Forensic Anthropology: Inside the Classroom and the Lab

The secrets of a Forensic Anthropology lab wait quietly, tucked away in long boxes, carefully numbered, upon sturdy shelves. Today I invite you into one such lab to discover some of these secrets. I've previously written about techniques forensic scientists use to unveil the secrets of the dead and solve crimes. This article will be different. Today, instead of focusing on techniques, I invite you on a more personal journey-- a journey down a side road for a glimpse at some of my experiences in forensic science.

In the beginning

Like all too many people, I grew up under the shadow of a serial killer. I won't go more into the details of that right now as that is its own long story. What matters for the purpose of this article is the influence this had on me. At a time when my most serious concern should have been what I'd be served for dinner that evening, my young mind, instead, focused a lot on how to protect myself and the people I loved. Many serious questions were planted in my mind early on: Why do these killers exist? And, what can society do about them?

These questions were among the reasons I found myself many years later, sitting in a forensic anthropology course, surrounded by future homicide investigators and FBI agents. It was the mid 1990's. The professor teaching the course is one of the best in the nation, and I felt very lucky to be there. I also felt very comfortable there because I was in the presence of people who understood that my interest in forensic science is not "weird" or "creepy."

Of course, that doesn't mean that all people who are interested in forensic science are interested for legitimate, law-abiding reasons.

I remember, clearly, something the professor said during the first couple of weeks of the course. This is not verbatim, naturally, but captures the gist:

"Each time I do this course, I wonder why each individual student is taking it. I know, of course, that some of you are going into law enforcement and hope to become homicide detectives ...but others...," he paused and gazed around the classroom. "This class can draw others who are interested for much different reasons. One of you could be a serial killer."

Some of the students grinned and perhaps thought he was being melodramatic. I had a feeling he was quite serious and I glanced around, as casually as possible. I realized the professor certainly knew what I knew-- that, indeed, a particular serial killer was believed to have a connection with the University.

Everyone else glanced around the room at each other. The seriousness of the course had hit home again in that moment.

Reactions to forensic science

Most people involved in forensic science are involved for legitimate law-abiding reasons; nevertheless, some people still find the work creepy. I've gotten many kinds of reactions when I discuss forensic anthropology. Thanks in large part to popular television shows and to certain fiction authors, most people now have greater respect for forensic science. It isn't simply considered strange and morbid. But there are still some people who look askance when the subject is brought up.

Their reaction is understandable. Death, especially violent death, is not something most people enjoy thinking about. But the purpose of forensic science is to improve life by understanding death and by uncovering clues that will lead to the apprehension of violent offenders. For this reason, I consider this field to be among the most noble of professions.

The forensic scientist helps give the dead a voice. A forensic scientist's satisfaction does not come from the gruesome for the sake of the gruesome. The forensic scientist's satisfaction comes from solving a piece of a puzzle. Who was this person and how did this individual die? What forensic science deals with is morbid in a traditional Latin sense of the word, in that it deals with death and disease, but not in the other meaning of the word morbid--an unhealthy preoccupation with death and the gruesome. This is an important distinction.

Violent Crimes and Evidence On Bones

He held up a skull so that we could all see a wedge shaped indentation in the occipital region.

"Does anyone have an idea, off hand, what kind of weapon caused this injury?"

We all looked at it more closely. No one had an answer. He left us hanging, to think about it, told us he'd let us know later and he went on with a lecture. He had placed the skull on a stand not far from me and I found myself gazing at it off and on. I tried hard to think of a blunt weapon that could cause that shape.

Towards the end of class he told us.

"Golf club," he said. "The gentleman was hit from behind with a golf club."

I felt irritated at myself that I hadn't thought of it. He showed us the indented fracture again and outlined it with his finger. "See this shape here?" It made sense then. We could picture it. He went on to describe the different tell-tale signs some blunt force weapons leave on bones. Later we would also learn about bullet wounds and knife wounds-including ways to differentiate knife wounds from scavenger marks.

Alone in the lab

We are assigned lab partners but we are also allowed to go alone.

I stand in the lab, a box full of bones in front of me on the table. This is my new assignment. This time it is a bit different. This time, along with the skeletal remains, is a set of dentures. Before I carefully lay each bone out on the table, I stare into the box at the dentures. Odd how things like dentures remind me so starkly that this was once a living breathing person.

With extra care, I begin to assemble the remains, placing each bone gently on the table.

In an earlier course--Biological Anthropology--I had handled bones (and, more frequently, casts of bones). Dealing with the older bones, the finds from hundreds of years ago, is somehow different. There is the distance of time, I suppose, and that makes it easier somehow. This feeling of distance doesn't mean they are treated with less reverence and care, but it is easier to keep clinical distance. A contemporary set of remains seems to invokes a much stronger feeling.

Who were you? What happened? How did you end up here, like this? Those questions are in the back of my mind each time I visit any of the sets of remains I am assigned to. I find the numbered box and place it on the table. I was a bit surprised at first to discover that this is what all those narrow, oblong boxes held. I don't know what I was thinking. I am not sure in what kind of container I thought the bones should be resting.

The boxes containing remains are carefully labeled, numbered and have their own spot on the shelves in the secure lab. Some of the remains are from the medical college--the bones from donated bodies that have been carefully cleaned of flesh (and given to the lab after the medical students have finished their studies of them). Those bones are usually white or pale yellow and they are sometimes still moist with formalin and lipids.

Other boxes contain unidentified persons. Many of these display very obvious injuries such as bullet wounds to the skull or blunt force trauma. Other injuries are often present but less obvious.

Some bones are old. Some are brittle. Several boxes may contain only bone fragments.

One assigned to me contained the charred fragments of a homicide victim, whose killer tried to burn up the evidence.

When confronted with a box full of small, charred bone fragments, your first thought may be "How in the world can anyone ever tell anything about any of these bits and pieces?"

The answer: It is not easy, but after a while things begin to look familiar. Here is a segment of cranium...over here, a fragment of a femur and over here, a couple of teeth. With patience, determination, and skill sometimes the pieces of the puzzle come together and help show what happened.

The amount of information forensic anthropologists and all other forensic scientists can determine through careful study of the victim and the crime scene is amazing. But this does not mean it is easy, or that they can solve any crime. Forensic science is a growing discipline. It does not have all the answers yet. It is at times very simple and at other times incredibly complex, this science.

Of course people don't believe everything on television, but television does play a role in how some people perceive real life should function. Unfortunately, things are not nearly as easy as they are portrayed on television. Investigations do not usually go as quickly, or as simply. Also, some cases, for various reasons, remain unsolved.

The following is a composite:

I am gazing at an adult male skull. A cursory examination of the cranial sutures tells me he was probably over 35 years old at the time of death. He was shot in the head. I examine the bullet's entrance wound, which is through the left temporal bone, and then I examine the exit wound. The exit wound is about the size of a half dollar.

I note all my findings, in detail, including all relevant measurements. This has been done before. I am not the first to examine this subject. Perhaps I will find something others missed. Not likely, but possible. I briefly let my mind wander. I think about what might have happened to him. No one wakes up in the morning and thinks, "Today I will be killed and my body dumped in a field where I won't be found for many months."

I pull my thoughts back to the lab assignment. I double-check that I've signed my name on the forms and that I've written everything down. My purpose here is not to spend a lot of time imagining what might have happened; my purpose here is to find out, to the best of my ability, what did happen.

During the course we have already discussed shootings: close range versus distance (and caliber) suicide versus homicide and more. The amount of material covered, and covered well, is impressive. I think of all of this and look at the entrance wound again. And then I look at the face head on. I carefully place the mandible (lower jaw) in its proper place. As always, I try to imagine what he looked like in life. It is not easy.

Later, we cover facial reconstruction in the course too. I learn that it is as much an art as a science. I learn about tissue depth and the data that has been collected through the years. We discuss the skill needed for 3D clay facial reconstruction and I wonder, briefly, if I would be any good at it. I decide I would be better at other things.

Fresh Air

I walk out of the stuffy building and into the coolness of the evening. I take a deep breath of fresh air. I take another deep breath, this time through my nose. I am trying to exorcise the odor of the lab, but the scent lingers.

A friend is waiting by the door and asks if I'd like a coffee or something before the night ends. I say that I need to scrub my hands again before I go anywhere-- I've touched my notes. I see the quizzical look and explain that my notebook has some stains from some of the fresher bones as they are not yet dried. No matter how much care I take in the lab, my notebooks end up stained (mainly with formalin and lipids, not blood).

My friend makes a face. Only then do I realize that what I'd said probably sounded a bit gruesome. I realize also that it hadn't seemed as gruesome to me because my mind had been so absorbed on what I'd learned, and the secrets I'd been trying to uncover. The realization feels, somehow, freeing. At the same time, I am reminded to be more aware of others' feelings about death and clinical matters when discussing forensic science with friends.

Disclaimer: This article does not necessarily reflect typical forensic anthropology labs or courses. Furthermore, procedures may have changed since the time period of my original experiences during the 1990's. This article is intended only to provide the reader with a brief glimpse into the world of forensic anthropology. Potentially sensitive information has been intentionally omitted. Likewise, some information the author determined might be too disturbing to some readers was omitted.