It’s likely that most crime fiction readers have either heard of Locard’s exchange principle or seen it in action in their reading – the theory (for revision purposes) that all people (criminals) who move from one place to another, leave something of themselves behind, while also taking something with them – and that can produce useful, even damning, evidence for law enforcement.
The concept is mentioned in many a crime novel and used in some.
Recently, raiding my Kindle on an unplanned stay in hospital, I realized I had, at some time, downloaded the non-fiction ‘Traces’ by Professor Patricia Wiltshire. It concerns the use of Forensic Palynology (read it again!) in the investigation of crime.
First, two definitions:
- Because, obviously, palynology is an unfamiliar word to many, and needs defining:
“Palynology is the study of pollen, spores, and all the other microscopic palymorphs and paticulates that we can collect from the air, from water, or from sedimentary deposits, some soils, and vegetation.”
- Because people get the meaning of the word ‘forensic’ jumbled all the time, that needs defining too:
Professor Wiltshire says:
“Many people have the wrong concept of forensic science, and the term is used in a very sloppy and inaccurate way… Court cases in Imperial Rome were held in the Forum and the word ‘forensic’ is derived from the Latin ‘forensis’ which means pertaining to the open court or public. So, when we speak of ‘forensic’ what we actually mean is that any evidence produced will be pertinent to a court case. If a piece of work is not carried out with a view towards having some bearing on a court case, it is not forensic at all.”
One thing which has interested me, in a lifetime of watching television forensic dramas, has been the way that writers/directors/producers almost always portray forensic science as being pretty well carried out by forensic pathologists. One sees, on most dramas with a forensic aspect – Midsommer, Lewis, Morse, even the rather old-fashioned Quincy (anyone old enough to remember Marcus Goring as ‘The Expert’ on the BBC in the deep past?).
This, presumably, is because forensics is only a small part of the plot – and may not be the most exciting (unless one is interested in real science) – and one actor in a rubber apron is less expensive than 25 varied specialists.
On the other side from issues of money, the main objection to this is that neither Quincy nor Grayling Russell would have the time or expertise to do all the painstaking laboratory work!
In my Patrice Lanier detective series (coming soon), I already have a forensic anthropologist, Dr Petra Boulet, first appearing in Book 2 “The Heights of Abraham”, and as a main character in Book 6 “The Ultraviolet Catastrophe”. But I have not introduced a palynologist. Well, not yet!
All this is of relevance to me, not just because of my writing, but because I studied Experimental Pathology at university and, if I tell anyone that, they immediately think it’s to do with cutting-up bodies (delicious shiver!). It isn’t. Pathology, stripped from other influences, is the study of disease processes. The ‘experimental’ part in the subject is about HOW disease processes are studied: by study of ‘normal’ function and how this can go wrong, producing disease, by physiology, by the study of microscopic body tissues (histology), and by the study of disease-causing pathogens – parasites, bacteria, viruses etc. All right?
The most amazing, carry-away and contemplate, quote from Prof Wiltshire, though, gives me the intriguing title of this piece:
“Bees are positively charged and (this is wonderful) they are attracted to flowers with the strongest negative charges. I had always assumed that the reason pollen stuck to bees was because of their hairiness and the stickiness of the pollen. That may be part of the story, but there is little doubt that static electricity is also important in the transfer from flower to pollinator. The negatively charged pollen jumps onto the positively charged bee through electrical attraction!”
Isn’t that totally brilliant?
