There was a Latent Print Examiner that worked for the State Police by the name of Jack Mercer. Jack was well known and was considered one of the best examiners in the state. Jack had been sitting at his desk for three days comparing a large number of suspects in a pretty big burglary of a home that belonged to a well heeled and prominent person in the state. A Texas Ranger came in and said “Jack, there has been a murder in God Knows Where West Texas and we need your help”. Jack got up and grabbed his little wooden home made fingerprint kit consisting of two camel hair brushes, a jar of black powder and one of aluminum powder plus a roll of tape and some backing cards.
Off they went to the airport to get in the little plane warming up at the end of the runway. This was in the late 1940’s and the State Police had only recently purchased this plane. Off they flew to “God Knows Where”. When they arrived Jack started up working the scene. The Chief of Police came up and asked him how he was doing and he replied that he had some pretty good latent prints. The Chief said “good, because me and the Texas Ranger have rounded all the no goods around and you can check their prints right here.” Well Jack was walked over to the line of men and started looking at their fingers. He got part way down when he stopped and looked at this one man’s finger closer. Pulled out a magnifying glass and looked closer and then went on and looked at all the other men that were there. He went up to the Chief and the Ranger and they asked him if that man he was looking at real close matched the latent prints in the murder case. Jack looked up with a smile on his face and said “No, but I found the guy that committed that big burglary I have been working on for three days”.
Probably an Urban Legend! Do you have an Urban Legend to share?
Okay, no "urban legend," but a true story. Back in the bad old days when I was still a badge and gun carrying police sergeant in Plano, Texas (a suburb of Dallas), I received a call for assistance from Officer Bill Durkin, one of my patrolmen. He had a team of three shoplifters in custody at the ABCO store on the west side of town. I arrived and he explained his dilemma. From a catwalk above the floor, through one way mirrors, the store security guard had seen the three men arrive together, then immediately split up and move into different parts of the store. The men were wearing widely flared bell bottomed trousers, long out of style. The security guard observed the men taking things from the shelves and secreting them beneath the wide bell bottoms and called police. Officer Durkin arrived and managed to take all three into custody. His probable cause for arrest fell short on one of the shoplifters. Two of them had numerous high dollar items stuffed into ace bandages wrapped around their calves and ankles beneath the bell bottoms, but the third had empty ace bandages. His intent was obvious, but either he had ditched his stuff or had not lifted anything yet when apprehended. The name and DOB he gave Bill came back clean all the way but he had not a shred of identification on him. He was obviously a pro at the game. Was he lying about his name?
So I arrived on the scene, listened to Bill's story, and asked to see the guy's hands. He held them out, palms up, and I looked at his fingertips. I mentally rapped off a primary, secondary, and subsecondary in Henry class. Then I went into an adjoining room, phoned Dallas PD, and asked for the ID Unit. As luck would have it, Teresa Turko was on duty, an old friend and a fingerprint examiner of considerable talent. I gave her the basic Henry class, told her it was a black male around fifty, plus or minus, and I suspected he had a record for theft and shoplifting. In less than a minute, she had searched the Henry files and had the answer. Teresa gave me a name and DOB and advised me that Dallas PD had outstanding warrants for him.
So I walked back into the room where Bill was detaining the suspects and called out the third guy's name. He turned and said, "Huh?" Then immediately, "How'd you know my name?" after which I advised him he was under arrest for the Dallas warrants. Bill asked immediately, "Sarge, how'd you find out his name so quick?"
"Sergeants are magic," I replied, and quickly left the store without saying anything else about how I had learned who he was. Let's see you do that with AFIS!
All right Pat you got me fired up to tell yarns. See if this one fits in your hat.
Back when I was a wee tyke, a Texas Ranger walks in the office at the agency I was working for and said "I need some help. I got a John Doe in the morgue that was found in a pasture that had been shot in the head and some tires placed on him and set fire and I need a set of prints off of him to send to Austin DPS." I was new and at the bottom of the rung so the Captain said "Parker you go and help the Ranger". I grabbed my gear and went over to the morgue and printed this murder victim who you might say was pretty toasty. I was able to get about 4 good impressions but I took a real good look at his other fingers. Got back to the office with the Ranger and he asked if I could mail them to the State Lab. I told him I could but if he didn't mind could I look in our files first. Now I had his primary and secondary in my head and I new it was a real small file about 7 over 14 if I remember right. He said "go ahead" and I went to our files and there was only 4 cards in the right primary and secondary. I looked at them and recognized his left thumb pulled the card and said here it is. The Ranger looked at me and said "Parker that ain't funny" I said "Ranger my daddy always taught me never to kid a Ranger, this is him and his only arrest is for Public Intoxication."
Yep that John Doe only had one arrest in the State of Texas and it was in my hand. The state would not have ID him even if the card had been sent to Austin. That information helped put things together and they arrested and convicted two men.
Got a nice letter from the Rangers Office over that one.
Yea AFIS can't do that.
Any more wild stories and yarns you want to share.
I would never relate those in which I was involved, but one of my favorites is about a man who was a legend in his own mind, Don Mooney. Mooney was a past President of the IAI and ended up being a JP down your way, Charlie. This urban legend is attributed to a coworker who swears it is true.
Mooney worked for the USPS for many years, and with seniority, he got to pick and choose cases. He always took the ones from Hawaii or other great places to testify, and avoided Montana or Alaska just in case court was held in winter. Mooney processed a check with ninhydrin from one of the Honolulu cases and examined the latent right before the end of the day. He put the processed check in his desk drawer with every intent of having it photographed the next day. But his plans changed, and nearly a month went by before he returned to the check. To his surprise, the latent print had disappeared. Well, that did not stop Mooney. He examined the suspect cards submitted in the case and then wrote up a report stating he had an identification to one of the suspects. Since that was the only latent in the case, my friend asked how he could possibly write up an ID when the latent was no more. Mooney replied he had memorized the latent from his initial examination and that was the right guy.
Dave and Pat those are good stories. One more and I will leave this thread alone. I call this one "That Brush Don't Fit".
There was a Crime Scene Technician who was very good. He was a LPE dream because he would work and work with the latent prints until he had them the best definition and contrast. He turned in some beautiful work. His kit was put together well. Brushes, powders, tape, backing cards, and the all important eraser. A CST's best friend. He also had several of those cadillac brushes. You know the ones that start with a "Z".
One day he got dispatched to a school burglary. The kind, where everyroom has been entered, furniture and desks turned over, every book and paper thrown around. Fire extingishuers set off. A real all day mess.
He was working in this one area and the patrol officer at the scene was standing over him with his hands crossed over his chest, not saying anything just looking at the CST. After awhile the CST looked up and said "you know you could help me out here". The officer looked back and responded "I do not have my kit. I left it at the house." The CST reached into his kit and pulled out one of those precious "Z" brushes and handed it to the officer with the comment "Here you can use some of my stuff".
The officer took the brush and held it up and looked at it intently and moving it around in his hand. He then handed it back to the CST with the following long drawn out statement "THAT BRUSH DON'T FIT MY FINGERS". The CST just looked up, smiled, took the 'Z' brush and went back to work.
I told this story in a staff meeting one time to Captains, Commanders and Assistant Chief's, and no one laughed or even smiled. I really do not understand that as it is such a classic spur of the moment line. Everytime I think about it I get a big smile on my face. I have one right now. Maybe I just have a weird sense of humor.
Charlie, I would have laughed until I fell on the floor. I had a similar experience in which a person who claimed extensive crime scene examination experience rejected a brush from me because he said it was a right handed brush and he was left handed.
An old memory was jarred into my conscious thoughts by this topic, but the story is about someone I never met or didn't even know his name. I was in my office one day back in Tumwater, Washington, when the telephone rang. I picked it up and the caller identified himself as a recent victim of a burglary in a western Washington city that shall remain nameless. He informed me that a nice, older gentleman from the local PD had come out to take the report. When the report was completed, the victim asked the officer if anyone was going to check for fingerprints around the point of entry, a bathroom window that had been unlocked and raised for access. The officer replied he would examine the area and accompanied the victim to the exterior of the house to the bathroom window, then studied the window carefully. Then the officer informed the victim that he was sorry but processing for fingerprint would be useless. When the victim asked why, the officer pointed to the old cracked and flaking putty around the glass.
"See how the putty is breaking away from the window?" the officer asked. The victim nodded, and the officer went on. "Well, with the putty loose like that, then the glass can move around in the frame whenever the wind blew. I'm afraid that any latent prints left on the glass would have vibrated off by now, so dusting would be a waste of time."
