quick; did you look at the database already?” Natalie asked upon receiving Damian’s call.
“Yes, and I have some questions for you. Has the approach by police to process a case changed substantially recently?”
“Hmmm that’s a good question, let me think.” And there was silence over the phone line. Damian could hear road noise as she was clearly driving south to home. Then finally Natalie came back on the line and said, “Yes I think so. The 1990’s were a time of police innovation. With computers and DNA, we did more objective investigation. Prior to that, a suspect caught your eye or you had a hunch, or you saw the crime committed in front of you, then you had your suspect, case closed. It wasn’t exactly a time of innocent until proven guilty. When I was a new cop on the force, it was always interesting talking to the guys that were about to retire. They had practiced policing before the Supreme Court decision on Miranda rights so you could almost go about framing someone for a crime or at least intimidate them into a confession. Now if we find you guilty, then you’re really guilty.”
“So in regards to the older cold cases, there is no DNA but there might be new evidence or a new way of looking at the same crime scene to develop a suspect. Do I have that right?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” Natalie replied.
“So the easiest cases to solve are those that DNA evidence was collected on and the hardest will be a case going back forty years with no new evidence since the initial crime.”
“Correct.”
“Okay, I have some ideas and I’ll get back to you later today.”
Natalie was the closest thing to an older sister he’d ever have. She kept tabs on him and did her best to keep him connected to the real world. He knew she was married with adult children. She’d been a hard-working detective and now she was a hard-working private investigator. Glancing at his watch, he decided it was time for lunch. The time he put into assembling his lunch would be used to think about different angles to analyze data and so he returned upstairs.
Chapter Three
Given the stressfulness of the day he was surprised he had any appetite. He thought that with each passing year he was slightly less sad on the anniversary of his family’s murder. Maybe that was why he had an appetite. He made a lot of items from scratch as it was far easier to import a single fifty pound bag of flour than a loaf of bread every week. He was planning to eat a multigrain wheat bread sandwich consisting of turkey, cheese, and avocado. In the scheme of things, avocados were easier to transport and stayed ripe longer than lettuce so he had taken to dressing up his sandwiches with the fruit. As he worked at his kitchen counter, he was distracted with thoughts of the greenhouse. He’d like to have more fruits and vegetables on the island but the soil was incompatible with growing his own food. He could work with the architect that had designed his house to build a hundred square-foot greenhouse which according to his calculations would be sufficient for his needs. His problem was he’d really had no one out to the island to do any work in over five years and frankly he didn’t want anyone on his island other than Natalie. He tuned back in and looked down at the sandwich he was making, adding pickles, mustard, and mayonnaise and topping with alfalfa sprouts. He sat down at his table with his sandwich and some water and thought about the over two hundred families that never had their crime solved. Given the age of some of the cases, he would’ve thought that the immediate family was long dead. As much as he wanted justice for some of the older cases, he knew Natalie would get the best case solve rate if he concentrated on the more recent cold cases.
The State of California and nearly every other state was behind in processing DNA tests, and so he’d take a side trip to DNA testing to see if
“Yes, and I have some questions for you. Has the approach by police to process a case changed substantially recently?”
“Hmmm that’s a good question, let me think.” And there was silence over the phone line. Damian could hear road noise as she was clearly driving south to home. Then finally Natalie came back on the line and said, “Yes I think so. The 1990’s were a time of police innovation. With computers and DNA, we did more objective investigation. Prior to that, a suspect caught your eye or you had a hunch, or you saw the crime committed in front of you, then you had your suspect, case closed. It wasn’t exactly a time of innocent until proven guilty. When I was a new cop on the force, it was always interesting talking to the guys that were about to retire. They had practiced policing before the Supreme Court decision on Miranda rights so you could almost go about framing someone for a crime or at least intimidate them into a confession. Now if we find you guilty, then you’re really guilty.”
“So in regards to the older cold cases, there is no DNA but there might be new evidence or a new way of looking at the same crime scene to develop a suspect. Do I have that right?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” Natalie replied.
“So the easiest cases to solve are those that DNA evidence was collected on and the hardest will be a case going back forty years with no new evidence since the initial crime.”
“Correct.”
“Okay, I have some ideas and I’ll get back to you later today.”
Natalie was the closest thing to an older sister he’d ever have. She kept tabs on him and did her best to keep him connected to the real world. He knew she was married with adult children. She’d been a hard-working detective and now she was a hard-working private investigator. Glancing at his watch, he decided it was time for lunch. The time he put into assembling his lunch would be used to think about different angles to analyze data and so he returned upstairs.
Chapter Three
Given the stressfulness of the day he was surprised he had any appetite. He thought that with each passing year he was slightly less sad on the anniversary of his family’s murder. Maybe that was why he had an appetite. He made a lot of items from scratch as it was far easier to import a single fifty pound bag of flour than a loaf of bread every week. He was planning to eat a multigrain wheat bread sandwich consisting of turkey, cheese, and avocado. In the scheme of things, avocados were easier to transport and stayed ripe longer than lettuce so he had taken to dressing up his sandwiches with the fruit. As he worked at his kitchen counter, he was distracted with thoughts of the greenhouse. He’d like to have more fruits and vegetables on the island but the soil was incompatible with growing his own food. He could work with the architect that had designed his house to build a hundred square-foot greenhouse which according to his calculations would be sufficient for his needs. His problem was he’d really had no one out to the island to do any work in over five years and frankly he didn’t want anyone on his island other than Natalie. He tuned back in and looked down at the sandwich he was making, adding pickles, mustard, and mayonnaise and topping with alfalfa sprouts. He sat down at his table with his sandwich and some water and thought about the over two hundred families that never had their crime solved. Given the age of some of the cases, he would’ve thought that the immediate family was long dead. As much as he wanted justice for some of the older cases, he knew Natalie would get the best case solve rate if he concentrated on the more recent cold cases.
The State of California and nearly every other state was behind in processing DNA tests, and so he’d take a side trip to DNA testing to see if
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