Coroner's Journal by Louis Cataldie

Avenue, I see the flashing lights about six or seven blocks down. The outskirts of the crowd begin at about three blocks out. The main crowd has gathered and is five deep at the crime-scene tape barrier. It’s muggy and the acrid smoke assaults me. The media is here and we exchange a wave to the tune of “Lemme know what you find, Doc.”
    There they are, the “usual suspects,” as they say. One of my investigators has arrived and is standing by the coroner van. Hoses are stretched across the parking lot. Smoke is still seeping out of a hallway. One has but to trace the smoke to the crime scene. A cascade of water is pouring out of the building and onto the parking lot. Of course, all electricity has been cut to the apartment complex.
    Should have put boots on. Nice job, Lou. Oh well. Too late now.
    The detectives are in a huddle with the firemen and the arson investigators. We exchange greetings and I get the rundown. At any fire, FD sets up an incident commander. The police are there to determine if it’s negligent homicide or, worse, “intentional.” The detective begins: “Okay, here it is. Mom leaves the two kids alone—she says for just a few minutes. We strongly question that, of course. The place catches on fire. We have two dead children in the corner of the living room. We think the fire started in the bedroom because of the fire damage—well, you’ll see for yourself. . . . Actually, we don’t know if we are going to charge the mother with negligent homicide.”
    I ask, “Where is the mother?” Of course what I really mean is: What is her affect? Is she duly upset? Is she loaded on alcohol or drugs? Is there a history of call-outs to this address? Is there any case file with child protection? Was someone else living in the house—a husband? A boyfriend? Does he have a record?
    â€œShe’s hysterical and in the back of one of the units. We are taking her downtown but she can’t really tell us much right now,” he responds.
    I explained my position: “Here’s the deal for me. I am going to ‘post’ both of them in the morning. I’ll do X-rays to rule out fractures and the like. I’ll be looking for fresh fractures which might indicate recent trauma, and I will be looking for old fractures that might indicate a pattern of abuse. I’ll also get some blood chemistry to check for smoke inhalation and toxicology. Right now, I’ll hold them in the cooler until you complete your investigation and we complete ours. We can get together in the morning to decide where we go from there.”
    We agree to the plan, break the huddle, and go to work.
    The investigation will include all of the above and will ultimately be reviewed by the state child-death review panel. Maybe we can avoid similar tragedies.
    The apartment opens into a breezeway. The door was locked when the firemen arrived. There was a large glass picture window that is now a gaping hole—probably shattered by the firemen, or perhaps by the intense heat within the apartment, as the kids were being literally cooked.
    In the corner, by what was the picture window, are two small children. The older child, maybe four years old, is a boy. He is covering his little sister, who is about one or two years old. At least that is my guess. The flashlights give little detail—or too much. The steam is still coming up from the burned furniture and the water is several inches deep and black. It smells of burned wood and textiles and burned flesh.
    The light beams hang in the air because of all the smoldering materials, many of them carcinogenic—part of the job. Just because the fire is out or under control doesn’t mean the smoke has cleared. The FD has a huge fan going via their noisy generators. It helps some. We are standing in a couple of inches of water and wondering if some stray electrical current is going to make us the next victims.
    It stinks.