A Matter of Life and Death. Sue Armstrong
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Название: A Matter of Life and Death
Автор: Sue Armstrong
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Биология
isbn: 9781847679055
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Depends on the situation. If we’re working on a deployment for DVI, we will be part of a team. If it’s a case where the police bring in a bone to you, then you’re on your own, because basically they’ve decided that pathologists can’t do anything; they can’t get any DNA out of it. And so it’s all about trying to establish biological identity.
For example, we had a case in Scotland where a middle-aged woman went missing, and her husband’s plea was that she’d gone down south to support a friend who had marital difficulties. But the trouble was that this woman, every night of her life, had phoned her elderly parents at the same time, and she’d stopped doing it at that point. That change in behaviour is an indication that something’s wrong. So the ‘scene of crimes’ people went to the house; they found some blood in the bathroom; they found a chipped piece of her tooth in the U-bend of the bath. But that doesn’t mean she’s dead. She could have gone into the bathroom, tripped, cracked her chin on the bath … But they found her blood on the door of the washing machine, and in the filter they found a tiny fragment of bone no bigger than about 10mm long, maybe 4 or 5mm wide. And that’s all they had. DNA showed it was this missing person. But the question was: which part of her is it? Because if it’s a bit of her finger she could still be alive, but if it’s something more critical, then we’re in a different story.
We could identify that that tiny fragment came from the left greater wing of the sphenoid bone, which is around your temple. That’s the only place in the whole body that fragment could come from. So then you can confront her husband and say, ‘This is a bit of her skull, and it’s found in the washing machine … We need an answer.’ He changed his plea. He said that they’d had an argument, she’d run out the back door, tripped on the top step, cracked her head on the patio and died. He stated that he’d picked her up, which is how her blood and bone got on his clothing, put her in the bath, which is how her blood and her tooth got in the bath, wrapped her in plastic and dropped her body in the local river. We’ve never found the rest of her body. All we’ve ever had of this missing person is this tiny fragment of bone.
And was there a conviction?
Absolutely. The pathologist’s testimony in court stated that it couldn’t have been a single blow because the bone fragment was dislodged on to his clothing, and when he put his clothes into the washing machine, that’s how the bone got into the filter. He was convicted of manslaughter. So we’ve no idea, when we get a tiny fragment of bone – it may go absolutely nowhere, but it may lead to a conviction for manslaughter.
When you started in this field, were there people with this kind of experience who could teach you, or have you pushed at the boundaries of knowledge as you’ve gone along?
A bit of both. There’s always been a very good relationship between anatomy and forensic matters, but it was never a formal relationship. My PhD supervisor was interested in bone, so that was useful. And she was an exceptionally good anatomist, so we kind of learnt together and tried to keep up with the latest developments. Then when I moved to St Thomas’ Louise Scheuer was there, who’s also an exceptionally gifted anatomist who was interested in bone. So I always had strong women around who had the kind of information I could ‘feed off’ and develop. But there was no formal training; you couldn’t do a degree in forensic anthropology in the UK.
Things really changed around the end of the 1990s, when suddenly forensics became sexy and you had forensic courses being set up in universities across the country. Suddenly people were becoming teachers in forensic anthropology, who’d never done a case in their lives and who were learning it one step ahead in the textbook. I have some sympathy with that because in the early stages I wasn’t that much different. But within the last 10 to 15 years there has been a huge change in the professionalism of the discipline. And, of course, international and national judicial scrutiny is such that we have to know what we’re doing – we can’t play at it any more.
So did you actually set out to become a forensic anthropologist?
In my heart of hearts, I’m an anatomist. But the work just kept coming, and the big turning point for me was Kosovo. At that time I was working with Peter Vanezis, the forensic pathologist in Glasgow, and Peter was deployed with the British forensic team to Kosovo in 1999, very shortly after the Serbs retreated. He found himself faced with a crime scene that was an outhouse with 42 co-mingled bodies very badly decomposed: partly buried, partly burnt and partly gnawed by dogs. He said, ‘I don’t know how to do this, but I know somebody who does.’ So at that point forensic anthropology became a subject within UK deployment.
And you were the first person to do it?
Yup … I went out to Kosovo about a week after the main team, and it was just, you know, ‘How the heck do you do this?’
Had you ever had anything like that?
No, no. It had always been one or two little fragments at a time – a house fire, that sort of thing. But I was working alongside the Anti-Terrorist Branch, SO13, at the time, and these are hugely experienced officers. And with Peter Vanezis, who’s a very experienced pathologist, we got through it all together, and sort of learnt it stage by stage. And Britain is very firmly entrenched within its forensic credentials, so absolutely everything was done to an evidential standard we knew would stand up to scrutiny.
Before we explore Kosovo further, I want to hear a bit about your early life. I understand your grandmother was particularly important …
That was my father’s mother, and I spent a lot of time with her. She was one of these amazing ladies who could interact with a four-year-old as easily as she could with an 18-or 50-year-old. And she always had time, which I think is the most important thing any grandparent can have, because your own parents are so busy. She was the most adorable woman, she really was. She died when I was 15. She knew she was dying of lung cancer because she’d smoked a horrendous number of cigarettes throughout her life. She told me she was going to die, and I remember being very upset. But she did what is probably one of the cruellest things you can do: she said, ‘But I’ll never leave you! For the rest of your life I’ll be sitting on your left shoulder to keep the devil away, and any time you need advice, you’ve just got to listen and you’ll know what’s the right thing to do.’ [laughing]
And has she been there?
Oh, it’s the bane of my life! There are so many times I’ve wanted to do something, and I find myself turning my head [looking at her shoulder] and thinking, ‘No, she wouldn’t be proud of me if I did that.’ And I know that when the time comes, I’ll actually have to face her, so I’ve got to get it right. What an awful burden to give your grandchildren! But she was a wise, pithy old lady and there was a huge hole when she died. She’s seen me through all sorts of things, you know.There have been some horrendously difficult times, but she’s still there – 35 years later.
As a woman doing science, have you ever found yourself at a disadvantage?
Never. Any time that I’ve worked with the police … In Kosovo, for example – you’re out there with a team of 18 men; you’re the only woman; there’s no toilet, so when you want a pee 18 men all have to look away. Never once has any one of them made me feel uncomfortable because I’m female. They are, in many ways, more protective.
One of the most disruptive things you can do for policemen is to have a young, blonde, available female on the team. You need a mother figure. They respect you for that, and they’ll protect you.
So you’ve found that role has fallen to you? СКАЧАТЬ