Greg William Morrow (g_morrow) wrote in morningstar_mnr, @ 2008-03-11 12:26:00 |
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Current mood: | working |
Current music: | Frank Sinatra |
Entry tags: | greg, sniper |
OG: The City Morgue; Greg [closed]
"...seventeen year-old, Caucasian male. According to preliminary paperwork, TOD was at approximately 4:40 p.m. on March the tenth, 2008. Liver temp. confirms. Body shows multiple fractures and abrasions concurrent with fall from bike. Autopsy set to determine COD, but most likely was due to severe head trauma." Greg, who had been dictating to a digital voice recorder, pressed stop and jerked his head in the direction of his assistant in forensic pathology. "Why is it so quiet in here? Can you put on a CD, or something?"
"Too dead for ya?" the man quipped.
"Ten points for originality, Gary. Just put something on. I don't care what, as long as it isn't that Dave Mathews crap you were listening to yesterday."
"You're the boss," Gary said, flipping Greg a mock-salute. "How 'bout a little Frank? Or Dean?"
"Whichever."
Greg waved dismissively and started circling the body, beginning a superficial examination. Two silver-dollar sized EKG pads were still on the boy's chest, and his teeth clutched a white plastic bite guard. Both were put in place by the emergency workers during their attempt to resuscitate him, but judging by the condition of the body, Greg surmised that the death was instantaneous. Nevertheless, everyone received an EKG. It was standard procedure.
Once the background music was switched on, and the remaining medical apparatuses were removed, Greg began the process of collecting evidence. This involved taking basic samples, which would be sent to toxicology for screening, logging fingerprints, then meticulously photographing and cataloging the various external injuries. Finally, measurements were taken, and the overall weight of the body was recorded on a whiteboard for reference.
"Where did the vic. go to school again?"
"Andover," Gary replied grimly. "My son goes there."
"Huh." As usual Greg responded in simple eloquence. It was growing more and more difficult for him to associate the living with the dead.
They moved along without further chitchat. The Y incision was made, the breastplate was removed, and organs were individually taken out, weighed, and set aside in separate silver bowls to be dissected. They discovered a few organs sustained damage, but the teenager was otherwise healthy. Gary photographed these findings, noting the small puncture wounds the lungs suffered. This suggested that a tremendous force to his chest caused fractured ribs to pierce these delicate organs.
Next Greg made an incision across the top of the skull, tugged back his scalp and pulled his face forward to reveal what looked like a cracked nutshell.
"Yeesh," Gary said. "I think we've found the cause of death. We've got a Humpty Dumpty."
"All the king's horses and all the king's men," Greg agreed, leaning forward to study the fragmented skull. He carefully removed each piece of bone, bringing the brain fully into view. It was a crimson mess, mottled with hemorrhaging from being flooded with blood. Humpty Dumpty, indeed. The extent of damage confirmed that the initial impact of his head colliding with the pavement resulted in his immediate death.
"Well, his parents will be relieved to know that he didn't suffer," Gary said.
"His parents should have made him wear a helmet."