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🕑 Added 2025-03-18 08:53:01 +0000 UTCAnatomy of a Killer
Chapter 11 - A New Case
January 2, 2006, 6:30 AM
At Oleta River State Park, west of the city, near Miami-Dade County, Florida, a slender leg appeared in the grass near a spot where runners passed daily.
At first glance, it showed a knife wound, dense purple-black bloodstains, white bones, and pale skin, creating a shocking visual impact for whoever stumbled upon the body.
Judging by the shape of the legs, the deceased was a young woman.
“Establish a larger perimeter. I want a record of the nearest cameras in this area, and under no circumstances do I want the press here.”
Larry, who had arrived first this time, walked forward without stopping, carrying the investigation kit. Max, the alternate forensic examiner, followed closely behind.
Sergeant Doakes, walking behind them, stumbled and took a few steps forward. He steadied himself, looked up, saw the scene before him, and let out a startled exclamation.
“Holy hell, that’s disgusting!”
When they reached the cordon, Lieutenant LaGuerta, who was in charge of the criminal investigation, approached. She greeted them, her flesh-colored latex gloves stained with shocking amounts of blood.
“Did you touch the crime scene?” Larry’s expression showed displeasure. Why were they treating him more like a criminal profiler than a forensic examiner?
“It’s good to see you too, Forensic Examiner Luk. You got here quite fast!” LaGuerta didn’t take Larry’s comment as offensive; she knew exactly what information she needed to collect to help him do his job as accurately as possible.
Larry didn’t make a big deal of it and asked, “Hello, Lieutenant. Can you tell me about the situation here?”
“Ask Masuka to give you the details. They were the first ones to make contact with the crime scene.”
Sergeant Doakes, with his burly frame, nodded and called out to Masuka, who approached with a notebook containing all the data.
“The people who called the police were Mr. Smith and his wife, who were out for their usual morning walk. It rained all day yesterday and didn’t stop until four, so they didn’t go out at their usual time.”
“Exact time?” Larry asked in a serious tone, his right hand reaching into the pocket of his jacket to pull out a pocket watch.
“Uh… yes, they arrived at the area just before five-thirty this morning. After walking for over ten minutes, they entered this trail, which is the most popular route for many runners.”
Masuka adjusted his glasses and continued, “As the Smiths were jogging, they noticed a leg sticking out from the grass. Taking a few steps closer, they realized it was a corpse—dismembered beyond recognition and partially devoured by a pack of wild dogs. The couple was so terrified that they turned around, ran back to where they had parked their vehicle, and then called the police.”
“I was early at the station, so since I was on duty, I arrived immediately with the other forensic examiners who followed on the way,” Masuka added, now considering Larry a friend.
“Tell me more about the scene…” Larry filtered out any unnecessary details.
“Yes, after a preliminary analysis, I reported to the captain, and he told the command center to send for the famous criminal profiler because this case is unusual. That’s why we only focused on identifying traces around the area. The victim, however, was never touched.” Masuka made it clear that this case was both shocking and uncommon.
For a criminal profiler, finding a crime scene untouched was the best-case scenario for discovering details others might overlook.
“Was it really that bad?” Sergeant Doakes asked, observing some blood traces around the area.
“When we arrived, there were still a dozen wild dogs sniffing around. The scene was horrific,” Masuka admitted, still feeling chills from the memory of the dogs’ growling.
“Follow the procedure, Max.”
At that moment, the young Max had put on his investigative suit and approached, holding a briefcase.
Larry could only wait for Max to start taking photographs before beginning his examination of the body and the scene.
Sergeant Doakes and the others also started changing into their protective gear.
“Have you determined the origin of the body?” Larry asked while taking some unknown pills.
Lieutenant LaGuerta sighed. “We have no idea where the body came from, which is why I asked the command center to contact you directly.”
“There are no missing person reports at the moment. And as you’ll soon see, the victim is unrecognizable. To be more precise, she no longer has a face.”
Larry furrowed his brows. It seemed this would be a tough challenge for him as he began his work as a criminal profiler.
Adrenaline surged through his body instantly, and all his investigative instincts kicked into high gear.
In less than fifteen minutes, Max returned.
Larry rubbed his fingers, covered in two layers of rubber gloves. “So soon?”
Max didn’t have his usual playful expression. He looked both sad and angry and nodded seriously. “Since it rained yesterday, the ground is sandy. The traces around here are extremely difficult to identify—completely overlapped with one another. Honestly, I have no idea if any of the photos I took mean anything.”
“As Masuka said, there were so many wild dogs that the entire surface of the terrain is completely destroyed,” Sergeant Doakes added after conducting his own inspection.
“We only managed to collect a few partial footprints, which were documented and photographed by Masuka’s team. Now that they’re done, we have the green light to begin.”
“Anything?” Larry had trained Max enough to know what he always looked for at a crime scene.
“I’ll start searching the victim’s clothing, though the wild dogs likely tore it apart. I wonder if I’ll be able to find all of it. Maybe I can find something that identifies the victim.”
‘That’s probably something Masuka’s team already did. You should focus on what they wouldn’t have considered,’ Larry thought, a bit disappointed in Max’s intended course of action for the case.
“Well, let’s hope it helps.”
“Once you see it, you’ll understand how tragic this crime really is.”
Ángel, who had just arrived, listened quietly to everything being said.
“Numbers are important…” Larry murmured as he let the pale-faced Max take a break.
Only by witnessing the tragedy of the deceased with their own eyes can forensic pathologists deepen their sense of urgency and mission to find evidence.
"If you can't handle it, don't force yourself. The empathy you're feeling is clouding your judgment, and that makes you useless to me. Wait for me here. Don't worry, no one will laugh at you!" Larry understood what Max was going through, but that kind of attitude was worthless in their line of work.
Max shook his head and replied with a firm gaze, "Thank you for your concern, Larry, but I want to see what you'll do."
First, Max would search for something, and then Larry would begin. This was the best way for him to teach Max the things he had overlooked in his previous observation.
His empathy, this time, had proven that Max still had a long way to go.
Larry nodded at Max. "Alright, follow my lead."
In fact, Max wasn’t the only one eager to learn from him. All the detectives believed that working alongside someone like Larry would significantly improve their skills.
"I see..." Larry murmured as he put on a mask to block the smell.
The closer you get to the crime scene, the stronger the scent of blood becomes.
As he approached, Larry reached up and adjusted his mask even tighter, as if that simple action would allow him to breathe more easily. Forensic doctors were still human, and their reactions were normal.
This action was also a psychological suggestion. Forensic specialists needed to regulate their mental state.
Otherwise, being exposed to murder scenes every day would have driven him insane.
But since Larry was already insane, what he did was merely a way to keep himself in control during investigations.
Dressed in a white full-body investigation suit and blue shoe covers, Larry stepped onto the soft sand, producing a faint crunching sound.
Many detectives turned to look at them as they walked thirty meters around the perimeter, surrounding the bushes.
Within seconds, the full silhouette of the female corpse was exposed before Larry.
Even he, accustomed to witnessing life and death with his own eyes, couldn't help but hold his breath.
The young teenage girl's body lay on its side on the ground, her head tilted toward the grass. Her long, tangled, and dull hair spread around her skull. Her face was completely disfigured—without a nose or eyes, reduced to an unrecognizable mass of mutilated flesh, making it impossible to discern what she had looked like in life.
The victim's body bore multiple cuts and lacerations, though none appeared to have been inflicted by a sharp weapon.
The left hemisphere of her skull was completely missing, leaving only the right half of the cranial sphere intact. It was impossible to determine whether the missing portion had been precisely severed or devoured by wild dogs.
The corpse lay with both hands raised above her head, deep binding marks visible on her wrists. Just below her hands, a sky-blue knot hung loosely.
The most chilling detail was the shape of the knot—a perfectly tied noose, as if someone had arranged it with intention.
The victim’s hands were destroyed from her desperate struggle. The skin had been torn to the extreme, and on her right hand, only fragile scraps of flesh kept her ring, middle, and index fingers attached—faint remnants of a futile attempt to free herself.
Her palms displayed abrasions, and all the wounds on her face and limbs showed signs of being inflicted while she was still alive.
She had a deep wound in her abdomen, from which her internal organs had been removed, leaving her body incomplete and mutilated. In contrast, the injuries on her legs were fewer, but no less cruel.
Aside from a scrape on her knee, only four wounds were identified on her legs. However, each one was horrifyingly deep, with cuts slicing through her knees, popliteal fossa, and ankles, suggesting that her attacker had sought to prevent any chance of escape—or perhaps unleash their fury in the most ruthless way possible.
Max vomited several times behind Larry before immediately fleeing. He couldn't take it anymore. The intense, overwhelming smell of blood had instantly churned his stomach.
Meanwhile, Larry crouched beside the corpse and examined it closely. The edges of the wounds on the face, chest, and abdomen bore numerous bite marks.
"This was definitely the work of those wild dogs," Larry murmured to himself, his expression completely devoid of disgust.
The wild dogs had wreaked havoc on the body, making the autopsy significantly more complicated. Larry began silently counting. The wounds were countless, but at a glance, he could identify at least a hundred. Half of them were so deep that they exposed the bone—a grotesque testament to the suffering the victim had endured.
At that moment, Ángel approached with a camera in hand. Taking over Max’s role, he started photographing the body, helping Larry document every macabre detail.
After capturing various fixed angles, Larry gently moved the victim’s left leg. He wanted to adjust the body from a lateral position to a horizontal one in order to photograph the facial injuries more clearly.
As he turned the corpse, Larry suddenly discovered a black knife handle wedged between the victim’s legs.
Ángel, peering over his camera, gasped and sat back on the observation panel.
"My God, this killer is a damn bastard!"
