Bough Cutter

by Jeff Nania

  In Wisconsin, if a law enforcement officer comes upon a death that is “unexplained, unusual, or otherwise suspicious in nature,” it must be reported to the coroner or medical examiner assigned to the jurisdiction in which the death occurred. The coroner is an elected position. Anyone can run for that position as long as they are over the age of eighteen and don’t have a felony conviction. They don’t have to know anything about forensic investigation.

  In my county, a local livestock dealer and part-time realtor held the coroner’s position for over twenty-five years. His brother owned a funeral home in Musky Falls. By all reports, the coroner was competent and professional in carrying out his duties. Wisconsin law does not allow a funeral director acting as coroner to offer funeral services to the victim’s family. The coroner did not offer funeral services. He did, however, occasionally provide to the bereaved the business card for his brother’s funeral home, and rumor had it he was compensated for the referral on the side. This didn’t appear to be an issue with the local community until a funeral home from Superior opened a branch in Musky Falls. The owner of the new state-of-the-art, full-service funeral home noticed immediately that it seemed everybody who died in Namekagon County went to the coroner’s brother’s facility. He grumbled to the county board, prompting two members to call for an investigation to see if their duly elected and compensated coroner was double-dipping. Another member added fuel to the fire when he shared that he was recently beaten out of first place in a bass tournament by the coroner who happened to be running around in a new decked-out fishing boat with the name of his brother’s funeral home professionally lettered on both sides. He wasn’t accusing the coroner of anything but, under the circumstances, felt he should bring it up.

  The discussion was enough for the coroner, and consequently, he withdrew his candidacy in the next election. That seemed to satisfy most, but his withdrawal set tongues wagging. The deadline to be put on the ballot for the coroner’s race was rapidly approaching, and no one was jumping up. Finally, Olaf Gjertson, the local butcher who was known to run errands around town in his blood-stained apron, walked into the county office at the last minute and said, “How do I get them papers to fill out to be the ‘corner’?”

  The clerk called the county board chair, and he added an agenda item to the upcoming county board meeting. They had been considering replacing the coroner’s position with a medical examiner—someone highly trained in forensic procedures and who would serve at the pleasure of the county board. Although unsaid, it appeared as if Olaf’s desire to run for public office was just the thing needed for a unanimous vote to replace the coroner with an ME.

  The timing was perfect, and Namekagon County was lucky. A young physician and his wife had found the north country too alluring to resist. He was at the end of his contract with a giant hospital on the east coast, and his wife had recently completed graduate school and was looking for a position as a counselor working with kids. The big hospital offered him a contract with a four-year commitment. It was attractive, but not as attractive as living in the Northwoods splendor and being able to fish muskies whenever he wanted. They packed up and moved to Musky Falls. He was offered a job in the local hospital emergency room and was working there when the notice went out for the part-time ME. The fact he was well qualified and the only applicant was not lost on the county board. They hired him before the ink was dry on his application.

  I had dispatch send our new medical examiner, Dr. Mike Chali, to the scene.

  Warden Asmundsen offered to stick around but added that the wardens had mobilized to work deer shiners after he received several reports of a group cruising backroads at night. When they spotted a deer standing in a meadow or crop field, they would shine a powerful spotlight in the animal’s eyes, immobilizing it for a few seconds but long enough for someone else in the vehicle to stick a rifle out the window, take aim, and shoot. The perpetrators did not even attempt to retrieve the deer they shot, leaving them to rot. People here have no sense of humor when it comes to things like this, nor does the warden force. Low deer numbers made this worse. Asmundsen took off to meet up with his crew for the night maneuvers.

  I stayed with the vehicle and body. It was over an hour before the ME got close enough for me to direct him in. He drove easily down the woods road in his restored 1980s vintage Toyota Land Cruiser.

  Despite the routine nature of the work around the area so far—drunk drivers killed in accidents, two suicides, and tragically the death of a local teenager from a drug overdose—Dr. Chali demonstrated thoroughness. Becky, his wife, landed a position as a mental health counselor at the crisis center in Musky Falls. Part of her job was to develop a community action group for kids and adults who would meet at the community center every other week. Julie volunteered to help her, and they had become good friends. Both were concerned about the increase in the number of kids and adults struggling with drug addiction. While a familiar problem for urban dwellers, it was somewhat new to rural areas. Community concern was voiced regularly in the local paper and at county board and city council meetings. Law enforcement had become the focal point of many of their concerns, essentially falling back to the age-old position taken by those who saw their lives and community being challenged: throw the bastards in jail. The truth is, most people still expect when they call a cop, one will show up and do something.

  “Hi, Mike. Thanks for coming out,” I said.

  He listened intently as I explained my suspicion of the circumstances.

  “Sheriff, it sounds to me like you have good reason to be suspicious. Let’s see what we can find.”

  He removed a set of white coveralls with elastic cuffs at the wrists and ankles from one of two large aluminum-clad suitcases he brought. Once he donned the coveralls, he slipped a pair of white booties on over his boots, and then put on a hairnet, a face mask, and surgical gloves. He hooked a microphone on his shirt collar and began to film and narrate the scene using a small video camera. He was meticulous in his approach, doing everything he could to protect any evidence.

  He finished with his video and called me over.

  “Sheriff, let me tell you what I think we are going to need to do. I am going to enter the vehicle from the back doors and begin an examination of the body. I do not want to enter the front passenger’s door because of your astute observation regarding the plant. I need to get a closer look to make an initial determination if I can. The condition may make it impossible outside of the examination room, but I need to try. While I am doing this, would you please video my every move and anything else I ask you to?”

  “Okay, I will,” I responded.

  The doctor entered the SUV. I started recording. Shortly after getting started, he spoke to me.

  “Sheriff, on the passenger’s side of the vehicle in approximately the middle of the floor mat, there is a brass shell casing. Near the victim’s right hand is a black semiautomatic handgun laying between the seat and console. Please video these items at their respective locations. First distant, then zoom in as best you can.”

  “Got it, Doctor,” I replied.

  “The victim appears to be a white male. Estimate of age is mid to upper thirties. Sheriff, I am going to see if he has some form of identification on him. There is a chain hooked to a belt loop in his pants that goes to an area that is near his right rear pocket, probably a wallet.”

  Then he moved closer to the body.

  “There is what appears to be an entry wound on the right side of the subject’s head. It is irregular, with portions of the skull broken away; There appears to be powder tattooing in the remaining flesh around the wound. It also appears as though some flesh and tissue were carried into the area. The wound area has seen significant activity from scavengers, in particular maggots.”

  The ME tried to move to a spot right behind the body.

  “Sheriff, there is a large duffle bag on the floor behind the driver’s seat. Please video the bag. I am not going to disturb it. I will need to cra
wl up onto the seat to examine the rest of the subject’s skull for an exit wound.”

  He looked over the victim’s head and then began to gently move his gloved fingers around and under the hair. After a few minutes, he stated, “No exit wound is apparent at this time. Sheriff, do you want me to retrieve the victim’s wallet at this time?”

  “Yes, Mike.”

  While he was unhooking the wallet from the deceased’s belt and pulling it from his pocket, I gloved up and got a large clear evidence bag. I held the bag out for the ME, and he dropped the wallet in.

  He got out of the vehicle, walked some distance away, and brushed away the maggots that had crawled onto his coveralls and gloves.

  I reached into the evidence bag and opened the wallet. There was a driver’s license. The ME walked over to me and turned on his mic.

  I gave my narrative.

  “Dr. Chali, ME of Namekagon County, has retrieved a black leather wallet attached to a silver color chain from the victim. The wallet was deposited in an evidence bag. I have opened the wallet inside the bag and retrieved a Wisconsin driver’s license. The name on the driver’s license is Devin L. Martin, six feet tall, one hundred seventy pounds, brown eyes, black hair, 37 years old with a Milwaukee address. The name is consistent with registration of the vehicle.” I removed my hands from the evidence bag and sealed it.

  “So, what do you think?” I asked the ME.

  “It appears as if the victim received a gunshot wound to the right temple, possibly self-inflicted. I could not find an exit wound, so the slug may still be inside. Hopefully, we can retrieve it. Then the lab folks can maybe get a match with the gun in the car. Determining how long ago he died is going to be a little more difficult to establish. Flies begin to lay their eggs just a few days after death. It takes between two and three weeks for the eggs to hatch and release maggots. Once the maggots are on the body, they move quickly and can consume sixty percent of a human body in just seven days. So, he has been here for at least several weeks. Once we get him back to the examination room, we will try to pin down a more precise date. What I see here is consistent with suicide, but I will not make that call until the full exam is complete. The subject is clearly deceased, and I will call it 4:32 p.m., October 16. John, any other information will have to come from the postmortem examination. Are you calling in a crime scene unit or handling this yourself?”

  “Doc, I know this looks like a suicide, and it probably is, but I am going to call in a crime scene unit.”

  “Okay with me, Sheriff. I will stand by until they arrive and assist in the investigation.”

  I radioed dispatch. Lois, our most senior and competent communicator, responded.

  “Lois, contact the crime scene unit out of Eau Claire County and see if they are available.”

  “I already made contact with them after you requested the ME. They are finishing a scene, and the soonest they could get going would be first thing tomorrow morning,” she replied.

  “How about Douglas County?” I asked.

  “They are not available. They only have two techs on. Everyone else has been subpoenaed in a homicide case.”

  “Tell the Eau Claire crew we will stand by and await their arrival. Also, advise them that the ME’s initial exam indicates death by a possible gunshot to the head. The corpse is decomposed, and we will wait to extract the body from the vehicle until they are on the scene.”

  “Ten-four, Sheriff. I will pass it on,” Lois replied.

  I said to Dr. Chali, “The Eau Claire County crime scene unit will be here first thing in the morning. You might as well head home.”

  “Okay, John. Give me a call as soon as you know the crime scene unit’s ETA. I want to be on-site before they arrive.”

  He backed his old Land Cruiser down the two-track and was soon gone. I took the opportunity to run Devin L. Martin for a criminal record. He had been a busy boy. Four felony convictions, the last of which netted him three years in prison. He was released on parole after eighteen months. However, he had neglected to follow up with his P.O., and there was an active warrant for his arrest issued in August.

  Whether in a big city, a small town, or the middle of a national forest, a crime scene needs to be protected against contamination. That means cordoning off the area with an officer or deputy standing guard. It is not the most popular duty for a law enforcement officer. Cops are more prone to action. Sitting around watching a car with a dead guy in it is not very exciting. But it needed to be done. In most circumstances, the protocol would be to remove the body and take it to the morgue for testing and examination. In this case, I opted not to. The body had been there a long time, and I meant no disrespect to the dead. One of the most respectful things I could do was to conduct a thorough investigation.

  “301,” I called on the radio.

  “301, go ahead,” Lois responded.

  “Lois, I am going to stand by and secure the scene until midnight or so. Find someone else to relieve me from then until the crime scene team gets here. Let them know it’s on overtime.”

  “Ten-four, Sheriff,” she replied.

  I got comfortable in the car and began the long wait. I tried to call Julie, but there was no cell signal.

  “301,” I called.

  “301, go ahead,” Lois responded.

  “Lois, will you call Julie on her cell and let her know what is going on? Let her know I will be home late.”

  “Will do, Sheriff.”

  Law enforcement is mostly mundane. Pretty routine and often quite boring. That is, until it’s not. Darkness started creeping in a little after seven. The air temperature was cool but not uncomfortable, and the big woods was peaceful. I had not heard back from Lois about someone to relieve me, but I knew she was on it and would let me know when she knew.

  I had a small lunch cooler in my squad, and by about eight o’clock, I was cruising it for snacks. Julie had packed both our lunches this morning before she left for school and I went off to guard a dead body. She was no stranger to the men and women of the north country and their caloric needs and had packed me a sizable amount of food. She had lived with her cousin, Arvid “Bud” Treetall, for many years, who required large quantities of food to keep his engine running. Julie, Bud, and I had become an unofficial family of sorts. We spent all our holidays together and had many suppers out at the cabin. I had not yet convinced Julie to take me up on my marriage proposal. She maintained that she intended to treat me like a pair of shoes. She said no one would ever buy a pair of shoes without at least trying them on. Why should considering a husband be any different? It didn’t matter to me; I was happier than I had ever been in my life. She could take all the time she wanted.

  True dark sets into the Northwoods at night. Moonrise and starlight would provide some illumination, but the dense forest pretty much blocked everything else out. I took an emergency blanket from the back of my squad, spread it on the ground next to a tree, and got comfortable for the long haul. Still no word from Lois.

  What happened next, I am sure has been a thrilling event for humankind through the ages. It was definitely a thrilling moment for me. From what seemed only a few feet away, a sound pierced the night, crystal clear and loud enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the howl of a gray wolf. Another wolf on the opposite side of me responded with a howl of their own. They seemed to have me surrounded.

  Even though, on some level, I knew better, I reached for my gun to protect me from the impending wolf attack I was sure would come. Wolf researchers reiterated at every chance that humans had nothing to fear from wolves. At this moment, however, that was of little consequence as I struggled to get my heart out of my throat. I sat as still as I could and was ready for the next call when it came, louder and closer—a mournful call of the north country combined with raw wildness. Although it gave me a jolt at first, I was now calm, and any vestiges of fear had ebbed. I had heard a wolf howl before, but not in such proximity. The communication between the wolves
continued for a short while and stopped. I put my back against the tree and got comfortable again. Minutes later, I heard leaves crunching off to my right. Something was approaching. I snapped on my flashlight. At the edge of the clearing was a full-grown wolf facing me. His head seemed enormous. Before I could really look at him, he turned and vanished back into the night.

  A voice came over my radio, and I am sure I jumped a foot.

  “301.”

  “301, go ahead,” I responded.

  “Sheriff, Deputy Holmes will replace you at midnight. With a new baby on the way, he is looking for all the overtime he can get.”

  “Ten-four. Thanks, Lois. Oh, did you get a hold of Julie?”

  “Yes, I did. She said she would put dinner in a container in the fridge. She has parent-teacher conferences starting tomorrow, so she said don’t count on her to wait up.”

  “Thanks, Lois,” I said.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, Sheriff, I am worn out and ready to get myself home.”

  “Thanks for sticking around,” I said.

  Parent-teacher conferences. I had learned that most teachers didn’t care for them much. Still, Julie thought they were worthwhile, giving the parents and teachers a chance to have a productive conversation about student learning, with the end goal being to develop a plan that the parents, teachers, and the student could buy into. Almost half of her students were considered “at risk,” to use the same language the school board used. Many of them faced challenges of epic proportions—poverty, broken families, drugs and alcohol. Some were not conventional learners. All were welcome at her school. It was her mission in life to help them learn how to learn. Her greatest challenge came from the fact that she had a waiting list every year. She hated the idea that any student who wanted to couldn’t come to her school. To that end, she worked diligently on curing that problem by getting the okay to hire another teacher. So far, approval had not been given.

  Shortly before midnight, a spotlight beam crossed the area and settled on my squad car.