Crime Scene Investigator (7 page)

‘Armed robbery in progress.’ The message came across the radio. Police officers dashed into the station yard and sped off at high speed to High Street North in Manor Park, east London.

I quickly made my way to the scene, which was a security vehicle parked outside a building society office. Within a few minutes I was there. Security guards had been transferring bags of cash from the security vehicle to the building society branch office. The guards had been approached by a group of men who made threats at gunpoint and snatched a bag of cash. A struggle had ensued but the offenders ran away and made their escape in a vehicle parked around the corner. Nobody got a description of the vehicle.

Normally at such a crime scene there is little to do. Perhaps a search of the ground to see if anything has been dropped and arrange for the clothing of the guards to be taken in case it could be examined for fibres from any clothing of a suspect seized at a later date.

That situation was different. A female witness who had seen the whole event came forward to say that during the struggle one of the suspects had fallen against the side of the security vehicle and that he had steadied himself with his hand.

I looked at the vehicle. It was very clean. As I made a quick visual examination along the side of the vehicle I immediately saw a glistening hand mark, complete with fingers and palm. It was still wet and it was in the general area in which the witness saw the offender fall against the vehicle. It was so wet that I was concerned that the application of aluminium powder with a fingerprint brush would wipe it away. It is very difficult to age finger marks but what made me believe that these marks were very fresh was the cleanliness of the vehicle (it appeared to have been washed very recently, and we could find out exactly when) and the fact that the marks were visible to the naked eye and appeared to be still moist.

The enhancement of finger marks using aluminium or similar type flake and granular powders is still the most common form of finding finger marks. A visual examination using a good light source should always precede the application of a powder as the latter is a relatively destructive technique. Any marks in dust or delicate material could be wiped away by the brushing with powder.

Finger marks are routinely left by the deposit of sweat from the tips of the fingers and palms. What makes them extremely useful in criminal investigations is that they leave the mark of the friction ridges from the fingers. All of which are unique to the individual donor. These marks can be classified and searched against fingerprint databases held by police forces.

Marks in sweat are generally clear and dry slowly. They leave a deposit in salt and amino acids and other body secretions which cannot be seen with the naked eye. Anyone looking at a clean glass which they have held will see some finger marks, but these generally dry clear over a period of time. There are chemical methods of enhancing salts and amino acids and such like, but the mechanical method of developing marks by lightly applying fine aluminium powder with the stroking action of a brush is the commonest method of enhancement. Referred to by those less in the know as ‘dusting’, the technique calls for the light application of powder using a squirrel hair or glass fibre brush in one hand whilst holding a good light in the other.

This technique generally only works on solid, smooth, nonporous surfaces such as glass or painted doors and walls. The operator should wear a mask to prevent the inhalation of the powder. This is to prevent ‘Silver Bogey Syndrome’ which anyone who has used this technique for any length of time will recognise. After the mark is developed it should be cleaned out with a clean brush, again brushing along the lines of ridges to ensure the mark is as clear as possible without any damage to the detailed ridge ending and bifurcations.

The marks can then be photographed but it is more likely they will be lifted with a special clear adhesive tape which can then be preserved for posterity on a sheet of clear and thick acetate film. Details of the location and date can then be written on the sheet to aid identification and presentation at court later.

So there was no doubt in my mind that the position and condition of the marks which I found on the side of the security vehicle were highly significant.

I had to wait a while for the marks to dry before carefully applying the powder. The marks immediately glistened and were easily developed. I continued to search the whole of the side of the vehicle, in case the witness was mistaken in the area in which the suspect fell and also in case there were more finger marks. There were no more.

I recovered the finger and palm marks with adhesive tape, placing them carefully on an acetate sheet, adding my notes and completing my examination report. I arranged for the fingerprints of the security guards to be taken so that they could be eliminated as the donors of the marks.

That evening the marks were on their way to the Fingerprint Branch at New Scotland Yard. It was only a matter of weeks before the marks were identified. A man was quickly arrested and interviewed. Following enquiries by detectives the man was charged with armed robbery.

By the time of the trial I had been transferred to the Flying Squad and was now predominantly examining and investigating armed robbery scenes.

The trial was held at Wood Green Crown Court, which was undergoing extensive refurbishment at the time. The building was an imposing, classic Gothic style, but built within the last century. The number of courtrooms had been significantly reduced and parking was a problem in the cramped car parks and busy side roads.

It was not thought that the trial would be long. The guards and lady witness were the first to give their evidence. I and the fingerprint expert who matched the mark to the now accused defendant were the main prosecution witnesses.

The court buildings were extremely cramped, with little or no space for the separation of witnesses, prosecution and defence lawyers. In fact our courtroom was immediately inside the main door, with only a small passage for all other visitors to the court to pass by.

I checked the court list pinned to the door to see who the presiding judge was. This was not only out of interest but the title would determine how I would address him or her in the court. A high court judge would be referred to as ‘My Lord’ or ‘My Lady’ according to gender. A justice would be referred to as ‘Your Honour’. If all else failed, and to break the monotony of referring to the judge by title, just plain sir or madam would do. Generally it is the barristers who ask the questions, with the presiding judge clarifying points when needed. But whoever asked the question my reply was always directed to the judge and I finished with the words My Lord, My Lady or Your Honour, as appropriate.

I was called to give my evidence mid morning. The courtroom was small and crowded. The witness box faced the jury only a few yards directly in front of me. Two barristers, both wearing traditional white wigs and black gowns were to one side and the defendant sat in a railed box next to a prison officer. The judge, also wigged and gowned, sat in a high prominent position next to the witness box where I stood. I didn’t take much notice of the jury other than a ‘note to self’ to make sure that, although answering the counsel and the judge’s questions, I included them in eye contact when giving my answers. After all, it was they who had to understand the evidence and make their decision based on it. As events unfolded, perhaps I should have made a better note of them.

Having taken the oath, I was asked by the prosecution barrister to explain what I had done and what I had found. This was a simple enough task and I followed the course of my written statement, although I was not allowed to read from it. At the beginning of my evidence, as I normally did, I asked the permission of the judge to allow me to refer to my notes. The usual question, ‘When were these notes made?’ received my normal and honest reply, ‘At the time of my examination, My Lord’.

I described my search of the scene. I stated that my attention was drawn to the side of the vehicle where the offender, whoever he was, fell. This was to avoid my giving ‘hearsay’ evidence, that is the evidence of another (in this case the lady witness) which I had not directly seen myself. So ‘my attention was drawn to’ was just fine.

My description of the marks included how they were easily seen, and readily developed. I was asked if the marks were fresh. I would normally be very cautious about answering such a question, but based on my experience and the observation that the vehicle was clean, I stated that in my opinion they were. I added that the marks were likely made since the last time the vehicle was washed, as any thorough washing process would have removed such delicate material.

The questions of the prosecution barrister finished just as lunch approached. This is sometimes referred to as ‘evidence in chief’ and is the main part of your evidence. What was to follow was the cross-examination by the defence barrister, aimed at testing the evidence on the defendant’s behalf. Once that is finished the prosecution barrister is allowed to ask more questions to clarify any points from the defence questioning. But at that stage no new evidence is allowed to be introduced, it is just clarification of the evidence in chief and the cross-examination.

My evidence in chief at an end, the judge decided to take a natural break and to call me back immediately after lunch. However, the judge warned me that as I was between my questioning by the prosecution barrister and the cross-examination by the defence, I should not discuss the case with any of my colleagues during the lunch break, and particularly those who might be called to give evidence later. It is not an uncommon warning, but I took his words seriously as he clearly thought I was going to be tested by the defence after the break and didn’t want any situation to arise which might jeopardise the process, prejudice the accused and call for a retrial.

So lunch with my colleagues was out of the question. The decision was then where do I go? I wanted to be careful not to accidentally bump into anyone and exchange even a single word which might be observed and construed as disobeying the judge’s words.

I noticed that the defence and prosecution barristers were heading for the communal tea room, just a few paces along the corridor, so I decided to follow. I can’t remember much about the prosecution barrister, other than he wore a gown and wig. I do remember the defence barrister, which is probably because they are the ones who will question your evidence and put you through your paces. The defence barrister in this case was a kindly looking man in his thirties. He was pleasant enough and a shock of blond and ginger hair protruded from under his wig. He appeared friendly, but he had a job to do. Due to the refurbishment work, the tea room was truly communal. There were no separate rooms for barristers, witnesses, friends and family, those defendants not in custody, or jurors, for all I could see. It was crowded but I stood in the queue behind the opposing barristers. Having purchased a sandwich and a cup of tea, I proceeded to a table directly in front of where the two barristers had sat and in their full view. Safe, I thought. Whilst they chatted I sat alone, exchanging the occasional but unconcerned glance.

For nearly an hour I sat there, safely out of harm’s way and not in danger of even remotely speaking to anyone about the case. The smiling nods of counsel indicated to me that they knew what I was doing.

When they rose after lunch and walked the few yards back to the courtroom, I followed closely behind and I waited outside the court with them for the doors to open and for us all to be allowed back in. We were right by the main front doors to the court building and a stream of people were walking past on their way back to the courtrooms. To my surprise a complete stranger, a lumbering man with a ruddy face and carrying a brown plastic bag walked up to me and commented on how well I was giving my evidence. ‘You are doing great in there,’ he said, nodding towards the courtroom. ‘Oh, thank you,’ I replied, not understanding who he was or why he was saying it. He walked off as quickly as he had appeared. The two barristers broke into immediate laughter. I didn’t get the joke, but it wouldn’t be long.

Within a minute I was called back into the witness box and it was then that the judge recalled the jury. They marched in and took their seats. The last juror in was the ruddy-faced individual who had spoken to me only minutes before outside the courtroom. I got the joke now, but I wasn’t laughing, my heart sank. The man then proceeded to take a swig from a bottle inside his brown paper bag.

The defence barrister asked to approach the bench and then asked for the jury to be removed so he could discuss a point of law. The judge agreed and so the jurors marched out as quickly as they had marched in.

The defence barrister then described to His Lordship what had gone on immediately outside the courtroom, courteously including that I had sat alone and in his view for the whole preceding lunch hour. I was asked if I knew the juror, to which I replied no and then explained what he had said and my reply.

I was asked to step outside the court whilst the juror was called. I understand that the account he gave was less pleasing to the judge, compounded by the contents of the brown paper bag, which clearly contained orange, but probably also included some gin!

The juror was discharged and the judge decided to continue with trial with eleven jurors as is his prerogative. It would save a retrial and all of us going through our evidence with a new jury. The judge could not afford to lose another juror.

When the remaining eleven jurors returned to their seats he explained that one of their number would not be continuing. There were some understanding glances.

Our little lunchtime episode over, we returned to the trial proper and my cross-examination by the defence barrister. It was a courteous but rigorous set of questions. There appeared to be no doubt that the finger and palm marks found on the vehicle belonged to the defendant but the defence’s case appeared to be that the marks were deposited there at some other time and location. It was a fair and honest point, and I was careful not to overstate what was fact and be cautious with my opinion.