Three traditional indicators are used to determine how long a person has been dead: rigor mortis, lividity (or hypostasis), and body temperature. Despite what detective novelists would have you believe, none is wholly reliable; all three can be hastened or slowed by a number of factors, such as ambient temperature, physique, exercise, alcohol, and drugs.

Rigor mortis usually begins to set in three hours after death in the muscles of the face and eyelids and then spreads slowly through the body to the arms and legs, taking about twelve hours to complete. In most cases the process reverses after thirty-six hours, until the body is soft and supple again.

Lividity also develops in a time sequence. It commences shortly after the heart stops mixing the plasma and red cells together and is visible thirty to sixty minutes later. As the red cells settle, like sediment in a wine bottle, the skin beneath turns red. In a process that takes between six and ten hours, the red cells break down, evacuate the capillaries, and enter the body. The color then becomes permanent. If a person dies in bed lying on his or her back, the color would normally be found on the back. Lividity on the front part of the body indicates that the body has been moved.

The third major indication of how much time has elapsed since death is body temperature. When oxygen is no longer fueling the body and keeping it warm, the temperature falls at a rate of approximately 1.5°F per hour. Again, musculature and ambient temperature play significant roles. An obese person will cool much more slowly than a thin person; someone who dies in a warm room will retain more body heat than someone who succumbs outdoors in cold weather. The following formula is widely used for estimating the time of death:

None of these tests is 100 percent accurate; only by factoring in all the results can a likely time of death be established.

One recent addition to the medical examiner's armory, so-called eyeball chemistry, works by measuring the rate at which potassium from the red blood cells enters the vitreous fluid of the eye. Various studies of this technique have produced widely divergent results, and the jury is still out on whether this will ever enter the forensic medicine mainstream.

In 2001, scientists at Oak Ridge National Laboratory in Tennessee released details of a planned scanner that incorporates mass spectroscopy and gas chromatography and that can be passed over a corpse to detect and analyze the chemicals of decomposition. The belief is that these chemical "signatures" can be analyzed to give a time of death with only a two-day margin of error for every thirty days of decomposition. Research on this project is still continuing.

These are the conventional means of establishing time of death, but science is constantly coming up with improvements, as the following cases reflect. 

Frank James and Raymond Schuck

DATE: 1920

LOCATION: Camden, New Jersey

SIGNIFICANCE: This case provides a brilliant example of deductive logic by the detective who was known as the Cornfield Sherlock Holmes.

Each week, David Paul, a sixty-year-old runner for the Broadway Trust Bank in Camden, New Jersey, carried a deposit across the Delaware River to the Girard Trust Company in Philadelphia. On October 5, 1920, with his satchel bulging with forty thousand dollars in cash and thirty thousand dollars in securities, he left Camden as usual but then disappeared. When a background check revealed that twenty-five years earlier Paul had served a jail term for mail theft, fears grew that he had absconded with the money. To their credit, his employers steadfastly refused to accept this view, insisting that Paul had reformed.

Eleven days later, their faith was vindicated in the cruelest way imaginable: Two duck hunters found Paul's body in a shallow grave near Irick's Crossing in adjoining Burlington County. He had been shot twice and battered about the head. No money was found on his body, but all of the securities were in the pouch. The killers had not bothered with trifles; Paul's watch, gold ring, and gold cuff links still lay on the body. Also close at hand was a pair of spectacles. Curiously, while the ground around the corpse was dry, Paul's overcoat and clothing were soaking wet. The thick clay soil showed faint traces of automobile tire tracks, and a piece of wood from the backseat of a car was found. Witnesses spoke of seeing a yellow runabout with a wooden rear seat in the vicinity several days before.

When the medical examiner declared that death had occurred not more than twenty-four hours before the body was discovered, it appeared that either Paul had actually bolted with the money, only to be killed later by accomplices, or he had been kidnapped and kept imprisoned for at least a week before being killed.

Neither theory made much sense to Ellis Parker, chief of detectives in Burlington County and one of the nation's top investigators, a man often consulted by other agencies when they faced an especially difficult case. Parker, who knew Paul well and had identified the body, was convinced that the messenger had been murdered much earlier than the medical examiner said. He was particularly intrigued by the wet clothing. The official line was that the murderers, unsure whether the gunshots had definitely killed Paul, had made certain by drowning his body in a nearby stream before burying him. Parker growled his disagreement and continued looking.

Two Suspects

Within a month, the spectacles were traced to a neighbor of Paul's, an automobile salesman named Frank James. It turned out that ever since Paul's disappearance, James and another man, Raymond Schuck, had been drinking wildly and tossing large sums of money around. Yet when questioned, both had watertight alibis for the time when the medical examiner estimated the murder had taken place: James had been at a convention in Detroit, and Schuck had gone downstate to stay with friends for several days. Parker, always wary of perfect alibis, especially when provided by people he believed to be crooked, redoubled his efforts.

Just upstream from where the body was found lay a number of tanning factories. Analysis of water from the stream revealed an unusually high tannic acid content, enough to act as a preservative on a human body, so that after a week or so in water it would show hardly any sign of decomposition. Submergence of Paul's body in the stream would account for the medical examiner's confusion regarding the time of death.

A triumphant Parker confronted James and Schuck with this latest finding. James gave it a moment's thought, then admitted everything. Schuck, who tried to pile all of the blame on his partner, admitted to dumping Paul's body under a bridge. After a mammoth drinking spree, they had returned to the bridge, retrieved the body, and buried it, unaware of the alibi that the water had given them.

A jury later apportioned equal guilt to both men, and they were electrocuted on August 30, 1921.

Conclusion

Over a career that spanned four decades, Ellis Parker solved 226 out of 236 murder cases, combining scientific detection with flashes of intuitive brilliance, all laced with prodigious determination. Often he would decide early in an investigation who the guilty party was and stubbornly pursue only that possibility. This tenacity served him well more often than not, but ended up ruining his career during the Lindbergh kidnapping, in which his meddling earned him a jail sentence. He died in prison in 1940. 

Anibal Almodovar

DATE: 1942

LOCATION: New York, New York

SIGNIFICANCE: In this amazing case, forensic botany destroyed a phony alibi.

A New Yorker out exercising his German shepherd in Central Park happened to follow the barking dog into some tall grass. Beneath the lowhanging branches of a dogwood tree, Fridolph Trieman found the body of a young woman. She had been strangled. An examination found no evidence of rape, and the fact that she had no handbag or money suggested that this was a mugging gone tragically wrong— except that the woman still wore a gold chain around her swollen neck. No thief was likely to leave that.

Late that night detectives Joseph Hackett and John Crosby of the Missing Persons Bureau identified the woman as Louise Almodovar, a twenty-fouryear-old waitress who lived with her parents in the Bronx. They had reported her missing the previous day, November 1, 1942. They told how Louise had married Anibal Almodovar, a diminutive Puerto Rican ex-sailor, just five months earlier, only to leave him after a few weeks because of his insatiable womanizing.

When told of his wife's fate, Almodovar just shrugged. She had made his life hell, he said, beating up one of his girlfriends and swearing at another. He was glad to be rid of her but denied any involvement in her death. And the facts seemed to bear him out. According to Thomas A. Gonzales, chief medical examiner, Louise had met her death between nine and ten o'clock on the night of November 1, at which time Almodovar was at a dance hall called the Rumba Palace with the very woman whom Louise had beaten. Furthermore, dozens of other witnesses could testify to his presence there. When faced with such an ironclad alibi, the detectives looked elsewhere. Then Louise's parents showed them threatening letters written by Almodovar to their daughter. It was enough to hold the amorous seaman as a material witness.

Still, there was that alibi. Only when detectives visited the dance hall, just a few hundred yards from the murder scene, did they realize that Almodovar might have slipped out unnoticed, gone to Central Park where he had previously arranged to meet his wife, killed her, and then returned to the dance without anyone being the wiser.

Seeds of Doubt

Forensic tests confirmed their suspicions. When Alexander O. Gettler, head of the city's Chemical and Toxicological Laboratory, examined crime scene photos, he noticed that the body was lying in an unusual type of grass. Enlargement of the photographs allowed him to identify the individual strain of grass. Coincidentally, grass seeds of the same type had been found in Almodovar's pockets and trouser cuffs, yet he insisted that he had not visited Central Park for over two years. Any seeds in his pockets, he said, must have been picked up on a recent visit to Tremont Park in the Bronx. He was wrong. Joseph J. Copeland, professor of botany and biology at City College, later testified that the grasses in question—Plantago lanceolata, Panicum dichotimoflorum, and Eleusine indica—were extremely rare and grew only at two spots on Long Island and three places in Westchester County. The only place in New York City where such grass occurred was Central Park. Moreover, it could be further isolated to the very hill where Louise's body had been found.

Almodovar panicked, suddenly recalling a walk he had taken in Central Park two months previously, in September. Copeland shook his head. The grass in question was a late bloomer, mid-October at the earliest; therefore Almodovar could not possibly have picked up the seeds in September. But on November 1?

At this, Almodovar broke down and confessed. Yes, he had arranged to meet his wife in Central Park; they had quarreled again, and he had killed her in a fit of rage. Later, he claimed that this confession had been extorted from him under pressure and pleaded innocent at his trial. But it did no good. When the sentence of death was passed, Almodovar, despite being shackled from head to toe, fought so fiercely that nine guards were needed to restrain him. On September 16, 1943, he died in the electric chair.

Conclusion

There can be little doubt that this was a carefully planned and executed killing, wholly at odds with Almodovar's claim of murder committed in the heat of passion. The alibi was just too good; fortunately, so was the scientific analysis. 

Steven Truscott

DATE: 1959

LOCATION: Goderich, Canada

SIGNIFICANCE: A young girl was dead. Seven years later, pathologists from around the globe gathered in Canada to argue over when, exactly, she had been murdered.

The weather was fine on the evening of Tuesday, June 9, 1959, when Lynne Harper, twelve, left the Royal Canadian Air Force base where she lived at Goderich, near Clinton, Ontario. The time was half past five; she had just finished her supper and was now out to enjoy the summer sun. Soon afterward, she was seen with classmate Steven Truscott, fourteen, on the crossbar of his green racing bicycle, heading away from the base along a country road. Another child, cycling in the opposite direction, passed them at about 7 P.M. opposite a small wood called Lawson's Bush. Yet just a few moments later, when another boy came along, the road was deserted.

That night, Lynne failed to return home. A search lasting into the next day found nothing. On Thursday groups of both police and air force personnel fanned out across the fields and woods. That afternoon, Lynne's body, already starting to decompose in the hot weather, was found in Lawson's Bush, partly concealed by branches. She was lying on her back, seminaked, strangled with her own blouse. Between her feet two small mounds of soft earth, bearing the imprints of crepe-soled shoes, had been pushed up, in an attitude that suggested rape. Due to the condition of the body, this could not immediately be confirmed.

The autopsy was conducted by local forensic pathologist Dr. John Penistan under less-than-ideal conditions; the room on the air base was small and was lit only by a single electric bulb. Even so, he confirmed that Lynne had been strangled and raped. From an examination of the stomach contents—turkey, cranberries, and vegetables, a meal she had eaten on Tuesday evening—he estimated that she had died not later than 7:30 P.M.

At which time Steven Truscott was still out and unaccounted for.

Phantom Car

He had arrived home at 8:30 P.M. When questioned, he admitted being with Lynne but claimed to have dropped her off at Highway 8, where she got into a gray Chevrolet with yellow U.S. plates. A medical examination of Truscott found graze marks on either side of his penis consistent with forcible rape, though he maintained they were from a rash he'd had for several weeks. His leg had been gashed a day or two earlier, and his trousers—which he had since washed but not well enough to get rid of grass stains on the knees—were torn. Although he was known to wear a pair of crepe-soled shoes, they were never found.

Despite the absence of direct proof linking Truscott to Lynne Harper's murder, the circumstantial evidence ensured a murder conviction. Astonishingly, he was sentenced to death by hanging. Though no one believed for a moment that this sentence would ever be carried out on a fourteen-year-old boy in Canada, it galvanized public opinion. Eventually the sentence was commuted to life imprisonment. Because of his age, he was sent to the Ontario Training School for Boys.

In 1966, journalist Isabel Le Bourdais published The Trial of Steven Truscott, in which she claimed that he had been wrongly convicted. The book, although replete with inaccuracies—especially about medical aspects of the case—succeeded in renewing debate, and a special appeal was filed to the Supreme Court of Canada.

Across the Atlantic, the two most prominent pathologists in Britain, Professors Keith Simpson and Francis Camps, each read the book and reached polarized opinions. Camps believed an error had been made in establishing the time of death; Simpson thought not. Underlying this disagreement was a long-running feud between the two scientists; for years they had toiled in each other's shadow. Camps, a robust, truculent character, never missed an opportunity to vilify the man he regarded as his archrival. Simpson, the veteran of more than one hundred thousand autopsies, was less strident but unparalleled on the witness stand.

In October 1966, both pathologists flew to Canada to testify at the appeal. Lined up in Simpson's camp, besides Dr. Penistan, were Dr. Milton Helpern, New York's chief medical examiner, and Dr. Samuel Gerber from Ohio. Appearing for Truscott, in concert with Camps, was Dr. Charles Petty from Baltimore.

When Did She Die?

At issue was the vexatious question of when Lynne had actually died. Penistan had based his original estimate on the stomach contents. When a meal is eaten, there is considerable variation in the rate of digestion and speed of emptying the stomach. The type of food eaten makes a difference; fatty meals slow the process. Also, metabolic rates vary, and even the same person may have different rates at different times, depending on health and emotional state. Fear, fright, injury, or pain can hamper digestion. For example, after severe head trauma, food may stay in the stomach for several days, looking as fresh as when it was swallowed. However, generally, the average meal stays in the stomach for a couple of hours or so.

Allowing for the considerable volume and only partial digestion of the food in Lynne's stomach, and in the absence of anything to indicate ill health, Penistan decided that she had died no more than two hours after eating the meal at 5:30 P.M.

Nonsense, said Camps; it was impossible to draw any such conclusion. He was adamant that death could have taken place at any time between one and ten hours after eating, plenty of time for the girl to have been taken away, raped, and murdered in the mysterious gray Chevrolet—the existence of which was never demonstrated—and then dumped. Simpson, well used to Camps's often bizarre flights of fancy, responded coolly. He first pointed out that the murder scene at Law-son's Bush left little doubt about where the crime had taken place and then went on to make clear his support for the oft-maligned Penistan. Milton Helpern was equally emphatic in his belief that Penistan's conclusions had been correct.

After considering both sides, the Supreme Court held that there was no justification for a new trial, and the sentence was reaffirmed. Released in 1969, Truscott disappeared from public view. After reemerging in 2007, he once again appealed his conviction. At this time of writing, the court's decision is pending.

Conclusion

Probably no other trial ever attracted such a wealth of forensic talent and diversity of opinion. The argument and counterargument generated by a half dozen of the world's premier pathologists has firmly established this case in the annals of legal medicine. 

William Jennings

DATE: 1962

LOCATION: Gomersal, England

SIGNIFICANCE: Forensic archaeology, a science used in the United States for more than a decade, was virtually unknown in Britain until the investigation of this tragedy.

On a bitterly cold winter morning in 1962, three-year-old Stephen Jennings vanished from the family home at Gomersal in West Yorkshire. That afternoon—December 12—his father, William Jennings, reported the boy missing to local police. Scores of officers, together with local villagers, combed the surrounding countryside for the toddler, but heavy snow that would make this winter the worst in living memory hampered all attempts to find the little boy. When the thaw came in March 1963, efforts were resumed, but after several fruitless weeks the search steadily tapered off.

From the outset, police suspected that Jennings, a twenty-five-year-old petty criminal, knew more about his son's disappearance than he was letting on (two women claimed to have seen him carrying a sack containing something bulky on the day of the disappearance). And there had been a family history of so-called accidents. In July 1962, little Stephen had been admitted to a local hospital with badly scalded feet; the burns were incurred while he and the father were alone in the house. No charges were pressed. Then, in September, the child had been found wandering through the village, half naked, without shoes, his face bruised and bloodied. All of these incidents were recalled during intense questioning of Jennings, but he stuck to his story that the boy had been abducted by gypsies, and in the absence of any clues to link him to any crime, there was little that police could do.

Ostracized by other villagers, Jennings continued to abuse his children. Just one month after Stephen's disappearance, another son was treated at the hospital for facial injuries, then a cracked femur. Finally, in 1965, Jennings and his wife, Eileen, were charged with child neglect and jailed for eighteen months. After their release, the couple separated and later divorced. Jennings moved away and remarried, starting a new life.

Twenty-Five Years Later

A generation passed, and memories of Stephen Jennings faded, until April 7, 1988, when a Gomersal man who had participated in the original search was out walking his dog. Suddenly the terrier began barking at something in the undergrowth. The man went to investigate. Beside a stone wall and less than a mile from the former Jennings home, he saw a tiny skull and some other bones. Instantly his mind raced back twenty-five years, and he ran to contact the police.

In order to establish how long the skeleton had been in situ, a team from the archaeological department at Bradford University excavated the grave. They found that the body had originally been laid on top of the turf, then concealed with stones. Later, the nearby stone wall had collapsed, covering the body further. Because nearly all of the skeletal bones were intact and in position, the team believed that the body had probably been wrapped in something like a sack, because an exposed body would have had its bones dispersed by wild animals or the weather. Although nothing remained of the sack or any clothing, which had rotted away, the team found a pair of leather sandals with the skeleton. In a good state of preservation, they matched exactly the description of Stephen's footwear on the day he had disappeared.

The remains were examined by Home Office pathologist Dr.

Somasundram Siva. With the aid of an odontologist, he estimated that the body was of a boy three and four years old. A fracture to one wrist corresponded to an injury that Stephen Jennings was known to have received shortly before his death. The cause of death was plain. Eight ribs were fractured, consistent, Dr. Siva said, "with being punched . . . or kicked from behind."

After keeping his grim secret for a quarter of a century, William Jennings was stunned when detectives arrived at his home in Wolverhampton to take him back to Yorkshire for questioning. On the long car journey, he broke down and admitted to killing his son but declared it accidental. During his trial, experts testified that only extreme and prolonged violence could have produced such appalling injuries. Jennings's account of Stephen "falling down the stairs" did not fit the medical facts, and on May 23, 1989, he was convicted of murder and imprisoned for life.

Conclusion

The basic tenet of forensic archaeology is that when a body is buried, the soil layer is disturbed, and then often replaced in the wrong order. By studying such clues as minor ground undulations, investigators can establish a surprisingly accurate time frame.