where the
waist band of her jeans had been.
Dr. Gunson knew that detectives would ask how long someone could have
lived with the terrible brain injuries this dead woman had suffered.
She estimated only minutes. The growing blood clot pushing her brain
to one side, compressing it until it could no longer sustain her
breathing and her heartbeat, had built up rapidly. She would not have
been paralyzed, but she could not have fought back for long. And while
she was still alive, the terrible hemorrhage into her brain
continued.
Paradoxically, the bleeding stopped when she died. The huge hematoma
grew no larger, once it no longer mattered.
Although the dead woman had been fully dressed when she was found, that
didn't preclude the possibility that she might have been sexually
assaulted. Dr. Gunson found no vaginal or rectal contusions, but she
routinely took swabs from the vaginal vault and the rectum and slipped
them into labeled test tubes so that an acid phosphatase test for the
presence of semen could be done. If semen was present, the chemical
would turn the .swabs a bright purplish red.
Criminalist Julia Hinkley of the Oregon State Police Crime Lab stood by
during the autopsy and took possession of the evidence Dr. Gunson
collected. Hinkley also attempted to retrieve fingernail scrapings
beneath the dead woman's nails. There was nothing there but her own
blood.
Sometimes the contents of the stomach can provide a clue to time of
death, to place of death, to a myriad of other questions. Not this
time.
The victim had only about 100 cc of brown liquid in her stomach, most
likely coffee. There was no food. She was so thin that this didn't
surprise Dr. Gunson. And there was no urine in her bladder.
In further tests that had grown routine at a time when drug use was
rampant, Dr. Gunson took blood samples and secured them in
graystoppered tubes. If the dead woman had ingested alcohol, cocaine,
barbiturates, amphetamines, psychotropics, or any of an array of drugs,
a scanning electron microscope with a laser probe could isolate that.
The metabolites of most of the drugs would last for yearsþeven if the
test tube was not refrigerated.
Autopsy means, quite literally, "to see for oneself," and there is a
sad kind of justice in the fact that the body of a murder victim
contains secrets that often either convict or free a suspect. But even
if Dr. Gunson had seen a photograph of the woman who lay before her
when she was in life, she could not have said that it was this
victim.
Her eyelids were blackened and swollen closed and her face was so
misshapen.
Beneath those closed lids, the dead woman had worn soft contact lens,
tiny circles of transparent material that gave her myopic eyes perfect
vision. The contacts had either been displaced during the violent
beating she had endured or lost in a mass of blood and tissue.
Dr. Gunson could only speculate about what kind of weapon had been
used to inflict such terrible wounds. Certainly, it would have to have
been dense and heavy and something with many sides and varying
surfaces.
A wrecking bar? A tire iron? A heavy flashlight, maybe? Unless the
weapon itself was found, no one would ever know for sure.
When she completed her examination, Dr. Gunson knew how this woman had
died. She could not know why, or by whose hand. It would not have
taken a particularly powerful person to do so much damage, but it
certainly would have taken a person so full of rage that heþor, again,
sheþkept striking and hitting. Again and again and again and again.
Twenty-four times.
It had, of course, been too good to last, a love affair too wonderful
in a world where nothing perfect ever seems to endure. Sara and Brad
would never be able to resume their untroubled, romantic courtship.
From the moment he called her at
waist band of her jeans had been.
Dr. Gunson knew that detectives would ask how long someone could have
lived with the terrible brain injuries this dead woman had suffered.
She estimated only minutes. The growing blood clot pushing her brain
to one side, compressing it until it could no longer sustain her
breathing and her heartbeat, had built up rapidly. She would not have
been paralyzed, but she could not have fought back for long. And while
she was still alive, the terrible hemorrhage into her brain
continued.
Paradoxically, the bleeding stopped when she died. The huge hematoma
grew no larger, once it no longer mattered.
Although the dead woman had been fully dressed when she was found, that
didn't preclude the possibility that she might have been sexually
assaulted. Dr. Gunson found no vaginal or rectal contusions, but she
routinely took swabs from the vaginal vault and the rectum and slipped
them into labeled test tubes so that an acid phosphatase test for the
presence of semen could be done. If semen was present, the chemical
would turn the .swabs a bright purplish red.
Criminalist Julia Hinkley of the Oregon State Police Crime Lab stood by
during the autopsy and took possession of the evidence Dr. Gunson
collected. Hinkley also attempted to retrieve fingernail scrapings
beneath the dead woman's nails. There was nothing there but her own
blood.
Sometimes the contents of the stomach can provide a clue to time of
death, to place of death, to a myriad of other questions. Not this
time.
The victim had only about 100 cc of brown liquid in her stomach, most
likely coffee. There was no food. She was so thin that this didn't
surprise Dr. Gunson. And there was no urine in her bladder.
In further tests that had grown routine at a time when drug use was
rampant, Dr. Gunson took blood samples and secured them in
graystoppered tubes. If the dead woman had ingested alcohol, cocaine,
barbiturates, amphetamines, psychotropics, or any of an array of drugs,
a scanning electron microscope with a laser probe could isolate that.
The metabolites of most of the drugs would last for yearsþeven if the
test tube was not refrigerated.
Autopsy means, quite literally, "to see for oneself," and there is a
sad kind of justice in the fact that the body of a murder victim
contains secrets that often either convict or free a suspect. But even
if Dr. Gunson had seen a photograph of the woman who lay before her
when she was in life, she could not have said that it was this
victim.
Her eyelids were blackened and swollen closed and her face was so
misshapen.
Beneath those closed lids, the dead woman had worn soft contact lens,
tiny circles of transparent material that gave her myopic eyes perfect
vision. The contacts had either been displaced during the violent
beating she had endured or lost in a mass of blood and tissue.
Dr. Gunson could only speculate about what kind of weapon had been
used to inflict such terrible wounds. Certainly, it would have to have
been dense and heavy and something with many sides and varying
surfaces.
A wrecking bar? A tire iron? A heavy flashlight, maybe? Unless the
weapon itself was found, no one would ever know for sure.
When she completed her examination, Dr. Gunson knew how this woman had
died. She could not know why, or by whose hand. It would not have
taken a particularly powerful person to do so much damage, but it
certainly would have taken a person so full of rage that heþor, again,
sheþkept striking and hitting. Again and again and again and again.
Twenty-four times.
It had, of course, been too good to last, a love affair too wonderful
in a world where nothing perfect ever seems to endure. Sara and Brad
would never be able to resume their untroubled, romantic courtship.
From the moment he called her at
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