Sean and the others arrived to find Miguel still slumped against a shelf looking pale and distressed.
Too late Sean realized he didn't have any paper bags or gloves with him. Luckily, this was a storage room for shops. There were bags of all sizes, although paper was scarce, it was available. There were also pencils. He grabbed some as well as a stapler.
He was following procedure as much as possible for his own information as well as sanity. If he collected evidence it meant part of him expected to eventually get home and let the legal system take over. Hope of some sort was alive.
"You said you didn't touch her, Father. Leto, can you ask Miguel if he did?" Sean didn't have a camera, so he drew a crude figure of the bodies position and guessed the distance from the door and shelves.
Sean noted a distinct lack of blood. He also noted the odd angle of the victim's neck. If her neck and been snapped and she was cut after, there would still be a degree of blood seepage due to gravity. He reached down to check for a pulse anyway. It was pointless when he remembered they didn't know a time to pronounce her. She was cold, and her muscle was semi-stiff. Rigor had set in, but there was give. More than five hours, less than twelve since she died.