The Reinsch Test: Arsenic and Old … Antimony, Bismuth and Mercury?

I think it’s fairly safe to say that no one writer has enjoyed a good poison more than the “Queen of Crime,” Agatha Christie. In fact, Dame Agatha Mary Clarissa Christie knew so little about guns and ballistics that she maintained the use of toxins as a primary mode of murder throughout her career as an author.

Christie once worked as an apothecary’s assistant and, to continue in the role, she had to pass required examinations. To assist her, co-workers tutored her in chemistry and pharmacy. In addition, she received private tuition from a commercial pharmacist who later made an appearance as the pharmacist in her tale The Pale Horse.

Her knowledge of apothecary was so detailed that it once received a glowing review—“This novel has the rare merit of being correctly written”—in the Pharmaceutical Journal and Pharmacist.

Yes, she wrote what she knew, yet, if she came across a topic of which she was unsure she didn’t hesitate to seek help, such as the time she contacted a specialist to inquire about about putting thalidomide in birthday-cake icing (How much should the killer use? How long before the effects of the poison would begin to show?).

Christie was definitely good at what she did and she was a pro at weaving fact into fiction without making it seem like we were reading the factual stuff straight from a textbook like we often see today in some books.

I like to point to Jeffery Deaver as a modern day example of a true pro who knows his stuff and who knows how to cleverly interject very real facts into a tale.

With each book, Deaver enters into a grueling research period, examining every minute detail, and he conducts this research sometimes for months on end before he sets the first word to paper. But when he does, the result is a true masterpiece of believable make-believe. In fact, something, a bit of factual information I found in his book Roadside Crosses was the starting point for a section in my book on police procedure.

A character in Roadside Crosses mentioned using a write blocker when examining a computer hard drive, one that had been submerged in a body of water. Well, at the time I was planning the section on computer crimes and what I seen in Jeff’s book was the catalyst that prompted a portion of that particular section.

By the way, a write blocker is used by forensic investigators when they need to have a look inside a suspect’s computer. The device allows data to travel only from the suspect device to the computer copying the information, not the other way around. The analogy I used in my book was to equate the write blocker with a foot valve inside a well. The valve allows water to flow into a home but doesn’t permit it to run back into the well.

Back enough dilly-dallying, let’s return to Christie and her use of poisons, and she used several, such as strychnine (The Mysterious Affair at Styles), thallium (The Pale Horse), digitalis, cyanide (Sparkling Cyanide). She also used coniine (Five Little Pigs), which I find interesting because it’s an alkaloid extracted from hemlock. Spooky, huh?

However, today I’d like to delve a bit into Dame Christie’s use of arsenic since the toxin is one so many writers seem to gravitate toward. I know I see and hear and receive numerous written inquiries about it’s use. Sure, I know people often use me to get to Denene, my microbiologist/scientist wife who’s an expert on bioterrorism, but, as the Lynyrd Skynyrd song goes, “I Know a Little.”

“Say I know a little
I know a little about it
I know a little
I know a little about it
I know a little about love poison
And baby I you can guess the rest”

My knowledge of arsenic as it relates to the crime world is twofold—its use to kill, and the presumptive test to see if arsenic or other heavy metals are indeed present in someone’s system, the alert that further testing is required to determine the toxin that caused a victim’s demise. It’s the latter, the presumptive test that I’m sharing with you today, and here it is in a very brief and tiny and, hopefully, understandable nutshell.

The Reinsch Test

The Reinsch Test uses a strong acid, and copper, to identify the presence of arsenic, antimony, bismuth, and mercury. The metallic copper, when in the presence of concentrated hydrochloric acid, reduces arsenic (also antimony, bismuth and mercury) to its elemental form. If arsenic is present when the copper is introduced to the acid, it adheres to the copper as a visible but dull black film.

The Process

  1. First, obtain specimens for testing. Urine, gastric contents, or liver samples are the preferred specimens.
  2. Using a copper spiral of#20 gauge, or a foil copper strip, the technician/scientist, carefully winds the copper around a glass rod or a pencil. Next, the copper is cleaned by immersing it in concentrated nitric acid for a few seconds. The tech then immediately removes it and dunks the cleaned copper into a container of water. If the cleaning process was successful, and it should be, the copper will now appear as bright and shiny as a brand new penny.
  3. An arsenic reference solution must then be prepared by dissolving predetermined amounts of arsenic trioxide and sodium hydroxide. Then dH2O (distilled water) is added to the mix. The solution is neutralized with concentrated HCl (hydrochloric acid) and more dH2O.
  4. Place clean copper spirals (the ones coiled by wrapping around the pencil) into separate beakers or flasks.
  5. Place 20 mL urine, approximately 10-15 g minced tissue in 20 mL dH2O, or a specific amount gastric contents dissolved in 20 mL dH2O into a labeled beaker. By specific, I mean a number that evenly divides another number. Precisely speaking, this number/amount is an “aliquot” of gastric contents. An aliquot is a number that evenly divides another number, such as the number 5 is to the number 20.

I first heard this term, aliquot, back during the time when I was in a breathalyzer certification course. It appeared again when I was observing an autopsy performed by Dr. Marcella Farinelli Fierro, Chief Medical Examiner of Virginia, who was the inspiration for Patricia Cornwell’s books and for her protagonist Dr. Kay Scarpetta. The term has been embedded in my mind for forty years, give or take.

Okay, I’m rambling again. Back to the procedure.

6.  Place 20 mL negative control urine in two separate beakers. Add 40 μL of 1 mg/mL of the premixed arsenic reference solution (from step 3 above).

7.  Slowly and gently add 4 mL concentrated HCl to each beaker.

8.  To avoid breathing or contacting the vapors, under a hood, heat the solutions to a gentle boil for approximately one hour. Then add 10% HCl as necessary to maintain the original volume. Do not allow the solution to dip below the original level.

9.  After one hour, remove the copper coils and rinse with distilled water. If the copper coils in the unknown samples become gray, black, or silvery, then the result is a presumptive positive for the presence of heavy metal.

10.  BINGO! You’ve now confirmed your suspicions. The victim was indeed poisoned. However, you’re still not sure of which heavy metal is the culprit, unless, of course, you found the victim’s wife holding a half-empty box of rat poison while standing over her deceased husband.

The next step would be to send a sample to a qualified laboratory where it would then undergo further testing to determine which heavy metal was used to kill the victim du jour.

11.  Tie up loose ends and then issue a warrant for the killer.

12.  Arrest the suspect.

13.  Go home, crank up the volume on track four of Skynard’s Street Survivor disc (I Know a Little), and settle in to read Roadside Crosses.

14. Take a break from reading to ponder the Georgians and Victorians who many believed were killed simply because they were particularly fond of the colors red and green—two colors whose components in those days were made of arsenic compounds. Therefore, many common items were thought to have become instruments of death, including clothing and kids toys.

For many years people believed a very real danger of arsenic poising was due to the common, ordinary wallpaper used in those days. Why? Again, due to the extreme popularity of red and green colorings. To stick the paper to walls and other surfaces, homebuilders back then used a paste of flour and water, and when the paste later became moist, such as in humid and/or damp climates, became an ideal breeding habitat for mold. And, in this macabre chain of perhaps fictional circumstances, some molds transformed the arsenic into a gas called trimethylarsine. This stuff then was released arsenic from the paper which was then inhaled by humans who occupied the space.

However, even though arsenic was used in the wallpaper colorings, some scientists today do not believe that arsenic was to blame for those untimely deaths. In fact, it’s been stated that the illnesses that caused many of those deaths were simply misunderstood and misdiagnosed illnesses—arsenophobia that ran wild in 19th century Europe—merely because something in the house smelled odd at the time someone died of unknown causes.

 

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ID Theft: When it Rains it Pours

For the second time in a short timeframe, my credit card information was stolen and used by dastardly crooks who used the numbers to make various purchases. The first time was for shopping sprees at a popular electronics outlet and a well-known clothing store.

I’m guessing there was a plot in play. A scheme that required the genius of Einstein and the well-honed plot-planning of Agatha Christie, or Jeffery Deaver. The latter, of course, is a plotter who strategizes over each and every word until every single letter and minute meticulous detail leads to the conclusion of his latest twisted tale.

Not a wasted word in a story crafted by either of those two, unlike what you’re currently reading here on this blog. I do tend to ramble, don’t I? Well, the reason I do is because when I was a small child back in the hills, where my father was a sharecropper and when our old mule, a feisty and stubborn beast who believed the command “stay” meant “go” and “plow” meant to “drink” … oops, there I go again.

Okay, back to the credit card thing …

I know this dastardly plot to be connivingly devious because, as a detective whose finely-sharpened crime-solving abilities once brought to justice the man who accidentally left his wallet and ID at the scene of a robbery, I recognized a couple of very important clues. I know, Sherlock has nothing on me.

Clue number one. The thieves first bought devices that could be used to play the soulful and romantic music of greats such as Barry White and Al Green, or perhaps the criminals’ turn-on-tastes were more along the lines of Enrique Iglesias or Teddy Pendergrass. My banker agreed and expressed those feelings to me during our cancel-my-card-and-issue-a-new-one phone call.

But, whatever those feel-good-musical leanings may have been, I believe they were the setup for part two of their operation. Their intended goal … dating sites. Their true destination and destiny. To find the love of their lives, even if it meant calling again and again and again, over and over and over, to a variety of numerical combinations and hotlines.

So, once again, my bank alerted me to the suspicious activity and asked that I immediately give them a call. And, once again we cancelled my card and the bank sent a new one. During our phone chat, the fraud department representative detailed several methods of ID protection that I should incorporate into my daily life. All were sound ideas, of course, including keeping my card in a safe place and out of the reach and hands of bad guys. Great information.

So they, the mysterious people behind the curtain of the bank’s fraud department, promised to overnight me a new card with instructions that I must sign for the package. It couldn’t be left on a doorstep. Again, this was after a sort of stern lecture as to how I could better protect myself from identity thieves (as if I don’t know). But I listened politely to the words I’ve spoken to many and various groups over the years, and to people whose fraud and identify theft cases I investigated.

And then I anxiously awaited the arrival of my shiny new credit card. During my wait, since we’re currently living in a hotel while waiting to close on the purchase of our new home, I wanted to be sure to pick up the card at the front desk before it had a chance to accidentally disappear into the deepest and darkest corners of an office supply closet or onto one of the housekeeping carts.

So I monitored the tracking information as the package made its way from the place where tiny hands stamped tiny numbers onto tiny pieces of plastic, to the shipping department, to the first package arrival station, to the next place, and the next, and then onto the delivery truck bound for our hotel.

Finally, the tracking message switched to “DELIVERED.” So I hopped onto the elevator and rode the speedy claustrophobic box down to the first floor where I approached the desk and requested my package. To my surprise, the assistant manager said that no parcel had arrived for me. So I waited for a moment, fully expecting a brown-suited delivery-person to jog through the front doors, as they do, always moving in fast-forward. But nothing.

So I hopped back onto the elevator, rode back up to my floor (this trip was far slower, by the way), where I again checked the progress of my package in case I’d misread or misinterpreted the message. Nope. DELIVERED was the message. Now, however, a memo was attached that read, “Left at front door.” Surely, I thought, the bank, who’d been so adamant about credit card security hadn’t given instructions to leave a credit card outside at a business address. They knew I was residing in a hotel and they’d demanded that someone receive it in person and noted so by having someone sign for it.

So back to the elevator, back to the lobby where the manager gave me side-to-side “no” shake of the head, and out the automatic front doors to see if I could locate a package that had been left outside at a busy hotel where guests streamed in and out like ants busy at whatever it is that busy ants do.

Nothing.

Back to the elevator, up to my floor and to my room. This time I called the office number of the brown-outfitted, jogging delivery folks. Yes, they told me, they’d left the package at my front door. But, I protested, the package required a signature and it had included my name, the name of the hotel, and my room number.

No, the woman told me, the package was merely labeled with my name and a street address. There were no signature requirements included.

So now my shiny new card, the one sent to me to replace the one whose number had been stolen and used for who knows what purposes at this point, was missing.

And then my cellphone rings. It’s the woman from the company of the brown-shirted delivery people. She knew the location of my credit card. She went on to say their driver left it on a doorstep at a private residence, and before I could blow my top she said she could lead me to the home of the STRANGERS who now possessed the shiny and new, plastic gateway into my finances.

Out I go, into the elevator, down to the lobby, past the assistant manager still shaking his head from side-to-side, out the whooshing, sliding front doors, and over to my vehicle, with the helpful lady from the brown-shirted delivery company still on the phone.

She tells me to drive first this way and then that, and then over there and right there, right in the curve is the house where my package lay resting on the front step. So I get out of my vehicle and walk past a group of chatting neighbors whose kids were screaming and crying and poking one another with fingers and short and skinny tree limbs, climbed those steps leading to the door belonging to people I didn’t know, and lo and behold there it was,  a package with my name and the address of the hotel plainly stamped on the label.

I nor my package were nowhere near the hotel.

I scooped up the cardboard envelope and knocked on the front to door to alert the residents that I wasn’t a mail-stealer and that they weren’t victims of package theft, but no one answered. So I passed back by the chatty neighbors who hadn’t batted an eyelash at the fact a stranger with California tags on his vehicle had just swiped a package from the porch of their next-door friends. The no-shirted dirty kids were still crying and still stick- and finger-poking as I pulled away from the curb.

Then it hit me … how was it possible that the helpful lady from the brown-shirted delivery company was able to guide me to my package with such pinpoint accuracy? And why was it that, in spite of giving me such a stern lecture about ID theft and protecting my credit card, the folks at the bank who mailed it did NOT include a notation of someone having to sign for the package and, why and how would a delivery driver simply drop off a package at an address that was nowhere near where it was supposed to go at an address that wasn’t even close either numerically or in spelling to the address for which it was designated?

So yeah, welcome to our new hometown, where both of vehicles have been dinged and dented and where not much has gone as it should, including today when we have tickets to a local college football game. A sold out venue where tickets are extremely hard to come by. Tickets that include VIP parking and a tailgate party.

Yeah, it’s raining …

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Friday’s Heroes: Remembering the Fallen

Deputy Sheriff Ben Zirbel, 40

Clay County Florida Sheriff’s Office

August 21, 2018 – Deputy Sheriff Ben Zirbel died as a result of injuries sustained in a motorcycle crash when a pickup truck towing a trailer turned in front of him, causing the accident. He’d remained on life support until his organs could be donated. He is survived by his wife and son.

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Do Cops Experience Fear? Well …

As a sheriff’s deputy, long before I made the switch to a city police department and later as a detective, I, as did my fellow wearers of the star-shaped badge, often patrolled the entire county, alone.

Should a serious situation arise our only backup was a lone state trooper whose duty was prowling for speeders and drunk drivers during their patrol of the major highways that crisscrossed their way through our jurisdiction. This meant that help, if needed, could be well more than three-quarters of an hour away, and that’s with full lights, siren, and gas pedal pushed tightly to the floor. Our agencies had a mutual agreement, though; they worked traffic-related incidents in the county—speeders and auto crashes, and we handled all criminal cases. When necessary we’d each back the other.

Needless to say, handling all calls by yourself could be a bit nerve-wracking. Troopers never knew what or who was waiting for them when they stopped a car out on a deserted stretch of highway, and we never knew what or who(m) we’d be dealing with when we approached a house or other location where a crime was reported, or one in-progress that we’d stumbled across while on patrol.

Now, I’ve said all of the above as a means to address a question that I’ve been asked numerous times over the years, and that’s if I experienced fear at any time during my career. Well, I’ve never had to pause to consider a response because the answer is easy … a resounding YES. And that fear, at times, was extremely palpable, complete with a heart that took on a mind of its own at times.

Like when searching for armed and wanted suspects inside an abandoned and very dark warehouse. You can’t see your own hand in front of your face and you know the thugs are there, waiting for you and will stop at nothing to avoid prison. It’s times like this when the old ticker starts pounding and thumping so fiercely against the interior of your chest that you’re afraid the suspect will hear it, giving away your position.

Sometimes, during extremely tense situations, you see your pant legs moving slightly and that’s when you realize you’re trembling just a bit. And there’s always that bead of cool sweat that worms its way down your Kevlar vest and fear-heated back, following the bumps and curves of your spine until it dips past your waistline and into your pants where it continues on into, well, you know where. Perspiration from your forehead and brow leaks into your eyes, burning like a powerful acid. And this is all when it’s cold outside.

We wade through mounds of people who’re fighting, using fists, and sticks, and knives, and guns, all to arrest the folks who’re leading the battle and/or those sought per arrest warrants. We go toe-to-toe with people far tougher than one could imagine, or would ever want to envision.

There’s nothing like pulling up to a “shots-fired” call and suddenly finding yourself the target of machinegun fire. Bullets rapidly puncture and rip and tear away the metal and glass of your patrol car while you frantically try your best to find some sort of cover.

A bar fight where the two bikers stop and join together to turn their large knives toward you because they hate cops more than one another. But, somehow you come out on top in spite of all the blood that’s pouring from your wounds.

But cops do what they do and I was no different. We have a job to do and dadgum it we do it. We head into those warehouses and street and bar fights and those dark alleys, and we continue moving forward until those suspects are in custody.

Sure we’re often scared. But we deal with the fear later, once all is a said and done. That’s when the hands really begin to shake and the knees knock, and you say your thanks to God, as I did and still do, or to whomever your faith directs you to thank for seeing you safely through the incident, even if that someone is merely your lucky stars, a rabbit’s foot (not so lucky for the rabbit, though), or to the earth and sky and wind and water.

So yeah, I’ve been scared. Plenty of times.

So remember, there’s nothing to fear but fear itself … and guns and knives and giant bad guys with big sticks and ham-size fists.

Oh, yeah, and spiders.

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Take the Money and Run: Asset Forfeiture

Jesse James, to refresh your memories, was a Confederate sympathizer once dubbed the Robin Hood of the Americas. He was the man whose criminal gang robbed trains and banks, and committed murder as, in his mind, a means of showing support to the post-Civil War pro-slavery Democratic Party.

James and his outlaw gang of bushwhackers made it their mission to harass Republican authorities, the anti-slavery Unionists. Basically, they took things that didn’t belong to them, by whatever means necessary.

Now fast forward 136 years later, to present day America where federal authorities utilize a program called “Asset Forfeiture.”

Here’s how it works.

Graham Coke and his wife, Snorstum Jean, Lose Cash to Feds

Mrs. Snortsum Coke and her husband Graham are driving along the freeway heading over to Vegas where they plan to stay in a luxury suite with all the amenities. Their plans also include gambling. Lots of gambling. It’s what they do. They work hard and they play hard.

The Cokes spent the past forty years building up their business, a garbage collection company Graham operates out of a small nightclub, The Pink Dollhouse. He inherited the joint from his deceased father, Freebase Coke, prior to the couple’s marriage. Both are successful enterprises and both bring in a lot of loot.

So each year when the weather begins to turn cool, as a means of celebrating their good fortune, the Cokes leave their Jersey home and head west to warmer climates. With them, they bring Crack, their toy poodle, and a boatload of cash because neither Snortsum nor Graham trust banks. Besides, cash is easy to use at the casinos.

Last year on their journey to Sin City, Graham stopped for gas just off the highway between the towns of Underwood and Weston, Iowa. While pumping fuel he noticed a couple of deputy sheriffs parked in the corner of the lot and one of them was giving him the fish eye.

Graham knew he’d done nothing wrong, but when Snortsum, between alternating bites and chews of a pickled pig’s foot and a glazed donut the size of her head, bouffant hairdo included, said, “There’s a county mounty on your tale. Let’s give the pig the slip. You know, for old times sake.” Well, nervous Graham, at the mere mention of a cop, began sweating profusely.

The sudden eruption of perspiration was a genetic problem he’d unfortunately received as a hand-me-down condition from his dear mother who, bless her heart, refused to go anywhere without a portable battery-operated, handheld fan to help regulate her body temperature, especially when in the presence of law enforcement officers or prison wardens.

As bad luck would have it, the deputy switched on his lights and siren so Graham Coke eased his Aston Martin One-77 over to the gravel-covered shoulder. The pot-bellied deputy ordered the Cokes out their car at which time he observed a large paper sack overflowing with cash in the rear compartment. He also saw piles of loose Benjamin Franklins scattered about the rear floorboard. Even the center console was bulging from an excess of twenties that had been shoved inside. Later, Snortsum would reveal that she’d inserted the dough there in case they needed toll money.

As it turned out, the cops seized the cash, all $750,000, claiming they believed it to be money earned from criminal activity, most likely drug proceeds. Didn’t matter that the Cokes actually earned the cash legitimately through their two somewhat barely above board businesses.

The police never returned the cash and the Cokes were never charged with a crime.

Asset Forfeiture

In the words of the Drug Enforcement Agency …

“Forfeiture is the government taking of property, that has been illegally used or acquired, without compensating the owner.

The United States Government uses asset forfeiture to seize and forfeit property from those involved in crime which benefits law enforce-ment and the public.

Assets subject to seizure include cars, cash, real estate, or anything of value used to commit a crime or bought with drug proceeds.”

The DEA further explains …

“Forfeiting assets earned from on used in criminal activities helps law

enforcement agencies because the forfeiture:

 Takes the profit of crime away;

 Removes instrumen-talities of crime;

 Deters crime;

 Aids in dismantling drug trafficking and money laundering groups;

 Weakens criminal enterprise;

 Punishes criminals.”

And …

“There are two types of forfeiture: judicial and non-judicial (also known as administrative forfeiture).

DEA starts the administrative forfeiture pro-cess by mailing notice letters to interested parties and advertising the seized property.

The U.S. Attorney’s Office begins the judi-cial forfeiture process by filing either a civil complaint against the property (e.g., United States v. $150,000 U.S. Currency) or bringing criminal charges against a party (e.g., United States v. John Smith).

Administrative Forfeiture

Pay careful attention to this one!

Administrative forfeiture is the process by which DEA processes the forfeiture without going to court. Administrative forfeiture will be used to forfeit property unless (1) by law the property has to be forfeited judicially or (2) a party files a valid claim, which changes the administrative forfeiture into a judicial forfeiture.

Judicial Forfeiture

A federal judge must forfeit real estate and most property valued over $500,000, with some exceptions.

  • Criminal forfeiture is included as part of a defendant’s criminal prosecution. If the defendant is convicted or has a plea agreement, the court may forfeit the property.
  • Civil forfeiture is a proceeding brought against the property itself. The Government must prove that the property is connected to a crime, but a criminal conviction is not required. It is very similar to all other lawsuits involving property in the U.S., and allows the government to forfeit property when the property owner is unavailable.

There’s more …

To Seek the Property’s Return 

(1)  Petition DEA for the return of the property and/or;

(2)  File a valid claim with DEA, which means they intend to challenge the forfeiture.”

*Source ~ DEA.gov

To sum up, if the feds take your cash you may as well fuhgedaboutit, cause it’s gone. You know, like Jesse James took cash from people and never returned it. It’s sort of like that, right?

 

 

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Murder Really Bugs Me: Using Creepy-Crawlers to Help Solve Crimes

Murder: Really bugs me

Many useful items fill an investigator’s toolbox—interrogations, fingerprints, footprints, informants, fibers and, well, the list goes on and on. But there’s one group of extremely important tools that are often overlooked—the squiggly and wiggly and fluttering and flittering and sometimes even slimy crime-solving creatures known simply as, well, bugs.

Yes, we step on them and we swat at them and some people even eat them. But as investigators, in spite of the creepy-crawler’s often stomach-churning menu selections, cops must often sign them on as partners when attempting to solve murder cases. Like detectives who specialize in certain areas—rape, robbery, narcotics, and homicide—insects, too, have their own areas of expertise, and they each arrive at various times during the course of the investigations to do what is it they do best. For example …

Maggots are event crashers by nature. They’re clueless when it comes to dinner party etiquette. In fact, they barge right in on unsuspecting hosts, the dead bodies du jour. Their manners are atrocious, actually. They never bother to wait for bacteria to complete the service settings, the breaking down of complex molecules through respiration or fermentation, before storming the scene.

The tiny and gross little squirmers who eat with one end of their bodies while breathing through the other, are the Animal House-type partiers of death. As disgusting as they are, however, they are useful as tools for solving homicides because …

When investigators find maggots on a body that are in their early larvae stages, when they’re 5mm in length, well, officers then will have a pretty good idea that the victim has been there for only a day and a half, or so.

Even the mere presence of certain insects is quite telling.

Dermestidae Beetles have better things to do than to show up early at parties. They’re a bit snobbish, preferring to wait until everyone else had had their fill—the time when the body begins to dry out—before making their grand entrance, at which time they’ll gorge themselves on drying skin and tendons.

Green Bottle Fly

These guys are the drunk uncles of the party. They show up to first to begin drinking the fluids found in and on decaying bodies. Then, after they’ve had their thirsts quenched they’ll often dive into a hearty meal of decaying tissue.

Green Bottle Fly ~ Calliphoridae

  • One of the first insects to arrive on the scene/body
  • Lays eggs in wounds or openings such as the eyes, ears, mouth, penis, and vagina

Rove Beetles

Rove beetles are late arrivers to the party and this is so because they’re scavengers whose meal of choice is the larvae of other insects, those who lay their eggs in and on decomposing corpses. They’re one of the “buzzards” of the bug world.

Ham Beetles are also scavengers, but they find the tougher parts of the decaying body to be the tastiest, such as skin and tendons.

Rounding out today’s lunchtime guests are the Carrion Beetles. These gourmet insects absolutely adore dining on the larvae of other insects, but also enjoy a scrumptious appetizer of decaying flesh.

Now, please do enjoy your own dinner!

 

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Bouchercon, A Decade Ago

Bouchercon, THE largest annual mystery party convention in the world kicks off this week in St. Petersburg, Florida. It’s the place where writers and fans come together for an entire weekend. It’s also the place where writers connect and re-connect with their good friends and fellow authors. In short, it’s a blast!

So here’s a brief collection of photos of several of your favorite authors, taken at Bouchercon a decade ago. It’s one that has long been a fixture in the history books, and one that holds a special place in my memory.

How many of these smiling faces do you recognize?

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Donald Bain (above), a true inspiration to many us, is no longer with us, having recently joined his beloved, Renee Paley-Bain, in that better place. The couple sought my advice many times over the years regarding police procedure, and it was and still is an honor to see my name in the acknowledgments pages of several of their books.

I first read Don’s famed “Coffee, Tea or Me?” back when I was a kid and quickly learned how easily I blushed. The tale was extremely racy for its time. I’d been a fan since I first cracked the cover of the book. So to say that I was thrilled to be a part of his and Renee’s lives, and to learn that each of them kept a copy of my book nearby while working on their latest “Murder, She Wrote” stories, would be a massive understatement to say the least.

Thanks to Don I have a signed copy of “Coffee, Tea or Me?” that’s a part of my prized collection of books. As they say, “a full circle.”

I certainly miss seeing those emails that so often began with,

“Hi Lee,

Haven’t bothered you for a while. Hope you can answer this. How …”

It was a great year. In fact, here’s a rack of books containing the award nominees for that year. Notice the book on the far right of the third shelf from the bottom.

And with that, here’s the final photo taken before the curtain fell on a fabulous weekend.

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Alafair Burke politely listening to me ramble on and on and on and on, and …

 

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Police Terms and Slang: Writing Believable Make-Believe

Law enforcement has a language all its own, and without a translator citizens sometimes feel left out of the conversation. Here are a few simple terms worth remembering and maybe inserting into a tale or two.

Affidavit – a written statement of facts given under oath.

Bond/Bail – money or other security posted with the court to guarantee an appearance.

  • Bail is a monetary sum paid by the defendant that allows their release from jail. If the subject fails to appear in court the sum paid is forfeited to the court.
  • Bond is similar to securing a loan, where a person offers collateral for the amount borrowed. For example, a bail bonds-person pays the offender’s bail on their behalf in exchange for a fee, typically 10-15% of the total bail amount. In doing so, the bond company guarantees the subject will appear on their scheduled day for trial/hearing. Should the offender not appear, the bail/bond company must forfeit the entire amount of the money they paid the court on behalf of their client. This is why bail bonds-people hunt down, or hire bounty hunters to locate the missing offenders—to avoid paying those often large sums of money.
  • Property bonds are allowed in some cases. This is where a piece of property of value equal to or exceeding the bail amount is secured as collateral for the release of the offender. Should the offender not appear as promised, the property is forfeited to the court or the bond company who posted the bail. The equity of the property must be greater than the amount owed.
  • Signature bonds are sometimes used for low risk offenders. They’re allowed to sign a form promising to appear on the date required. If they fail to do so they’re required to pay the full bail fee in addition to other court costs and restitution.

* On August 28, 2018, California governor Jerry Brown signed into legislature a law eliminating cash bail as a means to bring the bail system into a more equal state for the rich and the poor. Oftentimes, people of lesser means sit in jail for months simply because they cannot afford to pay the amount of bail set for their offense. Whereas, wealthy people have no trouble paying their bail amounts and are set free.

According to the Sacramento Bee, “A person whose risk to public safety and risk of failure to appear is determined to be “low” would be released with the least restrictive non-monetary conditions possible. ‘Medium-risk’ individuals could be released or held depending on local standards. ‘High-risk’ individuals would remain in custody until their arraignment, as would anyone who has committed certain sex crimes or violent felonies, is arrested for driving under the influence for the third time in less than 10 years, is already under supervision by the courts or has violated any conditions of pretrial release in the previous five years.”

Read the full story by click the article title below.

Jerry Brown signs bill eliminating money bail in California

Badge Bunny – woman obsessed with cops (I mean really obsessed … well, you get the idea). Cop groupies.

Basket Weave – design that’s stamped into a leather gun belt.

Break Leather – drawing a firearm/weapon from its holster.

“Drawing” a service weapon.

CI – confidential informant.

City – referring to officers who work for city police departments. “The city will handle that case.” The same is so for county and state.

Civil case – a private lawsuit, not one brought by the state.

Complaint – a statement given under oath where someone accuses another person of a crime. Officers may also refer to a call as a complaint. “Man, I caught two loud music complaints in one hour last night.”

Complainant – person who accuses another. Or, someone who called the police. “Respond to 666 Mockingbird Lane. The complainant’s name is Ralph Munster, the cousin to that other nut, the one who lives down the street at 1313.”

Cook – make crack cocaine or methamphetamine.

Cooker – person who makes crack cocaine or methamphetamine.

Driving Miss Daisy – having an older, supervisory officer riding along on patrol. “Just my luck, I’m stuck with driving Miss Daisy tonight.”

Duracell Shampoo – using a metal flashlight to deliver a polite “love tap” to a combative suspect’s head. No longer a permitted technique/tactic, for obvious reasons.

Fish Eye – a person is said to “fish eye” when he knows an officer is watching him, so he pretends not to notice. However, he’s quite obviously watching the officer out of the extreme corner of his eye while trying to keep his head aimed straight ahead.

“Watch Carl Crook. He’s giving you the fish eye. I’ll bet he rabbits.”

Flashlight Therapy – using a metal flashlight to deliver a polite “love tap” to a combative suspect’s head. Not permitted as a tactic in most agencies, but when a life is in danger, well, anything goes.

Foot Bail – to run from the police.

Happy Feet – suspect is a runner, or is about to flee. “Watch that guy. Looks like he’s got happy feet.”

Hit – outstanding warrant, or stolen. “We got a hit on that car.”

Hook ’em Up – to handcuff a prrisoner.

Hot – stolen.

Information – Paperwork (document) filed by a prosecutor that accuses someone of a crime.

John Wayne – excessive use of force. “He went all ‘John Wayne’ on that guy.”

Knock and announce – requirement that officers knock on the door and announce their presence when serving a search warrant. “Police. Search warrant!”

Lead Poisoning – multiple gunshot wounds. “Look at all the bullet holes. He must’ve died of lead poisoning.”

Light ‘Em Up – initiate a traffic stop by turning on blue lights. Also used as an unofficial command to begin firing at a suspect(s).

OIC – officer in charge.

Cap’n Rufus “Peanut” Jenkins, Chief Deputy of the Cornsqueezin’ County Sheriff’s Office.

PC – probable cause. “Do you have enough PC to get a warrant?”

Plastic – credit card.

Priors – previous arrests.

Rabbit – run from the police.

Railroad Tracks – Slang term for the two bars on each collar denoting the rank of captain.

Captain Ghoul, graveyard shift commander and supervisor of K-9 units

Ride the chair – die by electrocution.

I witnessed the execution of the notorious serial killer Timothy Spencer, nicknamed The Southside Strangler. Spencer’s case was the basis of Patricia Cornwell’s first book, Post Mortem.

The Night I Watched a Serial Killer Die

Ride the needle – Die by lethal injection.

Roll up – arrest someone.

Stripes – a sergeant’s patch or insignia.

T-Bone – broadsided in an crash.

Verbal – a warning. “I gave him a verbal, but next time his butt’s going to jail.”

Visual – able to see something or someone. “Have you got a visual?”

UC – undercover officer.

Me, during my time working undercover narcotics.

Walk – to get off a charge. Released without a record. “Man, rich people walk all the time. It’s not fair!”

Write – issue a summons.

“Did you write him?”

“Yep. 87 in a 55.”

VIN – Vehicle Identification number. “Run the VIN on that car to see if you get a hit.”

“Write “Believable Make-Believe.”

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