Death Trap by M. William Phelps Page A

criminal unit.”
     
     
    Back in Georgia, inside the Division of Forensic Science morgue at Bureau headquarters in Atlanta, forensic pathologist Dr. Krzysztof Podjaski got to work on the autopsies. There was a lot riding on these examinations; the results of which could possibly provide several important answers to questions that would eventually help solve this case quickly, sparing the families a load of additional heartache and anguish.
    A native of Poland, Podjaski had been in the United States for about fifteen years. He spoke English fairly well, having learned the language back home. Podjaski was well schooled in trauma surgery and orthopedics. He finished his two-year residency in Hartford, Connecticut, at Hartford Hospital. From there it was on to Atlanta, where he spent a year in forensic pathology and then joined the Bureau.
    Some have a misunderstanding of the word “pathologist,” bringing to it a certain Hollywood flare and connotation that we see today on crime television, vis-à-vis shows like CSI, Law & Order and Bones. Watching the television version of forensic pathology, a viewer might be inclined to think that pathologists are crime-solving wizards, or crime scene–inspecting sleuths—that one hair fiber or tooth mark can solve a case. Some think they run around town interviewing suspects and tracking down leads. But when you get inside the morgue and see what goes on, the reality is quite different: it’s more tedious study and medical panache than Star Trek –like technology and ah-hah moments. Scientifically speaking, pathology is the actual study of, as Dr. Podjaski put it in court so perfectly, “bad things that happen to the human body that are of interest to law.”
    A careful dissemination of the facts (or clues) a dead body might reveal. The cause of death. The reason someone died.
    It was so simple on the surface.
    On the day Alan and Terra’s severely charred (“burned to a significant degree”) remains were brought in for the doctor to have a look at, he had been with the Bureau for a little over two years. Podjaski’s focus was on the cause of death. All investigations began with a cause. The effect was gleaned from there. And so on.
    Both bodies, zipped up inside black body bags, were brought in by deputy coroner Susan Simmons. By this point dental records had indeed confirmed just about 100 percent who the victims were. No surprises there: Alan and Terra Bates. The backstory, however, one that pathologists try not to get involved with, was substantially different. Alan and Terra were a happily married couple in the prime of their lives. There was no reason for them to be dead.
    And that’s where a pathologist came into the situation. To unearth the why behind the tragedy.
    The first thing Podjaski did was examine the outside of the bodies, or what was left, actually. He conducted what he deemed an “external examination.” Multiple photographs were snapped before the doctor even put a finger on either of the victims. As needed, X-rays, especially when there was a possibility that the victim (s) had been stabbed or shot, were taken.
    Podjaski wrote in his report that Alan’s body exhibited extensive charring, from head to toe, and has a pugilistic attitude with the right arm flexed at the elbow and the left hand at the wrist.
    Pugilistic attitude—or, as it is more frequently called, “pugilistic posture”—is a common occurrence found in victims of a fatal fire. What happens is that the body, as it heats up, is exhausted of most of its fluids. This loss of bodily fluids, mainly water, causes a restriction in the muscle tissue, which curls the tips of the fingers, the tips of the toes, ankles, elbows and any other place in the body where there is a moveable joint. Some say the body, when it is presented in this way, takes on a “boxer’s position.” The reasoning behind this observation is that the hands, wrists, elbows and knees are flexed and curled inward, due to