Steeped in Blood (8 page)

Most solids do not burn; they must be heated before they will give off sufficient flammable gases, which will then ignite. Take, for instance, the familiar coal fire found in the living room of many
homes. To light it, you need to place some paper under a quantity of thin wood kindling, and the coal has to be placed on top of all of this. The paper ignites easily, heating the wood to its ignition point, which in turn heats the coal to its ignition point. In the early stages of a fire, therefore, the principal form of heating is by convection – hot gas produced by the heating process must heat up nearby materials to their ignition temperature before they can catch alight. As hot gases rise – remember the hot air balloon – so the course of the fire will move upwards and outwards from the initial source.

Fire development always follows a pattern, which can be read and interpreted by the experienced observer. All too often, the arsonist performs his deeds as an act of desperation, or, in order to make sure of the total destruction of the property, he or she helps the fire along by using accelerants such as petrol or by setting multiple fires. These are the signs that we look for. When a fire has not developed normally, it is possible to document the actual development and to find out what the real cause of the fire was. It is also possible, using sophisticated equipment, to demonstrate the presence of accelerants.

There are very few things that burn away and leave no trace. In so many aspects, then, the investigation of a fire resembles an archaeological dig: it is by using the methods of the archaeologist that the investigator is able to reconstruct the scene and to interpret the causes and the origins of a fire properly.

My career in forensic fire investigation began in 1985, when a hotel in Middelburg burnt to the ground and I was approached by an insurance loss adjuster to investigate. My journey into the world of pyroforensics had started! I was to discover that the most common cause of fire is bank managers – the number of fires that occur after the bank has put financial pressure on a business is phenomenal.

I flung myself into this fire investigation with gusto, and the way in which I approached it became the general methodology for all
of my subsequent investigations of fires. By sweeping the floors clean of debris, I was able to see clearly the fire patterns on the carpets. Long, narrow trails of burnt carpeting provided the first clue that an accelerant had been used in this particular fire. I interviewed the various players in the running of the hotel and those who had observed and fought the fire. When I compiled all the information, there was a clear indication that the fire had been deliberately started. This is what I reported to the insurers, and my first fire investigation was complete.

Within a short period of time, I was asked by a large insurance company to investigate another fire, this time a house that had burnt down in Ferndale, Johannesburg. I was able to excavate through all the debris and could show that there were trails along the floor where the fire had followed a flammable accelerant, which had been placed there prior to the fire. After analysing the remains, I could also show that the house had contained almost no normal house contents when the fire occurred.

In my report to the insurance company, I had referred to the accelerant as ‘petrol’. By the time the matter came to trial two years later, my experience had taught me that the correct way to refer to the material that I had found was not ‘petrol’, but rather ‘fossil fuel–based accelerant’. Petrol comes out of a pump, and, once ignited, it is altered by the evaporation and heat during the fire – after a fire it is technically no longer petrol.

I wanted to correct my report based on what I had learnt subsequently. The insurance company’s legal advisor instructed me not to. I knew that using the word ‘petrol’ was blatantly wrong, and could result in stringent cross-examination. I was outraged that a legal advisor could dictate to me what my report should contain, particularly as this report was going to be used in a court of law. I refused point-blank to cooperate. The insurance company’s claims manager vowed never to engage me again, and that was the end of my work with that company.

I was subpoenaed by the state to testify as a witness in this case. Two years later, at the civil trial, Deneys Reitz wanted me to testify on their client’s behalf, which I ended up doing.

This was my first encounter with what I believe to be the unacceptable side of business, and the power that money holds. The larger insurance companies have vast sums of money at their disposal, and can decide at a whim whom to instruct. For a young struggling consultant, insurance investigations can be very tempting indeed. The danger comes in when the insurance company’s agenda is different from the scientific agenda. I have always refused to bow to their requests and have exercised the utmost integrity in my work. I believe that once you start altering scientific reports to suit the client or submitting information that you know is incorrect, you become beholden to your client and your credibility suffers in the long run.

When giving evidence in a court of law, it is absolutely critical for the expert witness to be free from obligations; to be seen as completely independent. If the majority of a forensic investigator’s work comes from a single source, such as the insurance industry, then he or she always risks being at the behest of the combined force of money and power. This is not a good recipe for honest behaviour. It is quite true that many claims submitted to insurers are false to the point of fraud, but dishonesty on the part of the insurers towards their clients – and there is no doubt that some of the insurers resort to dishonest business practices – is not a solution to the problem.

My work in the area of fires had a direct impact on my personal life, for which I am eternally grateful. After about eighteen months of fire investigation, I had completed a few cases with an American insurance company called CIGNA. The company invited me to speak at its conference in Johannesburg, and, unbeknown to me, my now wife, Shelona, and a colleague, Susan Edwards, were in the audience. Some two weeks later, there was a fire in Long Street
in Cape Town, on a site that was being renovated by Resnekov & Nielsen. CIGNA was the liability insurance company, and Shelona and Susan Edwards asked me to investigate the fire.

It was a simple case to solve, and ultimately CIGNA paid the claim: the welder had dropped sparks onto the floor, causing the fire. After I’d inspected the site, we all went to lunch, and Shelona was part of the group. When I returned to Johannesburg, we remained in contact and, shortly afterwards, we were married. A fully qualified archaeologist, Shelona manages my practice, and it has been a fantastic partnership and marriage that has worked extremely well for twenty-three years. I have been doubly blessed in that she has been able to raise our children, James and Cathryn, as well as engage in her passion for archaeology. James is interested in physics and mathematics, and Cathryn has a passion for the arts, in particular Shakespeare, both following in the family traditions.

In 1989, a couple of months after the Long Street fire investigation, I was contacted by Vic Lewis, a loss adjuster who called me in to investigate in the
Maritime & General Insurance Co. v Sky Unit Engineering
case. Vic was a snappy dresser and was transported around in a chauffeur-driven Mercedes-Benz. He openly bragged that his suits cost R1 000 each, which was a fortune in those days. Mine cost around R75 each, and Vic was not shy to tell me, ‘Yes, I can see that!’

Sky Unit Engineering was a company that manufactured spare parts for cars. There had been a downturn in the economy, and two lathes in their factory had spontaneously and inexplicably caught fire. The insurance company, facing a large claim for loss of profits, decided to pay out. The claim had hardly been paid when someone took a forklift truck and flattened the rest of the factory. The insurers were now in a bit of a state. They were deeply suspicious, but they could not prove any foul play, and decided to reinvestigate the lathe fire that had occurred some two years previously.
Fortunately, the burnt lathes were still in storage, and I was called in to investigate the matter.

These lathes were complicated assemblies of motors, hydraulics and electronics, and I soon found myself in an area about which I had little knowledge. With great persuasion, I managed to convince the insurers to allow me to appoint Professor Charles Landy, the then head of electrical engineering at the University of the Witwatersrand, to assist me in unravelling the complex electronics of the machine.

The lathe was made up of two sections, both of which had been burnt in the fire. One of the sections was a hydraulic part that was joined via a rubber grommet to the other section. The door on the one side had been closed, so the only way that the fire could have spread would have been through the grommet. I tested the potential spread of the fire myself by removing the grommet. It was easy to see: there was evidence of burning lower down and higher up, but there was a distinct unburnt section in between. The fire hadn’t gone though the grommet. This meant that there had to have been two fires – which suggested that the lathe fire had been deliberate.

I needed to see one of these lathes in an unburnt state in order to compare it to the burnt lathe, confirm my finding and complete my investigation. There were no such machines in the country other than our burnt one, so the insurance company reluctantly agreed that I could travel to Cremona in the north of Italy, to the home town of these lathes. (Cremona, incidentally, is where the Stradivarius violin has its origins.) In Cremona, I was able to confirm what I had suspected. On investigating an unburnt lathe, I could establish how it worked and was then in a position to rule out certain allegations that were presented as causes of the fire.

The case eventually made its way to court. Sky Unit Engineering was represented by the legal firm Deneys Reitz, with John Neaves the appointed attorney. The attorneys had flown in an expert from London to deal with the case. His brief became obvious to
me very quickly: he had clearly been instructed to deal with my evidence and to discredit it as best he could.

I was cross-examined by Jules Browde for the better part of a week. I will never forget his opening statement: ‘Doctor, I am waiting with bated breath. My client is waiting with bated breath. The court is waiting with bated breath to hear how my client is alleged to have set his lathe alight.’

I replied rather flippantly, ‘I think he poured petrol over the lathe, and put a match to it,’ and then added, ‘I may concede, though, that he may have used a cigarette lighter!’

After a hard three weeks in court, judgment was given against the insurance company. The matter was taken on appeal, and was won in the court of appeal before three judges. The judges were quite complimentary about my evidence. In their judgment, they said, ‘While Klatzow may have been rather unorthodox in his approach and whilst he may have been a little over-enthusiastic, he was well qualified to speak and his views merited serious consideration.’ I agree with the judges’ opinion.

Maritime & General Insurance Co. v Sky Unit Engineering
clearly illustrates the role of an expert witness, as well as the pitfalls that can occur when an expert is expected to act as a hired gun, as was the London expert in this matter. It has since become a leading case on the duties of the expert witness and his or her obligation to the court. Many dilemmas confront the expert witness. The client who briefs you expects that you will act in his best interests, but this is not where the expert witness’s duty lies. His or her responsibility to the court is not to mislead the judge with science. Often, the scientific truth will imply that the client’s case is bad, and that on the expert evidence it would be a mistake for the client to call you as a witness. Clients and their attorneys do not like this.

The claims manager of the insurance company SA Eagle, a man by the name of Jimmy McIntosh, was often quoted as saying, ‘If you work against me, you will never work for me,’ which epitomises
the thinking so prevalent in the industry. Jimmy has long since retired and was in the Ombudsman’s office for a while. I have grown to like and respect him as I have mellowed with age, but I have never understood his dictum. This belief of the insurance companies is counter-productive to honest expert evidence, and it exposes the expert to a charge of bias towards the insurance company.

Arson is a huge problem in the world of insurance. To catch the arsonist and to curb the occurrence of this type of fraud in the industry is an important task. However, the insurance industry has gone about this business in a rather foolhardy way. Quite often, the claims manager will proceed on a hunch, and will then resort to any means to avoid paying the claim.

One of the larger and more recent fire cases I have worked on is that of the Munitoria Building in Pretoria, which housed the municipality. The building was gutted in March 1997, causing between 300 and 400 million rands’ worth of damage. The incident had strong political undertones – it took place around the time of transition in South Africa, and the press touted the idea that the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (AWB) and right-wingers had started the fire.

I was called in by a consortium of insurance companies, including CIGNA, who had a financial interest. The police seemed pleased to have me involved, as they didn’t want the responsibility of any problems or fingers pointed at them, so I led the investigation on behalf of the insurers.

All the evidence – the path of the fire, eyewitness accounts and damage to the exterior of the building – pointed to the fact that the fire had started as a result of an electrical malfunction in a downstairs office. Because of the political pressure, there was a need to make a public statement revealing my conclusions. We held a press conference on the steps of the burnt Munitoria Building, and I presented my findings. The police and other investigators concurred.

CIGNA was not happy. My findings had greatly limited their ability to find what I like to call ‘wiggle room’ – an opportunity for them to find a reason not to pay out. Yet paying out is a fairly simple concept: it’s a case of fulfilling their obligations in terms of a contract that they have with the client.