn't met her before. She explained what she knew, which was he same as the Sarge had told me. I told her what I had found so far. I went back inside a little cooler.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I was at the scene for around two hours. Once I had left, the cordon could be removed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I still had the list of jobs I started the shift with. They still had to be completed. The robbery took up a fair stretch of my shift. I'd have to work my backside off to get the rest of the jobs done. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I did a couple more burglaries and then had to photograph the scene of an alledged rape.</span></span>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585247910289815000.post-63604837086056066562010-07-08T12:57:00.015+01:002010-07-15T15:26:30.402+01:00Fire Investigation<span style="font-size:130%;">I want to ensure that we are all on the same page here. Let me break it down James Brown style.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Places, People, Names and other specific information is deliberately made anonymous here to protect those very things. Some details are altered slightly to ensure that my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">anonymity</span> and others' remains in place. This <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">blog's</span> purpose is to share my experiences and training for those who are interested. I will not use this blog as a platform for abuse of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Establishment</span> or to reveal details of incidents that have occurred where I work.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Righty</span> oh. We've cleared that up, so lets talk business.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I was lucky enough recently to undergo some further training. I spent a day at a Fire Training Centre. The aim of the day was to put into practise the theory we had learnt on the days before our practical. There were nine of us on the course. It was a scorching hot day and we travelled about an hour or so, behind a tractor, to the centre.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We were split into two groups, one of four and one of five. I was with the group of five. </span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I had only met one of the other <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSIs</span> previously. The centre was a fair size. It was home to the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">administration</span> headquarters for the local fire service. There was a distinct smell of charred metal containers. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">As we rounded the corner, there were ten or so firefighters stood in a semi circle, there appeared to be an instructor in the centre who was talking to them. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">We were invited to watch the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">demonstration</span> of a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">back draft</span>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">In simple terms, this is a situation that can occur when a fire is starved of oxygen but the gases and fuel within the fire remain at a very high temperature. When <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">oxygen</span> is reintroduced, say by the opening of a door or smashing of a window, then combustion will restart. This normally occurs with an explosive effect, flames and smoke can often be seen to exit the room or house through the door or window, rapidly.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">See this <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Youtube</span> </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kM7pRyEJqes"><span style="font-size:130%;">video</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> for a visual demonstration</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">We watched the demonstration and we all stank of smoke.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">We split off into our groups and were given our scenarios.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">There</span> had been a report that some masked offenders had stolen a car, a Volvo estate, colour green. They had used it as a getaway vehicle after an armed robbery at a local premises. The vehicle was then reported to be alight and the fire service have attended and extinguished the fire.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I was in a group with four <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> Girls, lucky me. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">The car had been placed by a fork lift truck in a small area for us to work on it.</span></p><span style="font-size:130%;">We found out afterwards that a small amount of white spirits had been used to accelerate the fire on the front seat. Items were placed in the vehicle so that we could recover them and observe how they were preserved.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">It was my task to take the photographs of the vehicle and any exhibits we found during the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">excavation</span>. I love photography, I have a real passion it for it. I was pleased that I had this opportunity.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We learnt during the theory input that burnt cars present a very real health and safety risk. Some forces have decided that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSIs</span> will not examine vehicles due to the risk involved. The mix of plastics, metals and other components provide a risky cocktail for the examiner. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">Fluoroelastomers</span> being one of the main risks which produce hydrofluoric acid when subjected to fire.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I have however read a </span><a href="http://www.emergency.qld.gov.au/chem/publications/pdf/vitoninf6.pdf"><span style="font-size:130%;">report </span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">that suggests the risk from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error">Fluoroelastomers</span> and the subsequent hydrogen <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">fluoride</span> gas (which condenses to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">hydrofluoric</span> acid) is minimal in motor vehicles. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We all suited up in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tyvek</span> white suits. It was a scorching hot day. I wore normal rubber gloves to keep my hands and ultimately my camera clean. The <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> Girls wore thicker protective gloves.<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I took photographs of the vehicle from each corner, using a 18-35mm lens. Photographs are taken to ensure that a true and accurate record is made of the vehicle before we disturb the scene.<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Once I photographed each corner, ensuring that the registration was captured in each, I took a photograph from an elevated position to capture the roof. The roof had suffered a lot of fire damage, the sun roof had acted as a chimney and the glass had all but gone.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I then photographed in each door starting at the driver's door (front offside) and worked my way around. Photographing into a car can be problematic with the flashgun on the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error">hotshoe</span> as the flash usually casts shadows into the vehicle where the light catches the door frame. I took the flashgun off the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error">hotshoe</span> and used a cable. I could then position the flashgun in a suitable place to illuminate the interior sufficiently.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I took my gloves off, they were dripping with sweat. I could feel that my legs were wet with sweat also. Not cool. I made sure I drank lots of water. I hate drinking water, it's such a boring drink!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">There was a distinct smell of charred items. The car's insides were black. This was a result of the interior burning and the deposition of soot from the fire and smoke.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Most of the windows were broken. We learnt how to tell if the window was broken before or during the fire. When firefighters extinguish a fire, water from their hoses cause the glass to cool rapidly and this can cause the glass to break, this is known as thermal shock. The glass looks like bubble wrap. When it breaks, the edges are smoother than a normal broken window.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Once the photos were taken of the vehicle as we found it, we began to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">excavate</span> the debris. We used an assortment of tools. Most of the evidence was likely to be under the first layer of debris, as this top layer is likely to be bits that have fallen during the fire, parts of the roof, glass and fabric etc.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">All of the material that was taken from the vehicle was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">transferred</span> into a large bucket. This needed to be double checked, we had to ensure there were no items of evidential value within the debris. The debris was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">sieved</span> into another bucket and a magnetic wand was also used to detect any items of importance.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Each of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> girls took a door each and began hacking away. With care, of course.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">There were a number of items in the vehicle in various places and the practical assessment was aimed at us recovering all of the items. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">On the back bench seat was a DVD player. The outer casing had melted and it was black. I turned it over and the underside was as it was when new. I was surprised. I could see the serial number and the model numbers on a sticker. I photographed the sticker using my macro lens.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I love my macro lens.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The front seats were reduced to the frames. You could see the springs where the cushions would normally be. The back seat was charred but generally had remained intact.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I swapped with one <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-error">CSI</span> Girl and started <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">excavating</span> the driver's seat and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">foot well</span>. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I was convinced that we were going to find a firearm within the vehicle and looked everywhere.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">When I was digging the debris from under the seat, I found a set of Volvo keys. The leather fob was in pristine condition. This was surprising as everything around it was burnt to a crisp. The way in which the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" class="blsp-spelling-error">bunch</span> of keys were placed, protected the fob. It was covered in a dark yellow sticky substance, a product of the burnt interior I expect.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I soldiered on and used a very large knife to cut the carpet from the vehicle. The rubber floor mat had protected the floor very well. When I cut the carpet, I found what appeared to be a shotgun cartridge. It was surrounded by melted debris. I couldn't <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">separate</span> it from the debris but could very clearly see the bottom. I used my macro lens to photograph the base. The firing pin mark was clearly visible.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We worked on the vehicle for just over an hour and a half. We managed to recover <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_31" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">cigarette</span> ends (fully preserved!) keys, a bottle of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_32" class="blsp-spelling-error">accelerant</span>, a DVD player, a Coke can, a spoon and a magazine which had preserved a CD within it. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We didn't find a firearm.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The car was in a bad way when we got hold of it and to say it was any better when we finished would be a lie. It was cleaner though. All of the debris had been stripped right out. Wind the clock back a few thousand miles and give it a polish and it'd be on the second hand car dealership forecourt in minutes for £975 with a free tank of petrol.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">My force policy is not to examine vehicles that have been burnt out unless they are involved in a serious or major crime. I understand the reasoning behind it. I did however, enjoy ripping that poor little Volvo to pieces and collecting evidence.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">It must be a guy thing, breaking and destroying things. I loved it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">If fingerprints were a requirement of the interior, then there is also a chemical treatment that allows soot to be removed from surfaces to allow for fingerprinting. Some of the items we recovered may have been subject to this once they reached the lab.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We had to package an item each, which had been recovered from the vehicle. The general rule is to package anything from a fire scene into nylon bags as any accelerant or fluid will not seep through the nylon as they would in a normal plastic bag. There is a method of securing the opening of the bag, known as a swan neck, which prevents leakage also.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We had a debrief and completed another exercise. We had lunch on the local fire service which was delicious and we headed back to watch the football.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Its been really busy at work recently. We have had a large number of major incidents and everyone has been rushed off their feet dealing with them. Its nice to work with a team that really pull together when the workload increases. I'm lucky to be where I am.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I would like to take the opportunity to wish PC David <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_33" class="blsp-spelling-error">Rathband</span> well and let him know that Police Officers and Staff across the country are thinking of him. Good luck.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Until next time.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">CSI Guy</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>CSI Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04551204621800769222noreply@blogger.com0