The Nature of Life and Death
Page 27
I have lost a number of good friends in the last couple of years and, as I have stood in somber silence, mouthed hymns, and bowed my head in simulated prayer, I have often asked myself how much concern I had about that body in the coffin. Caring for memory of the person, our past relationship and times together is taken for granted, but, the body? Not much, but there are exceptions. Irrationally, I cared desperately about the fate of the bodies of my child, my grandmother, and every pet cat I have had. Why? I suppose I knew their bodies, their smells, and their feel intimately, and they were all precious. These feelings are irrational but I cannot deny them.
After death, the body will break down into the molecules which built it up from the food taken in. That person had converted the molecules of other organisms (meat and two veg) into those of his or her own, and these will now be released once more, to be taken up by others and perpetuate the cycle of life. A body left on the surface will break down much more quickly than a buried one and a cremated individual will be reduced to mineral ash within minutes. If the ash is spread about in a woodland, that person will be truly reincarnated. Elements in the ash will be taken up by bacteria, fungi, invertebrates, and plant roots. One individual can spread throughout a woodland and become many. How wonderful to be reincarnated as a bluebell, an oak tree, and a lovely beetle all at the same time. It will certainly happen whether you like the idea or not.
I find this concept very appealing and I know that my husband’s molecules and mine will mingle. Our ashes will be spread in the same place so we might even both end up in the same tree or bluebell. How marvelous! When the tree or bluebell dies and their corpses decompose, our molecules may be released again and taken up by yet other living things. The elements that make up our bodies will exist as long as the Earth revolves around the Sun.
The sad thing for me is that I will not be able to know about any of it. I will cease to be. I will not have a physical monument, and I am not so vain that I think anyone will remember me after my nearest and dearest have gone. There will be no musings in a churchyard, or even a municipal cemetery. I am not a lover of poetry, although I always found Gray’s Elegy quite emotional, but my gravestone will not exist to be able to move anyone to write anything. I suppose my monument will be my work and my publications. My words will live on, and rather than in a testament to sentimentality, which graveyards certainly are, evidence of my existence will probably be found in some dusty old library somewhere.
I am often asked if my experiences with death, rape, and other crimes have affected me. The two deaths that have affected me most in my life were those of my daughter and my grandmother. I still miss my grandmother for her wisdom and comforting presence. My daughter is, and always will be a constant ache, kept deep inside, but visited every day, even after all these years. There is little doubt that their deaths have made me realize that every corpse I have encountered also probably had someone who felt the same about them, and this keeps me respectful and caring, certainly for innocent victims anyway. Although the body on the table means little to me, it does to someone else, and this must be kept in mind at all times. One must remain objective or else it would be difficult to do useful work but one must not forget that a corpse was a person.
What were the lessons I learned during this life so impinged upon by crime? I certainly learned a few swearwords and I discovered how to keep a vacant expression when my insides were in turmoil. I suppose I have learned to be utterly pragmatic when faced with a problem, and to apply Occam’s razor when those difficulties become intractable. I have had the reputation for being somewhat hard and unsympathetic, although those who really know me understand that I am soft inside. I do not like hurting anyone or anything and certainly will not kill anything unnecessarily. I am very sharp with those who are lazy, dishonest, selfish, and manipulative, and I try to be utterly honest myself. I suppose I genuinely want to be a good person, but whether I achieve my aspiration is for others to say. I hope that people will remember me for being meticulous, hardworking, helpful and, most of all, kind—not much of an epitaph, but respectable enough.
I wonder what my death will be like? I am certainly not going to have the usual mournful funeral but will try to put together a PowerPoint presentation of my goodbyes, as soon as I get a hint that I am on my way out. I only hope that my gray cells will still be working, that I will die with minimal pain and discomfort, in my own home, in my own bed, in the arms of my darling husband who, ever since I met him, has been my rock and my joy in life.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are many people to whom I owe a debt of gratitude in my quest for excellence in forensic ecology. The list is long but I must first acknowledge my dear husband, Professor David L. Hawksworth, CBE, who has encouraged and helped me in every way. Then, how could I not give credit to Dr. Judy Webb, who worked with me for so many years, and whose brilliance in pollen identification has enhanced the development of forensic palynology. Thanks too to Professor Kevin Edwards, my longtime friend, colleague, and sternest critic, who has helped me to maintain high standards, and Peter Murphy, the dearest of friends and colleagues who, in spite of his misgivings about being involved, made so much of my work tolerable. I am indebted to the Institute of Archaeology, University College London, for giving me such good facilities, including technical help by the wonderful and knowledgeable Sandra Bond; and to my colleagues there, particularly Dr. Richard Macphail and the late Professor Gordon Hillman, for their intellectual support and lots of fun. I cannot forget my magnificent experiences at King’s College London, both as a student and lecturer. Many doors were opened for me by the inspired teaching and kindnesses I received from the staff, particularly from Dr. Peter Moore, Professor Bill Bradbeer, the late Dr. Francis Rose, and the late Professor Arthur Bell, who continued his help when he became Director of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. Thanks too to Professor Frank Chambers and Dr. John Daniell at the University of Gloucestershire, and Professor Tony Brown at the University of Southampton, who have all facilitated my work. Then there are so very many students, some of whom were utterly brilliant, but all of whom taught me a lot. Not least, I owe so much to all the clever and astute policemen with whom I have worked over the years, especially Detective Chief Superintendent Paul Dockley, who gave me my first job, Detective Sergeants Bill Bryden, MBE, and Doug Bain, who showed such confidence in my work, as well as Detective Superintendent Ray Higgins, the kindest of men.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Professor Patricia Wiltshire is a forensic ecologist, botanist, and palynologist, and also has a background in environmental archaeology. She has worked with every police force in the United Kingdom, and on many high-profile cases. She regularly lectures at conferences and scientific meetings all over the world, and is active in research and publishing, as well as university teaching. Wiltshire is an experienced expert witness for both the prosecution and defense, and is a registered expert with the National Crime Agency. She is a fellow of the Chartered Society of Forensic Science, the Royal Society of Biology, and the Linnean Society.
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* I always see my evidence as being the ammunition. I provide the bullets to the attorney—he is the weapon, who aims and delivers them to the other side. If he is not a good shot, he fails his client, and he fails the court. In my experience, there are plenty of bad shots in the legal world. I have come across only one defense attorney who gave me a truly difficult time when I was standing for the prosecution. We had worked together on a very high-profile murder of two pretty little girls from East Anglia, and I had spent long periods with him in chambers teaching him the strengths and weaknesses of biological evidence. After that session in the Old Bailey, I had not met him again until a case in Ipswich for the murder of a woman. That day,
I deeply regretted the thoroughness of my teaching, and my introducing this sharp-as-a-razor man into my world. My encounter with that attorney, Karim Khalil, with whom I am now on good terms, is a story in itself. I admire him (I did so even when I hated him for giving me a hard time), and think that he well deserves his appointment as a recorder and part-time judge at the Old Bailey.
* Air spora: all the tiny particles floating in the air. These are usually pollen grains, spores, and fragments of organic material and dust.