Guest Post: Putting faces on the dead – in fact and in fiction

Over the last few weeks, we’ve been focusing on the University of Tennessee’s Body Farm – how it was conceived and some of the research that’s been done there. Today we have a guest post by Jon Jefferson – the “Jefferson” half of the crime-fiction duo Jefferson Bass. Working in collaboration with Dr. Bill Bass, the forensic anthropologist who founded the Body Farm, Jon writes the bestselling series of Body Farm novels. The latest—The Inquisitor’s Key—comes out May 8.

Take it away, Jon…

One of the hallmarks of the Body Farm novels is that the fiction incorporates realistic and detailed forensic techniques. The new book, The Inquisitor’s Key, is no exception. One of the techniques that’s used is radiocarbon dating—also called carbon-14 dating, or C-14 dating. In the book, our heroes, Dr. Bill Brockton and his assistant Miranda Lovelady, use C-14 dating to determine the age of an ancient skeleton that’s found hidden in the Palace of the Popes in Avignon, France. C-14 dating works by counting the isotopes, or atomic variations, of carbon within a sample, then comparing the sample’s carbon ratio to the ever-changing ratio in earth’s atmosphere during the past 10,000 years (a ratio whose changes have been recorded in tree rings – how cool is that?!). Think of C-14 dating, then, as atomic fingerprint-matching or handwriting analysis: match the sample’s fingerprint, or signature, to the atmosphere’s at a specific point in the past and presto, you’ve found the age of the sample.

Another technique that comes into play in The Inquisitor’s Key is forensic facial reconstruction: an artist’s recreation—in clay or on computer—of the face that once existed atop the foundation of an unknown skull. In real life, Dr. Bill Bass and I once used that technique in a particularly puzzling case. A skeleton found in the woods in East Tennessee in 1979 had been tentatively identified by a medical examiner as that of Leoma Patterson, a woman who’d gone missing from a neighboring county five months earlier. That was back in the days before DNA testing, mind you, and the missing woman had no dental records to compare with the skeleton’s teeth. As a result, the identification wasn’t definitive, and some of the family doubted it. Eventually, they asked Dr. Bass to exhume the body and obtain a DNA sample, so they could be sure. He did, and the sample came back negative: according to the DNA lab, the body in the grave was not that of Leoma Patterson. That raised an interesting question: If it wasn’t Leoma, who was it? In an effort to find out, Dr. Bass and I commissioned Joanna Hughes, a talented forensic artist, to do a facial reconstruction on the skull. She did, and—to our astonishment—the clay face Joanna created bore a striking resemblance to the best photo we had of Leoma Patterson. Was it possible that the DNA lab had erred, and that the skull really was Leoma’s? To learn about this case, check out our nonfiction book, Beyond the Body Farm.

          But I digress. Here’s an excerpt from The Inquisitor’s Key—a passage where Dr. Brockton recruits a forensic artist to do a facial reconstruction on the ancient Avignon skull (actually, on a scan of the skull, taken by a French x-ray tech, Giselle). By the way, the forensic artist in the following passage, Joe Mullins, isn’t just a fictional character; he’s actually a real-life forensic artist, doing the great work attributed to him in the excerpt. Thanks, Joe, for agreeing to a cameo in the novel!

          Joe Mullins was three thousand miles to the west of France, but ten minutes after Giselle scanned the skull in Avignon, Joe was looking at it in Alexandria, Virginia.

Joe was a forensic artist at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, a mouthful of a name that he mercifully shortened to the acronym NCMEC, pronounced “NICK-meck.” After a traditional fine arts training in painting and drawing, Joe had taken an unusual detour. He’d traded in his paintbrushes and palette knives for a computer and a 3-D digitizing probe; he’d forsaken blank canvases for bare skulls—unknown skulls on which he sculpted faces in virtual clay. By restoring faces to skulls, Joe could help police and citizens identify unknown crime victims.

          Joe wasn’t looking at the actual skull, of course. After the CT scan, Giselle and Miranda had uploaded a massive file containing the 3-D image of the skull and sent it to a file-sharing Web site—a cyberspace crossroads, of sorts—called Dropbox. Joe had then gone to Dropbox and downloaded the file, and, as the French would say, voilà.

          The case clearly didn’t involve a missing or exploited child, so Joe couldn’t do the reconstruction on NCMEC time. But he was willing to do it as a moonlight gig, a side job, and when I’d first e-mailed to ask if he’d be able to do it—and do it fast—he’d promised that if we got the scan to him by Friday afternoon, he’d have it waiting for us first thing Monday.

          My phone warbled. “Hey, Doc, I’ve got him up on my screen,” Joe said. “What can you tell me about this guy?”

“Not much, Joe.” I didn’t want to muddy the water by telling him what the ossuary inscription claimed. “Adult male; maybe in his fifties or sixties. Could be European but might be Middle Eastern.”

“Geez, Doc, that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Hey, I didn’t include African or Asian or Native American,” I said. “Give me at least a little credit.”

“Okay, I give you a little credit. Very, very little.”

“You sound just like Miranda, my assistant. Way too uppity.”

He laughed. “This Miranda, she sounds pretty smart. She single, by any chance?”

Sheesh, I thought. “Take a number,” I said.

For another sneak peek of The Inquisitor’s Key, grab 34 seconds worth of popcorn and watch the video trailer:

Also, you may now download the 99 cent e-story prequel to The Inquisitor’s Key entitled Madonna & Corpse, which came out today! Read an excerpt of Madonna and Corpse on Jon Jefferson's blog.

Jon Jefferson (left) and Dr. Bill Bass at the gate of the Body Farm.(Photo by Erik Bledsoe)

For more on Jefferson Bass, find them on Facebook, join them at the blog, and follow along at Twitter.

Pre-order The Inquisitor’s Key:

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Forensics 101: The Body Farm

A research subject at The Body Farm (via Jefferson Bass)

Last week’s blog featured the case of Colonel William Shy and how a miscalculation of the age of the remains led Dr. Bill Bass to conclude that the scientific community simply didn’t know enough about human decomposition. Dr. Bass knew exactly what was needed – an outdoorlaboratory where the process of decomposition was allowed proceed uninterrupted under a variety of conditions while being scientifically observed and documented – but nothing like that existed at the time. He was fully aware of the biggest stumbling block: although he knew that any donated body would be treated with the utmost respect, by today’s standards such an experiment could appear gruesome and disrespectful to the dead. But Dr. Bass’ desire was clear: 'Anytime a real-life murder victim was found, under virtually any circumstance or at any stage of decomposition, he wanted to be able to tell police – with scientific certainty – when that person was killed.'1

Luckily, the Chancellor of the University of Tennessee was an open-minded man who could see the benefits of the research proposed by Dr. Bass, so he offered an acre of forested land behind the Medical Center. Dr. Bass jumped at the opportunity, and, in May of 1981, the University of Tennessee Forensic Anthropology Research Facility, quickly nicknamed The Body Farm, opened with its very first research subject.

The Body Farm blazed trails in forensic science, starting with documenting the most basic traits of decomposition before branching out into more complicated forensic experiments. Among their discoveries are:

• Decomposition rates – They determined that the sequence of decomposition doesn’t vary, but the timing can. A mathematical formula was derived to determine decomposition rates based on accumulated degree days allowing the accurate calculation of time since death.

• Differential decomposition – Armed with the knowledge of how decomposition normally progresses, a particular part of a corpse decomposing too quickly tells scientists that an additional variable is at play at that location (ie. trauma), even if no trace of it still remains.

• Decomposition variables – A multitude of studies were conducted to determine how different conditions affect decomposition – sunlight vs. shade, inside a building vs. outside, shallow vs. deep burial, submerged vs. surface burials, clothed body vs. naked etc.

• Forensic entomology – Some of the first research at The Body Farm involved pioneering studies of grave insects – which bugs were found on a corpse, and when. This data and knowledge of an individual inspect species’ life cycle can provide a separate method of calculating time since death.

• Burials – Many studies have been carried out to determine the characteristics of decomposition of a buried corpse. They found that, on average, decomposition progresses at approximately 1/8 the speed of a body that remained on the surface.

• Adipocere vs. mummification – Studies were conducted to determine what different conditions would lead to the very different results of either grave wax accumulating on the body or rapid drying leading to mummification.

• Chemical analysis of soil samples – Body Farm researchers discovered that certain biochemicals are produced in a predictable manner during the different stages of decomposition. By analyzing soil under an actively decomposing corpse, the time since death could be accurately determined.

Based on this and other research projects, the study of forensic science has progressed in leaps and bounds, providing criminal investigators with much more information concerning the fate of the victim. This, in turn, has lead to a higher conviction rate in murder cases.

Next week, we’re pleased to host Jefferson Bass, the writing partnership of Dr. Bill Bass and Jon Jefferson, as they highlight their newest ‘Body Farm’ novel, The Inquisitor’s Key. We hope you’ll stop by as they share a forensic-related excerpt from their novel as well as their new book trailer. See you then!

1Death’s Acre—Inside the Legendary Forensics Lab, The Body Farm, Where the Dead Do Tell Tales by Dr. Bill Bass and Jon Jefferson. G.P. Putnam’s Sons, New York, 2003.

Photo credit: Jefferson Bass

Forensic Case Files: The Strange Case of Colonel William Shy

Colonel William Shy, killed at the Battle of Nashville, Dec. 16, 1864.

The whole affair started as an exercise in grave robbing.

In late December 1977, forensic anthropologist Dr. Bill Bass was called in to consult when the disturbed grave of Confederate officer Lieutenant Colonel William Shy was discovered. The grave was dug down three or four feet, but, most shockingly, there was a headless body in a sitting position on top of the antiquated cast-iron coffin, dressed in what appeared to be a tuxedo jacket.

In his role as Tennessee’s forensic anthropologist, Dr. Bass did an initial examination of the body on site. It was in an advanced state of decay and partially disarticulated, but some of the remaining flesh was still pink and many of the joints were still intact. He collected the remains, recovering everything but the head, feet and one hand, which was not unexpected in an outdoor burial where animal scavenging is common.

However, when the remains were removed from the grave, the team working the investigation found a large hole in the top of the coffin, approximately one-foot by two-feet in diameter, made by the grave robbers with a pick axe or a shovel. Hanging upside down over the pit and using a flashlight, Dr. Bass peered into the hole and found precisely what he expected in an 1864 burial – nothing. From other Civil War era burials in the area, he knew that more than 100 years in Tennessee’s damp conditions would break down a corpse completely, even the bones, leaving nothing but the layer of goo he found inside Colonel Shy’s coffin.

After cleaning and examining the bones, Dr. Bass concluded that the extra body in the grave was that of a male in his mid-to-late twenties who originally stood between five-foot-nine and six feet tall. There was no obvious indication of what had killed the man, but he estimated the time since death to be between two and six months. As to his presence in another man’s grave, the team postulated that the grave robbers had opened the grave to remove any valuable grave goods they could find, and were in the process of secreting a body when they were interrupted and fled.

And then some strange facts started to surface.

In the new year, when the local sheriff’s deputy and the coroner went back to excavate the grave further, they found the skull inside the coffin. It appeared that the grave robbers had been interrupted in attempting to stuff the victim into the coffin, dislodging the head. The cause of death was no longer a mystery – huge gunshot entry and exit wounds had shattered the skull into seventeen pieces. But, curiously, the dead man had clearly never been to a dentist and had significant, untreated cavities.

When the state crime lab examined the clothes, they found that they were simply made from only natural fibers and were completely without labels. The pants were also an odd style, lacing up the sides. A technician called Dr. Bass, expressing some concern about the items, but the scientist was already one step ahead.

He wasn’t sure how it could be, but he was beginning to suspect that the body in the grave hadn’t been added by the grave robbers, but instead was Colonel Shy’s disturbed body, having lost his head after being pulled from the coffin. It was a known fact that Colonel Shy, 26 at the time of his death, was killed when he was shot at point blank range with a .58 caliber ball. The remains being those of Colonel Shy would explain the lack of modern dental work as well as the clothing artifacts, but how could a body that appeared to be less than a year dead be that of a fallen war hero, nearly 113 years in the grave?

In retrospect, the reasons were quite clear. Although, it was a rarity at the time, Colonel Shy’s body had been embalmed as befitting a man of his wealth and social status, and had been buried in his best suit, the same suit he is seen wearing in the portrait above. Also, the coffin was made of cast iron, and was so sturdy that it not only kept all moisture from the body, but it also kept out the insect life and oxygen that would have rapidly progressed the decomposition process.

The miscalculation was a watershed moment in Dr. Bass’ career. He’d been a forensic scientist for over twenty years at that point, but neither he nor anyone else in the field knew enough about human decomposition to accurately estimate time since death. He made the decision then and there to address that lack of knowledge.

In 1981, Dr. Bass opened the University of Tennessee’s Anthropology Research Facility (more commonly known as the Body Farm) and the world of forensic science was irrevocably changed for the better. Next week, we’re going to delve deeper into the Body Farm and how it’s been a crucial part of forensics and crime solving from the moment it took in its very first research subject.

The Importance of Perspective

We finished the first draft of A Flame in the Wind of Death last week. So is it really done? Should my critique team expect it this week and start sharpening their red pens?

No. (Sorry, critique team!)

I think one of the most important lessons I learned from writing Dead, Without a Stone to Tell It is the importance of perspective. When we’re drafting, we get close enough to our work that we’re nearly a part of the story. This is actually an important aspect of writing a first draft – that intense intimacy with our story helps bring it to life. But when we’re that intimate with it, we’re actually too close to look at our work with a critical eye.

A little separation is actually a good thing. To create a really polished draft, you need to stop looking at your manuscript as its creator and start looking at it from a reader’s perspective. The easiest way to accomplish this is to simply disconnect from your creation for a period of time, preferably up to several weeks, if not more. And it’s amazing what you find when you come back to it. Suddenly, your precious baby, which four weeks earlier could do no wrong, is a holy terror: Plot errors (you could drive a truck through that plot hole!), character motive missteps (why on earth would he/she ever do that??) and over-exposition (Jen, you’re the only one who cares about the fracture speed of wet vs. dry bone under different conditions; concentrate on the story!) just to name a few. Each individual writer will have their own typical issues.

So, for now, Flame has gone into the virtual drawer. And I fully expect to find these and other issues when I come back to it, and that’s okay. This is why first drafts exist – to get the story down; polishing comes later. Now, with that in mind, I did purposely overwrite some of the manuscript, especially the scientific sections. It’s always easier to remove information later than to have to do the research all over again to add in more science fact, so that was a practical choice. I know that some of it will need to be cut. And in keeping with Stephen King’s sage advice that ‘Second draft = first draft – 10%’, I’ve got room to trim.

I’m very happy with how our first draft of the manuscript turned out. The mystery is solid and has some very interesting aspects, the relationship between the main characters develops nicely and a new, continuing subplot is introduced. But I’m looking forward to the chance to make it even tighter and sharper with a little time and distance, and another run at the storyline as a whole.

For those of you who write, do you find this breathing space with your manuscript to be important?

Photo credit: hpaich