#Forensic Fingerprint Analysis

[simplyforensic]

Unraveling the World of Poroscopy in Forensic Science

The Paramount Significance of Personal Identification Dive into the intricate world of poroscopy in forensic science. Discover how the study of sweat pores enhances fingerprint identification, aiding in personal identification, gender determination, and crime scene investigation. In criminal investigations, personal identification serves as a critical tool in bringing clarity to cases. Whether…

[aksharhandwritinganalysis]

Writing speaks..!! Understand yourself & others better through Handwriting..A session for revenue department officials..!

For More contact us: 7038383806/8087382763

Akshar Handwriting Analysis, Chh.Sambhajinagar(Aurangabad). 

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[forensicfield]

Investigative Tools in Forensic Psychology in India

The Article provides a comprehensive overview of various forensic psychology tools used in investigations, including polygraph, BEOS, Brain Fingerprinting, SDS, and LVA. Authored By Prashansa Tripathi #forensicpsychology #forensicscience #forensicfield

Continue reading Investigative Tools in Forensic Psychology in India

[absynthe--minded]

The thing about every modern Sherlock Holmes story is that it doesn’t understand that “disdain for the existing criminal justice system” is not only a fundamental part of the themes of the ACD stories it’s vital to making the whole concept work.

Holmes, when we first meet him, is on the bleeding edge of forensics for the 1880s, and this continues on into the ‘90s (the planted thumbprint in ‘The Norwood Builder’! the Sherlock Holmes test for hemoglobin in A Study in Scarlet! the use of pigs as substitute cadavers in ‘Black Peter’!) and beyond. He’s flippant about and disrespectful toward the police because he knows how criminology is a science and forensics matter and the cold hard facts are significantly more important than intimidating witnesses to extract coerced confessions, or deciding on a theory and bending the facts to make them fit, or relying on racist stereotypes to explain how people act and who’s most guilty (all things that really happen in the canon, btw). He’s smarter than everyone else because he’s doing things no one else understands yet, he’s made a study of crime and he understands how and why policing is a flawed institution.

This is why he’s not a cop, only occasionally allied with cops, and so often complaining or explaining that a moral injustice and a legal one are two different things. There are multiple antagonists (Sir George in ‘The Beryl Coronet’, Charles Augustus Milverton, Dr. Roylott, the parents in ‘A Case of Identity’) who he can’t catch in the jaws of the law but wishes he could, and at least one criminal he overlooks because he knows prison would only force them deeper into crime.

But. But.

In the 21st century, forensics are not only the backbone of police investigation they’re common knowledge to any average police procedural enjoyer or true crime fan. Holmes’s once-cutting-edge chemistry and geology are passé and ordinary now. If he’s going to be smart, he’s got to be looking ahead.

And what does that look like? It looks like knowing about the flaws in forensic analysis, like knowing about fingerprints maybe not being totally unique, like arguing over DNA evidence being misinterpreted and innocent people being sentenced for crimes they didn’t commit, like calling for the defunding and dissembling of police forces, like siding with the underclasses every. single. time.

Holmes shouldn’t be working with the cops, he should be trying to destroy them, and fighting to prove why they’re obsolete with science and quick thinking and research. Not doing that is spitting in the face of his roots and missing the whole point of what he’s working for.

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

I Know Those Eyes, Part 1

one dramatic in-universe reveal per chapter, let's go!

writing based purely on vibes, but i do have an actual plot brewing.

@grimdarling69 made more feel free to dm things you might want different

Prologue here

Tim had been the first to see the shape of his family’s future collective stress nightmares.

He’d been right there, after all. He had been asleep in the Batcave when Damian had decided to… he’d been right there, waking up to a single chance, loud noise Damian normally would have never made, with a chance to stop him, bring him to the others, talk it out, find a solution to whatever Luthor had been planning with concentrated Lazarus water. But he hadn’t woken up fast enough.

He had nightmares about that night for years. Sometimes, he knows exactly what’s going to happen and lets it happen anyway. Sometimes, he gets Damian to promise he’ll talk it out, only for him to run when Tim’s back is turned. The worst are the ones where he stops him, and everything works out for the best, and Tim wakes up and remembers what actually happened. Sometimes, he wakes up after getting to see Damian grow up, take on a new mantle, and haze a new Robin.

He always dismissed those dreams as filtering a fresh wave of grief through his knowledge of forensic analysis. He’d seen both Talia and Bruce, therefore he could map rough predictions of what he would grow up to look like, once he hit various milestones. It was all academic, since he would never get the chance to prove what he would have… been.

At least up until Oracle called him to verify something.

(“Red Robin, I need a judgment call.”

“A judgment call? Seriously? What exactly is stopping you from sending this to–”

“Luthor might be alive again. Check the footage I’ve sent you.”)

And… sure enough… here Tim was, three cups of coffee into an all-nighter, manually highlighting every shot in the security camera footage he’d been sent of a visiting CEO of a new tech startup that showed the man’s features. Which, actually, weren’t a lot, but once he started going through them all–yeah, that was Luthor alright. Same build, same face, the only thing that son of a bitch did was grow hair.

Like that wouldn’t have been the first disguise anyone who saw Lex Luthor would have suggested. Hair! Long, practically a lion’s mane of the stuff, tied into a low ponytail, with one of those chin beard things to hide the shape of his face more! All of it silvered by age and possible Lazarus contamination, and he hated that Luthor might purposely be affecting a ‘silver fox’ look.

And the worst part is it would have worked if anyone had removed him from the high priority list for being flagged for recognition. Tim almost had, but… Lazarus water. A mysterious death around concentrated Lazarus water. And apparently he had been, once again, completely right!

Tim had been furious by the time he’d combed through enough angles of his face getting out of a sleek black car to confirm, without a doubt, who he was. But then, the passenger side door had opened. All his anger had become shock. His hands shook as he opened a different, far more heavily encrypted profile.

Damian Wayne, priority 0.

Almost nothing came back an exact match, of course. The growth between 14 and 18 would have affected every feature, and the footage wasn’t nearly good enough to lift a retinal pattern or fingerprint from a distance (he noted the black gloves and mirrored shades blocking both), not to mention forensic prediction wasn’t an exact science, and beyond all of that, he could be totally wrong and Luthor was hauling out a clone, or a doppelgänger-

But as each feature lined up in his predictive model, as he watched the young man get out, brusquely close his door, and fall in at Luthor’s side without a word, a (surprisingly slight, far closer to Talia than Bruce) shadow falling into his wake like it was old habit, Tim felt certain he was right. He was certain he had dreamed of a world where Damian lived long enough to have that exact face. He called Oracle back.

“Hey, Oracle? I need a judgment call.”

***

It had taken minutes for Vlad and Danny to begin calling each other by their original names again. It had taken far longer, however, to get back to a familiar dynamic.

Oh, in the short term, it hadn’t been a problem at all. However, it was simply a matter of fact they had both led very different lives before remembering who they were meant to be. Vlad’s disgust at who he had been had colored much of his early days reclaiming his ghost half, and Daniel…

A childhood as a trained assassin had not been kind on the boy. Parts of Damian Al Ghul had needed to be chipped away over these last few years, most especially the fear of the League of Assassins that still hummed through him. Thankfully, Vlad had some help on that front and oh flaky pastry he was smiling again-

Though on second thought he supposed a warm and fatherly smile would help distance himself from ‘Lex’ Luthor. Yes, Lionel Vladimir Luthor, CEO and founder of VladCo, would be a man of warmth and fatherly compassion, and absolutely no one would suspect how thoroughly he could destroy them until they had dared to cross the line.

“You know we passed a dozen security cameras, right?” came a quiet voice to his left, the young man’s eyes flashing an even brighter green on occasion behind the shaded glasses he used to mask as Vlad’s bodyguard.

Oh, Daniel. So paranoid these days.

“Really? I only counted eight,” he replied, as the two of them were waved in by the desk clerk of their hotel.

“You’re not being creative enough with the word ‘security’. We’re meeting investors with ties to organized crime.”

Ah. So they were connected to weapons instead of larger networks of cameras. Classic Gotham City logic. Why only be corrupt, when you could be corrupt and violent? Though, it wasn’t as if he and his companion had to be careful anymore.

It had taken years to get to this point. Reclaiming their ghost halves, their powers, their lairs, their titles–their many, many titles, in Daniel’s case. Not to mention dear Daniela and Dante had taken years to recover, were still recovering, really, but at least now they could be comfortable staying with a substitute caregiver-

“Oh, any word from Frostbite?” he asked absently as he plugged the number code into the elevator to bypass the purposefully broken button for their intended floor. He had never encountered these kinds of silly little spy games after regaining his memories, it was almost endearingly pointless now.

“Nothing critical,” Daniel said with a small smile as they found their way to their specific unmarked door.

That meant there were pictures. Well. Good reason to get this nonsense done quickly. He raised a hand to knock.

“Game face, badger. We have a foundation to lay here.”

“Right back at you, frootloop,” said Daniel, slipping back into the resting scowl of his new childhood.

Honestly. Spy games. Next to what he and Daniel had planned?

Minor leagues.

***

-dramatic reveal in this chapter: the lazarus tech event brought back its victims.

-i don’t want to spoil their whole plan here but they’ve got obsessions to feed that are aligning super well right now and vlad wants to take the opportunity to show he cares and ruthlessly fuck over people who have personally wronged daniel/damian along the way.

-yes i am referencing the name used by luthor's father in the tv show, but in practice i'm referring to the time superman died and luthor pretended to be his own son, replete with luxurious hair.

[britishassistant]

An Act of Infinite Optimism

The plan, as Ema explains to Apollo, is meant to be simple.

Apollo will buy Trucy one of the overpriced bubble teas from the vending machines at the courthouse. He’ll get her to drink from it.

Then he’ll take the can without being a creep and give it to Ema for saliva analysis.

Ema is somehow going to get a saliva sample from Lamiroir, though she refuses to disclose how exactly she’ll accomplish that, then beg the forensics lab on her hands and knees to perform the tests that’ll prove whether the two of them are related or not.

Simple.

Really simple. Anyone can do it. Which is why Apollo is going to steel his nerve and spend twenty dollars right—!

“Pol-ly!”

Freezing cold and wet is pressed against the back of his neck.

“GAAAAAAH!!”

Whipping around with his hands clapped over the offended area reveals Trucy Wright laughing herself silly, a drink can in each hand.

“Pfft—! Oh Polly, your face!” She giggles. “I’m sorr-ee-hee-hee—!”

He scowls at her. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’d like to see you look nice if someone shoved ice against your neck.”

“Aw c’mon Polly, don’t be mad!” Trucy pouts. “And after I got you something too.”

He should know better than to fall for the bait by now, but. “Got something?”

She proffers one of the cans, which Apollo recognizes as the coffee he often stares longingly at but never has the funds to justify buying for himself.

“I made a mint in tips at the Wonder Bar last night!” She boasts. “Besides we need a pre-celebratory drink for winning the trial today!”

Apollo thinks of the ten dollar bill Ema lent him to help pay for the bubble tea that Trucy’s holding.

He quietly vows to return it alongside the evidence as he takes the coffee. “It’s not about winning. We know Machi didn’t do it, so now we just need to prove it.”

“Of course! We’ll show that Lamiroir is telling the truth and Machi is innocent!” Trucy clenches a fist, looking determined.

A small pang goes off in his chest. He can’t help thinking how lucky Lamiroir and Machi are to have someone like Trucy in their corner. To have a family.

He grins as he clinks their cans together. “I’ll drink to that.”

The two of them sit in comfortable silence as they enjoy their drinks.

“Whoa,” Trucy says. “Lookit their clothes!”

“Don’t point at people!” Apollo scolds, before he follows her finger. “…Although those are. Wow.”

The clothes in question are suits with more excess fabric and frills than is common in the U.S. style. Dark shades, with swirling trims of bright color to make them pop. The people wearing them look like models or something, a certain stiffness to their movements and severity to their faces.

They confer briefly, before heading through the doors that lead to the gallery.

“I guess they’re here to watch the trial…” Apollo mutters to himself.

“Hm!” Trucy tips her drink back to catch the last drops, before holding the empty can out to him. “D’you mind throwing this away for me Polly? Pretty please?”

Apollo can hardly believe his luck.

“Oh, u-uh, sure.” He takes the can carefully, trying to make sure he doesn’t smudge any of her fingerprints. “Just this once, okay?”

“Yay! Thank you Polly!”

He’s grateful she doesn’t ask any questions as he speedwalks away to give the vital evidence to Ema.

He goes to take one last swig of his coffee after he rounds the corner, but frowns when it seems to have mysteriously vanished from his other hand.

That’s weird. He didn’t drop it or leave it somewhere, did he…?

Trucy claps her hands together and sends a brief prayer of apology to the plant she just emptied the rest of Polly’s coffee into.

She knows that coffee isn’t good for plants, but this is for a good cause! She’ll bring water with her for it the next time she comes by, she swears!

She slips through the courthouse until she reaches just outside the prosecutor’s lobby, and does her secret knock.

She’s not even halfway through the second part of it when the door is wrenched open and Prosecutor Gavin’s head pops out.

“Ach, it’s just you Fraulein .” He slips outside, closing the door behind him. “I thought a schlagzeugerin was attempting to audition for the Gavinners. Were you successful in your mission?”

“Of course I was! It’s—!” Trucy pats herself down, face rapidly growing worried. “Eh? Wait, that’s weird, where’d it go?”

She continues to search as Prosecutor Gavin goes from curious to concerned, thumb spinning one of his rings.

“It’s vanished!” Trucy gasps. “Just like magic! So we’ll need… these!”

With a flourish, she produces her magic panties and rummages around inside, tongue poking out for effect.

“Is this what you were looking for?” She proclaims as she produces the empty can of coffee, neatly sealed in a plastic baggie.

“Wunderbar, Fraulein.” Prosecutor Gavin enthuses, taking the bag. “And preserved perfectly as well! The officers in the lab will be pleased when I ask them to look at this.”

“Of course!” She nods proudly. “Daddy always says it’s vital to maintain the integrity of evidence!”

Prosecutor Gavin raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything to that other than a noncommittal, “Hm.”

Which is fair, Trucy supposes. Daddy did kind of deliberately make a bad name for himself, but now that the evil Gavin is in jail, she’s gotta do her bit to start clearing it up now he doesn’t need to put on an act anymore!

“I’ll send this to the lab now, along with Lamiroir’s glass.” Prosecutor Gavin takes out a large paper bag, places the coffee can inside, and seals it with red tape. “It was quite difficult for me to coax her to drink—it seems Fraulein Detective has been overwatering my witnesses.”

She would respond to that, except Prosecutor Gavin’s started messing with that ring again, spinning it around with his thumb.

She doesn’t need a bracelet like Polly does to see he’s tense. Unhappy.

Trucy scuffs the floor delicately with the toe of her boot as she takes the plunge. “Are…are you doing okay, Prosecutor Gavin? I mean, it kinda seems like this trial’s been. A lot.”

Prosecutor Gavin’s smile falters. For the briefest of moments, his shoulders sag before he pulls them back into his rockstar perfect posture.

“Ach, I won’t say that this hasn’t been slightly stressful, professionally.” He shrugs, lackadaisy painfully feigned. “But I will admit, this little puzzle has been an enjoyable diversion to refresh my mind, keep my skills sharp.”

“Oh, that’s good!” Trucy wouldn’t be half the magician she is if she couldn’t cover for her fellow performer’s slips. “It’d be no fun if Polly beat you too easily today! His head would get all swollen! I’m not sure if his forehead is meant to get any bigger…”

“Achtung, so again I combine my enjoyment with my philanthropy! After all,” Prosecutor Gavin’s fingers slip through his hair the way they always do when he’s about to lie. “When I find Herr Tobaye guilty, Dame Lamiroir will need her other son to lean on once this one is incarcerated.”

“What?! No way!” Trucy’s cheeks puff out indignantly. “We’re gonna prove Machi is innocent! You’ll see!”

“Will I now?” Prosecutor Gavin is back in full Gavinners’ mode, smirking. “You and Herr Forehead better be ready to rock, Fraulein. Once I’ve sent this off, I won’t hold back.”

“Neither will we!” Trucy calls over her shoulder as she hurries back to the defendants’ lobby.

She collides with Polly outside the vending machines. “Oof!”

“Ow, easy!” He rubs his shoulder where she made contact. He holds something out to her. “Here. Thanks for the drinks earlier.”

Trucy takes the packet of Swiss rolls. “Really? All for me? Thank you, Polly!”

He chuckles sheepishly. “Just don’t eat ’em all before the trial, okay?”

There’s a pang in her chest as she squeezes the snack close and beams back at him.

Machi and Lamiroir are really, really lucky to have Polly.

Apollo collapses into bed, absolutely exhausted.

He did it. After everything that’s gone on in this trial, the truth was found. They cleared Machi’s name.

There’s going to be another trial to determine his sentence about the smuggling, but he’s not going down for murder. He and Lamiroir and Trucy are happy. Apollo just needs to take what comfort he can from that, rather than feeling irrationally disappointed that he won’t be allowed to represent Machi in that trial too.

It’s sensible, he tells himself. It’s designed to prevent undue attachment and bias on the part of the attorney or the court. And this Raymond Shields probably is a really good attorney. Really professional and dedicated. Yeah.

He falls asleep with his head floating half-formed thoughts of seeing if Mr. Shields needs a co-counsel, or would let him just look over the documents…

When he wakes again, it’s pitch black.

He scrunches his eyes, brain unwilling to compute why he’s not asleep when it feels so grossly early.

His phone blares out its generic ringtone again, the one that sounds exactly the same as the alarm he’s set on it.

It takes a few minutes of confused searching before he finds the offending device under the covers. The urge to throw it across the room and roll over to try to sleep has never been stronger.

Grumbling and squinting against the bright light of the screen, Apollo hits “Answer”.

“H’lo?”

“Apollo!” Comes Ema’s harried whisper. “I’ve done the tests!”

Apollo blinks muzzily. “Wh—? Bu’ you said ‘rlier you didn’ have cl’r’nce?”

“I broke into the forensics lab!”

“You dID WHAT—?!”

There’s a furious banging on the wall next to his bed.

Apollo hastily lowers his voice to a whisper. “You did what?!”

“It’s fine, I covered my tracks!” Ema sounds far too dismissive for someone breaking into a place where the whole job is identifying people from even the tiniest pieces of evidence. “Besides, even if I did get caught, you’d defend me, right?”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point—!”

“The point,” Ema cuts across. “Is the results. Which I’ve just got. Unless you wanna yell at me instead?”

“Wh—no! I mean, yes! I mean—!” Apollo stutters.

Ema must take pity on his flailing, because her voice comes down the line strong and sure, cutting through his panic. “It’s a match, Apollo.”

The confirmation knocks the wind out of him. “…Really? You’re sure?”

“Science can’t lie.” Ema grumps. “Lamiroir and Trucy are mother and daughter. No doubt about it.”

It feels like Apollo’s insides are fireworks.

He was right! They did it!

There’s the faint sound of a door opening at the other end of the line.

An unfamiliar, indistinct voice shouts, “Hey! What are you doing here?!”

“Shoot!”

There’s a tremendous clatter as Ema does something to get away from her pursuer.“Sorry!”

“Ema, you need to run! Get outta there!” Apollo urges.

“WHAT-huff-D’YOU THINK-huff-I’M DOING?!” Ema yells back at him, over the sounds of running and faint cries in the background of “Stop, thief!” and “Get her!!”

And so Apollo finds himself co-opted into helping Ema evade police custody long enough to get out of the building, resigning himself to being entirely sleep-deprived tomorrow.

Trucy hardly got any sleep last night.

She was riding the high of winning the trial yesterday and Prosecutor Gavin’s promise of getting the results of the saliva analysis and Apollo buying Eldoon’s for dinner, when she got back home and found the office empty again. Which is fine! It’s empty more often than not nowadays, so she figured she’d just put on the Gavinners to fill the quiet. And then she remembered midway through Atroquinine My Love that there was no more Gavinners. That she’d attended their last ever concert.

Which, again, is good! Daryan was definitely guilty and deserved to go to jail! She doesn’t regret helping Polly at all, even if it means her favorite band breaks up! Not one bit!

But behind closed doors she needed to have several emotions about it. That ended up lasting all night.

She feels bleary as she showers and gets dressed. She’ll probably take a nap this afternoon before going to the Wonder Bar instead of doing her reading homework. It’s really piling up, but she needs to be at her best as a performer!

She hears voices, low and angry-sounding, as she rounds the corner to the kitchen.

Daddy’s standing in front of the door, hands fisted in the pockets of his hoodie, tension in every line of his back even as he pretends to be relaxed.

“Daddy? Is everything okay?” She can’t help asking.

Daddy jumps a little, turning to her with a tired smile. “Ah, Trucy, it’s fine—“

“Guten morgen, Fraulein Magician!” Prosecutor Gavin’s head pops up over Daddy’s shoulder as he waves. “I trust you find yourself well on this beautiful morning, ja?”

Daddy’s smile twitches at the corners a tiny bit.

“I’m good!” Trucy chirps back, performance as comfy to slip into as her cape. “How come you’re here so early? Did you want to sign up to the talent agency for singing?!”

Daddy chuckles. “We’ve got enough musical talent already, don’tcha think Trucy? Anyway, Mr. Gavin was just finishing up—“

“Nein, I actually came to deliver a message to the lovely Fraulein here.” Prosecutor Gavin says, one thumb spinning his rings. “Any other business was purely incidental.”

Daddy’s eyes narrow.

“Well, so long as your intentions are honorable, have at it.” Daddy ambles back towards the office, calling over his shoulder. “As you mentioned, Prosecutor, I am friends with your boss.”

“Daddy!” She stomps petulantly to drive home the performance. “Don’t be gross! Ugh, I’m so sorry, Prosecutor Gavin—!”

“It’s no trouble, Fraulein .” He reassures her, though his jaw is clenched. “It’s touching, a vater’s protection of his tochter. Even if it does come at the expense of others…”

Well that’s cryptic and a half!

Some of her true feelings must show in her pout, as Prosecutor Gavin suddenly looks sheepish and chuckles. “Entschuldigen sie, Fraulein. There was a break in at the forensic labs last night, so I am slightly on edge, ja? But, luckily, our results were already logged. I received them when I dropped by today.”

“And?!” She’s on tenterhooks, just like when she used to watch Daddy and Uncle Valant. “What did they say?! Tell me!”

He looks her dead in the eye and tells her. “It’s a match.”

It feels like Trucy’s insides are confetti.

They did it! She was right!

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Prosecutor Gavin says. “I need to locate the suspect for last night’s break in and give her a thorough talking to. Auf Wiedersehen, Fraulein Magician!”

“Off Whee-der-sane!” Trucy parrots back as she waves him out the door.

She can’t stop smiling as she closes it and bounces slightly. This calls for a celebration! She’s sure they have some pancake mix that she can whip up!

When she goes to skip to the kitchen, she finds Daddy leaning against the doorway, faux-casual.

“Trucy,” Daddy says. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”

She opens her mouth—!

Daddy pulls a hand out of his pocket. In it is his anti-lying rock.

Trucy gulps.

[mindblowingscience]

Researchers have unveiled a method capable of detecting drug substances from fingerprints lifted from crime scenes, which could provide fresh insights into unsolved cases. The research is published in the journal Drug Testing and Analysis. Analytical scientists from Loughborough University have demonstrated for the first time that drug residue—namely the fast-acting sleeping pill Zolpidem, which has been linked to drug-facilitated sexual assault and drink spiking—can be detected on gel-lifted fingerprints. Dr. Jim Reynolds and Dr. Ayoung Kim say the breakthrough could shed new light on cold cases and unsolved crimes as forensic gel lifters—which transfer prints onto a gelatin surface—are used globally by scenes of crimes officers to preserve and visualize fingerprints.

Continue Reading.

[vodika-vibes]

Overworked

Summary: After almost dying at a crime scene, Commander Thorn realizes that things need to change.

Pairing: Commander Thorn x Reader

Word Count: 2173

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Reader gets Blown up, mentions of a crime scene

Mando'a used: verd'ika - lit. little soldier

A/N: I've been meaning to write for Thorn for, like, weeks now. But I finally had an idea.

Divider by saradika

In an ideal universe, you would never have to work a day in your life. You would be able to stay home, and spend your time writing novels, or painting pictures, or crocheting blankets, and you’d never have to worry about food or power or rent.

However, you don’t live in an ideal universe.

You live here, on Coruscant, which means that five days a week, you have to drag yourself out of bed, shower, brush your teeth, and put on your uniform for another 8 hour day of hell.

Also known as work.

And you, the clever person that you are, decided to major in Forensics. Which meant that not only do you have to drag yourself to work every morning, you also have to see the absolute worst of people every day.

Sometimes when you close your eyes, all you see are blood spatters and burn patterns and bullet trajectories. Those are the good days.

You don’t have many good days.

There is a reason that people in your line of work rarely last more than 10 years. Especially on Coruscant. 

You exhale slowly and press the palms of your hands against your eyes. You’ve been working close to ten hours, less than halfway through a double, that was probably going to turn into a triple, and you’re already so done with the day that you kind of want to cry.

You’re hungry, and tired, and you still have six hours before the next shift is supposed to roll in, and you have to start the DNA analysis from three different cases, and run the fingerprints from last night-

You look up when there’s a knock on the door, “It’s open.”

Your office door slides open, and you tiredly look up at the man who steps into the room, “You look like shit, verd’ika.” Commander Thorn says as he steps into the room, a teasing grin on his lips.

“Please tell me you didn’t just walk your happy ass all the way from the Corrie Bullpen to my office just to insult me?” You ask as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand as you half-heartedly glare at the handsome man who has made it his life's mission to make your life more difficult.

“I would never,” Commander Thorn replies as he presses the button to shut your office door, and lazily drops into a chair across from your desk.

“Oh, please, have a seat.” You say snarkily.

“Thanks, I think I will.” He counters cheerfully, as he slumps even further down the chair with a wide grin.

You close your eyes, and forcefully stamp down on your growing ire, it’s not his fault that you’re exhausted, and it’s not right to take it out on him. Especially since you actually enjoy his company, “Is there something you needed, Commander?”

“How long have we worked together, verd’ika?” He asks, dragging the nickname out obnoxiously. 

“I don’t…2 years, give or take?” You say with a shake of your head.

“Long enough that you should just call me by my name,” He says mildly, and he frowns when you curl in on yourself as though he yelled at you. He sits up and leans forward slightly, his sharp eyes scanning your face for a moment, and his scowl deepens, “How many hours have you been working?”

You glance at your chrono and sigh, “a little more than 10 hours. I’m working a double today…maybe a triple.” You tiredly rub your eyes, “What did you need, Commander Thorn?”

“...we have a case.” He says quietly, a look of guilt crossing his face as you utter an exhausted curse, “No one else is available for field work.”

“It’s fine, this is my job after all. Just let me grab my keys and I’ll meet you there. Send me the location?” You ask, as you get to your feet and grab your jacket off the back of your chair.

Thorn says nothing for a moment, and then he releases a deep sigh, and you hear the sound of some typing, “I’ll see you there. It’s just going to be the two of us, for now.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there.”

30 minutes later, you pull up in front of a run down building. The building itself is taped off, and Thorn is waiting for you with his arms crossed over his chest. You park near his speeder, and slip out of your jeep, having to essentially fall out of your van due to its height.

“Nice of you to join me,” Thorn teases lightly, though there’s tension in his shoulders and his hand rests on his blaster, “So we have a body.”

“It’s almost always a body in this part of Coruscant,” You reply as you pull your kit out of the back of your van, “You suspect foul play?”

“The person who called it in claimed that they witnessed a murder,” Thorn replies as he scans his datapad, “I have some shinies canvassing the area, looking for the witness.”

“Is that why you’re so tense?” You ask.

“What?”

“You’ve had your hand on your blaster like you’re expecting someone to jump out and start shooting at us.” You explain as you press the button that closes the trunk door.

“Just…a bad feeling, verd’ika.” His voice is tight, “I’m going to be staying close for now.”

You eye him for a moment, and then nod slowly, “If that will make you feel more comfortable.” You finally reply, “Is the body inside?”

“Yeah. The shinies cleared the house before you got here.” Thorn says, “At first blush, it looks like an execution.”

You flash him the smallest of smiles, “If you say so, then that’s probably what happened. But I’ll check anyway.”

“Ah, verd’ika, when you say stuff like that it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” Thorn teases flirtatiously, and you know that if he wasn’t wearing his helmet, he’d be smirking at you, in spite of the tension running through his body.

You pull your gloves on and shoot him a look, “You know that you’re probably right. I just need to verify it for legal reasons.” You shake your head and take half a step towards the house, “I assume I’m free to enter?”

“Yep, the scene is yours.”

You nod at him, and grab your camera, and slowly make your way into the house, taking pictures as you go. You snap a series of photos of the victim, a woman, likely in her 70s. True to what Thorn told you, she had two bullet holes in her head.

“If the execution was what killed her,” You say to Thorn, “She wasn’t killed here. There’s not nearly enough blood.”

Thorn is somehow even more tense than he was outside as he makes a note on his datapad, “Anything else?”

“Give me a minute,” You reply, standing and moving around to the other side. You look over the victim, and then tilt your head when you notice something strange. “Huh. What’s this then?” You murmur, more to yourself then Thorn as you reach out and adjust the thick jacket the victim was wearing. Your hand presses against something hard, and metal, and you hear a click that makes your blood freeze, and you slam your hand down on the victim’s chest. 

“Verd’ika?”

“I think there’s a bomb.” You say, turning panicked eyes up towards Thorn.

Thorn swears and tosses his datapad out the front door, and crosses the room to kneel across from you. He scans the body, and then swears again, “It is.” He confirms, “It looks like a pressure plate.”

“Sorry.” You whisper, “You should probably-”

“If you think I’m leaving you here, alone, with a bomb then you don’t know me well at all,” His voice is sharp, and for a moment you hate that he’s wearing his helmet, because seeing his face would offer you a little comfort. “Okay. Disarming the bomb isn’t possible, not now that it’s been triggered,” Thorn explains as he stands and walks around the body until he’s behind you.

“So what do we do?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder as he turns a thick table onto it’s side and moves it so it’s nearly pressed against your back.

“You are going to sit there,” Thorn replies, moving so he’s behind the table, and then reaching over the table and grabbing you under the arms, “Verd’ika?”

“Yeah?”

“This is going to hurt.” Is the only warning he gives, as he tightens his grip and pulls, jerking you away from the bomb, and over the table, and covering you with his own body in one smooth motion that he’s had to have practiced before.

The bomb detonates at the exact same time, and the last thing you remember, clearly, is the pain the Thorn warned you about.

You wake to the sound of a heart monitor beeping annoyingly in your ear. You slowly blink the sleep out of your eyes, and you can taste bacta on your lips. 

You half expect to be in the hospital, but you’re also not really surprised to see that you’re in the Guard’s Medbay. Slowly you try to sit up, only to stop when gentle hands press against your shoulders, laying you back. “You’re not supposed to move, verd’ika.”

“Thorn?” You quickly look him over, he’s wearing casual clothes, rather than his armor, which means you can see the bruises covering his arms, “Are you okay?” You ask.

“Me? Yeah, a couple of bruises. A minor concussion.” Thorn waves away his injuries as unimportant, “How are you feeling? You’ve been in a bacta tank for two days.”

“Pretty good, all things considered.” You lightly take his hand and squeeze it, “I thought that I would be in the hospital?”

“Yeah, well…” There’s something grim on Thorn’s face, “Someone put a hit on you.”

“On…me?”

“You’re very good at what you do,” Thorn replies, “We moved you from the hospital when one of the nurses tried to kill you.”

“I don’t…why?”

“You’re very good at what you do, cyar’ika.” Thorn says with a sigh, “You’re being moved into protective custody until we can figure out who’s trying to kill you.” He lightly takes your hand and squeezes your fingers, “I’m afraid you’re not going to have much privacy for a bit.”

You lay in the bed, thinking on his words, “Am I being forced to leave Coruscant?” You ask.

“No. You’re being moved into protective custody under the care of the Coruscant Guard. Well, to be more specific, we’re being moved into protective custody.” Thorn explains.

“Ah, you got stuck with babysitting duty.”

“I volunteered, cyar’ika.” Thorn replies, “You almost died because I didn’t do my due diligence.”

“It’s not your-”

“It is my fault. If I had done my damned job, the bomb would have been disarmed before you even arrived on scene.” Thorn interrupts, “So, I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with me for a while.”

You sigh quietly, “It’s not that much of a hardship,” You murmur, “When I’m not working, I actually like spending time with you.”

He laughs quietly, and slowly releases your fingers to brush his fingers against your cheek, and you turn your head into his touch. “You know I only bother you as much as I do because I want you to look at me, right?” He asks quietly.

You smile gently, “I’m looking now, Thorn.”

His fingers pause, mid stroke, and his gaze locks with yours, “Yeah. I guess you are. And…do you like what you see?” Thorn asks, something hesitant in his voice.

“Always did.”

“You never said anything.”

“You never come to talk to me alone when we’re not working,” You reply, “Or I would have.”

A look of amusement crosses his face, “I didn’t know that you’re shy.”

“I didn’t either,” You admit with a laugh, “Just about this one thing, I guess.”

You fall into a comfortable silence, with his fingers gentle on your cheek. “Cyar’ika,” He says slowly, “Do you know what that means?”

“Something less insulting than verd’ika, I hope.”

“It means sweetheart.”

“Oh, that’s much nicer than being called Little Soldier.” You joke lightly.

He laughs quietly, and his thumb lightly ghosts across your lips, “Can I kiss you, cyar’ika?”

“I’m in a hospital bed and covered in bacta.” You reply.

“That’s not a no,”

You smile at him, “Yes, Thorn. You can kiss me.”

He flashes an almost blinding grin, and then he leans in and gently presses his lips against yours. His kiss is so breathtakingly gentle that you’re helpless to do anything more than let out a quiet whine into the kiss.

He breaks the kiss, and lays his arms on the bed and then he lays his chin on his folded arms, a grin on his lips, as he looks at you with a lovesick look on his face. And all you can do is blush and try to pull the blanket up over your head.

[thoughtlessarse]

Long before the 2001 trial started, then-St. Louis County Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Keith Larner decided the butcher knife used to kill Felicia Anne Gayle Picus was “worthless” as a piece of evidence. On Wednesday, Larner testified in court that he had concluded there was no additional forensic testing that needed to be done on the murder weapon used in the 1998 killing. The knife handle had been analyzed for fingerprints, but none had been found; blood on the blade matched Picus. Larner said he saw no problem with his repeated handling of the weapon without using gloves in the months leading up to the trial of Marcellus Williams, who Larner would prosecute and send to death row for the murder. Now, the retired prosecutor was defending his actions during a one-day hearing held as part of an effort to overturn Williams’s conviction. “There was nothing to link anybody to the crime on that knife,” Larner insisted. Williams, who is scheduled for execution in September, maintains his innocence. Until last week, the knife was central to proving his claim. Williams sought testing of the weapon before his 2001 trial, but the judge denied his requests. DNA testing done in 2016 excluded Williams from handling the weapon. Instead, the results revealed unknown male DNA. Last week, a new round of analysis confirmed that Williams’s genetic material was not on the knife, but it could not exclude either Larner or his investigator as the source of the unknown DNA. Whatever DNA might have existed connecting the perpetrator to Picus’s murder was irretrievably lost — thanks to the prosecution’s handling of the evidence. Now, the contamination itself would be at the center of current elected county prosecutor Wesley Bell’s efforts to overturn Williams’s conviction. According to Bell, the state’s willful mishandling of the evidence before trial had violated Williams’s rights, meaning his conviction and death sentence must be overturned.

continue reading

US "justice" would be a joke if it didn't have such serious consequences for its victims.

[csistudies]

Tuesday 1st October 2024 [8/100 DOP]

(Again pretend this was posted yesterday)

Happy 1st of October! Spooky season and autumn properly in swing now.

Today's lecture was Forensic Casework and the Expert Witness.

DNA - extraction, DNA Fingerprinting, DNA analysis.

The Prosecutor's Fallacy.

Then on the way home popped to the shops to get food supplies.

[simplyforensic]

Forensic Fingerprints Analysis Demystified: Techniques, Trends, and Technologies

In the intricate dance of forensic science, forensic fingerprints analysis stands as a cornerstone, shedding light on the unseen trails left behind at crime scenes. This profound method of investigation has not only bolstered criminal investigations but has also significantly contributed to the realms of law enforcement and biometric security. The unique patterns of whorls, loops, and arches…

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

The smell of someone’s hand can reveal if they are a man or a woman, a study has found.

Key components in body odour are increasingly being used by scientists to unpick a person’s identity, with age and ethnicity already able to be determined by smell alone.

Now, research from Florida International University found that machine analysis was able to tell with 97 per cent accuracy the gender of a person from a swab of their hand sweat.

It opens the door for law enforcement to be able to use scent recognition to find criminals at some point in the future. However, the scientists say the work is still in its early stages and more analysis is needed to rectify the findings before the technique is used by police forces.

The hope is that a hand mark, which does not have any DNA or fingerprints, could still be used to help identify a perpetrator.

15 key chemicals

“We identified 15 key chemicals, and seven were the most important in differentiating females from males,” study author Dr Kenneth Furton told The Telegraph.

“To date we still cannot say what men and women in general smell like but we can say that they smell different chemically and we are now closer to discovering which chemicals are responsible for that difference.”

Dogs have long been used in criminal investigations to reliably identify and track people based on their odour, but replicating the hyper-sensitive nature of the canine nose with a machine in a lab has proved difficult.

Scientists used a technique called mass spectrometry to analyse the scent compounds present on the palms of 60 people – half male and half female.

Participants were asked to squeeze a piece of sanitised material for ten seconds and their skin secretions were then taken from the absorbent pad and put into a machine.

Odour ‘barcodes’

The scientists found odour “barcodes” which each person possesses that is unique to them and found they were able to pull apart male and female individuals based on the olfactory signature.

“Criminal activities involving robberies, assaults (sexual, simple, or aggravated), and rape are often executed with the use of the perpetrator’s hands,” the scientists write in their study.

“As a result, hands are a focal point of investigations as contributors of trace amounts of evidence that can be deposited on everyday objects through touch interactions.

“There is an exchange of both biological and inorganic material between the perpetrator and the crime scene during these interactions.”

Trace evidence

They add that the interaction and contact between a criminal and victim, or the crime scene, will leave behind trace evidence, but sometimes in quantities too small to help solve the crime.

“Fingerprints and DNA are the biometrics most commonly utilised to identify a suspect or victim of a crime,” the team continues.

“However, these forms of evidence can be found in quantities that are too small to be used, leaving little to no forensic evidence that can be used for prosecution.

“Even in these instances where no physical fingerprint or DNA evidence is found, human scent evidence may still be recovered and used as an individualising feature in an investigation.

“Though previous works have revealed this using an individual’s human scent from either breath or armpit, this study expands on this capability using hand odour which may be of great forensic value.”

According to the study, published in PLOS ONE, the analysis successfully predicted a person’s sex with a 96.67 per cent accuracy rate.

Sexual arousal

Studies are increasingly learning more about the role of human scent and how it may be detected not only by machines but by people too.

One study recently found the chemical makeup of a person’s exhaled breath changes when in a state of sexual arousal and it could be picked up by others around them.

Researchers from the Max Planck Institute of Chemistry found a noticeable spike in three chemicals called indole, cresole and phenol during arousal. There was also a significant drop in the level of CO2 and another molecule called isoprene.

Prof Jonathan Williams, the lead researcher, also found last year that humans have an invisible aura around our bodies which could be cleaning the air we breathe.

A study found that an invisible haze of air-cleansing molecules is produced on human bodies when ozone in the air reacts with oil made by our skin.

[infodump-matchmaking]

OFFER: Forensic science. I know: fingerprinting and print matching, blood spatter analysis (not great at this one admittedly), human decomposition (my favourite), general evidence processing procedures, hair/fiber analysis.

also know a good deal about forensic psychology and specifically how court cases and insanity defense work. (in the US)

[intersectingparadigms]

Forensic science - the "CSI stuff" is one of the least tested areas of the sciences there is, and deserves an overhaul. It does nothing but break peoples lives apart with false courtroom testimonies. The CSI effect means that people believe it is real when it's mostly bullshit.

Stop believing the courts every time an expert testifies. (Or at all. Most judges are cop-loving bootlickers who will gladly send you to your ruin if it speeds up their case log.)

Bite mark analysis is indisputibly fake and wrong, but courts still use it. The very first case was later proven to have had the results faked to fit, but any results after are also

Travel analysis (Where a person has been) from shoes is impossible to prove

Fingernail evidence is easy to fuck up, or confuse the courts with because many cosmetics and foods may distort findings

Hair analysis, hard to prove beyond a reasonable doubt, as it's interpretive. It uses a shitty test that can false positive hairspray or shampoo to frame people as alcoholic or drug-using (which should not be a crime). It also is used to this day. Look up Motherisk Lab for how garbage the science can be!!! None of the lab members were ever trained. This practice is same all over the world. The science is pretty bad

Fingerprints. Both not unique to each person, and the results easy to fudge. Super interpretive and hard to prove it was them or another with a similar print. Partials used as evidence too often imo

Roadside drug tests cops give? Eaaaasy to set off that mouthwash residue, aspirin, or even chewing gum can get you a positive.

DNA is also interpretive. Sure, you may be able to match it with someone, but what markers say about that person is nothing but a maybe. This is doubled or tripled as a maybe for animals - animal DNA testing is absolutely terribly regulated

Actual science welcomes challenge. Forensics often bars it, and stands by faulty labs and science that often was just imagined up as giving results by a random guy a century ago

[lightwing-s]

So I was thinking about the request for Dick. Again. And here's what I came up with.

Dick s/o being a forensic scientist. And while Grayson himself is a detective, they made a bet who will crack the work case faster. One night, when Nightwing and batfamily are on mission, she sneaks into batcave to access the newest technology and software. Ofc Dick catches her red handed and calls a cheater. It all leads to teasing and fooling around (I'm thinking fluff and comedy style), up to the point where she's forced to admit he's better (maybe he kisses or tickling her to the point of surrender).

TY 🙃

There was no denying you and your boyfriend, Dick Grayson, were competitive. Hell, even your own  relationship started out of a silly competition where some friends from your precinct had a bet over which of you could go longer without any dates or hookups. Safe to say, you both lost at  the same time/ night.

Dating him also came with an exclusive pack of friends and family that would eventually become your own. To you, in particular, Alfred ended up coming  really close, trading recipes and him even teaching you Dick’s favorite dishes. He was your relationship unofficial keeper, and also your greatest accomplice.

That’s how you ended up sneaking into the Batcave one thursday night. 

The entire family was out on patrol, and you really could use the computer’s substance scan your boyfriend loved to mention. A couple had recently been murdered in one of the city’s most expensive apartment complexes, but barely any clues could be found, taking you and your team a thorough job to get even the smallest of fingerprints. Dick had also been assigned the same case, thus starting your competition of the week(s). I know, it looks very unprofessional, and borderline unethical, but your dedication to win showed very productive for the force.

Sitting in front of the large computer, waiting for the analysis of an orange substance you found in several places on the crime scene but conveniently kept it a secret from your boyfriend, you took in the environment you were once crazy to see. You had never been to the cave with anyone, let alone by yourself, so it took a lot of convincing (and some bribery) for Alfred to allow you in.

You could already feel the taste of victory on your tongue when the sound of defeat reached your ears.

“What do we have here?” you heard your boyfriend say from the elevator door. “A cheater!”

Immediately hiding under the desk, you mentally cursed yourself for not being more careful and for all the fun Dick was going to take out of your situation. Damn it, I was so close!

His silent steps reached your location, and you could see his groin leveled with your eyes under the tight suit. In any other conditions, you’d appreciate how you stood, but right now, it took everything in you not to punch it.

“If you say anything, I swear…”

“Me!” he feigned indignation, giving you his hand to pull you back up. “You’re the one showing terrible sportsmanship.”

“Oh, like you never cheated in any of our games before!”

“Never!” he faked his innocence, gaining a punch from you on his shoulder. He really could piss you off sometimes. “What are you doing, babe?” he questioned, grabbing at your hips and lacing his arms around them, trying to make you uncross your arms and hug him back.

“Nothing…” you faked, but he saw right through you, as usual, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief. “I found something in the crime scene, okay? Yes, I didn’t tell you, but I know that in the Nichols’ murder you hid information from me too. Consider this revenge! But the precinct’s scanner can’t make out what it is because it’s mixed with something else and keeps giving me inconclusive results. I knew Bruce had this new top of the line scanner that according to Tim can identify every substance imaginable so I kind of bribed Alfred with two dinners a month if he let me get into the cave.”

“You promised Alfred what?!” he asked, brushing off everything else you said.

“Shut it, Grayson. You love his food anyway and…” you were about to tell him off when the AI’s voice announce “Scan finalized.”

You instantly turned around, leaving the comfortable embrace of your boyfriend, too anxious to know what the orange powder you had been studying for days finally was. However, when your boyfriend’s boisterous laugh filled the room and you saw the bright letters spelling out CHEETOS on the screen, you knew everything you did to get where you were ended up being for absolutely absolutely nothing.

“I can’t believe it.” you said in disbelief, as your boyfriend was out of breath behind you. And worse: “Thompson was eating cheetos while we looked for evidence.”

Fuck Thompson. Your fucking lab parter and dumbest person in the world had ruined your chances, again.

“Ah, babe.” he hugged you from behind, kissing you cheek and resting his head on your shoulder. “Admit it, I’ve always been the better detective.”

Dead in the eyes, you refuse to answer. But Dick knows how to break you better than anyone, so he starts pecking all over your face, forcing a smile to spread on your lips.”

“Say it, Bart…”

Sighting in defeat, you finish: “You’re the better detective. You win the game.”

.

requests are open. you can also check out my updated masterlist ♡

[yakool-foolio]

AAI2 case 1: START!

'Forte?' Damn Edgeworth I didn't know you were a Master Detective. "My Forensic Forte is Common Sense." "It's what now?" "Did I stutter?"

HEY TABBY! What a cute journalist/reporter character with a cute theme to boot! She reminds me of Arven from Pokemon Scarlet/Violet with that giant bag she's lugging around. Why do you have a bear trap?

Oh??? Is that logic chess I hear??? IT IS! Looks like you're going to the chess realm, Tabby!

Two old men familiar to Edgeworth? Nobody immediately comes to my mind, maybe Badd is one of them? "I'm nobody's chief." Well that's not gonna last very long Mr. Chief Prosecutor. WHY IS PAYNE HERE?!

This talk of popsicle sticks had me grabbing an actual popsicle. It's cherry flavored if it matters. Man they're really layering on the chess theme thick already. Not that I mind, I quite like it as an enjoyer of chess aesthetics without knowing jack about how it works *stares at my Death Knight Yakou AU* but I digress.

Fingerprint analysis any% speedrun. But of course the answer wouldn't reveal itself so easily. KAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!

Guys... we looked at a laser sight only a minute ago... guys... it's not a birthmark... guys...

(Hello again, as is customary - @masked-disciple)