Informative, witty. . .Kollmann delivers terse commentary and gory detail while puncturing common misconceptions about forensics. – Booklist Step past the flashing lights into the true scene of the crime with this frank, unflinching, and unforgettable account of life as a crime scene investigator. Whether explaining rigor mortis or the art of fingerprinting a stiff corpse on the side of the road, Dana Kollmann details her true, unvarnished experiences as a CSI for the Baltimore County Police Department. «Riveting.» –M. William Phelps, author of Murder in the Heartland Unlike the popular crime dramas proliferating on today's television networks, these forensic tales forgo glitz for grit to show what really goes on. Kollmann recounts stories that the cops and the CSI's usually leave in the field, bringing the sights, smells, and sounds of a crime scene alive as never before. «Raw and real.» –Connie Fletcher, author of Every Contact Leaves a Trace Unveiling the process and science of crime scene investigation in all its can't-tear-your-eyes-away fascination, Never Suck a Dead Man's Hand takes you into the strange world behind the yellow tape, offering a truly eye-opening perspective on the day-to-day life of a CSI. «Gritty, witty, and heartfelt . . . a must-read.» –Aphrodite Jones, New York Times bestselling author of A Perfect Husband
Оглавление
Dana Kollmann. Never Suck A Dead Man's Hand:
Contents…
Introduction…
CHAPTER 1. Cock-and-Bull…
CHAPTER 2. A Sucker’s Born Every Minute…
CHAPTER 3. Gross Anatomy…
CHAPTER 4. Try It, You’ll Like It…
CHAPTER 5. Animal Instinct…
CHAPTER 6. Wheel of Misfortune…
CHAPTER 7. Splinters in the Windmills of Their Minds…
CHAPTER 8. Grave Matters…
CHAPTER 9. All Good Things Must Come to an End…
CHAPTER 10. As Much Fun as a Barrel Full of Monkeys…
CHAPTER 11. Out of the Mouths of Babes…
Epilogue…
Acknowledgments…
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Never Suck a Dead Man’s Hand
Curious Adventures of a CSI
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Evarts and I scanned the ground with our flashlights. He was probably looking for evidence related to the crash and I was trying to make sure I didn’t step in something gross. As we got closer to the car, I could smell gasoline and something that reminded me of burned rubber. The vehicle itself looked like a crumpled soda can in the recycle bin. It was upside down, and it was quite evident that it had rolled because grass, mud, and branches were embedded in the roof, doors, grille, and undercarriage. The windshield was folded like an accordion and the side windows were smashed out. The front end had obviously struck a tree because there was a deep, U-shaped concavity in the grille, and twigs and bark were embedded in the crumpled metal. Glass, metal, plastic, and contents from the car’s interior were scattered along the accident path and the deep gouges in the frozen earth offered silent testimony to the force of the impact. I shined my light inside the wreckage. There was no way anyone could have survived the crash. The back of the driver’s seat was just inches from the steering wheel and the floorboard nearly touched the dash. The airbags had deployed but offered the victim little protection since his ejection indicated he probably was not restrained. The driver’s seatbelt swayed in the wind and the buckle clinked against the side of the car as if to emphasize the point. For a second, I forgot about being cold.
“Well,” I said matter of factly after taking it all in. I pointed to the Christmas tree air freshener still hanging from the twisted rearview mirror. “That could be a selling point.”
