Coroner's Journal: Forensics and the Art of Stalking Death

by Louis Cataldie

  Caron Whitesides, my executive assistant for many years, came into my office one day and announced that Patricia Cornwell was there to see me. And while I knew who Patricia Cornwell was, I didn’t really know who Patricia Cornwell was. Most of my “set-aside reading time” is spent on forensic and mental health books and journals. But Caron seemed to know and respect her and so did my wife. Caron has always covered my back, and her opinions weigh in heavily when I make such decisions. So, though I was somewhat irritated about the way they were hammering on me to see Patsy, I acquiesced, mostly just to get them off my back, and said I would meet with the lady. “But just for a minute,” I admonished. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. It took me no time at all to realize this woman was the real thing and, more than that, she cared about my people. I came to know and trust her, and down the line I shared my journal with her. She encouraged me to move forward with it.

  She, in turn, put me in touch with Kris Dahl. My God, I had an agent! Kris is great, and she led me through the morass of publishing. I must say folks at Putnam have been most patient with my amateurish and naïve approach to this endeavor. Kris and Putnam introduced me to a fellow Louisianan, albeit one who had become a galvanized New Yorker. His name is Mark Robichaux. He helped me put things into an organized format and was officially my “collaborator.” He’s a lot more than that—he’s also a friend. We got to know each other when he came down to Baton Rouge and got the tour of various sites at which some of these homicides had occurred—definitely not the kind of tour most people get.

  During my tenure as coroner, I have had some great teachers. Mary Manheim shared openly with me out in the field and in her anthropology lab at LSU. Lamar Meek was not only an excellent forensic entomology professor, he was also an inspiration. Neither one of these underpaid consultants ever said no when I needed them. And then there is Dr. Michael Cramer, one of the most conscientious forensic pathologists I have ever seen. He excelled at one-to-one teaching in the morgue. I’ve been through many an autopsy with him. If it was there, Mike would find it.

  I am eternally grateful to Buddy and his wife, Betty, who lost their son to suicide, and to James, who also lost his son to suicide, and his lovely wife, Edith. These folks were part of the founders of the LOSS program. Each would get out of bed at all hours of the night and head for whatever part of the parish I was in. They would do so without hesitation when they heard those four chilling words from me over the phone: “I’ve got a suicide.”

  Wanda Hebert served as the moral compass of my office and taught me the true meaning of the term “iron hand in a velvet glove” by the caring but firm way in which she dealt with our psychiatric patients.

  I have also learned a lot from the numerous detectives I have worked with. I learned what to do from the good ones and what not to do from the not-so-good ones. I owe a special thanks to the crime-scene investigators, who always took the time to teach me.

  And when it was all said and done, DeAnn helped me get past my reluctance to expose my thoughts and feelings about being a coroner. And so, here we are. We have a book and I have lots of people to thank and to be thankful for.