The Writers’ Police Academy (WPA) first opened its doors eleven years ago as a means to help writers breathe life into their stories. Not that books weren’t already fantastic, it’s just that many were missing intricate details, the things that make scenes come alive and dance and sing and undulate on the page. Missing were the smells, tastes, touches, sounds, and the sights seen and experienced by cops, witnesses, and victims of various crimes, and their family and friends. Emotion and anticipation and aftermath were, well, not there.

It wasn’t the fault of the writers that they’d not once set foot inside an actual murder scene, or driven like a bat out of hell through city streets and alleyways while pursuing a dangerous killer. Many authors, believe it or not, had not once ever shot someone. Nor had they been stabbed, cut, or shot at. They’d not trekked through acres of wooded land to search for an armed serial killer or prison escapee.

Honestly, it’s impossible to perfectly describe something we’ve not done or seen. Imagine trying to write a scene about heart surgery when you’ve not, as they say, been there/done that. I wouldn’t know where to start other than a Google search. Sure, the process is there but it doesn’t do a thing to activate the senses. Therefore, the scene would come across as flat and lacking true emotion. The same is so when writing about cops and crime scenes.

So yes, those spots of intricate detail were missing from many a good crime book that had the potential of being great ones.

Back to the WPA, though, the hands-on event where writers participate in actual police training and live-action scenarios. During the action-packed weekend, writers fire weapons, drive patrol cars in pursuits, exchange gunfire with bad guys, handcuff criminals, and much, much more. It’s a weekend that stirs emotion and adrenaline, and writers leave with a treasure trove of first-hand knowledge of the world of cops and criminals.

This year, the WPA has gone a step further, dedicating the entire event to murder investigations. Aptly named, MurderCon, the special event will expose writers, readers, fans, etc., to insider information, tactics, techniques, and tools of the homicide investigation trade. And, to sweeten the pot, MurderCon takes place at Sirchie’s headquarters and training complex, a secure facility tucked away in the countryside near Raleigh, N.C. Sirchie is the world leader in crime scene technology.

The WPA is NOT a typical writers conference

I’ve said all of the above to bring me to this particular question. What happens when writers and police instructors and other law enforcement and forensics experts come together? Well, the result is amazing to say the least. Writers learn from the experts and the experts learn from the writers. It’s a meshing of ideas and thoughts and experiences that lasts a lifetime. The experience of attending the WPA has even been described as life changing. It’s that powerful.

The stories generated from the meetings of writers and WPA law enforcement and forensics professionals are unique. They’re detailed. They’re packed full of real-life emotion. Adrenaline courses throughout the pages. No longer are many fictional cop tales lacking true heart-pounding scenes.

Like the odor of swamp water and crab boils pour into the room after opening the covers of a James Lee Burke novel, blue lights winking and blinking and flashing, wailing sirens, and hearts pounding and thumping behind steamy-hot, perspiration-soaked Kevlar vests now emanate from mystery, thriller, suspense, and romance novels that feature cops.

It was my goal to help writers “get it right” and it warms my heart to see the end result of the WPA and all of the hard work and dedication of the hundreds of instructors, staff, and volunteers who’ve made the WPA what it is today … a real life-changer.

When Cops and Writers Come Together AFTER MIDNIGHT

It was a long time in the making, but this day finally arrived. For a while now, I’d hoped to bring together WPA instructors, supporters, and special guests and speakers, all in a single place where they could join forces to reach out the world, as a single entity.

My desire was to have this group meet during the hours known as the graveyard shift, that time of night—between the hours of midnight and dawn—when most mysterious and strange goings-on occur.

Well, a date and location for the meeting was set and the group finally came together, each arriving separately in a plain unmarked vehicle with dark, tinted windows.

A lone hoot owl sounded in the distance, beyond the spot where the light of single lantern spilled out across a row of marble and granite markers. This was the designated meeting spot and it was there where the group came together.

Lee Child, creator of the Jack Reacher series, presided over the meeting and called it to order, silencing the nervous chatter. He quickly stated the group’s mission and then instructed each participant to compose a story, a tale of mystery and suspense with a twisted ending and a carefully woven plot. Then he enlisted the assistance of Phoef Sutton, another bestselling author who’s also known for his work on the award-winning television shows CHEERS and BOSTON LEGAL, and a slew of Hallmark Mysteries. Sutton was given the task of editing the stories told by the carefully selected group of writers and law enforcement folks.

Several months later, boiling up and out of the cauldron, came a much-anticipated anthology, AFTER MIDNIGHT: TALES FROM THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT, published by Level Best Books.

Today, AFTER MIDNIGHT is now available to you, both as a Kindle book and in paperback. And thanks to the generosity of everyone involved in the project, proceeds from the book benefit the Writers’ Police Academy.

Here’s how to order your copy. Click on your preference. (Amazon will merge the two on a single page as soon as possible).

AFTER MIDNIGHT: TALES FROM THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT


The Authors and Their Stories

To learn more about the stellar cast of AFTER MIDNIGHT authors, click the links below.

Lucky Cop by RJ Beam
The Brass Ring by Michael A. Black
Sunshine Berkman by Joseph S Bonsall
Ride Along by Allison Brennan
Neighborhood Watch by Ry Brooks
The Bookends Murder by Robin Burcell
Gentrified Homicide by Marco Conelli
Prime Rib from Brahma by Les Edgerton
The Devil in the Flesh by Heather Graham
Justifiable Homicide by Lisa Klink
Rookies by Howard Lewis
LeishMANIA by Denene Lofland
The Sheriff of Macabre County by Lee Lofland
Code Murder by Linda Lovely
Baddest Outlaws by Rick McMahan
A Confluence in Stow by Emilya Naymark
Shared Secrets by Carrie Stuart Parks
The Case of the Staring Man by Katherine Ramsland
Panther Bait by Mike Roche
Disco Fries and Homicide by Shawn Reilly Simmons
3:45 in the Peacock Room of the Channel Grill on 6th Street 
by Phoef Sutton
Hostage (A Love Story) by Cheryl Yeko
With a Foreword by Lee Child

 

 

Any writer, reader, and fan of mysteries, thrillers, suspense, and other books and television shows and film that involves crime scene investigation, will most likely have heard of Luminol, the chemical that causes chemiluminescence.

Chemiluminescence, the vivid bluish glow we’ve seen on countless crime shows, occurs when Luminol contacts an oxidizing agent such as the hemoglobin found in blood. Other agents can cause a similar reaction (copper, bleach, etc.), but it is blood that causes the most vivid glow. And it is this reaction that is of particular interest both real and fictional investigators.

Even bloody footprints reveal themselves when exposed to luminol.

Sirchie, the world leader in crime scene investigation technology and products, describes Luminol as:

“Luminol is a chemiluminescent substance that can be used as a presumptive test for the presence of blood. Making use of the peroxidaselike activity of the heme portion of hemoglobin, Luminol produces a bluish-white light that can be viewed in total darkness. Invisible blood stains react with the Luminol reagent by luminescing—darkness is essential. It can also be photographed or videotaped with the aid of the SIRCHIE® KRIMESITE™ IMAGER. A very useful test for searching large areas for blood especially if the area has been cleaned up. Sensitivity:1:100,000.”

Sirchie’s LUMINOL8 Contents:
2- LUMINOL 8B bottles of solution, 8 oz. each
2- LUMINOL 8A packets of dry chemicals, Net. Wt. 14.5 gms
2- Spray Head Attachment

*Sirchie image


Blue Star

Sirchie’s BLUESTAR Forensic Kit “affords the Crime Scene Investigator a complete tool to determine the presence or absence of blood. The extreme sensitivity of BLUESTAR allows the detection of bloodstains down to 1:10,000 dilutions, including minute traces that have been washed off, with or without detergent. And unlike other blood reagents, total darkness is not required. With practice, it’s unlikely to get confused between blood and false positives as the luminescence is different in color, intensity and duration. Subsequent DNA Typing and ABO Typing is possible because BLUESTAR does not alter the DNA in suspect blood stains.” ~ Sirchie

*Above image ~ Sirchie


Luminol is a presumptive test, not a confirmatory test.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luminol presents challenges, such as its potential to destroy DNA evidence when contacted, and its glow lasts for just mere seconds. Detectives must be quick with their photography skills!

Therefore, BGU Prof. Alina Karabchevsky, head of BGU’s Light-on-a-Chip Group, a member of the BGU Unit of Electro-Optical Engineering and the Ilse Katz Institute for Nanoscale Science and Technology, came up with a fantastic new idea … a device/chip that combines the use of luminol with gold or silver nanospheres.

Simply put, Dr. Karabchevsky invented a microfluidic chip that not only greatly increases the chemiluminescence intensity of luminol, but also extends its glow time. To sweeten the pot, the chip enables the detection of much smaller blood samples found at potential crime scenes.

“The method developed by BGU researchers will enable development of future detectors with improved sensitivity. We are currently looking for partners for further developing this promising patented invention,” said Netta Cohen, CEO, BGN Technologies.


What is a microfluidic chip?

Easy answer – a device (chip) that enables very small amount of liquid to be processed or visualized.

 

A dead woman crying: murder in the rain

I’ve seen more than anyone’s fair share of murder victims. More than I’d care to count, actually. I’ve also seen a variety of methods and instruments used by killers to achieve their goal(s)—gunshots, edged weapons, etc.

Some victims were poisoned; others were killed by hanging, strangulation, fire, torture, beatings, blunt instrument bludgeoning and, well, you name the manner and instruments used to kill and I’ve probably seen the end result. Unfortunately, it’s not long before dead bodies—the victims of senseless violence—quickly begin to stack up in the old memory bank.

Sure, cops get used to seeing carnage. They have to in order to survive the job. Still, there are cases that cling to the outer fringes of the mind, remaining fresh in our thoughts for many years. These, the often thought of, aren’t necessarily the most gruesome or the most difficult to solve. Not at all. In fact, what sticks with one officer may not affect another in the same way.

A few homicides occasionally creep back onto the “replay” reel inside my brain—the killing of children, the crazy guy who hacked his sister-in-law with an ax because she wouldn’t give him money for a pack of cigarettes, the kid found hanging from an extension cord in an abandoned factory, and, of course, the case I’m about to describe to you. It came to mind recently because of rains we’ve received lately here in Delaware.

The storms came at night, bringing brilliant displays of zig-zagging lightning followed by earth- and window-rattling thunder. Windblown raindrops the size of chickpeas pounded against our windows and rooftop. This is how it was the night I saw the dead woman crying, and it was the morning after when I had the unpleasant task of doing the “death knock.”

So slip on a pair of boots and a raincoat and join me on a brief journey into my memory. And yes, sometimes tales do begin with the weather…

file1531302546310

It was a brutal storm that night, one that delivered a hard-driving and bitterly cold winter rain. Accompanying winds tugged hard against my long, school-bus-yellow rain coat, sending its tails fluttering and flapping, exposing my brown over tan deputy sheriff uniform. It—the uniform—was not waterproof. Not even close.

The ground at the crime scene was extremely muddy, and with each step my once shiny brown shoes collected gobs of thick, wet soil until it felt as if bricks were tied to the bottoms of my feet.

These were the deplorable conditions in which I met the crying dead woman.

New Picture

Raindrops the size of gumdrops pelted her smooth and round caramel-colored face. They gathered and pooled at the corners of her eyes, eventually spilling out across her cheeks like tiny rivers following the contours of her flesh until they poured from her in miniature waterfalls.

It was one on one—me and the victim.

Passenger door open.

She’s lying there,

Bottom half in, top half out.

Her face aimed at the sky.

Rain falling into her open mouth.

Cheap dollar-store tennis shoes and half-socks, the socks her youngest daughter—the seven-year-old—called baby socks.

Her wet hair, mingled with mud, sticks, and windswept leaves.

Power lines crackled and buzzed overhead.

The yellow Magnate beam, a spotlight on her dim gray eyes.

No life.

No recollections.

No dreams.

Not a flicker.

Tire tracks.

Different pattern than the rubber on her Chrysler.

Driver’s window down.

Three rounds—one to the head and two to the torso.

Five empty casings.

Pistol.

Not a revolver.

Half-empty wine bottle.

Cheap convenience store label.

Not her brand according to the ladies in her church group. “Oh we don’t drink. Neither did she. Except on special occasions. Yep, it must have been something or somebody really special for her to drink that stuff.”

“Was there a somebody special?”

Eyes cast downward.

Blushes and eyelash flutterings all around. “Well … she did stay after Wednesday night preaching a few times. But they were meetings strictly about church business. After all, he is the Reverend. A good man.”

More blushing.

A stammer or two.

A good man.

The rain comes harder.

Droplets hammer her open eyes.

She doesn’t blink.

A dead woman crying.

Footprints.

Two sets.

One walking.

Casually, perhaps.

The other, long strides.

Running away, possibly.

Zigzagging to the woods.

Bullet lodged in base of a spruce pine.

One round left to find.

Water inside my collar, down my back.

Shivering.

Cloth snagged on jagged tree branch.

Plaid shirt material.

Blood?

Still visible in the rain?

The missing fifth round?

Maglite never fails, even in torrential rain.

Light finds a shoe in the underbrush.

It’s attached to the foot of an adult male.

Dead.

Bullet in back.

The fifth round.

Coming together nicely.

Church meetings.

Reverend.

Two lovers.

Special wine for special occasion…

A good man.

Sure he is.

file0001420722555

Morning sunshine.

Tiny face peering from window.

Waiting for Mama?

A lump in my throat.

Scent of frying bacon in the air.

I raise my knuckles to the door.

It’s the worst job in the world,

To deliver…

The “Death Knock.”

Door swings open.

Worried husband.

“No, she didn’t come home after church. Called friends and family. Nobody knows.”

Husband, devastated.

Questions unanswered.

Children cry.

“Yes, I have ideas. 

And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Tire tracks match.

Pistol found.

Preacher hangs head in shame.

Special occasion.

To profess love.

But…

Another man.

Another lover.

Angry.

Jealous.

Handcuffs.

Click.

Click.

Murder.

No bond.

Prison.

Today, our rains have stopped.

But I’m thinking of the crying dead woman and her kids, her loving husband and, of course, baby socks.

Special occasion?

Good man?

Yeah, right.

 

During the course of their days at work, officers hear many excuses, threats and, well, dumb statements. Here are a few I’ve heard over the years.


Me – “Sir, do you know how fast you were driving?”

Driver – “I do, but I’m not telling you that I was going 87 when I passed where you were sitting because you’ll give me a ticket.”


Drug dealer – “You can’t arrest me because you didn’t tell me you were an undercover cop before I sold you the crack.”


Murder suspect – “She was already dead when I killed her.”


Murder suspect – “Yeah, I was in the house. But I didn’t kill that guy in the bedroom. Oh wait, you didn’t mention a dead body, did you?”


Man arrested for fighting – “Take off these cuffs and I’ll whip your a**,” he said to me as I drove him to the hospital for the treatment of injuries he received while resisting arrest.


Man found sitting in the middle of a busy highway – “I’m from Mars. Your laws don’t apply to me. Go away.”


Man who resisted arrest – “You’re not man enough to … Ow! Ouch! I give up!


Burglary suspect – “I must’ve been sleepwalking, officer. I went to bed around ten and woke up inside this strange house just as I heard someone yell, ‘Police!.’ Honest, I don’t know where I got these gloves and tools.”


Robbery suspect – “I ain’t scared of that dog … Ahhhhh!!!! Make him stop biting me! Ahhhhhhh!!!!!”


Tough guy – “I. Will. Knock. You. Out. Take one more step and—”

Stacks of old spiral notebooks tell the story of my career in law enforcement. Most of the pages contain brief notations—mileage, oil changes, weather, dates and times, arrests, names of witnesses and suspects, crime scene information, prisoners transported, and strangely enough, ideas for stories. You see, I’ve always wanted to write.

This story is true. It happened.

Sure, there were plenty of happy times during my twenty-plus years of wearing a gun and badge, but I often choose to write about the more solemn tales for a reason. I offer them to you, not to talk about the things we did that were right or wrong, but to show a side to police work that’s not normally seen by the general public.

Believe me, the job is not all cops and robbers. Sometimes it’s about the things that tug at your heart, pulling and grasping at whatever keeps a person’s sanity and emotions in check.

Today I’ve flipped through the pages to an event that’s forever etched in my mind. I’ve always referred to it as The Fire.

Saturday June 9, 1984

Working graveyard shift alone.

11:45 – Relieve 4-12 shift. No serious incidents reported. Slow night.

12:00 – Begin patrol. Mileage 43888.

12:14 – Loud music complaint. Subjects complied.

12:47 – Assist state police with vehicle search and arrest on interstate. Meth.

1:18 – Bar fight. Break it up. Arrest two males. Disorderly conduct and drunk in public. Process.

1:59 – Vehicle stop. Expired plates. Stolen car. Murder suspect from Florida. Arrest and process.

3:20 – Assist jail officers with disturbance.

4:14 – Meet troopers for breakfast.

4:27 – Accident on interstate. Assist troopers. Leave before meal arrives.

4:33 – Arrive at scene.

Vehicle on fire in median.

Fully engulfed.

People trapped.

Screaming.

Hair burning.

Faces contort.

Too hot to approach.

Helpless.

Man pushing.

Against door.

Intense heat.

Hopeless.

Fire extinguishers.

Glass, exploding.

Tires melt.

Flat.

Paint bubbling.

Bare metal.

Man climbs from window.

Burning.

Collapses.

Trooper pulls him to safety.

Dead.

Woman stops screaming.

Dead.

Little girl, in back.

“Mommy!”

Heat, unbearable.

Run to car.

Shield face.

Hair burns away,

On arms.

Eyebrows singe.

Pull child,

Through open window.

Arms burn.

Broken glass.

Tiny child.

Hair gone.

Badly burned.

“Mommy!”

So fragile.

Blistered.

Hold her.

In my arms.

Cling tightly.

Rag doll.

Mommy…

Weak.

Tears.

Mine?

“Mom…”

Silence.

 

 

My grandfather drove an ice truck back in the day. In fact, I still have the tongs he used to muscle around massive 300-pound blocks of the frozen stuff. In his day, ice was made using a salt-brine process inside an “ice plant.”

The ice-making room was a vast expanse that contained a huge in-floor tank of the briny liquid in which large metal cans containing fresh water were submerged. Each tank was fitted with a wooden lid with a small opening where a pencil-size rubber air tube was inserted.

As the water began to cool, air was blown into the water-filled can. Doing so kept the water in motion, a process that allowed most of the air bubbles to rise and escape. This is what made sparkling, clear ice. Ice containing air bubbles is cloudy and unappealing. And, of course, not solid through and through.

Each metal can was fashioned with inverted creases that, when the ice block was completely frozen, those indentions formed the “score lines” that divided the ice into specific sizes. After approximately three days, the ice was ready to “pull.”

Using overhead hoists, workers attached chains to the metal cans and “pulled” them one by one from the brine tank. Then they’d dump the frozen block from the can and using their tongs, manhandled the four-feet by two-feet by one-foot hunks of frozen water into a freezer for storage until delivery time.

Many ice plant workers had their favorite tongs and kept them as their own, much like medical examiners, carpenters, electricians, and writers have their favorite work implements.

My grandfather’s ice tongs

The ice man, the person who carried ice to neighborhood homes, loaded enough 300-pound blocks to satisfy the needs of his customers. Typically, in those days, homeowners placed a card in the window indicating how many pounds of ice they wanted to get them through until the next delivery day. The iceman would then use an ice pick to chop off the desired amount (remember the 25, 50, 75, or 100-pound blocks I mentioned above).

Once the ice man whacked off a chunk of the correct size, using tongs to grasp the cold and slippery block, he’d carry the ice to the house where he’d place it inside the icebox. Most homes in those days, especially the homes of the middle to lower income families, did not have electric refrigerators. Instead, food was kept cool inside an icebox.

The ice man was a favorite of neighborhood children who’d often beg him for a sliver or small chunk of ice. This, in that day, was a treat on hot summer days.

Today, ice is made differently, of course, and wooden iceboxes are a thing of the past, as are the mule-pulled ice wagon and/or ice trucks. However, we still depend heavily on ice to cool our drinks on summer days. It’s a must for ice skaters and dancers. Polar bears and penguins adore it. Skiers enjoy the frozen wet stuff, and plenty of people in New England earn a nice living pushing it from roadways and sidewalks.

So, for the life of me, I just can’t understand why so many people want to get rid of it. Hardly a day goes by, if ever, without seeing a headline somewhere about some politician who wants to abolish ice.

I just don’t get it, because I like my drinks cold and I like the way those little hunks of frozen water bring back fond memories of spending time with my grandfather in the ice house.

We. Need. Ice.

My grandfather’s ice pick. Printed on its sides are the company name and a telephone number to call for 24-hour emergency ice service

 

  1. Being a writer is like being a politician. You get to make up @#$! and your fans love it.
  2. Being a writer is like being a plumber. Somewhere around the middle of the job you find yourself elbow deep in @#$!
  3. Writers are like prostitutes. They do it for money but the income arrives in small amounts at random times.
  4. Agents are like pimps without the purple suede leisure suits and feathers in their hats. Oh, wait …
  5. A good book is like a side effect of “the little blue pill.” It keeps you up all night.
  6. Sitting at a keyboard while clacking away at random characters is something an illiterate chimp can do. Much of today’s media is proof that chimps are better at it.

    Wandering Eyes

  7. Spellcheck is great, except when it isn’t.
  8. A great book is a like a fine statue. Their creators started with an idea and then carved away everything that didn’t help tell the story.
  9. Writers are like cops. They like coffee and whiskey and telling tall tales … and whiskey.
  10. A bad story is like a snow skier. They’re both start at out on a slow upward climb toward the summit. Then it’s all downhill from there until they reach the end, which is totally uneventful.
  11. The words of a good book remain forever. The words of a politician remain only until the next big donation comes along.
  12. If real-life bad guys would simply take the time to read a mystery book they’d know the good guys always win in the end.
  13. Good books are like the bed in a by-the-hour motel. Lots of action between the covers.
  14. Great ideas make great books, except when they don’t.
  15. Social media can be like a disease. No punch line. It truly can be like a disease.
  16. The bravest men and women in the world today are currently sitting at home, ranting and raving away on Facebook, telling people just how brave they are. Then they get up and go to their day jobs, greeting customers at Weirdmart, or selling fries at Booger Joe’s Burger Emporium.
  17. Lone literary agents at writers conferences are like the innocent fawns that tiptoe through the forest—they both know the attack could come at moment. This is why experienced agents travel in packs.
  18. A firefighter and a police officer enter a bar at a mystery writers conference. They’ll know better next time.

Finally …

Two drunks and a writer enter a bar during a writers conference. Three drunks come out.

*Have you got a zinger you’d like to share? If so, please do. (no foul language, racism, cop-bashing, politics, etc., please.).

We all know how the story goes. A sly, blowhardish and extremely hungry wolf arrives at the front doors of the recently created homes of three very handy pigs, a trio of walking porkchops who’d built their individual abodes on prime pieces of suburban real estate.

The first pudgy, and not so construction-savvy pig fashioned his home from straw, and if you’ve watched HGTV lately you’ll recall that while inexpensive straw homes are susceptible to rot due to high moisture content, fire, and to the difficulty of obtaining homeowner insurance.

I imagine our first little porker thumbed his flat little nose at the rules, and safety, and bypassed the permitting process. I also believe he overlooked the possibility of wind damage and quickly learned of his error shortly after the wolf announced his presence on the front stoop.

“Little pig, little pig won’t you let me come in?” the mangy wolf cried out to pig number one.

“No, no, no, by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin,” said the worried hog.

Well, you know what happened next. The wolf, of course, huffed and puffed and in a matter of seconds enjoyed a tasty pulled pork appetizer.

The twisted and curly “tail” continues with the wolf’s forceful exhalations destroying pig number two’s stick-built home. As a result … pork roast for the entire Wolf family. And, as before, he’d gotten away without leaving a clue. Not even a paw print.

Then the murdering wolf, now deemed a serial killer by the local media, moved on to his next intended victim, the pig who lived in the brick rancher at the corner of Garlic and Rosemary Avenues.

Exasperated police almost captured the wolf thanks to a 911 call from the couple next door, Porky and Petunia, who’d seen the sneaky canine approaching pig number three’s doorstep. But, as bad luck would have it, the wolf escaped on foot, well, on four feet, actually.

The wolf was careless, though, during his third attempt at pig-killing. He’d forgotten it was the time of year when his species sheds their winter coats. Yep, you guessed it. Cops collected a few discarded hairs and subsequently rushed them to the lab where scientists immediately began testing them using an astonishing new process. They ‘d know the identity of the killer very soon. But this is fiction …

The Real Meat of the Story

Okay, the tale above is a bit stupid, I know. But I wrote it as a prelude to the true subject matter of the day—identifying a criminal suspect using his or her shed hairs found at a crime scene.

It’s fairly common knowledge that scientists and other lab experts, as well as law enforcement investigators and writers, are already familiar with the use of human hair from the head as a source used to identify people through DNA testing, etc. Suppose, though, that any hair from any part of the body could be used to identify the person who shed it, not just hairs from the head. To have this capability would be HUGE in the real world of crime-solving.

Sure, writers make up stuff like this all the time to help tie up loose ends in their books. After all, Jack Reacher, Bosch, DD Warren, and Tami Hoag’s Detectives Fourcade and Broussard, well, they’re unstoppable because their creators make it so. But actual cops must use actual evidence and actual crime-fighting tools and equipment to locate killers, such as the extensive catalog of items developed and manufactured by Sirchie.

But here in the world of genuine cops and murderers, the use of wishful thinking and fictional methods and procedures is not an option that’s available to local, state, and federal law enforcement.

However, thanks to a group of researchers, fiction is now a reality.

Yes, a groundbreaking technique of human identification using hairs from ANY part of the body is now possible. It’s the result of a yearlong study by researchers from Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory’s Forensic Science Center and Michigan State University.

The process interprets hair protein chemistry and how it effects protein marker identification.

Chemist Fanny Chu, a graduate student and researcher at MSU, along with other researchers involved in the Lawrence Livermore/Michigan State University study, took the hair testing process a step further by studying and comparing arm and pubic hair with head hair. The result—the hairs fundamentally presented the same data as head hair.

Additionally, the protein content of the hairs indicate whether a single hair is from a person’s head, arm, or pubic area, etc.

The team also learned that the protein content of pubic hair is appreciably greater than head and arm hair.

A single one-inch strand of hair has a unique pattern, much like DNA or fingerprints, that distinguish a person from among a population of 10 million people.

Fun Fact: Human hair proteins are chemically more stout than nuclear DNA. In fact, scientists have detected protein markers in human hair that’s more than 250 years old.


SIRCHIE

Sirchie products (mentioned above) are used by law enforcement professional worldwide. Additionally, they’re often seen in use by CSIs and detectives on popular television show/series.

In August, just a few weeks from today, writers, fans, and readers will have the opportunity to attend hands-on homicide investigation training sessions at Sirchie’s elite compound near Raleight, N.C. The event, MurderCON, is brought to you by the Writers’ Police Academy and Sirchie. It’s a rare opportunity to learn at a world-renowned facility in classes taught by some of the best instructors in the world. I cannot stress enough how extremely valuable attending MurderCon could be to the knowledge base of crime fiction writers.

The material offered at MurderCON is the identical material taught to top investigators from around the globe. Not only that, classes are scheduled at Sirchie’s facility, the source of crime scene investigation tools and equipment. It’s where ideas are conceived by researchers and are then brought to life by developers and scientists. Next, a team of experts fabricate assemble everything from fingerprint brushes and powders to fuming chambers, alternate light sources and even surveillance vehicles.

The subject material offered at MurderCon has never before been made available to the public.

Again, this is a RARE chance to go behind the scenes, affording you, the writer, to add better realism to your work by experiencing the touch, sight, smells, sounds, and even tastes associated with crime scene investigations. This is the key to activating the senses of your readers!!

We’ve nearly reached maximum capacity for the 2019 MurderCON event; therefore, registration will soon close. So again, I urge you to consider taking advantage of this unique opportunity. It’s a KILLER event!

Sign up today at:

MurderCON

See you in August!

This year, the Writers’ Police Academy (WPA) spread its wings a bit with the introduction of our first publication, an anthology titled AFTER MIDNIGHT: TALES FROM THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT.

Book Description

The curtain rises on this collection of twisted tales, revealing the words of bestselling thriller author Lee Child. Child sets the stage for a series of mysterious and strange goings-on that occur between the hours of midnight and dawn … the graveyard shift.

Contributing authors in this first anthology produced by the Writers’ Police Academy, include bestselling mystery and crime authors, top television writers, true crime experts, and more.

In addition to the stellar lineup of top authors, the WPA announced an exciting contest, a chance for two talented writers to have their stories included in this “killer” book.

Once  the contest closed the task of judging the entries began. To give you an idea of the process and superb quality of stories received, here’s a statement from the publisher, Level Best Books.

“A large number of very good stories were submitted for the two available spots. We certainly could have filled another whole anthology considering the quality of stories we received. All of the submissions were read blindly by a panel of three judges, who were anonymous to each other during the process.”

While all stories were exceedingly good, the judges selected two to include in the AFTER MIDNIGHT anthology.

And the winners are …

 

Ry Brooks and his story
Neighborhood Watch

and

Emilya Naymark for
A Confluence in Stow

After Midnight Anthology Details

  • Title:  AFTER MIDNIGHT: TALES FROM THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT
  • Publisher – Level Best Books
  • ISBN:   ISBN: 978-1-947915-11-4
  • Publication Date:  August 1, 2019
  • Edited by Phoef Sutton
  • Foreword by #1 Internationally best selling author Lee Child

About the Editor

Phoef Sutton is a New York Times Bestselling author and winner of two Emmy Awards for his work on the classic television comedy CHEERS. Phoef also won a Peabody Award for the popular legal drama BOSTON LEGAL starring James Spader, William Shatner, and Candice Bergen. Lately, he’s been writing television movies for the Hallmark Movies & Mysteries channel.


The Authors and Their Twisted Tales

Lucky Cop by RJ Beam (bloodstain pattern expert, WPA and police academy instructor, author)

The Brass Ring by Michael A. Black (author, retired law enforcement expert)

Sunshine Berkman by Joseph S Bonsall (singer with the Oak Ridge Boys – the voice on the hit song Elvira, and more – author, banjo picker, and longtime support of the WPA)

Ride Along by Allison Brennan (Bestselling author)

Neighborhood Watch by Ry Brooks (AFTER MIDNIGHT contest winner)

The Bookends Murder by Robin Burcell (retired law enforcement and bestselling author)

Gentrified Homicide by Marco Conelli (retired undercover detective, author, WPA instructor)

Prime Rib from Brahma by Les Edgerton (Bestselling author and writing teacher/coach)

The Devil in the Flesh by Heather Graham (international bestselling author and 2019 MurderCon Guest of Honor)

Justifiable Homicide by Lisa Klink (television writer – Star Trek Deep Space Nine)

Rookies by Howard Lewis (WPA staff, martial arts expert, author)

LeishMANIA by Denene Lofland (Bioterrorism and microbiology expert, author, founder and host of the WPA)

The Sheriff of Macabre County by Lee Lofland (retired law enforcement, author of Police Procedure and Investigation, founder and host of the WPA)

Code Murder by Linda Lovely (Author, editor, WPA staff)

Baddest Outlaws by Rick McMahan (retired ATF Special Agent, law enforcement instructor, WPA instructor)

A Confluence in Stow by Emilya Naymark (AFTER MIDNIGHT contest winner)

Shared Secrets by Carrie Stuart Parks (forensic artist, former WPA special guest presenter, author)

The Case of the Staring Man by Katherine Ramsland (author of over 1,000 books, professor of forensic psychology, TV consultant and on-air personality, longtime WPA presenter and expert)

Panther Bait by Mike Roche (Secret Serve Special Agent, author)

Disco Fries and Homicide by Shawn Reilly Simmons (publisher/editor Level Best Books, author)

3:45 in the Peacock Room of the Channel Grill on 6th Street 
by Phoef Sutton (bestselling author, renowned and award-winning television writer, editor of AFTER MIDNIGHT anthology)

Hostage (A Love Story) by Cheryl Yeko (author, WPA staff)

With a Foreword by Lee Child (author of the internationally bestselling Jack Reacher series, longtime WPA supporter)

Lee Child ~ Writers Police Academy

 


Book Launch Party and You’re Invited!

Please join Level Best Books and the Writers’ Police Academy to help celebrate the launch of this thrilling new book, AFTER MIDNIGHT.

The launch party takes place at the Friday night reception at MurderCon, and books will be available for purchase at the event and soon by preorder. This will be the first of the Writers’ Police Academy’s new series of books. Stay tuned for more!


BIG NEWS on the WAY!

Also, here’s an important BOLO. Be On the Lookout for an exciting announcement coming from the Writers’ Police Academy and Level Best Books. There’s something very extremely cool brewing behind the scenes!