Trail of Bones: More Cases from the Files of a Forensic Anthropologist

5. Sisters

Sisters HOUSANDS and thousands of vehicles traveled the overpass ramp every day. Unknown to the drivers, something lay beneath it, waiting to be discovered. For two years, the remains rested there until a lone armadillo pawed at the loose soil, exposing a rounded, human skull. The structural engineer pulled the metal grate from the small opening and waved his powerful flashlight inside—something scurried in one corner and caught his attention—the sleepy-eyed armadillo. It sat next to what the engineer first thought to be another armadillo—he looked a little closer, and closer still. A human skull stared back at him from the recesses of the overpass ramp as cars could be heard thundering down the ramp overhead. For a moment, he thought he was mistaken. However, what had begun as a routine inspection to confirm the structural integrity of the overpass ramp would end in a tale that would touch even the most jaded of hearts. It seems like yesterday, though years have passed since I was called to the center of one of Louisiana's bustling cities to help recover the remains of a body that had been found accidentally. "When my phone rang that day, the coroner's investigator on the other end spoke in rapid fire. "Mary, we need your help. Can you come immediately? Someone found a human skull sticking out of some dirt in the crawl space beneath a concrete ramp. A person must be buried there." He didn't have to say anymore. "I'm on my way," I replied. At that time in my career, I still drove my own vehicle to scenes and did not have the luxury of graduate assistants T 5 Sisters 47 to help. I knew that if the body had to be transported to my laboratory, the agency involved could take care of that unless it wasjust bones. Many a set of bones had made their way to my lab in my well-used minivan. When I arrived at the scene, it was crawling with detectives, policemen , and coroner's investigators. Heading toward the ramp, I noticed that it was totally enclosed in concrete except for the small opening through which the structural engineer had crawled. I got down on my hands and knees and peeked in. The air was stale and musty. Gingerly, I crawled in and remained on all fours because I could not stand. At five foot two, I'm not the tallest anthropologist standing, but even I had to bend over to clear the ceiling of the interior of the ramp. Shadows cast by the lights that had been strung inside the dank enclosure danced along the walls in eerie shapes. The lead investigator pointed to the skull uncovered by the armadillo. From what I could see, it looked quite small, perhaps a female or a teenager. A relatively large pile of dirt covered what might be the rest of a body. The investigators had done well. I was sure that they had been tempted to go ahead and uncover everything but chose to wait for me. I thanked them for their patience. On the other side of the pile of dirt, which was approximately six feet long and nearly three feet wide, was a fairly large hole. It was apparent that the perpetrator had dug the hole and used it as what we call a "borrow pit" for dirt to cover the body. On multiple occasions in the past we had shown that killerswere lazy. This seemed to exemplify another truism about them: they can also be very stupid. If whoever had done this had simply dug a little deeper and placed the body in the hole, rather than leaving it on top of the ground, it might never have been discovered. Though I didn't have time to dwell on it, I knew that we were not dealing with an Einstein. I quickly assessed the situation and we went to work. It had already gotten dark outside, and it was suffocating inside; we needed to get the body out. Yetmy archaeological training had taught me that haste makes waste and, as we say in archaeology, "When you recover the past, you de- 48 TRAIL OF BONES stroy it at the same time." This certainly applies to a death scene. Youcan never put it back the way it was. Better do it right the first time. The fact...