John laughed. “Silent servants,” he said, quoting a phrase that one of the religious counselors liked to use. “Hidden heroes. That's us, all right.”
I stretched my legs and thought about going back for more coffee, but I was just too comfortable where I was. “I wish I was a hero,” I told him. “But I get so discouraged when I can't do more to help the families.”
John and I sat there for a long time. We told each other that we were reluctant to go back out into the pouring rain. But I knew we were just basking in the glow of each other's company. He told me about his career in the Port Authority, his wife and children, and what had happened on the day he'd run for his life as the towers crashed down around him. I told him about my Kentucky cases, my family, and my little dog, Savannah, who I suspected was the only one who really missed me that night.
I still couldn't talk about my dad, and John respected that because he couldn't talk about how he felt, either, when one of his friends was brought to us in a body bag. We sat together for a long time that night. Then we went back to work.
It was a lonely time — but the New York City cops did everything they could to make me feel welcome. After that day on the pile, they treated me as one of their own, inviting me to hang out in their “private” tent and taking me up to Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree. Mark Grogan even brought me along to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade from his family's rented penthouse in the Mayflower Hotel.
Being pulled into the brotherhood of New York's Finest and Bravest wasn't just a social thing. Now that I felt the kinship, I shared their grief as well as their camaraderie. When the police or firefighters brought one of their own into the morgue, I was confronted with the living relatives of the dead — not just once, but several times a week — a kind of emotional demand that I hadn't dealt with before, as they entrusted me with their fellow members of service. I think it mattered, too, that I was obviously older than just about everyone else and usually the only woman handling the remains when they first came in, which made me a kind of emotional focus — almost a mother figure — for many of the men working at the site. If I was to do my job, I had to keep my scientist brain turned on, cataloguing, sorting, deducing, identifying. But if I was to honor the people with whom I worked, the people whose living bodies clustered around the dead remains, I had to allow my hands to channel the love and pain of every mother, wife, sister, and daughter of every one of the victims.
Still, feeling so much, night after night, week after week, took its toll. Sometimes I felt like a well that was about to run dry. My well-spun cocoon of defense was wearing thin, with even a hole here and there — but I kept working.
In the end, I think what made it all possible was knowing how much our efforts meant to the rest of the city — and to the country. Messages of thanks and well-wishing flowed into us from all over America, from schoolchildren and veterans' posts and police departments in other cities. I hope they could feel our appreciation flowing back to them.
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.
Acknowledgments
I stand on the shoulders of those who came here first: the anthropologists, pathologists, and investigators who have devoted their lives and careers to the fascinating and sometimes heartbreaking world of forensic science. Without their care and guidance I would not have a place on the team. Without their continued help and support, this book could not have been written.
Mal Black, Octavia Garlington, and David Mascaro taught me how to marry art and science. The entire staff of the Hughston Sports Medicine Foundation and Clinic supported my career as a medical illustrator, while Dr. Jack C. Hughston taught me more than I ever wanted to know about the human knee. Dr. Bill Bass, founding father of forensic anthropology, brought me into his world with the determination to make sure that I learned his lessons well. Bill, I hope to make you proud.
I also hope this book conveys the respect and gratitude I have for my friends and colleagues in Kentucky's Justice Cabinet. In particular, I want to thank Dr. George Nichols and David Jones, who first laid the groundwork for Kentucky's Division of Medical Examiners, as well as Dr. Tracey Corey, who courageously tries to steer me and the rest of the staff to carry on the dream. All the support staff, pathologists, coroners, law enforcement officers, attorneys, judges, and juries working together to bring justice to this world have a special place in my heart. Of course, all the views expressed here and the perception of events are entirely my own.
This book is also the result of superhuman efforts on the part of my writing and publishing team. Special thanks must go to Rachel Kranz, whose genius helped turn my country girl's stories into a manuscript full of procedural drama, and to my agent, Jeff Kleinman, who, with extraordinary effort and talent, polished my work enough to take it to Crown Publishers. There I was lucky enough to have two editors, Emily Loose and Rachel Kahan, devote a huge amount of time and effort to the manuscript. Their skill and dedication are evident on every page. Heartfelt thanks as well to the rest of Crown's team: publisher Steve Ross, associate editor Caroline Sincerbeaux, production editor Jim Walsh, copy editor Steve Samuels, interior designer Lenny Henderson, and production manager Linnea Knollmueller.
Finally I wish to acknowledge the memory of my dear cousin, Jerry Hurley, whose bullet-ridden and decomposed body was found in the woods beside an abandoned Indiana gravel pit. May he rest in peace.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Emily A. Craig, Ph.D., is the forensic anthropologist for the Commonwealth of Kentucky and one of the world's foremost forensic anthropologists. In addition to her work in Kentucky, she regularly consults with prosecutors, attorneys, police departments, and other law enforcement agencies from around the world, and she is a consultant to the United Nations Mission in Kosovo.
After earning her master's degree in medical illustration from the Medical College of Georgia in 1976, Dr. Craig worked at the Hughston Sports Medicine Foundation in Columbus, Georgia. Her groundbreaking studies earned her a worldwide reputation as an expert in the surgical anatomy of the musculoskeletal system. During this career in orthopedics, Dr. Craig illustrated and helped author hundreds of scientific articles and medical textbooks. She created numerous scientific exhibits for presentation all across the United States and Europe and pioneered techniques that combined her knowledge of art, anatomy, and computer graphics.
Dr. Craig then stepped away from this career to enter the world of forensic anthropology. Under the tutelage of Dr. Bill Bass, she earned her doctorate in the prestigious Forensic Physical Anthropology program at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville. Here she became one of the few forensic scientists in the world to undertake extensive research at the infamous “Body Farm,” a secluded facility dedicated to the study and documentation of human decay processes.
Since beginning her second career as a full-time forensic anthropologist, Dr. Craig has developed an international reputation as an expert in the identification and analysis of human remains, and she has published numerous scientific articles and textbook chapters dealing with these subjects. Her prodigious work has earned her a coveted place among the ranks of fewer than sixty board-certified forensic anthropologists in the United States, and it continues to put her on the front lines of the world's most baffling mysteries.