Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action 2020
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action 2020
Humanitarian Action
Published
The Global Practice of Forensic Science
Douglas H. Ubelaker (Editor)
Forensic Chemistry: Fundamentals and Applications
Jay A. Siegel (Editor)
Forensic Microbiology
David O. Carter, Jeffrey K. Tomberlin, M. Eric Benbow and Jessica L. Metcalf
(Editors)
Forensic Anthropology: Theoretical Framework and Scientific Basis
Clifford Boyd and Donna Boyd (Editors)
The Future of Forensic Science
Daniel A. Martell (Editor)
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living
Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker (Editors)
Forthcoming
EDITED BY
Roberto C. Parra
Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner (OHCHR), United Nations; and
Bioarchaeology and Stable Isotope Research Laboratory, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tennessee, USA
Sara C. Zapico
Florida International University, International Forensic Research Institute, Miami, USA
Douglas H. Ubelaker
Smithsonian Institution, National Museum of Natural History, Washington, DC, USA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
vii
14.3 Morphological traits, 201
14.4 Global standardization, 204
References, 206
15 Sexual dimorphism in juvenile skeletons and its real problem, 211
Flavio Estrada Moreno
15.1 Introduction, 211
15.2 Is it possible to estimate the sex of subadults based on morphological
characteristics of the jaw and the ilium?, 212
15.3 From what age range is it possible to estimate sex in subadult skeletal
remains? Skeletal growth, bone maturation and sex steroids, 213
15.4 What is the degree of precision and reliability of the visual criteria used
to estimate sex in subadult skeletal remains? What criteria are
applicable to forensic contexts?, 215
15.5 Comments and discussion, 216
15.6 Conclusions, 216
References, 217
16 Dental aging methods and population variation, 219
Joe Adserias‐Garriga and Joel Tejada
16.1 Introduction, 219
16.2 Dental age estimation: its application in forensic science, 221
16.3 Tooth developmental changes, 221
16.4 Dental age estimation methods using tooth development
and eruption, 223
16.5 Post‐formation changes in dental tissues, 226
16.6 Methods of dental age estimation using tooth post‐formation changes, 227
16.7 Dental age estimation methods and their application in forensic
casework, 229
References, 230
17 Age assessment in unaccompanied minors: A review, 235
José Luis Prieto
17.1 Introduction, 235
17.2 Age assessment methods in unaccompanied minors, 236
17.3 Age definition: What does age mean?, 240
17.4 Choosing a suitable method, 241
17.5 Forensic age assessment medical methods, 242
17.5.1 Interview and medical history, 243
17.5.2 Physical examination, 243
17.5.3 Dental development, 244
17.5.4 Skeletal maturation, 247
17.6 Final estimation and report, 250
17.7 Conclusions, 251
References, 251
Section III Stable isotope forensics and the search for missing persons, 273
25.4.1 Carbon, 389
25.4.2 Nitrogen, 389
25.4.3 Sulfur, 390
25.4.4 Body water, 390
25.4.5 Oxygen, 391
25.4.6 Hydrogen, 392
25.4.7 Integrated signal, 392
25.5 Geographical and population patterns of δ13C, δ15N and δ34S
values, 393
25.5.1 From continents to cities, 395
25.5.2 From cities to individuals, 396
25.6 Geographical patterns of δ18O and δ2H values, 397
25.7 Individual deviations from expected patterns, 400
25.8 Travel history, 401
25.9 Solved forensic investigations, 403
25.10 Final considerations, 403
25.10.1 How fixed are the geographical patterns of δ13C, δ15N
and δ34S values?, 403
25.10.2 Seasonal stability of drinking water δ18O and δ2H values, 404
25.10.3 Bundling and analysing very long hair, 405
25.10.4 Fingernails vs. hair, 405
25.11 Conclusions, 405
References, 406
26 Applicability of stable isotope analysis to the Colombian human
identification crisis, 411
Daniel Castellanos Gutiérrez, Elizabeth A. DiGangi and Jonathan D. Bethard
26.1 Introduction, 411
26.2 Stable isotopes in human provenance, 412
26.3 Human tissues appropriate for isotope studies, 415
26.4 Colombian geography, 416
26.5 The Colombian conflict and the missing, 418
26.6 Stable isotopes and identification in Colombia: Initial research
efforts, 418
26.7 Final remarks, 420
Acknowledgements, 422
References, 422
27 Application of stable isotopes and geostatistics to infer region of geographical
origin for deceased undocumented Latin American migrants, 425
Robyn T. Kramer, Eric J. Bartelink, Nicholas P. Herrmann, Clement P. Bataille and
Kate Spradley
27.1 Introduction, 425
27.2 Stable isotopes, provenancing studies, and isoscapes, 426
27.2.1 Strontium and geological mapping, 427
32.7 Conclusion, 519
References, 520
33 Is DNA always the answer?, 521
Caroline Bennett
33.1 Introduction, 521
33.2 The magic of DNA, 522
33.3 DNA as truth, identity and relatedness, 523
33.4 Justice and healing, 525
33.5 Dealing with bodies, 527
33.6 The politics of identification, 529
33.7 Conclusion, 531
References, 532
Section VI Conclusions, 715
xxv
xxvii
Lisa G. Bailey, BA, is a forensic artist with the Federal Bureau of Investigation
Laboratory in Quantico, Virginia. She has worked on numerous cases involving
the facial approximation of unidentified remains, composite sketches of unknown
suspects, as well as age‐progressed images of fugitives and missing children. Ms
Bailey was an instructor on the FBI Forensic Facial Imaging Course and an Adjunct
Faculty Member at the FBI Academy. A veteran of the US Navy, she earned her
BA in Visual Art from the University of Maryland and worked as a graphic artist
at the Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics Laboratory before joining the
Bureau in 2001.
Eric J. Bartelink, PhD, D‐ABFA, has taught for 13 years at California State
University, Chico, where he is currently a full professor and co‐director of the
Human Identification Laboratory. He is the President of the American Board of
Forensic Anthropology and serves on the AAFS Board of Directors. His research
interests focus on the bioarchaeology of Native California, dietary reconstruction
using stable isotope analysis, and applications within forensic anthropology. He is
a coauthor of Essentials of Physical Anthropology, Introduction to Physical Anthropology,
and Forensic Anthropology: Current Methods and Practice, and has authored and co‐
authored numerous articles in scientific journals.
Clement P. Bataille, PhD, received his MSc in environmental engineering in
2008 from the Institut National Polytechniques de Toulouse (France). He received
his PhD in Geology in 2014 from the University of Utah. He spent two years in
Houston, Texas, working as a geoscientist before returning to academia and taking
up a post‐doctoral fellowship at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. He
joined the University of Ottawa as an assistant professor in Earth and Environmental
Sciences in the fall of 2017. His lab group, the SAIVE group (Spatio‐temporal
Analytics of Isotope Variations in the Environment), uses spatiotemporal isotope
variations to (1) develop geolocation tools in ecology and forensic sciences, (2)
investigate weathering processes in rivers, and (3) reconstruct paleoenvironments
in greenhouse periods.
Derek C. Benedix, PhD, ABFA, received his Bachelor of Arts degree in
anthropology from the University of California, Santa Cruz, and his Master of Arts
and Doctorate in physical/forensic anthropology from the University of Tennessee,
Knoxville. Derek is a board‐certified forensic anthropologist by the American
Board of Forensic Anthropology. From 2001 to 2015, Derek worked as a forensic
anthropologist in the Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command Central Identification
Laboratory in both Hawaii and Nebraska. Derek joined the International
Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in September 2015, and has performed
numerous short mission assignments as Forensic Specialist (Manila, Philippines
and Athens, Greece), Regional Forensic Advisor (Kathmandu, Nepal), and
Regional Forensic Manager for Asia and the Pacific (Jakarta, Indonesia).
Caroline Bennett, PhD, is a lecturer in cultural anthropology at Victoria
University of Wellington, New Zealand. Her research considers genocide, violence
and post‐conflict environments, with particular attention paid to mass graves and
the mass dead. Her current research considers mass graves from the Cambodian
genocide of 1975–1979. Prior to undertaking a PhD in social anthropology,
Caroline spent some time working as a forensic anthropologist. She has published
work on disaster victim identification and DNA analysis, justice after genocide,
and dealing with the dead following the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia.
Gregory E. Berg, PhD, earned his BA in anthropology from the University of
Arizona in 1993, his MA from the bioarchaeology program of Arizona State
University in 1999, and his PhD from the University of Tennessee in 2008. He is
currently a laboratory manager and forensic anthropologist at the DPAA Laboratory
in Hawaii where he works on the recovery and identification of missing US
service personnel. His research has concentrated on ancestry and sex determina-
tion, trauma analysis, aging techniques, human identification and eyewear, intra‐
and inter‐observer error studies, and isotope analysis – all of which are focused on
human identification. He is a diplomate of the American Board of Forensic
Anthropology.
Jonathan D. Bethard, PhD, D‐ABFA, is currently an Assistant Professor in the
Department of Anthropology at the University of South Florida. He received his
PhD in Anthropology from the University of Tennessee‐Knoxville in 2013. Dr
Bethard specializes in forensic anthropology and bioarchaeology and has worked
as a consultant in forensic anthropology for the International Criminal Investigative
Training Assistance Program (ICITAP) in Colombia and Algeria, as well the
International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in Tbilisi, Georgia. He is a Fellow
of the Anthropology Section of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences, a
Diplomate of the American Board of Forensic Anthropology, and a Lifetime
Member of the American Association of Physical Anthropologists.
Soren Blau, PhD, is the Senior Forensic Anthropologist at the Victorian Institute
of Forensic Medicine. She is an Adjunct Associate Professor in the Department of
Forensic Medicine at Monash University, Founding Fellow Faculty of Science, The
Royal College of Pathologists of Australasia, and recipient of a Churchill Fellowship
(2013). Soren is also currently the Chair of the Forensic Anthropology Specialists
Working Group and a member of the INTERPOL Disaster Victim Identification
Pathology and Anthropology Sub‐Working Group. In addition to publishing peer‐
reviewed journal articles and numerous book chapters, Soren co‐edited the
Handbook of Forensic Anthropology and Archaeology and co‐authored An Atlas of
Skeletal Trauma in Medico‐Legal Contexts. Soren undertakes domestic forensic
anthropology casework and has undertaken consultancies for the International
Criminal Court (ICC) and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC).
Soren has participated in the recovery and analysis of human remains from
archaeological and forensic contexts in numerous countries, and has delivered
training to forensic practitioners and related stakeholders in Australia and
overseas.
Rodrigo Bongiovanni is an undergraduate student at the Universidad de la
República, Montevideo, Uruguay. He has been working with the Uruguayan team
of Forensic Anthropology since 2009, and had worked on different historical
archaeology projects between 2008 and 2013.
Gabriel Bowen, PhD, is a Professor of Geology and Geophysics and member of
the Global Change and Sustainability Center at the University of Utah, where
he leads the Spatio‐temporal Isotope Analytics Lab (SPATIAL) and serves as
co‐director of the SIRFER stable isotope facility. His research focuses on the use of
spatially and temporally resolved geochemical data to study Earth systems
processes, ranging from coupled carbon and water cycle change in geological his-
tory to the movements of modern and near‐modern humans. In addition to
fundamental research, he has been active in developing cyberinformatics tools
and training programs supporting the use of large‐scale environmental geochem-
istry data across scientific disciplines, including the waterisotopes.org and IsoMAP.
org websites and the SPATIAL summer course (http://itce.utah.edu).
Desiré M. Brits, PhD, received her BSc Hons and MSc from the University of
Pretoria and her PhD from the University of the Witwatersrand, South Africa. She
is employed by the University of the Witwatersrand and teaches a number of
courses including morphological anatomy and forensic anthropology to under-
graduate and postgraduate students. Her current research interests include decom-
position and taphonomy in the interior of South Africa, and establishing
identification methods specific for South Africans, using medical image modal-
ities. She recently received a Thuthuka grant from the National Research
Foundation (NRF) South Africa and a grant from the American Academy of
Forensic Sciences (AAFS) Humanitarian and Human Rights Resource Center
(HHRRC) in support of her research. Dr Brits is the coordinator of the Human
Identification Unit (HIU) of the Human Variation and Identification Research Unit
(HVIRU) at the University of the Witwatersrand, and regularly consults on forensic
anthropology cases for the South African Police Service (SAPS) and Forensic
Pathology Services (FPS). Dr Brits is an associate member of the American
Academy of Forensic Sciences, a member of the International Academy of Legal
Medicine/Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe (FASE), and a lifetime
member of the Anatomical Society of Southern Africa, where she has served on
Council since 2012.
Jane E. Buikstra, PhD, D‐ABFA, is a regents’ Professor, and member of the
National Academy of Sciences. She is credited with forming the discipline of bio-
archaeology, which applies biological anthropological methods to the study of
archaeology. She was also the founding director of the Center for Bioarchaeological
Research at Arizona State University. The academic prestige of Dr Buikstra is rec-
ognized worldwide due to her important contribution to science. Dr Buikstra’s
international research encompasses bioarchaeology, palaeopathology, forensic
anthropology and palaeodemography. Among her current work is an investiga-
tion of the evolutionary history of ancient tuberculosis in the Americas based on
archaeologically recovered pathogen DNA. Dr Buikstra has recently published
Ortner’s Identification of Pathological Conditions in Human Skeletal Remains. She has
mentored more 55 PhD students, is the president of the Center for American
Archeology and has served as past president of the American Association of
Physical Anthropologists, the American Anthropological Association and the
Paleopathology Association. She is the inaugural editor‐in‐chief of the International
Journal of Paleopathology. She is a certified member by the American Board of
her and other scientific workgroups. She has been involved in training sessions in
forensic genetics for analysts from El Salvador, Bolivia, Peru, Vietnam, South
Africa and Chile.
Cristina Cattaneo, PhD, is a forensic pathologist and anthropologist, currently
Full Professor of Legal Medicine at the Faculty of Medicine of the Università degli
Studi di Milano (Italy) and Director of LABANOF, Laboratorio di Antropologia e
Odontologia Forense. She has been actively involved with the Italian Ministry of
Internal Affairs in the creation of a national database for unidentified human
remains and since 2014 has been the medico‐legal coordinator for the
Governmental Office of the Commissioner for Missing Persons for the identification
of dead migrants. She also coordinates the medico‐legal activities on victims of
maltreatment, torture and on unaccompanied minors in Milan, Italy. She is a
forensic expert for various courts in Italy and occasionally in Europe, President of
FASE (Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe), member of the Swiss DVI
(Disaster Victim Identification) team and Co‐Editor in Chief for the journal Forensic
Science International.
Thure E. Cerling, PhD, is a biogeochemist at the University of Utah. His work
primarily concerns the use of isotopes to study biological and geological processes
occurring near the Earth’s surface. He has done extensive fieldwork in North
America, Kenya and Pakistan, and other geological and biological studies in
Argentina, Australia, Western Europe and Antarctica. These studies include
cosmic‐ray‐produced isotopes to study geomorphology, chemistry of lakes and
lake sediments, stable isotope studies of diet and of soils, isotope forensics, and
studies of early hominin environments in Africa. He served for 9 years on the US
Nuclear Waste Technical Review Board. He is a member of the US National
Academy of Sciences.
Lesley A. Chesson is an Isotope Analyst employed with PAE and working at the
Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency (DPAA) in Hawaii. She received her BS in
Biology at Elon University and her MS in Biology at the University of Utah. She is
a member of the Forensic Isotope Ratio Mass Spectrometry (FIRMS) Network and
an invited member of its Steering Group. She currently serves on the Editorial
Board of the journal Forensic Chemistry. Lesley has used isotope forensic techniques
for more than 15 years to examine documents, drugs, explosives, feathers, foods,
microbes and water. She has published more than 60 journal articles and book
chapters. Her current focus is assisting in investigations of unidentified human
remains.
Angi M. Christensen, PhD, D‐ABFA, is a forensic anthropologist with the
Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) Laboratory and an Adjunct Professor in
the Forensic Science Program at George Mason University. She received her BA
in anthropology from the University of Washington, and her MA and PhD in
anthropology from the University of Tennessee, and is board‐certified by the
American Board of Forensic Anthropology (ABFA). She is a co‐author of the
Danilo De Angelis, DDS, PhD, is a dentist with a PhD in legal medicine, and
associate Professor in forensic medicine at the University of Milan. He has partic-
ipated in the medical forensic activities in Melilli, Sicily, on the victims of the 18
April 2015 shipwreck, on the identification of the victims of the two shipwrecks
that occurred near Lampedusa in October 2013, and before that on the identification
of the victims of the Linate air disaster (Milan, 2001). He is the forensic odontolo-
gist at LABANOF, University of Milan. He is Assistant Editor of Forensic Science
International and collaborates with ICRC.
Research Methods in Human Skeletal Biology (Academic Press, 2013); and co‐author
(with Susan Sincerbox) of Forensic Taphonomy and Ecology of North American
Scavengers (Academic Press, 2018). She is currently Assistant Professor of
Anthropology at Binghamton University in upstate New York. As a Diplomate of
the American Board of Forensic Anthropology, she works on forensic cases and
capacity‐building of international forensic science laboratories. Her scholarly
interests include developing population‐specific biological profile standards,
improving trauma analysis, and human rights.
James R. Ehleringer, PhD, is a distinguished professor in the School of Biological
Sciences at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. He joined the faculty in 1977
and is recognized as an expert in plant ecology. Jim founded the University’s
Global Change and Sustainability Center, which serves as the nexus for research,
teaching, and outreach for global change and sustainability activities. His research
focuses on ecological, environmental and forensic applications using naturally
occurring stable isotopes (nature’s natural recorders). He has advanced science by
training dozens of graduate students and postdocs during his career, and pub-
lishing over 500 scientific articles and books. For over 20 years, Jim and col-
leagues have offered IsoCamp, a summer training opportunity for graduate
students from across the United States and from around the world to learn about
stable isotope biogeochemistry and ecology through lectures and laboratory
experiences.
Theodora Eleftheriou is the Laboratory Coordinator at the Anthropological
Laboratory of the Committee on Missing Persons in Cyprus (CMP). She has been
working for the CMP since 2006, and her primary role is to manage and review
the scientific operations relating to the anthropological examination and
identification of missing individuals.
Sarah Ellingham, PhD, is a broadly skilled forensic practitioner and research
scientist with experience in the humanitarian forensic response to international
disasters and armed conflicts from a variety of contexts. Sarah is an accredited
forensic anthropologist by the UK Royal Anthropological Institute (RAI), certified
in Interpol body search and recovery by UK DVI, with her laboratory and analyt-
ical skills being recognized by the Royal Society of Chemistry. Sarah has deployed
as a DVI consultant to mass fatality incidents in Namibia, France and PNG. Since
joining the ICRC in 2016 she has deployed as Forensic Specialist for Iraq as well
as Forensic Coordinator for South‐East Asia, during which time she advised on
the humanitarian forensic response to the Marawi Crisis of 2017.
Iṡ tenç Engin, MSc, DLAF, has been the Coordinator of the Anthropological
Laboratory of the Committee on Missing Persons in Cyprus (CMP) since 2011.
She has contributed to the forensic anthropological analysis of skeletal remains of
missing people exhumed from single and mass graves, and assisted in establishing
biological profiles of the deceased, selecting DNA samples for analysis, and helping
in the identification process for over 500 missing person cases.
Ann D. Fasano, MA, received her BA in Biology from Boston University and her
MS in Forensic Anthropology from Boston University School of Medicine. In 1995
as a Special Agent with the FBI, she became the senior team leader over the
FBI ERT in Phoenix. In 2006 she became a Supervisory Special Agent in the FBI
Laboratory’s ERTU. She taught crime scene training to new agents, FBI academy,
and field ERT members. She was the program manager for operational matters.
Her crime scene experience includes processing homicides, mass shootings, the
recovery of human remains, and complex crime scenes. She has been deployed to
New York 9/11, Iraq, Uganda, Pakistan, and the Boston Marathon bombings. She
retired from the FBI in July 2018.
Ana Freire‐Aradas, PhD, obtained her BSc degree in pharmacy from the
University of Santiago de Compostela (Spain) in 2006. In the same year she started
her scientific research in the Forensic Genetics Unit, Institute of Forensic Sciences
at the same university; obtaining her MSc in molecular medicine in 2008 and her
PhD degree in 2013. After completing her PhD, she continued her research at the
same institution. During 2015–2017 she worked as a post‐doc researcher at the
Institute of Legal Medicine, University of Cologne (Germany). After that, she
returned to the Institute of Forensic Sciences, University of Santiago de Compostela,
where she is currently developing her research, mainly focused on the study of
epigenetic markers such as DNA methylation with forensic applications, such as
age estimation. Additional research interests include SNP analysis for inference
of biogeographical ancestry and externally visible characteristics; evaluation of
degraded DNA; and bioinformatic tools for assessment of DNA‐based prediction
models.
Timothy P. Gocha, PhD, is the Chief Forensic Anthropologist for the Clark
County Office of the Coroner/Medical Examiner in Las Vegas, NV, as well as an
Adjunct Assistant Professor of Anthropology at the University of Nevada, Las
Vegas. His research focuses on examining mineralized tissue histology for
improving age‐at‐death estimates, as well as interpreting skeletal health. From
2016–2017, Dr Gocha served as a post‐doctoral scholar with Operation
William Goodwin, PhD, studied for a BSc in biological sciences at the University
of Leicester. He followed this with a PhD at the University of Glasgow, looking at
gene expression in plants exposed to low temperatures. After this he spent eight
years at the Human Identification Centre at the University of Glasgow. During this
time he undertook casework, including human identification and paternity test-
ing, and also carried out research into improving the recovery of DNA from com-
promised samples. Since moving to the University of Central Lancashire in 2002,
Will has been involved with the delivery of undergraduate and postgraduate
teaching and the supervision of research degrees. In addition to his work at the
University, Will also acts as an advisor to the International Committee of the Red
Cross (ICRC), and is a member of their Forensic Advisory Board. He also acts as a
technical assessor, working for the United Kingdom Accreditation Service (UKAS),
assessing compliance of laboratories with ISO/IEC 17025.
Sarah Hall, MA, is currently a doctoral student at Arizona State University in the
School of Human Evolution and Social Change. Her research interests include
social identity in bioarchaeology, stable isotope applications for dietary reconstruc-
tion and migration studies, historical bioarchaeology, and forensic anthropology.
Agata Iadicicco is a Law graduate, and Vice Prefect and Deputy of the Office of
the Special Commissioner for Missing Persons in Italy.
she worked as part of the Special Unit for the Identification of Disappeared
Detainees of the Legal Medical Service, in the identification and determination of
cause and manner of death of victims of the Chilean military dictatorship, together
with a multidisciplinary team also composed of archaeologists, dentists and med-
ical doctors, plus a support team. From 2011, she has been Chief of the Special
Unit of Forensic Identification, in charge of a multidisciplinary team that carries
out tasks of search, recovery and analysis in cases of human rights violations
during the military dictatorship, as well as complex crimes and massive disasters.
Daniel Jiménez has been working in forensic anthropology for the last 12 years.
This work has led him to hundreds of cases related to the politic violence during
Guatemala’s Civil War (1960 to 1996), and more than a thousand bodies resulting
from war crimes against the civil population. Currently he works with medico‐
legal criminal investigators on the identification of deceased persons due to natural
disasters in Guatemala. He has been called to provide expert testimony in the
genocide trials against former president Efrain Rios Mott (2013 and 2016) and the
trial of Sepur Zarco in where two former military leaders were convicted of com-
mitting war crimes against the indigenous population.
Chelsey Juarez, PhD, is an Assistant Professor of Biological Anthropology at
California State University, Fresno. She holds a BA in Biological Anthropology
from University of California at Berkeley, and an MA and doctorate in Biological
Anthropology with a parenthetical notation in Latin American Latino Studies from
University of California at Santa Cruz. Dr Juarez is a practicing forensic anthropologist
at the Fresno State Osteological Investigations Laboratory, and has conducted case
work in multiple states. Her main area of research is provenience investigations
within the Latino diaspora through time. She uses isotopes from human bone, hair
and teeth to estimate region of origin, migratory behaviors and diet.
Alexandra R. Klales, PhD, is an Assistant Professor of Forensic Anthropology
and Director of the Forensic Anthropology Recovery Unit at Washburn University
in Topeka, Kansas, USA. She has a BA in Anthropology from the University of
Pittsburgh, a Master of Science in Forensic and Biological Anthropology from
Mercyhurst College, and a PhD in Anthropology from the University of Manitoba.
She is an associate member of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences and
currently conducts forensic anthropology casework in Kansas and Missouri. Her
research focuses on skeletal sexual dimorphism, specifically within the pelvis, and
methods for establishing the biological profile in forensic anthropology.
Robyn T. Kramer currently holds a MA in Anthropology from Texas State
University and is a PhD candidate at the University of Otago. Kramer’s background
is in forensic anthropology, stable isotope analysis, osteology and archaeology.
As a forensic anthropologist, she assisted the Butte County Sheriff’s Office with
the forensic recovery efforts for the deadly Camp Fire in 2018. Her research has
focused on applying isotope geolocation methods to predict region of origin and
migration histories for modern forensic cases that are temporarily housed in the
Operation Identification facility at Texas State University. Kramer’s future research
will apply similar isotope geolocation techniques to prehistoric and historical
populations in the Solomon Islands.
Evidence Response Team Unit, and has led teams at the 1998 US Embassy
bombing, the 1999 EgyptAir crash, the 2005 Thailand tsunami, the 2012 Aurora
Cinema shooting, the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing, the 2013 Asiana air crash,
the 2013 Washington Navy Yard shooting, the 2016 Orlando Pulse shooting, the
2016 Dallas Police murders, the 2017 Las Vegas Route 91 shooting, and the 2018
Thousand Oaks shooting. He earned a BS in Chemistry from the University of
Alabama Huntsville, and a MS in Forensic Anthropology from the Boston
University School of Medicine.
Commission (2009), and currently holds a Welcome Trust grant for her project
‘Human Rights, Human Remains: Forensic Humanitarianism and the Politics of
the Grave’ (2018–2022). The project investigates the history of forensic humani-
tarianism, the use of forensics to investigate atrocities in the context of Mexico’s
current war against organized crime, and the question of whether the dead have
human rights.
Gabriela Bielefeld Nardoto achieved a degree in Biological Sciences at the
University of Brasilia (1997), a Master’s in Ecology at the University of Brasilia
(2000), a doctorate in Applied Ecology (2005), and a three‐year post‐doc position
(2006–2008) at the University of São Paulo. Since 2010 she has had a permanent
position as a professor at the Ecology Department of the University of Brasilia. She
is a member of two postgraduate programs at the University of Brasilia. She has
extensive experience in the use of stable isotopes in both environmental and
forensic studies, publishing over 50 articles in internationally recognized journals
and some book chapters using this methodology.
Lara Olivieri is an archaeologist and forensic anthropologist; she took part as an
anthropologist in the forensic activities in Melilli, Sicily, on the victims involved in
the shipwreck of 18 April 2015; she worked at LABANOF with a fellowship of the
Isacchi Samaia Foundation.
Georgina Pacheco‐Revilla, MSc, is a forensic anthropologist and archeologist
with 8 years of experience in Spain and several Latin American countries; her pri-
mary professional interests are complex scenarios with multidisciplinary
approaches and traumas derived from organized‐crime homicides. She is a pro-
fessor of Forensic and Biological Anthropology at the Universidad de Costa Rica
and the Universidad Estatal a Distancia; founder of the Forensic Anthropology
Unit of the Costa Rican Judicial Investigation Bureau (OIJ); and she is currently
the only forensic anthropologist of the OIJ.
Diana Emilce Ramírez Páez is a professional in Psychology, specialist in Legal
Psychology, Human Rights and International Humanitarian Law, Government,
Management and Public Affairs, with studies in criminal and medico‐legal researc,
with an emphasis on identification of unidentified corpses and the search for
missing persons, and currently opting for the title of Master in Government and
Public Policy. She is a professional forensic specialist with extensive experience in
the design, implementation and administration of inter‐institutional information
systems at a national scale, related to information on victims of the crime of
enforced disappearance and other related criminal offences, including serious vio-
lations of human rights and IHL. She is an expert in psycho‐legal processes for the
integral attention of victims and relatives of deceased and disappeared persons.
Manuel Paredes López, MD, PhD, graduated in biological sciences and medi-
cine, with a PhD in Science of the Universidad Nacional de Colombia, and 25 years
databases (e.g. SPSmart); open‐access SNP data analysis tools (e.g. Snipper);
forensic age estimation using methylation analysis; MPS‐based sequencing and
issues around alignment, nomenclature and description of STR sequence
variation. He is a member of: EDNAP; VISAGE Consortium; and STRAND ISFG
Working Group.
Vittorio Piscitelli is a Law graduate, and Commissioner of the Government
Office for Missing Persons in Italy from 2014–2018.
José Luis Prieto, MD, DDS, PhD, earned the post of forensic doctor in 1988
and joined Madrid Complutense University in 1997 as an associate professor of
Legal and Forensic Medicine, mainly linking his activity to forensic anthropology
and odontology. He set up the first laboratory of the discipline within the Spanish
forensic system (Madrid Forensic Institute), which he headed from 1992 to 2008.
Additionally, he has actively participated in the development of scientific associa-
tions as the Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe (FASE) and the Spanish
Association of Forensic Anthropology and Odontology (AEAOF), and is also
member of the Anthropology Section of the American Academy of Forensic
Sciences (AAFS) and the Latin American Association of Forensic Anthropology
(ALAF). Since 2006, his professional activity has being linked with humanitarian
action, working as a forensic consultant with national and international organiza-
tions and institutions in a variety of contexts and scenarios around the world. He
is currently a member of the Forensic Advisory Board (FAB) of the International
Committee of the Red Cross and external expert of the Ombudsman Office in the
National Mechanism of Prevention of Torture. He also takes part in different
projects of the Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team (EAAF) and is involved in
cases related to the missing from the Spanish Civil War.
Robin Ramey is an archaeologist in Fairfax County, Virginia, USA. Robin received
a Bachelor of Arts in Archaeology as well as a certificate in Geographic Information
Systems (GIS) from the University of Mary Washington. She also earned a Master
of Arts in Anthropology and a graduate‐level GIS certificate from North Carolina
State University. Robin has worked at various historical sites throughout Virginia,
including Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello and George Washington’s boyhood
home, Ferry Farm. Currently, Robin works as an archaeologist for the Fairfax
County Park Authority. Robin’s research interests include the history and prehis-
tory of the mid‐Atlantic region, plantation archaeology, the archaeology of slavery,
and the utilization of GIS in the management and interpretation of cultural
resources.
Michael P. Richards, PhD, FSA, FRSC, is an archaeological scientist who
applies methods such as isotopic analysis to determine past human and animal
diets and adaptations. Before joining (returning to) Simon Fraser University,
Burnaby, Canada, he was a Professor at the Department of Human Evolution at
the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology (Leipzig, Germany) and
Regional Delegation for Bolivia, Ecuador and Peru. She has also worked as
Coordinator of the Legal Department at the ICRC’s Delegation in Colombia
(2012–2014) and as a legal adviser to the operations at the ICRC’s Delegation
in Afghanistan (2015–2016) and at the ICRC’s Sub‐delegation in Erbil, Iraq
(2016–2017). Ms Silva is an ICRC legal adviser with experience in providing oper-
ational legal advice on international humanitarian law (IHL), its implementation
as well as on the standards of international human rights law (IHRL) on the regula-
tion of the use of force and the protection of persons in other situations of violence.
Kate Spradley, PhD, is a Professor of Anthropology and Director of Operation
Identification at Texas State University, and a biological anthropologist. Her
current research trajectory focuses on human migration, death, and migrant
identification. She focuses on documenting migrant burials, understanding insti-
tutional barriers and decision‐making processes concerning migrant deaths, and
improving efforts towards identification through quantitative analyses. Her inter-
disciplinary research on migrant identification is an example of scholarship of
engagement, and involves partnerships and collaborations with various external
organizations and other scientists to address community needs.
John E.B. Stewart, PhD, earned a baccalaureate degree in Zoology from the
University of California at Berkeley, a Master of Arts degree in Biological Sciences
(Population Genetics) from North Texas State University, and a doctorate in
Molecular Biology from the University of North Texas. He is employed by the
Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Laboratory Division since 1996, and is trained
and qualified as a Forensic Examiner in mitochondrial DNA analysis. In 1999,
John initiated and developed the FBI’s National Missing Person DNA Database
Program, and was selected in 2015 as a Supervisory Forensic Examiner in the
FBI’s DNA Casework Unit. He is a former member and Chair of the Scientific
Working Group on DNA Analysis Methods (SWGDAM) Missing Person/Mass
Disaster subcommittee, and a former board member of the National DNA Index
System (NDIS) of the Combined DNA Index System (CODIS). He has testified in
over 40 State, Federal and international court proceedings as an expert in mito-
chondrial DNA analysis.
Maryna Steyn, PhD, is a biological anthropologist who qualified as a medical
doctor in 1983 (University of Pretoria) and then obtained a PhD from the
University of the Witwatersrand in 1994. As a specialist in human skeletal remains,
she consults to the South African Police Service and Forensic Pathologists on
decomposed and skeletonized human remains, and holds a level 1 accreditation
as forensic anthropologist from FASE (Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe).
In the past 25 years she has completed more than 400 forensic anthropological
case reports and has been involved in several high‐level investigations and repa-
triations. She played a pivotal role in establishing forensic anthropology as a sub-
discipline in South Africa, resulting not only in the training of many postgraduates,
but also in bringing case analysis into the formal stream of investigation. Maryna’s
research in this regard has played a major role in the setting of standards, which
brought much international attention, such that South Africa is regarded among
the leaders in this field internationally. She conducts research on human remains
from forensic contexts and archaeological sites, focusing on skeletal identification
and palaeopathology. In 2007, she received a diploma of appreciation from the
United Nations (Department of Peacekeeping Operations) for work done on two
aircraft accidents in Angola. She has published ±130 papers in scientific journals,
as well as several book chapters. She is co‐author of the book The Human Skeleton
in Forensic Medicine. Maryna is a member of the editorial board of Forensic Science
International and Associate Editor: Anthropology, Archaeology and Palaeontology
for the South African Journal of Science. She was the director of the Forensic
Anthropology Research Centre (FARC) at University of Pretoria until 2015 when
she joined Wits. She is currently the Head of School of Anatomical Sciences at the
University of the Witwatersrand, and Director of HVIRU (Human Variation and
Identification Research Unit). Maryna now serves her second term as President of
the Anatomical Society of Southern Africa, and serves on the boards of FASE and
the IACI (International Association for Craniofacial Identification).
Jill Stockwell, PhD, is a social anthropologist and an Advisor on Missing Persons
and their Families with the ICRC. She is the author of Reframing the Transitional
Justice Paradigm: Women’s Affective Memories in Post‐Dictatorial Argentina (2014) as
well as the founder of “Cultural Memory” – an online oral testimony project for
women who have experienced armed violence, human rights abuses or traumatic
displacement.
Joel Tejada, MA, is a forensic and cultural anthropologist. He graduated from
San Marcos University in Lima (2006) and from the Catholic University of Peru
(MA) in 2008. He works in the Office Searching for Missing Persons in the Ministry
of Justice and Human Rights in Lima, Peru, and he is a member of the Latin
American Association of Forensic Anthropology. His forensic experience includes
work with the Forensic Anthropology Team (EFE) of the Legal Medicine Institute
of the Public Ministry. With the Peruvian Team of Forensic Anthropology (EPAF)
(2011), he worked in Guatemala and the Democratic Republic of Congo. In 2012
he did an internship program in management of ante‐mortem/post‐mortem data
in the Unit of Forensic Services of the International Committee of the Red Cross
in Geneva.
Richard M. Thomas, PhD, D‐ABFA, is a forensic anthropologist at the FBI
Laboratory. He received his BA in Anthropology from Northwestern University,
and an MA and PhD in Biological Anthropology from Pennsylvania State
University. From 2003–2010, he worked in the mitochondrial DNA Unit conduct-
ing forensic anthropology casework and producing DNA sequence data for the
National Missing Persons DNA Database. Since 2010, he has worked in the Trace
who examines the health and biocultural effects of ancient imperialism, colo-
nialism and state decline in the Peruvian Andes. Her research foci include palaeo-
pathology, violence‐related trauma, dietary reconstruction and the study of
migration using isotope analyses, the use of the body and body parts in rituals,
and bioarchaeological perspectives on embodiment. She is the author of the book,
Violence, Ritual, and the Wari Empire: A Social Bioarchaeology of Imperialism in the
Ancient Andes (University Press of Florida). She has published in the American
Journal of Physical Anthropology, Current Anthropology, Cambridge Archaeological
Journal, Journal of Archaeological Research, Journal of Archaeological Science‐Reports,
Journal of Anthropological Archaeology, and Latin American Antiquity, among others.
She enjoys conducting interdisciplinary research and is a frequent collaborator
with scholars from Peru and around the world.
Viviana Uribe Tamblay is a defender and activist in human rights from Chile,
and is Administrative Manager of the Special Unit of Forensic Identification of the
Forensic Service of Chile. She has been a researcher and collaborator in publica-
tions on the serious violations of human rights in Chile (forced disappearance,
political execution and torture), including “Todas íbamos a ser reinas” (1990), a
study on women detainees who were pregnant and were arrested and disap-
peared in Chile and Argentina; “La gran mentira” (1994), the case of the lists of
the 119 in the psychological war of the Chilean dictatorship, 1973–1990; “Más
allá de las fronteras” (1996), a study on executed Chileans and disappeared
detainees from outside Chile; and “Páginas en Blanco” (2001), September 11 at La
Moneda. From 2010 to date, she is the President of the non‐governmental
organization CODEPU, Corporation for the Defense of People’s Rights.
Luciano O. Valenzuela, PhD, is an assistant researcher at the Consejo Nacional
de Investigaciones Científicas y Técnicas (CONICET) and Universidad Nacional del
Centro de la Provincia de Buenos Aires (UNCPBA) in Argentina, and a research
assistant professor at the University of Utah (USA). His research has focused on
the use of stable isotopes to study animal and human movement across land-
scapes. He has worked on animal migration and conservation of marine species.
Nowadays his research focuses on the use of stable isotopes for human prove-
nancing in South America. He is also interested in applying stable isotopes to
study the effects of dietary transitions on human health. Dr Valenzuela received a
Licenciatura degree in biological sciences from the University of Buenos Aires,
and a PhD in biology from the University of Utah.
María del Carmen Vega Dulanto, PhD, is an Adjunct Professor in the
Department of Humanities at the Pontifical Catholic University of Peru (PUCP)
and the Curator of Physical Anthropology at the National Museum of Archeology,
Anthropology, and History of Peru. She earned her PhD in Anthropology from the
University of Western Ontario (Canada), an MA in Forensic Anthropology and
Bioarchaeology (PUCP), and a BA in Archaeology (PUCP). Dr Vega has a long
experience in the analysis of human remains from archaeological and forensic
contexts. She was awarded a Western Humanitarian Award for her work with the
Peruvian Forensic Anthropology Team (EPAF), working to identify victims of
human rights abuses dating to the 1980‐1990s internal armed conflict in Peru.
She was also awarded a Vanier Fellowship in recognition of her academic achieve-
ment, her record of scholarship and her humanitarian work.
Claudia Vega Urueña, DDS, is currently working as a forensic odontologist for
the Search Unit for Persons Disappeared (UBPD) in Bogotá, Colombia. She has
five years of experience as an expert in forensic dentistry and human identification,
in the National Forensic Pathology Group of the National Institute of Legal
Medicine and Forensic Sciences, Bogotá. She is also a University professor of
forensic dentistry.
Albarita Vitale is a graduate in biology. She worked at LABANOF as a forensic
anthropologist, with a Postgraduate Grant from “Cariplo” (Young Researcher’s
Grant), for which she worked on the identification and anthropological examina-
tion of victims of the major disasters of the Mediterranean in Italy.
Jairo Vivas Díaz, MD, is currently the Director of the Search, Recovery and
Identification Department of the Search Unit for Persons Disappeared (UBPD) in
Bogotá, Colombia. He is a forensic pathologist and university professor. He worked
at the National Institute of Legal Medicine of Colombia for 19 years, seven of
them as coordinator in the National Forensic Pathology Group.
Carlos María Vullo, PhD, is a biochemist, graduating with his licentiate from
the National University of Córdoba, Argentina. He has obtained his PhD in
Chemical Sciences, also from the National University of Córdoba, Argentina. He
founded the Histocompatibility and Immunogenetics Laboratory at the University
Clinic Hospital in Córdoba, Argentina, where he was Director from 1982 to 2003.
He has also been Director of the Immunogenetics Laboratory (LIDMO, Córdoba,
Argentina), working on Immunogenetics for organ transplantations since 1985
until today. He has been involved in population genetics research of different
ethnic groups for the last 30 years. He became Director of the Forensic DNA
Laboratory for the Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team (EAAF) in 2005. He
has applied forensic genetics for human identification of victims of human right
violations in different Latin American countries such as Argentina, Uruguay,
Bolivia, El Salvador, Paraguay and Mexico. In addition, he has worked on similar
cases from South Africa, East Timor, Nigeria, Central African Republic, and
Vietnam among others. He has conducted training sessions in forensic genetics for
scientists from El Salvador, Bolivia, Peru, Thailand, Vietnam and Chile among
others. He has published more than 60 scientific papers and seven book chapters
concerning immunogenetics and forensic genetics for missing person identification.
Christiana Zenonos has studied History & Archaeology and Greek Literature
(MA) at the University of Crete. She has been working for the Committee on
Peter Maurer
President, International Committee of the Red Cross
Fragility, violence and conflict are a reality of our world today, in places like
Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq, Yemen, South Sudan, Lake Chad or in Central America.
In the conflicts in which the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC)
works we have seen how the dynamics of conflict have changed enormously in
recent decades. Today, conflicts are more urban, more protracted and the battle-
field has fragmented, with an increasing number of actors now fighting.
Additionally, concerning trends are converging which are leading to increased
fragility: violence, underdevelopment, injustice, exclusion and the impact of
climate change. And the result is devastating. Decades of fighting and insecurity
and ongoing violations of international humanitarian law are destroying basic
social infrastructure, as well as health, sanitation and water systems, and are stall-
ing education and economic development.
The upheaval and uncertainty of conflict is crippling, leaving physical injuries
and psychological scars. When I speak with people in conflicts around the world,
too many have unanswered questions about their loved ones who have gone
missing. There are parents searching for children, wives searching for husbands.
Others are grieving after a death, but still seeking information, or the return of
remains, and suffer ongoing trauma.
As the face of conflict changes, we need to understand how forensic science can
step up to these new challenges and strengthen the humanitarian sector’s action.
While the application of forensic science in the humanitarian and human rights
domains is not new, the past few decades have seen it rapidly catalyse, and greatly
support the response of organizations across the globe to communities affected by
war, violence and migration.
Across the humanitarian field there has been a growing trend toward speciali-
zation, and forensic science is notable in this regard. With transformative advances
in areas of forensic science, such as genetics, we can see opportunities for its
increased application across the globe.
This will not be without its challenges, with growing expectations and hopes
from society for what can be achieved. The need to balance these expectations
within the complex demands of operating in a conflict environment will be key to
ensuring that we can provide timely responses that will deliver for those who
need them most.
The new challenges before us require an adapted response. Today’s mass graves
are more often in urban settings, with large numbers of dead civilians trapped in
lvii
collapsed buildings and structures. As the forensic community has advanced its
understanding of recovery of the dead from mass graves over the past decades, it
must now work to respond to evolving landscapes and challenges. The need to
work across and within professions has never been clearer.
The ICRC hired its first forensic specialist in 2003, and today it is difficult to ima-
gine its humanitarian response without the integration of forensic science. Today
the ICRC has more than 70 forensic specialists located across the globe, working
as part of multidisciplinary teams to respond to humanitarian needs emanating
from conflict, migration and disasters. With experts in a diverse range of forensic
fields, including anthropology, pathology, odontology, and growingly genetics,
the ICRC is continuing to build its response to the needs on the ground.
There is little doubt that forensic science will continue to play an important role
in the humanitarian sphere for years to come. We have seen a growing interest
and engagement from the forensic community, with the emergence of forums,
academic research, and forensic centres dedicated to the understanding of how to
apply forensic science to the humanitarian sphere. Continued collaboration will
be key, if we are to put in place the structures and capacity to respond to the
evolving humanitarian consequences across the globe.
The ICRC calls on the forensic community to work together in achieving this
goal. Through emerging professional networks and forums, there is no reason
why this cannot be possible.
The ICRC’s new Institutional Strategy 2019–2022 reaffirms the organization’s
commitment and ambition to put affected people and communities at the centre.
We must listen more closely and understand their needs in order to design
responses using forensic science that bring the answers they need.
It is clear that a humanitarian response using forensic science will not be the
same in Iraq, for example, as it might be in Ukraine, South Sudan or Venezuela,
but we do know how critical it will be to people who every day await answers
about their missing loved ones, and to ensure that, in death, dignity is not lost.
Susan M. Ballou
President, American Association of Forensic Science
This book captures a large collection of topics that spark interest within the forensic
science community. Some of the topics – missing individuals, environmental
factors, DNA, kinship, legal disparities and the forensic process – trigger friendly
discussions in the hallway, at lunch, or at the bar. I confess, I have an optimistic
outlook on life so naturally I selected the word “friendly”. The word gives a vision
of synergetic relationships between experts in the different branches of science
working toward a common goal. This “friendly” environment exists, although
some of those “friendly” discussions turn into passionate arguments that continue
through a lifetime. These provocative attitudes and the truly friendly ones are
integral to the process of strengthening science. If everyone agreed on every point,
the impetus to explore alternatives would halt and our knowledge and growth
would stagnate.
Over the years, researchers and some forensic scientists have tested the bound-
aries of proffered methods, practices, and techniques. Dr Alexander Gettler, the
“father of forensic toxicology in America” is a perfect example. He was known for
developing new methods when a case required it and tweaking other methods to
address new demands. This type of ingenuity has generated an abundance of test
methods. Unfortunately, this has caused a quandary in our profession. With so
many methods and practices to choose from, how does an agency know which is
the most appropriate one? Laboratories tend to select methods that their analysts
are familiar with and that allows the use of existing instrumentation and space.
Once a method is chosen, analysts tend not to deviate from it, passing it to new
hires by demonstration or shorthand notes. Generally, though not always, the
required references to support the selected method are passed along as well. Most
analysts do not see an issue with this practice. Their reasoning might be that the
method has been used for over 100 years, it produces the expected results, and it
has not been challenged. Therefore, they might think, what is the issue? The issue
is that many of these methods have not undergone sufficient validation studies to
demonstrate fitness for purpose – that is, that the methods are appropriate for
testing a specific type evidentiary material and that the laboratory has confirmed
the performance of the instrumentation, reagents and consumables. In addition,
the laboratory must demonstrate that the selected method is reproducible and
repeatable and that it has undergone peer review.
Over the years the process of shoring‐up the selected methods and practices
was unclear, but it was evident standards would have to be created. In 1974, a
lix
Science (AAFS) President, Dr Victor Weedn, and the AAFS Board of Directors,
saw the opportunity to utilize the wealth of the Academy’s expertise and
knowledge within its 11 sections. AAFS sought and obtained a funding source
that would support the creation of the AAFS Standards Board to include the
Academy Standards Board (ASB) and multiple Consensus Bodies for the creations
of standards. The ASB works directly with the Organization of Scientific Area
Committees for Forensic Science (OSAC) that maintains a national registry of
forensic standards. There is also the International Organization for Standardization
(ISO) and the American National Standards Institute (ANSI). Once standards are
created, they are incorporated into other processes such as accreditation and
certification.
Regarding accreditation, in 2016 the Bureau of Justice Administration (BJA)
released a report entitled Publicly Funded Forensic Crime Laboratories: Quality
Assurance Practices, 2014. This document reported that between 2002 and 2014, the
percentage of 409 crime laboratories that had achieved accreditation rose from 70
to 88%. One reason for this increase was anticipation of the 2015 announcement
by the United States Department of Justice (USDOJ) that its laboratories, and
other laboratories seeking federal funding, would have to achieve accreditation.
Another reason was that state forensic science commissions had identified failures
by laboratories to maintain well‐functioning equipment and proper storage of
evidence. Revelations in the media of unacceptable or erroneous practices also
contributed to the increase in accreditation. The BJA report further stated that,
“Forensic crime labs develop quality assurance practices and implement them to
reduce errors in forensic techniques and analysts’ interpretation. These practices
also help improve consistency across practitioners. Practices such as obtaining
professional accreditation, testing the proficiency of analysts, and external
certification of analysts are regarded as benchmarks for measuring compliance to
industry‐established best practices.” This document can be found at: https://www.
bjs.gov/content/pub/pdf/pffclqap14.pdf.
Although the above information provides a strong argument for achieving
accreditation, management should understand that completing this activity is
only part of the quality assurance triangle. Once the triangle is applied, the whole
process should be externally reviewed to ensure it is not self‐serving. Meaning,
when laboratories check their own processes there is a chance that errors or
inadequacies are overlooked. An external review conducted by an agency unas-
sociated with the laboratory under evaluation may identify previously missed
issues. Labs should also review critical reports such as the 2009 NAS report and
the 2016 report from the United States President’s Council of Advisors on Science
and Technology (PCAST), entitled Forensic Science in Criminal Courts: Ensuring
Scientific Validity of Feature‐Comparison Methods. Although management may firmly
believe the best methods, processes, equipment and education are already in
place, a critical internal assessment is essential. This is the best way for forensic
science organizations to improve their professional standing and, more
importantly, fulfill their service to their communities and the larger society that
rely on them to produce reliable results.
The chapters in this book will provide insights on methods and procedures and
will inspire ways to tackle troubling issues. The book will also describe issues that
have not previously been discussed. When reading, I urge you to keep in mind
that published and validated standards are the essential building blocks of a reli-
able system of forensic science.
Oran Finegan
Head of Forensic Unit, International Committee of the Red Cross
Today the application of forensics in the humanitarian sphere is no longer a new
field of practice, but it is certainly one that is still evolving. Debate can continue as
to when this field emerged, but without doubt it is truly with us today in the day‐
to‐day engagement of various actors, both local and regional, and internationally
around the world. Certainly the field of humanitarian forensics has seen its role
catalysed over the past few decades through advancements in forensic science.
The past 15 years alone has seen seismic changes, both in terms of the science and
lessons learnt from its application. From the engagements in Latin America and
the Balkans, to the very different humanitarian reality we find ourselves in today,
we have seen great leaps in the fields of forensic genetics, forensic anthropology
and forensic archaeology, to name but a few.
There is also a growing awareness, interest, and engagement of local forensic
actors. We see calls for support on the rise, and the development of new centers
of expertise around the globe. The recent establishment of the International
Centre of Humanitarian Forensics in Gujarat, India, is one such example. The
days of large‐scale substitution by international actors seems to be increasingly a
thing of the past. Supporting local capacity and infrastructure, where feasible, is
proving to be the path most actors are now following.
We have also importantly seen the changing face of conflict itself, with today’s
battlefield a much more complex place, with protracted conflict, a proliferation of
actors, and a growing number of non‐state armed groups, decreasing access for
humanitarian actors, and criminality all seen as key components. In addition, we
see battles fought more and more in urban settings, with the knock‐on impact on
the civilian population, and the targeting of health infrastructure, which more
often than not includes forensics facilities and practitioners. Attacks on forensic
practitioners themselves are also an issue of concern. We also see growing levels
of armed violence and the targeting of women, with the growing phenomenon of
femicide.
These changes in the humanitarian environment will require the forensic
community to orientate its approach in order to respond to these changes. Failure
to do so will seriously impact on its ability to respond to the needs of today, never
mind the future. Understanding the advances in forensic science alone will not be
enough. The great differences we see globally in terms of the types of conflict and
disasters, and the growing migration crisis, will require the forensic community to
understand better this diverse range of environments. The challenges and situation
lxiii
on the ground, in contexts like Yemen, differ greatly from those of Iraq, Ukraine
or Mexico. While all these contexts would benefit from a robust engagement from
the field of forensic science, it would be naïve to think the approach could be the
same. We must be more cognizant of the need for a contextualized response, and
one that first and foremost includes a close engagement with the affected
population itself, to ensure that any planned programs have clearly in focus the
society itself, in terms of its own culture and needs. Working hand in hand with
communities on the ground should be at the heart of the humanitarian forensic
response.
The application of forensics in the humanitarian sphere sits at a pivotal moment
in its development – one that will define it for decades to come. There can be little
doubt a great deal has been learnt over the past couple of decades. However, while
great progress has been made, allowing for forensics to play a key role in the
identification of persons unaccounted for in conflict and bringing persons to
account for their acts, large parts of the world have been unable to benefit from
these advances. Awareness surrounding the role forensics can play in this domain
is certainly much greater, but this has also led to raised expectations, which often
cannot be met. There is a need for forensic practitioners, and the humanitarian
community as a whole, to be cognizant of this and ensure a responsible approach
so that expectations can be managed. While in theory a great deal more is possible
today than 30 years ago, the practical reality often does not match up. More than
ever the affected population, in situations of humanitarian crisis, expects answers,
whether they be in terms of an identification or justice. The forensic community
must keep this at the front of their thinking when engaging in programs and
activities.
All this said, what is it that today’s forensic practitioners can contribute in the
humanitarian sphere? One could suggest that, with growing advances in forensic
science, the door has opened to allow for the dead to no longer be silenced, and
for their last moments to be heard by all who want to listen, be it families, courts,
or society at large. Forensic practitioners are in a unique position, in so far that
they could be considered the modern‐day mediums for the dead. They hold the
key to help unlock the identity of the dead, and tell the story of their last moments,
and how they met their fate. Such a position bears great responsibility, as it is the
forensic practitioner who can be that voice for the families, the courtroom and
the historian, to name but a few.
For the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) the application of
forensics in the humanitarian sphere is a key component of many of its programs
today across the globe. It recognizes the important role that forensic science can
play in assisting states in fulfilling their obligations towards the dead under
International Humanitarian Law (IHL), and by playing a key role in providing
answers to families who have lost someone in times of conflict or disaster. The
ICRC focuses its efforts on supporting authorities and actors across the world to
develop their forensic capacity to ensure that states have the ability and means to
live up to their commitments towards the dead under IHL, and where possible
allow for the clarification of the fate of those who become unaccounted for in
situations of conflict, disasters and migration.
From its early beginnings to today, the application of forensic science in the
humanitarian sphere has grown globally. I firmly believe that we are entering a
new era in its application, and that the ongoing developments of fields such as
forensic genetics will only see a stronger role of forensics in this domain in the
coming decade. That said we must also remember that while in theory the poten-
tial role for forensics is clearer, we must also remember that many parts of the
world have not been fortunate enough to profit from these advances. States and
the wider international community must do more to recognize the gaps that exist
globally in this respect, and look to find ways to ensure that more practitioners
benefit from the advances in this field. The forensic community must raise its
voice to ensure this message is heard and acted upon.
The place of forensics in the humanitarian sphere is now very much a reality.
With over 70 staff positioned around the globe in 2019, the ICRC sees the benefits
that forensic science can bring to the lives of those affected by disasters and armed
conflict, and also by ensuring that those who lose their lives can be afforded the
dignity they deserve and are entitled to under IHL. I firmly believe that by working
together, all forensic actors engaged in the humanitarian and human rights sphere
can make a difference, and help in addressing the growing challenges being faced
in this domain. Together, as a community, we can make the coming decade one
where forensic science can play an even greater role in positively changing the
lives of those affected by conflict, disaster and migration.
The forensic sciences represent diverse, dynamic fields that seek to utilize the very
best techniques available to address legal issues. Fueled by advances in technology,
research and methodology, as well as new case applications, the forensic sciences
continue to evolve. Forensic scientists strive to improve their analyses and inter-
pretations of evidence and to remain cognizant of the latest advancements. This
series results from a collaborative effort between the American Academy of
Forensic Sciences (AAFS) and Wiley to publish a select number of books that
relate closely to the activities and Objectives of the AAFS. The book series reflects
the goals of the AAFS to encourage quality scholarship and publication in the
forensic sciences. Proposals for publication in the series are reviewed by a
committee established for that purpose by the AAFS and also reviewed by Wiley.
The AAFS was founded in 1948 and represents a multidisciplinary professional
organization that provides leadership to advance science and its application to the
legal system. The 11 sections of the AAFS consist of Criminalistics, Digital and
Multimedia Sciences, Engineering Sciences, General, Pathology/Biology,
Questioned Documents, Jurisprudence, Anthropology, Toxicology, Odontology,
and Psychiatry and Behavioral Science. There are over 7000 members of the
AAFS, originating from all 50 States of the United States and many countries
beyond. This series reflects global AAFS membership interest in new research,
scholarship, and publication in the forensic sciences.
Douglas H. Ubelaker
Senior Scientist
Smithsonian Institution
Washington, DC, USA
Series Editor
lxvii
Forensic science is the application of science to the criminal and civil laws that are
enforced by police agencies in a criminal justice system (Saferstein, 2018). This
general definition is sometimes misinterpreted, focusing on the application of
science to solve crimes. However, “criminal and civil laws” also refer to human
rights. The first right of a person is its identity. The name given by our parents and
our sociocultural environment establishes our identity and defines us for the rest
of our life. Can we lose our identity? Certainly yes, in this case, when the body of
a deceased person becomes an unidentified body, and there is no clue about the
identity of this person. If the identity is not discovered later on, the deceased
person loses all possibility of connectedness with their social and cultural environ-
ment, and consequently with their loved ones, which is called “social death of the
dead” (see Chapter 6, this volume). Thus, a broader definition of forensic science
includes the application of science to human identification, which is a practice
that “reunites human remains with the personhood in life” (Moon, 2017: 270),
and, as consequence, “the dead back into the social order,” re‐establishing identity
and kinship ties with loved ones (Moon, 2017; Gowland and Thompson, 2013;
Chapter 6, this volume). There are hundreds of thousands of situations that
require determination of the identity of a person worldwide. These scenarios
include mass disasters, armed conflicts and migrant crises, among others.
How do forensic scientists contribute to the determination of the identity of a
person? We use a scientific process called identification.1 Previously described sce-
narios deal with different situations that require the application of multidisci-
plinary and interdisciplinary approaches towards this goal. The identification of
human remains2 is a complex process, which requires integration of various
forensic approaches. We need to collect and systematize data, evaluate and verify
the data quality, centralize, organize, compare and analyze all information and
* The views expressed herein are those of the editor Roberto C. Parra and do not necessarily reflect the views of
the United Nations.
1
For a discussion regarding the difference and boundary between identity and identification, refer to Gowland
and Thompson (2013).
2
In general terms that includes, but is not limited to, recent cadavers, severely decomposed, skeletons, etc.
lxix
confirm any findings. One of the forensic science disciplines, forensic anthropology,
applies the knowledge, methods and techniques of human skeletal biology to this
forensic issue: determination of the biological identity through the creation of a
biological profile (sex, age, ancestry, height and pathological conditions) (e.g.
Boyd and Boyd, 2018; Christensen et al., 2014). This profile constitutes what is
called “post‐mortem data”, information retrieved from the skeleton. Forensic
odontology, the application of dental science to the identification of human
remains (Adserias‐Garriga et al., 2018), plays a key role not only in cases of
skeletal remains, but also with fleshed bodies; where it is not possible to deter-
mine the identity for some reason, dental post‐mortem data could help towards
this purpose. The science of DNA has evolved since the discovery of the double
helix configuration by Watson and Crick in 1953 based on Rosalind Franklin’s
previous studies (Watson and Crick, 1953). Later on, Sir Alec Jeffreys and col-
leagues (1985) applied this DNA knowledge to forensic science, developing “DNA
fingerprinting”. His findings were used for a while by the forensic science
community, although these techniques have advanced, and now DNA finger-
printing is based on the determination of the “short tandem repeats” (STRs) pro-
file. Based on the uniqueness (referred to databases) of this profile (except for
identical twins), it is possible to establish the identity of a person. The DNA profile
retrieved from unidentified human remains is also part of the “post‐mortem data”.
“Post‐mortem data” constitute half of the puzzle for the identification of
human remains. Certainly, these three above‐described forensic disciplines,
among others, can help towards this goal, but require the other half of the puzzle:
“ante‐mortem data”.
The “ante‐mortem data” are items of information concerning the individual
provided by the missing person’s family or loved ones and which could be used for
identification. Thus, comparison of ante‐mortem and post‐mortem data can lead
to a positive identification, presumptive identification or an exclusion (Adserias‐
Garriga et al., 2018), or as defined by the Asociación Latinoamericana de
Antropología Forense (ALAF): “identification, exclusion and inconclusive”
(ALAF, 2016).
“Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae” – “this is the place where dead
help the living”: this inscription, found in some morgues, points out the value of
forensic work to understand better the processes leading to the death as well as
the circumstances surrounding the death. In our context, the identification of
human remains, this sentence has to be considered in reverse. As described above,
the gathering of ante‐mortem information is as important as the recovery of post‐
mortem information. Towards this purpose, the families and relatives play a key
role, thus “the living help the dead”, and in reciprocity the symbolic social life of
the dead also contributes to the living. In the words of Jane Buikstra: “They
demand our attention. They demand action that forces the living to think about
what is proper and what is not and act accordingly” (Buikstra, 2017: 295). In this
way, we can talk about the interaction with the dead and the living.
As a result, forensic scientists not only have to interact with the dead – we also
have to interact with the living. This is not an easy task; we have to take into
consideration the grief of the families and relatives. They have lost their loved
ones or they do not know what has happened to them. They are looking for
answers and closure. Therefore, in the quest for ante‐mortem data, forensic scien-
tists have to be very careful in their approach to the families. Their cooperation is
imperative for the main goal of identification of human remains.
Additionally, as important as interacting with the families and relatives, it is
essential to collect ante‐mortem information from physicians, dentists and other
professionals. They will provide medical and dental records that can be crucial for
an identification. However, sometimes it is not possible and then they provide us
with another type of information that comes from their memories; for this,
anthropologists use their social and cultural knowledge to capture this type of
data as ante‐mortem information in a humanitarian context. Forensic anthropology
has then become an applied discipline that encompasses the holistic approach of
anthropology. Furthermore, the understanding of dissimilar social scenarios at a
cultural level, where conceptions about death, health, illness, the meaning of life
and identity may be different, is certainly of vital importance for achieving fruitful
forensic humanitarian actions. Anthropologists can contribute enormously in this
task of understanding the needs of a population affected by the violence, the
needs of the families of missing persons and their expectations.
Hence, both ante‐mortem and post‐mortem data are fundamental for the
identification of human remains. However, and as described above, different
forensic scenarios complicate the retrieval and quality of these data.
This is the focus of this book. Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action:3 Interacting
with the Dead and the Living reflects all aspects related to the forensic identification
of human remains, their posthumous dignity,4 agency,5 the legal foundation that
protects them6 and the impact on the living.
The term “humanitarian forensic science” was first coined by the International
Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) (Cordner and Tidball‐Binz, 2017; Tidball‐
Binz, 2013), defined as “the application of forensic science to humanitarian activ-
ities”. This definition is broader than the scope of this book. This book is focused
on one part of humanitarian activities: that related to the “management of the
dead” in mass disasters, armed conflicts, migration crises, and other situations in
order to identify human remains and understand the impact of such identifica-
tions on their families.
3
“Humanitarian action itself is defined by the ICRC as a range of activities that seek to alleviate human suffering
and protect the dignity of all victims of armed conflict and catastrophes, carried out in a neutral, impartial and
independent manner, free of charge and framed under International Humanitarian Law” (Cordner and Tidball-
Binz, 2017: 65).
4
As highlighted by Antoon De Baets (2009).
5
Laura Ahern (2001: 110) argued that agency is “the socioculturally mediated capacity to act”. For further
discussion about agency, see Janet Hoskins (2006), Tiffiny Tung (2014) and Jane Buikstra (2017).
6
As described in Chapter 2, and in Gaggioli (2018).
This book covers in the first section the legal, historical and social aspects of
missing persons and unidentified bodies, including chapters devoted to human
rights and International Humanitarian Law, and even an interesting approach
from bioarchaeology. Additionally, some chapters point out the importance of the
identification of human remains, theoretical fundamentals, humanitarian actions,
and the return of the human remains to their love ones.
The second section describes the recovery of basic information from missing
persons and unidentified bodies (ante‐mortem and post‐mortem data), including
approaches for the conceptualization, description and location of clandestine
deposit sites with human remains (particularly important in mass graves), as well
as new technologies applied to complex cases.
Following with this line of research, the third section is dedicated to one of the
current trends in forensic anthropology: the use of isotopes to determine the
geographical provenance of the unidentified body. As described in some chapters
of this section, this new technique has become a useful tool to track the “biohistory”7
of unidentified deceased persons. New scientific approaches of this nature open
the door to future scientific discussions.
DNA is a powerful tool for the identification of human remains, but with serious
limitations as well. Section IV describes its contribution towards this purpose, but
also presents its limitations, especially when we lack key ante‐ or post‐mortem
data, including cultural, social and religious cosmovision, even when the analysis
is based over particular population types where the population genetic structure
complicates the process. Additionally, one chapter explains current research
involving non‐STR markers, single nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs), providing
the phenotypic characteristics based solely on DNA of the human remains (hair,
eye and skin color as well as ancestry).
Section V describes the application of forensic science to a variety of scenarios
and the procedures leading to identification of human remains. These include
identification of the migrants along the US/Mexican border, migrants in Europe,
identification of remains from armed conflicts (Argentina, Cyprus, Colombia,
Chile, Peru and Uruguay) and other mass disaster scenarios (Guatemala), as well
as the approaches for identification in other countries or agencies (Australia, Costa
Rica, South Africa, USA).
Consequently, this book is intended as a reference for the legal, social, cultural,
scientific and multidisciplinary aspects of the management of the dead around the
world, mainly focused on the recovery and the identification of human remains,
providing at the same time “food for thought”. While the cases presented in this
book reveal successful identification of human remains, the variety of forensic
scenarios sometimes makes this identification really difficult; thus, there is always
room for improvement, considering the social, cultural and legal aspects. For
these reasons this book seeks to reach a broad audience: from students,
Concept used as described by Claire Moon (2017), and Duncan and Stojanowski (2017)
7
introducing them to forensic science and identification of human remains and the
theoretical foundations of humanitarian action, to forensic scientists, interested in
the aforementioned aspects of identification of human remains, complementing
their knowledge in their fields and at the same time increasing their knowledge in
this topic, hopefully leading to further developments and advances of these legal,
social, scientific and multidisciplinary aspects of humanitarian action and forensic
science.
References
Adserias‐Garriga, J., Thomas, C., Ubelaker, D.H. and Zapico, S. (2018) When forensic odontol-
ogy met biochemistry: Multidisciplinary approach in forensic human identification. Arch. Oral
Biol. Mar., 87, 7–14.
Ahern, L. (2001) Language and agency. Annual Review of Anthropology, 30, 109–137.
Asociación Latinoamericana de Antropología Forense (2016) Guía latinoamericana de buenas
prácticas para la aplicación en antropología forense. Colombia: Grupo H y A, ALAF.
Boyd, C.C. and Boyd, D.C. (eds.) (2018) Forensic Anthropology: Theoretical Framework and Scientific
Basis. Wiley.
Buikstra, J. (2017) Ethical issues in biohistory: no easy answers! In Studies in Forensic Biohistory:
Anthropological Perspective, Cambridge Studies in Biological and Evolutionary Anthropology (eds
C. Stojanowski and W. Duncan). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 288–314.
Christensen, A., Passalacqua, N. and Bartelink, E. (2014) Forensic Anthropology: Current Methods
and Practice (1st ed.). San Diego, CA: Academic Press.
Cordner, S. and Tidball‐Binz, M. (2017) Humanitarian forensic action: its origins and future.
Forensic Sci. Int., 279, 65–71.
De Baets, A. (2009) Responsible History. New York: Berghahn Books.
Duncan, W. N. and Stojanowski, C. M. (2017) Theoretical facets of biohistorical research. In
Studies in Forensic Biohistory: Anthropogical Perspective, Cambridge Studies in Biological and
Evolutionary Anthropology (eds C. Stojanowski and W. Duncan). Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, pp. 315–327.
Gaggioli, G. (2018) International Humanitarian Law: The legal framework for humanitarian
forensic action. Forensic Science International, 282, 184–194.
Gowland, R. and Thompson, T. (2013) Human Identity and Identification. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Hoskins, J. (2006) Agency, biography and objects. In Handbook of Material Culture (eds C. Tilley,
W. Keane, S. Kuchler, M. Rowlands and P. Spyer). London: Sage, pp. 74–85.
Jeffreys, A. J., Wilson, V. and Thein, S. L. (1985) Hypervariable “minisatellite” regions in human
DNA. Nature, 314 (6006), 67–73.
Moon, C. (2017) The biohistory of atrocity and the social life of human remains. In Studies in
Forensic Biohistory: Anthropological Perspective, Cambridge Studies in Biological and Evolutionary
Anthropology (eds. C. Stojanowski and W. Duncan). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
pp. 267–287.
Saferstein, R. (2018) Criminalistics: An Introduction to Forensic Science (12th ed.). Boston, MA:
Pearson Education.
Tidball‐Binz, M. (2013) Global forensic science and the search for the dead and missing from
armed conflict: the perspective of the International Committee of the Red Cross. In Forensic
Science: Current Issues, Future Directions (ed. D. H. Ubelaker). Chichester: John Wiley & Sons,
Ltd., pp. 337–365.
Tung, T. (2014) Agency, ‘Til Death do As Part? Inquiring about the agency of dead bodies from
the ancient Andes. Cambridge Archaelogical Journal, 24 (3), 437–452.
Watson, J. D. and Crick, F. H. (1953) The structure of DNA. Cold Spring Harbor Symp. Quant. Biol.,
18, 123–131.
The editors wish to thank the chapter contributors and the American Academy of
Forensic Science for supporting this volume. Many thanks also to Jenny Cossham,
Emma Strickland, Lesley Jebaraj, Rajitha Selvarajan and Samantha Jones for their
greatly helpful edits and suggestions. We would also like to thank Rafael Valdez
Velazquez‐Lopez of the Pontificia Universidad Catolica del Peru, for his invaluable
support. We would also like to thank the anonymous scientific reviewers. All our
thanks to the President of the International Committee of the Red Cross, Peter
Maurer; the President of the American Association of Forensic Science, Susan
Ballou; and the Head of the ICRC Forensic Unit, Oran Finegan, for their forewords
to this volume.
lxxv
1
This interview was conducted in Geneva on 16 January 2018 by Ellen Policinski, Managing Editor, and Jovana
Kuzmanovic, Thematic Editor at the International Review of the Red Cross. The interview was first published in
International Review of the Red Cross (2017), 99 (2), 689–707.
2
The designations employed in this interview do not imply official endorsement or the expression of any opinion
whatsoever concerning the legal status of any territory, or concerning the delimitation of its frontiers or bound-
aries. Whenever a disputed territory is given different names by the parties concerned, the names are used together,
in French alphabetical order.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
little trust in the Argentine forensic officials, but trusted instead the foreign spe-
cialists who they had called for help. I was invited to assist the visiting delegation
of foreign forensic experts in my capacity as a medical student trusted by the
families, who had knowledge of medical terminology, medical skills, and also lan-
guage skills, as I spoke English, which proved to be useful for translation pur-
poses. I was also tasked with convening a team of trustworthy anthropology and
archaeology students who could or were willing to assist in what turned out to be
the first independent forensic investigation into human rights violations in
Argentina. Even though I was studying medicine and had other jobs, I accepted,
as I also had a commitment to human rights. I had been involved for a few years
in the nascent human rights movement, including helping the families of the dis-
appeared in their quest for answers.
I was not a born forensic scientist. I was instead a relatively successful medical
student, eager to specialize in public health and family medicine and to work in
rural areas. The thought of dedicating my professional career to forensic medi-
cine – at that time still an underdog in medical sciences – was not at all in my
mind. However, upon meeting these outstanding forensic scientists and assisting
them to carry out the first forensic investigations of their kind in the country, I got
hooked on this specialty. What happened thereafter was that me and some of the
colleagues I had called upon to assist continued doing the work pro bono and
formed a team exclusively dedicated to these novel forensic activities. Back then,
it did not cross anyone’s mind that we would ever charge for any of this kind of
work, which was ad hoc and we therefore ended up working on weekends and
holidays to meet the huge need for independent forensic expertise.
We were invited early on to carry out this work by one of the first ever Truth
Commissions established – the National Commission on Disappeared Persons in
Argentina – in attention to and responding to requests coming from the relatives
of the disappeared anxious to know the whereabouts and fate of their loved ones.
The question about how to locate the missing was already on the table for quite
a while. As human rights activists we did not have the answers, but suspected
instead that some of the disappeared were buried in unmarked graves in public
cemeteries. However, it was very difficult, if not impossible, to do anything about
it since at the time any such action would have been seriously repressed by the
regime.
When the delegation of foreign forensic scientists visited Argentina, scientific
knowledge was ripe for carrying out what turned out to be the first use of forensic
sciences applied to investigations of this kind. It also happened at a time when
some authorities had ordered massive and hasty excavations in cemeteries to try
and find the disappeared. This led to the destruction of human remains and evi-
dence, proved to be extremely traumatic for the bereaved, received much attention
from the media and became known at the time as a “horror show” (Gamarnik,
2015). Bulldozers were in fact digging up masses of skeletal remains, with no
respect for the dead and publicly destroying bodies which, as a result, would never
be identified. This was an affront to the dead and to their families, as well as to
society as a whole. There was therefore an urgent need and calls to put a stop to
such practice through professional and scientific methods of investigation. It is
important to note that this was a time when forensic anthropology was still a very
exclusive domain in science, barely known outside academic circles in the United
States and in a handful of other developed countries. The concept of using it or
applying it to these massive investigations was not in people’s minds. This was
well before television shows featured forensic crime scene investigations and
forensics took on a trendy profile.
I was also invited at the time by the Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo (the
Grandmothers), an NGO formed in 1977 with the aim of finding their disappeared
grandchildren,3 to assist in their quest. They were part of the families who had
invited the foreign forensic scientists, based on the brilliant and truly innovative
idea of using grand‐paternity testing to assist in their search. This required adapting
standard forensic paternity testing – used in courts to establish whether a child is
biologically related to a putative father or not – to grand‐paternity, by comparing
instead the blood of the grandparents with that of a child believed to be their
relative. At that time, before the advent of forensic DNA testing, this type of analysis
had no precedent in forensic practice and the first scientists which the Grandmothers
met with this seemingly crazy idea shunned them off. However, there were others
who saw merit in this idea, carried out the necessary research and slowly started
building up this novel procedure (Berra et al. 1986). I was invited to be part of their
nascent forensic genetic team, which ended up creating the first ever national ge-
netic databank for the identification of the missing in 1987.4
The first successful use in courts of this revolutionary grand‐paternity testing
was carried out in Argentina in 1984 and, as a result, a child was identified and
returned to her original family – grandparents, because her father and mother had
been disappeared. She was taken away by a member of a death squad who disap-
peared her parents, and finally tracked down by the Grandmothers, who had to
prove in court that she was their child, years after she had been taken away as a
baby. Years later this same child studied biology and worked as a geneticist with
the Grandmothers, helping identify the disappeared. The Grandmothers were
seen and are still regarded as a truly exceptional group of women, so it was a great
honour for me to work for them. As mentioned earlier, in my opinion they deserve
the full credit for the early development of humanitarian forensic action.
While working with the Grandmothers I continued carrying out forensic
anthropology and archaeology investigations into the disappeared together with
the early team of friends and colleagues with whom in May 1987 we formally
created the first ever non‐governmental organization dedicated exclusively to this
3
For more on the Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo, see the interview with Estela de Carlotto, in this edition of the
International Review of the Red Cross. Also, see: https://abuelas.org.ar/idiomas/english/history.htm (all internet refer-
ences were accessed in May 2018).
4
See Historia del BNDG, available at: https://www.argentina.gob.ar/ciencia/bndg/historia
ICRC’s first forensic coordinator. I asked myself at the time, what would the ICRC
use my forensic skills for? However, after some hesitation, I accepted the kind
offer and began working for the organization in February 2004. It was, I believe,
one of the best decisions I made in my life, albeit not devoid of challenges.
Many things are strikingly different about working for the ICRC compared to
the human rights activities I was engaged with previously. Most of the forensic
expertise used in similar work elsewhere is ultimately aimed at providing reliable
evidence for criminal investigations and court proceedings. This includes, for
example, the determination of cause and manner of death in suspicious cases, or
documenting injuries, such as those resulting from torture, sexual violence or
other forms of physical abuse, and collecting evidence on the perpetrators.
However, when it comes to the ICRC, forensic science is primarily used for human-
itarian purposes and not for establishing criminal responsibility. This means, for
example, using forensic science to prevent and resolve the cases of missing per-
sons; to properly search for and recover the dead in very challenging environ-
ments and circumstances; to protect their dignity and help in their identification
and for informing the families about the fate and whereabouts of their deceased
loved ones. This requires specialized knowledge and expertise, which only forensic
science can provide, for ensuring the professionalism required from the ICRC’s
humanitarian activities. While self‐evident today, this was not clearly understood
by many back in 2004. Therefore, one of the big challenges I faced when I started
working for the ICRC, and an urgent one at that, was to prove the added value of
forensic science for ICRC field activities. The uniqueness of its application in
humanitarian work is that it provides a box full of tools and knowledge adaptable
to different settings, which can assist in, and is often essential for strictly human-
itarian work, typically but not exclusively in relation to the dead. The dead are
part of the ICRC’s mandate and armed conflicts almost always result in large num-
bers of dead. The dead and their dignity are clearly protected by the four Geneva
Conventions and their Additional Protocols, which require that they are properly
recovered, documented, identified and buried. This recognition is by no means
new; Henry Dunant was one of the first ones to realize that the dead have rights,
and he campaigned for measures to help ensure the dead would be identified after
death.6 It is today recognized that the fulfilment of the obligations towards the
dead can only be professionally ensured with the use of forensic science.
Hence, I set out early on at the ICRC to try and prove the value of forensics in
the eyes of colleagues in the field, by going to the Balkans, to the Caucasus and
other areas and contexts where the ICRC faced many challenges in resolving cases
of missing persons and had many questions about how to improve the management
of the dead. It soon became apparent to colleagues, especially in the field, that
6
During the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, Henri Dunant visited and comforted the wounded brought to Paris and
introduced the wearing of a badge so that the dead could be identified. See ICRC, “Henry Dunant (1828–1910)”,
available at: www.icrc.org/eng/resources/documents/misc/57jnvq.htm
forensic expertise was indeed very useful for the organization’s activities on behalf
of the dead and missing. Nowadays, I believe that most in the ICRC and elsewhere
regard forensics as an essential tool for humanitarian action, for both the dead and
the living, as it helps bring answers and relief to the bereaved families and their
communities. Also, by helping fulfil the obligations towards the dead, we reassert
our own humanity. In addition, the forensic capacity developed by the ICRC now-
adays provides the organization with a unique and competitive edge for respond-
ing to humanitarian emergencies and also for addressing the legacy of past
conflicts. Indeed, the ICRC is the world’s only humanitarian organization with
forensic capacity and using it exclusively for humanitarian purposes. As a result,
the organization is today regarded as a reference in humanitarian forensic action.
I am therefore confident that the new Project on The Missing, launched in
2018, will help further consolidate the role of forensic practitioners and the con-
tribution of forensic science for preventing and resolving the cases of missing
persons. Indeed, the Project offers a new and unique opportunity for building on
lessons learned since 2003. It aims to mobilize and empower communities of
practice worldwide, including forensic professionals and institutions, and to
develop new standards and guidance required to meet new challenges, such as
those of missing migrants, for effectively resolving the tragedy of the missing
everywhere.
There is also, in my opinion, a chapter which still needs to be developed in
the ICRC, which concerns forensic science applied directly to the living. I believe
this will evolve in line with today’s requirements and expectations in humani-
tarian action. For example, interventions on behalf of detainees believed to
have suffered ill‐treatment should benefit from having a forensic experts’
opinion to substantiate their claims. This is not to say that such claims should
not be taken seriously without the opinion of a forensic expert, but often only
the latter can provide the necessary evidence‐based arguments in favour of the
victims. Slowly but surely, awareness is growing that forensics can assist the
living, such as for the documentation of torture and sexual violence. Concerning
the last point, for example, I have been involved in helping develop some stan-
dards, which the ICRC has found very useful. One example concerns virginity
testing, to help refute the scientific and ethical validity of such practices, which
may amount to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment (Independent Forensic
Experts Group, 2015).
In summary, humanitarian forensic action is an important ICRC activity today.
It started as a technical, scientific tool for the institution, but became growingly
regarded as a necessary one for field operations but also humanitarian dialogue;
and for positioning the organization as a leader in this field.
Personally, having helped create the ICRC Forensic Unit is as important and
significant in my professional career as having helped create the EAAF. Both
teams have undoubtedly helped expand the scope of forensic science, to include
unprecedented human rights and humanitarian dimensions respectively. I am
extremely grateful to all the colleagues whom I have worked with and who have
helped make this possible. I cannot fail to mention here as well the immense
support I have received from my family throughout these years, including for
allowing and encouraging me to dedicate the necessary time and energy to this
shared endeavour.
The development of humanitarian forensic action has undeniably contributed
to the understanding by the humanitarian community of the value of forensic sci-
ence for their activities. Remarkably, it has also contributed to the understanding
by the forensic community of the importance and value of their contribution to
humanitarian activities. A good example of this was the creation in 2015 by the
American Academy of Forensic Sciences of the Humanitarian and Human Rights
Resource Centre, to support research in this field.
Has humanitarian forensics work fundamentally changed over the course of your
career? What have been the biggest shifts in terms of the science?
Humanitarian forensic action, defined as the application of forensic science to
humanitarian activities, is in fact a new field of forensic science developed by the
ICRC. There have been some dramatic changes in the profession over the years,
as initially forensic science was regarded as a tool to assist primarily in the
determination of cause and manner of death. The concept, knowledge and under-
standing of the need to ensure primarily the dignity of the dead and their docu-
mentation as required for their identification and traceability, regardless of
whether they are identified or not, is something which has evolved with time,
thanks largely to the ICRC. As a result, the understanding of this field of knowledge
and activity moved from being focused mostly or exclusively on the recovery of
the dead to find out how they died, to primarily ensuring their dignity, professional
documentation and helping provide the answers to families. The latter not only
requires mere reporting, but also being directly engaged in a dialogue and ful-
filling the psychosocial needs of families whose loved ones have gone missing or
died.7
You have often worked to identify the remains of missing persons. What are the
specificities of working to identify the missing?
Unlike standard criminal investigations, those aimed at resolving the cases of
missing persons, alive or dead, can help people overcome some of the worst
suffering that a person can endure: that of not knowing the whereabouts and fate
of a missing loved one, and whether that person is alive or dead. If found dead,
the certainty of the identity, which the bereaved often require in order to be able
to proceed with their mourning, can only be provided by forensic science. Equally
important is ensuring that the dignity of the dead is protected throughout, for
which forensic science can prove indispensable.
For more on this, see the article by Pauline Boss in this edition of the Red Cross Review.
7
In other words, helping resolve the cases of missing persons provides a truly
unique humanitarian meaning to forensic work. In addition, the specific chal-
lenges posed by these investigations, including complex and large‐scale recovery
and identification processes, offer an opportunity for further developing forensic
science on behalf of humanity.
How do you keep the deceased and their families at the centre of this type of work?
There are several angles to consider for answering this question. From a purely
pragmatic point of view, one cannot identify a dead body or a set of human
remains without information about the person. In most cases, the best and often
the only source of such information – which we call ante mortem data – are the
families themselves. For this reason, as forensics investigating the missing and try-
ing to identify the dead, we need to develop good professional working relations
with concerned families, who should be able to trust the forensic professionals
helping resolve their cases.
In humanitarian action, however, this goes beyond this purely pragmatic per-
spective. Carrying out humanitarian forensic work means that the families are not
only instrumental in assisting in the identification, but that they are satisfied that
their loved one is whom we inform them he or she is. This requires a dialogue,
building trust, whereby the forensic scientist cannot work in a detached manner
from the family. Being close to the families at all times is quintessential for forensic
identification, but even more so for humanitarian forensic action. This requires a
highly professional and empathic approach for communicating and relating with
the bereaved families. An empathic approach means literally putting oneself in
the other person’s shoes to better understand their views and feelings. As a med-
ical doctor I would say that this requires developing a quasi‐therapeutic relation-
ship, which should be established with the bereaved for both empowering them
in their capacity as active participants of the investigation process and for ensuring
their trust in the results of the investigation, whichever it might be. I hope that
the ICRC’s new Project on the Missing will help further develop guidance and
standards to help practitioners in their dialogue with the bereaved and for helping
ensure that such dialogue is most useful for the fulfilling the humanitarian goal of
resolving the missing.
What have been the most challenging contexts you have worked in over your
career?
In terms of challenging contexts, it would have to be the early work I was involved
in Argentina, at a time when there were still people who did not want cases to be
investigated. This was in the immediate post‐military regime context, when
among some sectors of society there was a great discomfort about investigations
into crimes that had happened. This involved a certain amount of danger and
threats that were pretty serious at times. Early on there were often discussions
with colleagues and friends about whether we should continue working or not,
because I had a family and the threats were serious enough to question it. We
were only students and did not have a network or an institution behind us that
could protect us. Working for the Grandmothers later on helped. They were an
extraordinary solace, because they had been the subject of threats themselves and
had endured years of hard repression. This was quite reassuring, because if they
had managed to endure and overcome challenges, we could as well.
Apart from the difficult general context in the early stages of my career, I would
say there are a number of specific challenges that all forensic practitioners face
while carrying out humanitarian forensic work in the field. They range from hav-
ing to manage unprecedented operations, to facing real life‐threatening situations
during armed conflict or other situations of violence. On such occasions questions
may arise of whether working for the dead is worth risking your life for. My rec-
ollections of this last point are very much related to some of the fieldwork I car-
ried out with the ICRC.
For instance, in 2011, we were tasked to help recover and identify the bodies of
35 men who had been abducted and killed in Libya, in the context of the civil war
which was raging at the time (ICRC, 2011). This operation was carried out by the
ICRC on‐site during Ramadan, at a critical time of the civil war, with the full
support of the local community. Interestingly, the community told the ICRC that
the recovery of their dead was more important and urgent than any other
assistance they were receiving from the ICRC, including medical care for those
wounded in battle. There was in fact a lot of shooting around. One day in particular,
we had to flee the site because there were reports that a large armed contingent
was coming full force to take over the area and wipe out all of those around. We
left everything behind, and only came back when it turned out that the reports
were not true. This can prove very challenging, because you are trying to be as
professional as possible in carrying out the forensic work, which requires a certain
methodology, standards and time‐frame. On the other hand, risk related to the
operation needs to be reduced to the possible minimum. Hence, you have to strike
a balance while respecting procedures and standards as much as possible, thinking
always about the families and, ultimately, the humanitarian objective of the work
underway. We managed to complete the work in five working days, from dawn to
dusk. This was a forensic job that would typically require at least triple that time
and a double sized team. To my satisfaction, we identified 27 out of 35 bodies,
with the means and procedures that we followed, which conformed to our own
standards and the general requirements set by the Geneva Conventions regarding
the management, documentation and identification of war dead. This satisfied the
community’s main concerns and request to bring the bodies of the lost men back
and identify them. Contexts like these illustrate how one has to adapt the forensic
procedures and skills to very challenging circumstances, which is something we
often encounter in the ICRC.
Further, there are other types of challenging contexts, where you feel the brunt
of extreme political pressure. A good example is the case when the ICRC was
called to assist in the exchange of prisoners and human remains between Israel
and Hezbollah in Lebanon in July 2008 (Basma and Landau, 2008; Petrig, 2009).
War had flared up two years earlier after two Israeli soldiers were taken away
across the border by a Hezbollah unit, and Israel retaliated. It took two years, until
an agreement was made with a chief negotiator from a neutral country and the
ICRC, acting as a neutral intermediary, for the exchange of detainees and human
remains. The Israeli soldiers would be returned by Hezbollah in exchange for the
return from Israel of Lebanese and Palestinian prisoners, along with the remains
of dead Palestinians. However, it remained unclear whether the two Israeli sol-
diers were alive or dead. This became an important issue, not only for the families
and the two countries, but for the international community as well. I happened to
be in Lebanon at the time carrying out an unrelated ICRC forensic assessment on
the missing in the country. The head of the ICRC delegation there asked me if I
would make myself available as a medical doctor to examine the Israeli soldiers.
In case they were alive, I was to examine their health conditions, document any
injuries they might or might not have, and so on. In case they were dead, I was to
do the required examination of their human remains. What appeared to be a
simple job in the beginning, turned out to be an extremely sensitive and difficult
one, when two coffins appeared on the scene, allegedly holding the bodies of the
two Israeli soldiers. I received a request by the chief negotiator who informed me
that the Israeli side would not move unless the ICRC provided proof of the iden-
tity of the remains.
All I had brought with me on that day was some surgical gloves and the basics
for carrying out an external medical examination, but was suddenly expected
instead to do a full forensic identification of human remains, for whom I had no
ante mortem data. The pressure was on; further tensions would likely ensue if these
turned out not to be the Israeli soldiers. Firstly, I said that I would do my best to
carry out the job, because simply there was no alternative. Secondly, I had certain
conditions: there was to be no media present, as the examination needs to be
done in privacy for the sake of the dignity of the dead. I requested that I be left
alone with the negotiator and ICRC colleagues who assisted me. After some
discussion, I finally had a little shed organized where I could open the two coffins
in full privacy. The clock was ticking: the prisoners were waiting on the other side
to be transferred, as well as trucks with human remains to be transferred, and the
armed forces waiting for an order.
One thing I had requested was ante mortem data – I needed physical information,
including some dental information, in order to say whether these remains were or
were not the individuals in question; and I got teeth X‐rays at the last minute. I
opened the coffins and, with the understanding of the religious imperatives for
not disrupting the bodies, I was limited on how much forensic analysis I could do
in order to respect the dignity of the dead. The findings that were quickly made
on examining the remains confirmed their identities, because the dental traits
that I saw in the bodies were fully consistent with those of the dental charts that
the Israeli side had sent. I was able to write succinct reports on site confirming that
the remains were those of the individuals in question. It was a big relief on all
sides. I received my greatest professional credit ever when, about four hours later,
the chief negotiator expressed his satisfaction with the fact that the ICRC forensic
expert managed to do in 45 minutes what the full forensic team required four and
a half hours to confirm. As you can imagine, this operation and its challenges
proved quite daunting. This did not entail physical threats, but if something went
wrong it would have had major negative consequences.
Other challenges involved the environment. In 2007, I was asked by the ICRC
delegation in Bogotá to help in the recovery of the bodies of 11 legislators who
had been abducted by the main guerrilla force in 2002, and had died a few
months earlier in contested circumstances (Reuters, 2007). The guerrillas said
they died in a botched rescue operation by government forces, while the
government straightforwardly accused the guerrillas of executing the 11 legisla-
tors. The families wanted the bodies of their loved ones back. Both sides agreed
on a ceasefire for a handful of days for the ICRC to collect the bodies. This was
the result of a lengthy negotiation with both parties, and a very complex one at
that. It required that we fly out in a helicopter to the middle of the jungle, with
the condition that the coordinates of where the bodies were would be provided
to us during the flight. We ended up landing in the middle of a coca field where
we had to fend for ourselves for nearly a week, even though it was initially
believed this operation would last a day or two only. Unexpectedly, the precise
GPS coordinates provided by the guerrillas did not match our own GPS readings.
Sometimes this happens. Different systems were used, and this required that we
walk through the jungle for days, dozens of miles across very difficult mined ter-
rain, under mounting pressure, to try and locate the site of burials. The
government started accusing the guerrillas of having lied, which was contested
by the guerrillas who assured us that the bodies were there. At night, there were
a couple of occasions when we heard explosions around, which indicated the
fragility of the ceasefire. Most of all, this mission was physically extremely
exhausting and challenging because we had to blindly move through deep
tropical rainforest to locate the site of burials. We finally managed to find the
bodies using forensic techniques borrowed from forensic archaeology. Once the
burial site was found the bodies had to be properly exhumed, documented and
safely transported out of the site. Once exhumed, getting the bodies out of the
site proved extremely challenging indeed. We could not physically carry the
bodies back to the first landing site through the thick jungle and deep ravines
which we had come in through. We ended up having to build an improvised
helicopter landing field in the middle of the jungle, chopping down trees that
were more than 50 feet high with what we had in hand, such as axes and chain-
saws. While I was exhuming the bodies, the other colleagues in the team
prepared this landing site, which was slightly larger than the size of a basketball
court. The flight out of that place proved to be interesting.
More recently, the implementation of the Humanitarian Project Plan (HPP) for
the Falkland/Malvinas Islands was extremely challenging in many ways, including
the fact that there was no precedent in the ICRC of a similar operation. At the
ICRC we usually support forensic activities and assist structures which already
exist. However, planning and implementing in full substitution mode such a large,
complex and challenging humanitarian forensic operation was totally unprece-
dented. However, despite the remoteness and extreme weather conditions pre-
vailing in the islands, we managed to successfully set up and operate on‐site,
meaning at the cemetery, a high‐tech mortuary, ensure the necessary IT and com-
munications support system and follow our protocols as planned. This included
ensuring that every exhumed body was analysed, sampled, reported and reburied
on the same day of recovery, treated with utmost respect – including reburial in
new coffins – and we also made sure that the cemetery was restored to its original
shape after the operation. For me, personally, managing a sizeable team of highly
skilled forensic experts and making sure throughout that everything ran smoothly,
harmoniously and up to the required standards was a very challenging but also a
very rewarding experience. Mind you, we all worked all day long and into the
respective nights, nearly seven days a week for nearly three months in those con-
ditions. Fortunately, I worked with an exceptional team of highly committed,
hard‐working and very experienced forensic scientists, who share the love for this
kind of work. By the end we felt like a very happy family indeed. The forensic
operation, which benefited from the support of the local population (without
which it would have been impossible), also required a lot of very hard work and
long‐lasting commitment from many colleagues at the ICRC’s headquarters in
Geneva and the ICRC delegations in London and Brasilia, where the adrenaline
flow was also ever‐present during the entire operation. I believe that we were
very fortunate to accomplish that project as planned given the seemingly unsur-
mountable challenges which we faced. In the end, everything worked out fantas-
tically well and, most importantly of all, we were able to name the dead, inform
their families accordingly and thus fulfil a humanitarian goal which would have
made Henry Dunant very proud.
Tell us more about the work in the Falkland/Malvinas Islands. How did the ICRC
get its mandate to work in this context?
The general mandate for the ICRC to carry out that operation spanned from the
request of the Argentine government to the ICRC back in 2012. We were asked to
help in the identification of Argentine soldiers buried without a name in the
islands because they could not be identified at the time. They died there during
the 1982 armed conflict between Argentina and the United Kingdom and were
buried soon after in a military cemetery in Darwin. Despite efforts by the British
forces at the time to identify all the dead, many remained unidentified. There
were two bases for this mandate to the ICRC: one came from the families, who
wished to have their loved ones identified and to know exactly in which graves
they were buried. The other stemmed from the obligations under the Geneva
Conventions, which require the Parties to do their best to identify the war dead.8
Importantly, the request and the mandate came to the ICRC as a recognition of
its humanitarian forensic capacity, without which such a mandate would not
have been possible. This was in fact one of the first clear acknowledgements of the
ICRC’s novel forensic capacity, coming directly from governments. When we
speak of a “mandate” in this situation, it is in the form of a legally binding docu-
ment. It takes two to tango, so to speak, and in this case it concerned two coun-
tries: Argentina and the United Kingdom. It took five years of negotiations
between them and the ICRC to come up with the formal mandate – the HPP – which
was signed by both countries and the ICRC in December 2016. That mandate
called specifically for this job to be done with a strictly humanitarian purpose, and
with a plan of action developed by the ICRC, to be completed before the end of
2017. I was tasked with developing this plan of action for the forensic recovery
and identification of the dead. Hence, you can say that the mandate sprang from
the request of the families; from international humanitarian law (IHL) obliga-
tions; the agreement between the countries; and the acknowledgement and
recognition by all concerned that only the ICRC could do the job. In fact, no other
organization had this capacity, including the required neutrality, independence
and impartiality. Even though the armed conflict was long over and both coun-
tries are at peace with each other and enjoy full diplomatic relations, this is still a
very sensitive file, which required absolute neutrality throughout the operation,
which only we can provide.
What were the outcomes of the HPP? Did families get the answers they were hop-
ing for? What will this mean for them?
We found, recovered and carefully analysed the bodies of 122 Argentine soldiers
buried without a name in Darwin, within the time‐frame of the HPP, which was
January to December 2017. The 122 bodies were part of 148 Argentine soldiers
missing in action, meaning that some of those missing in action were never
found and are therefore not buried in that cemetery. We managed to document
all the remains as required in our own protocols, to bury them back as planned
and mandated in the HPP (meaning on the same day of their exhumation and
protecting their dignity throughout), and obtained full DNA profiles for each and
every one of the remains analysed. This means that every one of the bodies that
we examined is identifiable if the necessary ante mortem data and reference DNA
8
Editor’s note: These obligations can be found in the Geneva Convention for the Amelioration of the Condition of
the Wounded and Sick in Armed Forces in the Field (GC I), 12 August 1949, 75 UNTS 31 (entered into force 21
October 1950), Arts. 15-17; Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949 and Relating to the
Protection of Victims in International Armed Conflicts (AP I), 8 June 1977, 1125 UNTS 3 (entered into force 7
December 1978), Arts. 32, 34. Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, and relating to
the Protection of Victims of Non-International Armed Conflicts (AP II), 8 June 1977, 1125 UNTS 609 (entered into
force 7 December 1978), Art. 8 (regarding search for and collection of bodies).
Editor’s note: see GC I, Art. 16; GC II, Art. 19; GC III, Art. 122; GC IV, Arts. 139; AP I, Art. 34(2)(c).
9
I am glad to say that all the families were extremely satisfied with the results
handed out by the ICRC, including those that did not get an identification report
and were very grateful for the effort made on behalf of their loved ones. I was ini-
tially a bit doubtful that all families would be satisfied with the results. For
example, I was expecting that some families would contest the findings, but I was
fortunately proved wrong.
For example, the head of one of the family commissions had been initially very
critical about the operation, and had challenged the ICRC from the beginning.
However, her mother wanted to be part of a process, she requested for the
identification of her son believed to be buried in Darwin and provided the
necessary information and reference samples. Her son was identified among the
cases which we analysed and the family was informed accordingly; and they also
received some personal belongings which we found with the body. This was
highly appreciated by the family. In fact, the sister apologized publicly for her ear-
lier remarks and urged all remaining families to come forward to provide
information and donate reference samples to help identify their loved ones buried
in Darwin.
In the end and without exceptions, we have had extremely positive feedback
from all the families concerned, including a ceremony held at Darwin cemetery
on 26 March 2018, where they were able to honour their dead and lay a wreath
in their individual graves. In my opinion, the sheer intensity and magnanimity of
that ceremony was a testimony of the importance and humanitarian necessity of
honouring the dead, on one hand, and of the need of families to know exactly
where they lie to rest, on the other. They had waited and campaigned for 35 years
for that moment.
What would you say were the important lessons that can be taken away from this
case for the future?
Firstly, this operation confirmed the ICRC’s capacity to carry out highly complex
forensic recovery and identification operations in challenging contexts. Initially,
there were many doubts as to whether we should and could do this exceptional
job in what we call “full substitution mode” in terms of forensic work, meaning
taking full responsibility for the entire process, including issuing the identification
reports. This operation confirmed that the ICRC has the know‐how, the stan-
dards, the protocols and forms and the network of experts who we can hire as
ICRC staff if required for these very challenging operations. As importantly, the
case proved that forensic science today offers an indispensable toolbox for resolving
complex humanitarian endeavours.
In addition, the case provided us with lessons in terms of forensics, including
on how to approach identifications, particularly the value of what we call an
“integrated approach” to identification, meaning combining all available
information, including the place of death, available ante mortem data and the DNA
results, into the forensic identification process. This concept was developed by the
ICRC’s forensic services and its Forensic Advisory Board.10 For example, some
could not understand why I requested information on where these soldiers had
died to assist in their identification. They believed that we should be satisfied with
DNA identifications only. However, the information on the places of soldiers’
deaths was very useful, because the British had documented precisely where the
bodies had been found. Thus, when this information matched with the site where
someone was supposed to have died, it proved extremely helpful to narrow down
the hypothesis of identity of that individual. The fact is that from a forensic point
of view DNA does not provide a definite answer in every case and additional
information is often required to conclude an identification with a sufficient degree
of certainty. We had the benefit of having ante mortem data provided by the families,
which in some cases helped in confirming an identification but often proved insuf-
ficient to conclude an identity. The integrated approach to identification proved to
be indispensable in this case. We also learned important lessons for developing the
ICRC’s new and next generation ante mortem–post mortem database, including with
regards to recording and managing information in real time and by many forensic
users working together. This has already helped inspire some of the thinking behind
the development of the new database which is underway at the moment.
From an ICRC operational point of view, this operation turned the standard
model for field activities, usually implemented by delegations with advice from
headquarters, upside down. It was implemented instead directly by a headquar-
ters team deployed to the field, with support from the concerned delegations, in a
truly participatory effort of all those involved.
Personally, this case has confirmed once again and above all the importance of
the dead for the families, their communities and countries. As mentioned before,
these two countries are at peace with each other, with full diplomatic relations,
but this issue is still contentious. While it might not be the aim, putting the dead
to rest is providing a fundamental step in building up the trust among nations.
The missing are one of the core concerns of the ICRC and a guiding one for me.
Arguably, however, in this case the unnamed soldiers were not “missing” in the
full sense of the term, since most of their families knew that their loved ones lay
buried in a proper resting place in the islands. Yet, they needed to know more,
they needed to know precisely where they were buried; and, especially, they
pleaded for their dead loved ones to be given their names back. The case proved,
once again, that the families’ need to know about their dead, to be able to lay a
wreath on the exact place is fundamental for human beings. It is not by accident
that these are requirements under IHL. By the way, the case proved the lasting
value and need for the Geneva Conventions and their Additional Protocols,
without which the dead would not have been collected and properly buried in the
10
The ICRC’s Forensic Advisory Board was established in 2010, to offer advice to the organization on complex
forensic matters that might arise in relation to humanitarian activities. It is composed of nearly 30 renowned
forensic scientists from around the world who represent several disciplines and offer their advice on a
voluntary basis.
first place and the HPP would not have taken place. The precise requirements
under IHL regarding the dead also proved essential for guiding our forensic work
in this case, as exemplified with the recovery of personal objects.
To conclude, what should the average person understand about the role forensics
work plays in humanitarian action?
There is a line from the poet Wyston Hugh Auden, which reads as follows:
“Through art, we are able to break bread with the dead, and without communion
with the dead, a fully human life is impossible”. If you change art with science and
human life with humanitarian action, you get “through science, we are able to
break bread with the dead, and without communion with the dead, a fully human-
itarian action is impossible,” which gets you closer to what forensic science can do
for humanitarian work. Again, it is not only about the dead, it is about the living,
because we are one and parcel with the dead, and when we work for the dead, we
work for the living as well. The relatives are a very immediate example, but it goes
well beyond that: it touches the core of humanity itself.
I therefore hope that the new Project on the Missing, which the ICRC has
launched in 2018 to help develop new guidelines and standards for preventing
and resolving the cases of missing persons, will help further build on from the
many lessons learned from its humanitarian forensic activities, including last
year’s HPP, to ascertain the rights of the dead, shed light on the whereabouts of
the missing and fulfil the rights of their families.
Afterword
Morris Tidball-Binz
The year that went by since the interview (published by the International Review of
the Red Cross, in 2018 and reproduced in this book) saw important developments
in humanitarian forensic action. In the academic sphere this included the publica-
tion of a Special Edition of Forensic Science International (Tidball‐Binz et al., 2018),
the first of its kind. This features 17 original articles on the discipline and covering
a range of topics on this rapidly evolving field of application of forensic science,
from resolving and preventing the phenomenon of missing persons in armed con-
flicts and catastrophes to the documentation of torture (Pollanen, 2018) sexual
violence (Wells, 2017), and the prevention of human trafficking as well tackling
the humanitarian tragedy of deceased and unidentified migrants (Obertová and
Cattaneo, 2018). Some of the articles in that special edition registered the highest
readership “hits” for the journal during the year following their publication.
This book, which responds in a timely manner to the growing interest in
humanitarian forensic action among forensic practitioners from around the world,
is, in my opinion, an important benchmark in the development of this field. I thus
wholeheartedly congratulate the Editors and the publisher for this initiative.
Acknowledgement
The author wishes to dedicate this interview to the memory of María Isabel
Chorobik de Mariani, founder and first president of the Grandmothers of Plaza de
Mayo, who passed away on 20 August 2018, aged 94. She was a true visionary,
who saw the value of forensic science for the search of the missing and promoted
the first investigations of this kind in the world.
See: American Academy of Forensic Science, Humanitarian and Human Rights Resource Center at https://www.
11
aafs.org/resources/humanitarian-human-rights-resource-center/
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2.1 Introduction
For decades, people have disappeared as a result of armed conflicts, other situa-
tions of violence, natural disasters and in the context of migration. All around the
world, families desperately try to find them and live in uncertainty for years and
decades. When people die, their bodies must be treated with dignity and, when
feasible, properly identified and returned to their next of kin.
The missing and the dead are protected under international law. In particular,
in situations of international (IACs) and non‐international armed conflicts
(NIACs), the missing and the dead are protected under international humani-
tarian law (IHL) and international human rights law (IHRL). These legal frame-
works seek to prevent people from going missing, to clarify the fate and
whereabouts of those who do, and to protect the dignity of the dead.
In order to ensure that IHL and IHRL obligations are effectively applied, it is
important to also ensure that appropriate processes are set up at the national
level. These processes should aim at putting in place all that is required to ensure
the proper search for and identification of missing persons and the dead according
to internationally recognized rules and standards, while placing the families of the
latter at the center of such processes.
In this regard, this chapter will present a general overview of the relevant IHL
and IHRL rules that protect the missing and the dead, as intermingled topics – a
failure to treat and identify the dead in a proper manner may significantly increase
the number of missing persons in a given context. It will then refer to the families
of the missing and the dead at the centre of the humanitarian action and response.
This article represents the position of the authors and not necessarily the ICRC’s position on the subject.
1
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
25
non‐State armed groups can be perpetrators, and is also wide in scope to ensure
proper protection of the rights of the missing person and the needs of his/her rel-
atives” (Londoño and Ortiz, 2018).
In terms of respect and protection for missing persons and their families, the
four Geneva Conventions of 1949, their Additional Protocols of 1977 and cus-
tomary international humanitarian law (CIHL) contain rules, which are only
applicable in situations of armed conflict, to ensure that people do not go missing
and to clarify the fate and whereabouts of those who do (Obregón Gieseken,
2017; ICRC Factsheet: https://www.icrc.org/en/document/missing‐persons‐and‐
their‐families‐factsheet). Underlying these rules is the right of families to know
the fate and whereabouts of their missing relatives. This right is established in
Article 32 of the First Additional Protocol of 1977 as a general principle that shall
prompt States parties, parties to armed conflict and humanitarian organizations to
search for missing and dead persons.5 Furthermore, under CIHL, each party to
both IACs and NIACs “must take all feasible measures to account for persons
reported missing as a result of armed conflict and must provide their family mem-
bers with any information it has on their fate”.6 In this regard, “[p]ractice indi-
cates that this rule is motivated by the right of families to know the fate of their
missing relatives”.7
As mentioned above, States and parties to an armed conflict have obligations to
prevent people from going missing and to clarify the fate and whereabouts of
those who do. For example, in order to prevent people from going missing, States
and parties to an armed conflict (i) should produce and provide means of
identification for members of armed forces or groups by issuing, for example,
identity cards and discs;8 (ii) must allow persons deprived of their liberty to corre-
spond with their families, subject to reasonable conditions relating to the fre-
quency and the need for censorship by the authorities;9 (iii) establish an official
Graves Registration Service and/or National Information Bureau as defined in the
Geneva Conventions;10 and (iv) ensure respect and dignified management of the
dead. Respecting and ensuring respect for these obligations will uphold the right
5
Article 32 of Additional Protocol I: “In the implementation of this Section, the activities of the High Contracting
Parties, of the Parties to the conflict and of the international humanitarian organizations mentioned in the
Conventions and in this Protocol shall be prompted mainly by the right of families to know the fate of their rela-
tives”. The right of families to know the fate of their relatives is also supported by a number of resolutions adopted
at the international level. See for example, United Nations General Assembly Resolution 3230 (XXIX), 6 November
1974 and United Nations Commission on Human Rights, Res 2002/60, 25 April 2002, para. 2 and Res 2004/50, 20
April 2004, para 3, 25th International Conference of the Red Cross and Red Crescent, Res XIII, October 1986 and
26th International Conference of the Red Cross and Red Crescent, Res II, December 1995.
6
Customary International Humanitarian Law (CIHL) Rule 117. See Henckaerts, J. M. and Doswald-Belck, L.
(2009) Customary International Humanitarian Law, Vol. I. Rules. Cambridge, p. 421.
7
Ibid, loc. cit., pp. 421–427.
8
GC I (article 16(f)), GC II (article 19(f)), GC III (article 17).
9
GC III (articles 70–71), GC IV (articles 106–107), AP II (article 5(2)(b)), CIHL Rules 105 and 125. See Henckaerts,
J. M. and Doswald-Belck, L., op. cit., pp. 379–383 and 445–448.
10
GC III (articles 120, 122 and 124), GC IV (article 136).
and need of the families to know what has happened to their relatives and pre-
vent disappearances and reduce the number of persons unaccounted for.
The obligation to clarify the fate and whereabouts of missing persons requires
that States and parties to an armed conflict take all feasible measures to account
for missing and dead persons11 and all possible measures to search for, collect and
evacuate the dead without adverse distinction as well as to identify the dead.12
It is important to note that the obligations under IHL pertaining to the protection
of the missing and the dead are obligations that continue to apply after an armed
conflict has ended (Milanovic, 2014). This is particularly relevant in post‐conflict sit-
uations when dealing with the past or transitional justice processes are put in place.
Finally, to uphold the obligation to account for missing and dead persons, States
and parties to an armed conflict should create appropriate mechanisms and pro-
cedures that will allow a search for missing persons in a way that serves the pur-
poses of a possible positive identification of human remains, and last but not least
provide an individual answer to the families and address any need they may have.
11
CIHL Rules 116 and 117. See Henckaerts, J. M. and Doswald-Belck, L., op. cit., pp. 417–427.
12
GC I (articles 15–17), GC II (articles 18–20), GC III (articles 120, 122–124), GC IV (articles 16, pp. 136–141), AP
I (articles 32–34), AP II (article 8), CIHL Rule 112. See Henckaerts, J. M. and Doswald-Belck, L., op. cit., pp.
406–408.
13
International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance.
14
On the protection of missing persons and their families see the ICRC Advisory Services Legal Fact Sheet, avail-
able at https://www.icrc.org/en/document/missing-persons-and-their-families-factsheet.
concern under IHL. In fact, both topics of the missing and the dead remain
connected when addressed and ruled by this legal framework. Members of State
armed forces and non‐state organized armed groups or people directly partici-
pating in hostilities as well as civilians killed as a result of an armed conflict are
likely to be reported missing if the necessary measures are not taken (Melzer,
2016: 158).
Considering the above, IHL sets up a range of rules for the respect and protec-
tion of the dead. In particular, IHL requires that the human remains of those who
have died during armed conflict be searched for, collected and evacuated. It also
requires that human remains are handled with dignity, properly managed and
returned to their next of kin or/and their families. In particular, there are many
substantive obligations the parties to the conflict need to accomplish regarding the
dead:
• to search for, collect and evacuate them;
• to ensure their appropriate treatment;
• to proceed with the necessary measures for their identification;
• to record any relevant information on the dead;
• to address what would be the proceedings for their disposal; and
• to return the human remains and personal effects of the dead to the next of kin
or the families.
The above means also that connected aspects must be addressed, such as wills,
exhumation of the human remains, burial and cremation as well as the marking,
maintenance and respect of the graves: “[p]arties have an obligation to identify
and record information on the dead, and in some instances to create a register of
particulars, and in others to issue death certificates or certified lists with the rele-
vant particulars. The Geneva Conventions also set out how this information
should be passed between the parties. These provisions on identifying, recording
and passing on information relating to the deceased imply a right of the families
to know the fate of their relatives” (Gavshon, 2015).
In what concerns the primary obligation to search for, collect and evacuate the dead,15
the parties to the conflict are under an obligation of means – in opposition to an
obligation of results – to take all possible measures to search, collect and evacuate
the dead, without adverse distinction. In contexts of armed conflict this may
require a suspension of fire to search, collect and evacuate the dead. Sometimes,
humanitarian organizations will have to be granted permission by the parties to
proceed with this task.16 In any case, “it is clear that search teams [sent to collect
and evacuate the dead] must be respected and protected while employed exclu-
sively for that purpose” (Melzer, 2016: 159).
15
This obligation was first codified in the 1929 Geneva Convention for the Amelioration of the Condition of the
Wounded and Sick in Armies in the Field (article 3). Then, it was codified in the Geneva Conventions of 1949: GCI
(article 15, first paragraph), GCII (article 18, first paragraph) and GCIV (article 16, second paragraph). See also
CIHL Rule 112. See Henckaerts, J. M. and Doswald-Belck, L., op. cit., pp. 406–407.
16
Ibid, loc. cit., p. 407–408.
The obligation to respect the dignity of the dead implies to ensure their appropriate
treatment.17 The parties are obliged to take all possible measures to prevent the
dead from being despoiled. This obligation has the complementary angle of the
prohibition to mutilate dead bodies. The mutilation of dead bodies in IACs is
covered by the war crime of “committing outrages upon personal dignity” under
the 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC) as set up by the
Elements of Crimes.18
As for the identification of the dead,19 the parties to the conflict are obliged to do
their best efforts and invest all means to proceed with this endeavour. Based on
practice, such an endeavour requires: “…collecting one half of the double identity
disk, autopsies, the recording of autopsies, the establishment of death certificates,
the recording of the disposal of the dead, burial in individual graves, prohibition
of collective graves without prior identification (…), proper marking of graves
(…), exhumation combined with the application of forensic methods, including
DNA testing…”.20
It is often impossible to make identification at least in short periods of time;
therefore, IHL obliges the parties to the conflict to record any relevant information
that may help them to identify the dead bodies in their custody (ICRC, 2016).
Under IHL, amongst others, there are two main institutional mechanisms to
ensure relevant information is recorded: (i) Official Graves Registration Service
and (ii) Information Bureaux. The Official Graves Registration Service serves the
purpose of ensuring the identification of the bodies – when possible – before their
disposal; ensures proper grouping, marking and maintenance of the graves; counts
on lists with the exact location of the dead with the purpose of being able to pro-
vide such information when needed; and allows exhumations and possible return
of the human remains to the next of kin or the families. The Information Bureaux,
for its part, centralizes information on potential dead prisoners of war and civilian
internees, to transmit such information when needed; opens enquiries about peo-
ple unaccounted for as a result of the conflict; and collects valuable personal
belongings of prisoners of war and civilian internees who might die and give them
to the next of kin (Gaggioli, 2017).
17
This obligation was first codified in the 1907 Hague Convention (X) (article 16) and then in the Geneva
Conventions of 1949: GCI (article 15, first paragraph), GCII (article 18, first paragraph) and GCIV (article 16, sec-
ond paragraph), AP I (article 34 (1)), AP II (article 8). See also CIHL Rule 113. See Henckaerts, J.M. and Doswald-
Belck, L., op. cit., p. 409.
18
Elements of Crimes for the ICC, Definition of committing outrages upon personal dignity as a war crime, ICC
Statute, footnote 49 relating to article 8(2)(b)(xxi).
19
This obligation was first codified in the 1929 Geneva Convention for the Amelioration of the Condition of the
Wounded and Sick in Armies in the Field (article 4). Then, it was codified in the Geneva Conventions of 1949: GCI
(articles 16–17), GCII (articles 19–20), GC III (articles 120–122) and GCIV (articles 129–122 and articles 136–139).
See also CIHL Rule 116. As for NIACs, despite the absence of an explicit treaty provision requiring measures to
identify the dead, there is consistent practice (military manuals, case law, decisions from courts and other instances,
resolutions at the International Conference of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement, etc.) that support this
obligation and also binds the parties to this type of conflict. See Henckaerts, J. M. and Doswald-Belck, L., op. cit.,
pp. 417–419.
20
Ibid., loc. cit., pp. 419–420.
The respect for the dignity of the dead as well as the needs of the families
require the parties to the conflict to address the proceedings for the disposal of the dead.21
The parties are bound by the IHL obligation that states that “the dead must be dis-
posed of in a respectful manner and their graves respected and properly main-
tained”. The dead must be buried according to the cultural and religious rites to
which they belong to, and only in exceptional circumstances cremated due to
religion or the wishes of the deceased.
All these obligations prepare the way to accomplish another obligation of the
parties to the conflict: to facilitate the return the human remains and personal effects of
the dead to the next of kin or the families.22 The return of the remains and the personal
effects of the dead is not only a basic humanitarian endeavor, but essential in
regards to the mourning process of the families (Gavshon, 2015: 278–296).
21
This obligation was first codified in the 1929 Geneva Convention for the Amelioration of the Condition of the
Wounded and Sick in Armies in the Field (article 4, fifth paragraph). Then, it was codified in the Geneva
Conventions of 1949: GC I (article 17), GC II (article 20), GC III (articles 120), GC IV (article 130), AP II (article 8).
See also CIHL rule 115. See Henckaerts, J. M. and Doswald-Belck, L., op. cit., pp. 414–415.
22
This obligation is codified in the Geneva Conventions of 1949: GC I (article 17, third paragraph), GC III (article
120, sixth paragraph), GC IV (article 130, second paragraph) and AP I (article 34 (2) and (3)). Ibid., loc. cit., p. 411.
23
These rules are contained in various international instruments such as the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human
Rights (UDHR), the 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), the 1984 Convention
against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CAT), and the 2006
International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance (ICPPED), as well as in
various regional frameworks such as the 1986 African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (AfCHPR), the 1969
American Convention on Human Rights (ACHR) and the 1950 European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR).
The provisions of these treaties have been interpreted by some regional courts or, at the universal level, by UN
Treaty Bodies, as to require States to comply with certain obligations regarding the dead and the related rights of
their relatives.
24
See UDHR (article 3), ICCPR (article 6), AfCHPR (article 4), ACHR (article 4), ECHR (article 2).
25
IACtHR, Manuel Cepeda Vargas v Colombia, 2010, paragraph 117; ECtHR [GC], İlhan v Turkey, 2000, paragraph 93.
26
ECtHR, Rantsev v Cyprus and Russia, 2010.
27
CCPR, Draft General Comment 36, para 29; ECtHR [GC], Calvelli and Ciglio v Italy, 2002, para 48–50.
28
ECtHR, Janowiec and Others v. Russia, 2013, para. 177; IACtHR, Nadege Dorzema v. Dominican Republic, 2012, para-
graphs 117 and 252. See also UDHR (article 5), ICCPR (article 7), ACHR (article 5), AfCHPR (article 5), ECHR
(article 3).
29
See UDHR (article 12), ICCPR (article.17), AfCHPR (article 18), ACHR (article 11), ECHR (article 8).
30
See ECtHR, Guide on Article 8 of the Convention – Right to respect for private and family life, 2017, paragraphs
83–87.
31
ICCPED (article 24(3)).
32
ICPPED (article 17(3)(g)).
33
ICPPED (article 15).
breadwinner of the household. Not knowing what has happened to their rel-
atives generates important psychological, psychosocial, legal and economic
consequences for them (ICRC, 2014). Therefore, it is essential to assess the
needs of the families so that multidisciplinary responses can be designed and
implemented.
Additionally, in every search and identification process, it is of the utmost
importance to ensure proper support to the families, including psychosocial, dur-
ing every stage of the process. For example, when families of the missing are
approached by the relevant authorities or organizations to donate a biological ref-
erence sample (BRS) that will serve a possible identification process, proper psy-
chosocial support should be given by qualified institutions and trained individuals.
The same applies when families receive the human remains of their loved ones for
proper and dignified burial.
34
See for example: Living with uncertainty: needs of the families of missing persons in Sri Lanka, ICRC, July 2016. Available
at: https://www.icrc.org/sites/default/files/wysiwyg/Worldwide/asia/sri-lanka/families_of_missing_persons_in_sri_
lanka_-_living_with_uncertainty.pdf
2.4 Conclusion
References
Dubois, O., Marshall, K. and Sparkes McNamara, S. (2017) New technologies and new policies:
The ICRC’s evolving approach to working with separated families. International Review of the
Red Cross, 99 (905), 1455–1479.
Gaggioli, G. (2017) International Humanitarian Law: The legal framework for humanitarian
forensic action. Forensic Science International, 282, 184–194.
Gavshon, D. (2015) The dead. In: The 1949 Geneva Conventions. A Commentary (eds. A. Clapham
et al.). Geneva Academy/Oxford University Press, p. 278.
ICRC (2013) Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action. In brief. Geneva: ICRC.
ICRC (2014) Living with absence: helping the families of the missing. www.icrc.org/en/
publication/4152‐living‐absence‐helping‐families‐missing.
ICRC (2016) Commentary on the First Geneva Convention: Convention (I) for the Amelioration of the
Condition of the Wounded and Sick in Armed Forces in the Field. Commentaries to articles 16 and
17. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 550–608.
Londoño, X. and Ortiz, A. (2018) Implementing international law: An avenue for preventing
disappearances, resolving cases of missing persons and addressing the needs of their families.
International Review of the Red Cross, 99 (905), 559–560.
Melzer, N. (2016) International Humanitarian Law. A Comprehensive Introduction. Geneva: ICRC, p. 17.
Milanovic, M. (2014) The end of application of international humanitarian law. International
Review of the Red Cross, 96 (893), 174.
Obregón Gieseken, H. (2017) The protection of migrants under International Humanitarian
Law. International Review of the Red Cross, 99 (904), 149–150.
Q&A (2017) The ICRC’s engagement on the missing and their families. International Review of the
Red Cross, 99 (905), 540.
Extraordinary deathwork:
New developments in, and the social
significance of, forensic humanitarian
action
Claire Moon
Department of Sociology, London School of Economics and Political Science, London, UK
3.1 Introduction
The task of this chapter is twofold. First, it is to document and investigate criti-
cally the current phase of the constitution of the field of forensic activity labelled
“humanitarian forensic action”. Second, and at the same time, it is to lodge this
phenomenon within the interpretative frame of “deathwork” in order to argue
that, although humanitarian forensic action presents a unique and extraordi-
nary form of death management, it also shares characteristics and a social sig-
nificance with more regular – that is, perennial and peacetime – forms of
deathwork. Taken together, these two discussions speak directly to the central
themes of this volume: the nexus between forensic science and humanitarian
action, and the ways in which forensic action mediates between the dead and
the living.
The idea that exhumation and identification provide “solace to… families, who
are at last able to properly mourn and bury their dead” (Doretti and Snow, 2003:
304) has become a truism of the application of forensic science to human rights
and humanitarian issues. Yet whilst this general claim is not new, it has recently
been made constitutive of a newly defined, formally recognized and profession-
ally accredited field of forensic activity. Several important moments serve as land-
marks in this recent shift.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
37
This work was supported by the Wellcome Trust [grant number 205488/Z/16/Z].
1
“The missing” is a broad term that covers a range of categories of missing persons from those missing in action
(MIA), to the unidentified victims of war crimes, and to the victims of enforced disappearances, torture and extra-
judicial killings.
first version, evidencing the formal shift towards humanitarian objectives in this
domain of activity. Nowhere in the original version is humanitarianism referenced.
The new version makes explicit reference, absent in the first version, to the prac-
tice of identification as serving explicitly humanitarian ends. Further, and cru-
cially, the 2016 Protocol has much more extended guidelines governing practitioner
conduct in relation to relatives of the dead. It contains detailed sections on the
care of family members during investigations, the legal frameworks governing the
participation of relatives in investigations, and significantly, it states that the prac-
tice of identification itself “meets humanitarian, human rights, and other social
and cultural needs” (United Nations, 2017: 21). The Protocol also refers to the
rights of families to information about the cause and context of the killing, to rep-
aration, and, crucially, to the remains of their dead relatives (United Nations,
2017: articles 10, 11, 12 and 37). In relation to this set of “rights”, the Protocol
explicitly asserts a relationship between the act of locating the missing and family
mourning.
In 2017, a special issue of Forensic Science International heralded another impor-
tant milestone in the definition and differentiation of the field from “regular”
forensic activity. It claimed to “mark a new domain for forensic science”, a domain
it defined as the “nascent field of Humanitarian Forensic Science”. This domain,
the editors argued, is “characterised by its essentially humanitarian nature, its
international scope and its origins in law”. However, and crucially, they add the
following qualifier: “but its focus is on benefits for families and survivors” (emphasis
added). This qualifier, note, subverts the priority of the first clause; that is to say,
in this statement, forensic service to families is claimed to trump its legal aims.
Indeed, “humanitarian forensics” is defined as “the application of forensic sciences
to humanitarian activities” (Cordner and Tidball‐Binz, 2017: 65). These activities
are described in terms of a core “duty” to the living which turns primarily on iden-
tifying the dead. The field is even gifted with its own acronym: HFA. HFA is now
set to become shorthand for the field.
And in June 2018, the world’s first International Centre for Humanitarian
Forensics (ICHF) was launched in Gujarat, India, by the Gujarat Forensic Sciences
University (GFSU) in collaboration with the ICRC Regional Delegation for India,
Bhutan, Nepal and the Maldives.2 The Centre marks the first institutionalization
of the idea of “humanitarian forensics” within a pedagogic (university) frame-
work, and this idea with forms the cornerstone of a portfolio of academic and
professional programmes, training, research and the provision of technical exper-
tise in the support of field operations.
These recent signposts mark a crucial moment in the emergence and consoli-
dation of the forensic humanitarian field. The invention of a label marks a
significant moment in the constitution of a field, a movement, a practice, a social
2
See https://www.icrc.org/en/document/worlds-first-international-centre-humanitarian-forensics-launched-
india
problem, and so on (Hacking, 1999), because it brings a new social reality into
being, and provides a basis or rationale around which action may be organized
and interventions devised. The invention of the label – humanitarian forensic
action – is significant since it paves the way for a more conscious and con-
certed development of the field. Indeed, the nascent evidence outlined
above – conferences, speeches, labels, protocols, special journal issues and training
programmes – indicates that its conscious development is well under way. The
humanitarian aspects of forensic work are no longer incidental to the field but are
moving centre‐stage.
This, I think, has several interesting consequences. First, the HFA label marks a
significant shift in the conceptualization of the field. Until recently, whilst the
humanitarian effects have been acknowledged, the legal objectives of forensic
work have had primacy. Indeed, these are derived from the etymology of the term
“forensic” which relates to the Roman public forum and the presentation of evi-
dence within it. Simply put, forensics has long been understood as science in the
service of law, and this new formulation, coming from some of the key forensics
entrepreneurs, represents a formal departure from its regular interpretation. Its
claim that the field’s humanitarian goals (benefits for families and survivors) sur-
pass its legal ones thus prises forensics from its etymological and historical roots
and opens it out into a realm of activity that is not singularly harnessed to law. As
such, the HFA label starts to unfasten forensics from law. This new emphasis sug-
gests that forensic action might be departing from what makes it “forensic” (that
is, legal) and getting closer to more regular forms of deathwork, about which
more later.
Second, these recent signposts position the ICRC as the key entrepreneur of this
shift. That the ICRC should be in the vanguard is unsurprising. Humanitarianism
is the umbilical credo of the organization, and it is historically one of the most
prominent modern humanitarian agencies. Further, the ICRC has a long history
of engagement with the dead. Indeed, it originated out of its concern for battle-
field death and suffering (see Moon, 2018). At the same time, the ICRC’s branding
of the field appears to establish a proprietorial relationship with it. Further, it
could be argued that the labelling of the field and the recalibration of the forensic
rationale to include attention to the families is an act of what the philosopher of
science, Ian Hacking, calls “self‐authentication” (Hacking, 1986). This refers to the
way in which a new rationale, or “style of reasoning” generates its own truth con-
ditions. In addition, the newly elaborated Minnesota Protocol is evidence of the
“self‐vindication”, as Hacking puts it, of the application of forensics to humani-
tarian contexts in so far as it demonstrates the ways in which practices and
ideas – the incorporation of humanitarian aims into forensic science – are
“mutually adjusted” once incorporated. Self‐vindication is an act that attempts to
uphold the unity of the science, to keep it stable. This point becomes important to
the previous discussion of law, because the shift towards humanitarianism appears
to challenge the historic subordination of forensics to it.
Third, and related, the prominence of the ICRC in this story hides the various
and complex contexts out of which HFA arose. Rather, it locates the humanitarian
dimensions of forensic work as internal or endogenous to the field. This, I think,
forgets the multiplicity of contexts, histories, politics, ideas, forms of knowledge
and activism that shaped the field of practice itself. By contrast, the term “forensic
humanitarianism” (Moon, 2016) is an attempt to situate the phenomenon within
longer and broader histories of humanitarianism, law, science and politics. That is
to say, this term indicates the exogenous conditions of the field to show how this
particular forensic phenomenon is shaped by externally structuring factors.3 It
also denotes a distinctive phase, or aspect, of humanitarianism itself, a shift in its
logics, techniques, practices, and rationales. I see the terms forensic humanitari-
anism and humanitarian forensic action as telling different, but complimentary,
stories about the field. I have written about some of the humanitarian, legal,
scientific and political conditions that underpinned it elsewhere (Moon, 2013),
but want to single out one crucial aspect of this history that is deeply relevant to
the new shift in understanding of forensic action. Whilst the humanitarian dimen-
sions of exhumation, identification and return of the dead to their families has
long been acknowledged by practitioners, they were not straightforwardly inau-
gurated by experts, but emerged in and through their close work with family
members – some of whom originated searches themselves – most notably in the
forensic‐assisted family searches for the disappeared in Argentina in the mid‐
1980s. Since that time, and in other contexts, families of the missing have rou-
tinely worked closely with forensics experts. Arguably, the importance of families
and family movements is not getting full recognition in the development of the
field, particularly in relation to its humanitarian development.4 Families are even
pushing forensics in new and different directions. For example, families of the
disappeared in Mexico are currently using forensics techniques themselves – such
as collecting DNA, creating databases, searching for, locating and exhuming mass
graves – due to the failure of the state to carry out investigations.5 The idea that
forensic work has humanitarian effects has, arguably, not been driven by forensic
science itself, but by the conjunction of forensic science with activism by the fam-
ilies of the dead and disappeared.
3
The key difference is that humanitarian forensic action is a more prosaic term used to capture the humanitarian
aspects of forensic work. By contrast, forensic humanitarianism seeks to capture a specific phase or phenomenon
within the history and aetiology of the long history of humanitarianism itself. One of the consequences of this is
to take a longer view of the dead, and of how they became the objects of humanitarian intervention. This is a his-
tory that reaches much further back in time than the mid-1980s when Argentina started to investigate the mass
graves of the military junta, which is the regular starting point for this story (see Tidball-Binz, 2012; Rosenblatt,
2015). Instead, it goes back into the nineteenth century, taking in Dunant’s famous commentary on battlefield
suffering and death (Dunant, 1862) which inaugurated the Red Cross, and also the long history of death registra-
tion as a new technique of population control.
4
Rosenblatt also makes this argument in a recent article (2019).
5
See for example the work of Gobernanza Forense Cuidadana, FUNDENL, Colectivo Solecito and Grupo VIDA, to
name a few.
These recent developments and changes in the field urge a broader reflection on its
social significance, which requires an analysis that takes us beyond human rights
and humanitarianism. Rather, it requires us to lodge this field, first, within a longer
history of humanitarianism, science, politics and law, (see Moon, 2013, 2016), and
within an even longer and diverse history of the management and bureaucratiza-
tion of death itself.6 Within that latter history I want to focus here on one aspect:
the significance of HFA as a new and particular form of death management. In so
doing, I want to align it with “ordinary” (that is, perennial and peacetime) forms of
death management. In so doing, I draw on the work of Walter (2005) who has elab-
orated the concept of “deathwork”, and I apply this to HFA to show that it shares
features and social functions with a range of other types of deathwork, but exhibits
some features that mark it out as “extra-ordinary”.
Deathwork is “specialized work following a death” (Walter, 2005: 383). It refers to
particular occupations or experts that deal with “specific dead people and/or
mourners”,7 and who also “act as mediators between the dead and the living”
(Walter, 2005: 384). Walter calls this type of work “mediator deathwork”. Mediator
deathworkers – a term which Walters uses to unite a range of diverse professions
from pathology, spiritualism, obituary‐writing and funeral celebrancy – are “expert
in interpreting dead bodies, dead persons, or dead souls” (Walter, 2005: 393). Whilst
Walter’s typology does not mention humanitarian deathwork, it can easily be
accommodated by it. There is ample evidence of mediation, or acts of interpretation
in FHA. It is evidenced, for example, in Clyde Snow’s statement that forensic anthro-
pologists working in the context of human rights investigations are “vested… with
a solemn authority to speak for the victims” (Snow et al., 1989). Snow, famous for
his work identifying the remains of Tutankhamun and Josef Mengele and for
training the EAAF in the mid‐1980s, is also renowned for being a goldmine of pithy
maxims that capture the ways in which dead bodies speak. One of the most repeated
of these is “bones don’t lie and they don’t forget” (Snow cited in Guntzel, 2004). The
power of this statement resides in its claim that the dead body does speak: it speaks
a special, indisputable kind of truth. But how does the dead body speak? The dead
“need a teller, one with privileged access to the dead body… whose task it is to glean
information from the dead” (Walter, 2005: 386). The teller extracts knowledge from
the corpse to impose identity on the deceased, “an identity formulated from read-
ings of the body and the nature of the death” (Walter, 2005: 402).
Mediator deathworkers “gather information in private, edit a story and then
perform this story in a highly public, ritual setting – the inquest, the spiritualist
6
This is the subject of a current study in which I am engaged entitled Human rights, human remains: forensic human-
itarianism and the politics of the grave, which is generously funded by the Wellcome Trust.
7
Rather than dealing with dying people or academic thanatology which deals with a range of death-related mat-
ters such as, but not exclusively, bereavement, grief, guilt, trauma, palliative care, suicide, ethical, spiritual and
philosophical dimensions of death, and death in popular culture.
church meeting, the obituary, the funeral, the biography, the archaeological or
historical monograph, the museum display”, or, in the case of HFA, a legal inquiry,
which further shapes the knowledge that has been extracted from the corpse into
a legally determined verdict. Public legal rites put forensic anthropologists in a
“triadic relationship in which they stand between the dead and the living” (Walter,
2005: 386). Within this relationship “information flows as follows: the dead → the
mediator → public rite.” I depart here from Walter because the particular type of
expertise determines precisely what the dead disclose. For instance, a forensic
anthropologist is equipped to extract a particular story from skeletonized remains
about the identity of the deceased and the probable cause of death. This story dif-
fers enormously from the kind of tale that might be told by a funeral celebrant or
spiritualist, for example, who in the first example might focus on the life biog-
raphy, or in the second instance on messages that the deceased convey to the
living. That is to say, the tales that the dead tell are shaped by the particular exper-
tise and practice of the mediator in question, and the functions and objectives of
the public rite itself. This theoretical point affects, in turn, the direction of the
“information flow” in so far as it does not simply flow in one direction but in mul-
tiple ways. It is not just the form of expertise that reads meaning into the dead,
but the public rite itself may also shape what the mediator says, and also deter-
mine what is read back into, or extracted from, the dead.8 For example, in inves-
tigations of atrocity, the dead might be legally determined as the “victim” of “gross
violations of human rights” or “crimes against humanity”. This legal matrix of
understanding is read back into the corpse, and is the matrix within which the
dead are made to speak. In turn, it creates a new universe of meaning within
which the dead are emplaced. As such, I would argue that the dead do not speak,
but that they are made to speak by an array of interventions and techniques, or
rather, within a network of practices and discourses that include (but are not
limited to) forensics techniques, legal rationalities and public rituals. On this inter-
pretation, the nature of mediation takes on a different quality and is shown
instead to run in two directions as follows: the dead ⇄ the mediator ⇄ public rite.9
Despite my departure on this point, Walter outlines key features of mediator
deathwork (Walter, 2005: 387–389) that are deeply relevant to understanding the
social relevance and significance of HFA. First, mediator deathworkers have a
familiarity with the dead that is generally denied to, or shunned by, the rest of
society due to the ways in which the dead have, historically, been seen as sources
of contamination (see Ariès, 1981: 110–139). Mary Douglas’ work on pollution
and taboo helps reflect on the particular problem of the unidentified and unburied
dead as, in her celebrated phrase, “matter out of place” (Douglas, [1966] 2002), or,
in Kristeva’s words, “death infecting life” (Kristeva, 1982: 4). These insights
8
For an example, see my discussion of the interaction of forensic with legal knowledge in genocide inquiries
(Moon, 2013).
9
It should be noted that Walter raises as a question the possibility that the dead are not a “simple channel” but
asks whether there might be a two-way relationship between the dead and the mediator (Walter, 2005: 402).
10
Walter actually writes “the mediator receives information about… the dead”. I have modified this to “gleans
information” in accordance with my stated departure from Walter on this point, since the dead, in my view, do not
“send” messages. Rather, messages from the dead are derived through a process of interpretation which is medi-
ated by specific forms of expertise.
of broad and complex social and political processes, such as the enquiries held by
the truth commissions in Argentina or South Africa, or the criminal tribunals for
Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia. In such inquiries, HFA is unavoidably involved
in larger social, political and legal processes to which the individual dead body is
yoked, and made to testify, to new historical narratives about the past, such as the
South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s narrative about apartheid
being a “crime against humanity”.
As a result, and second, I want to argue that HFA constitutes a special kind of
deathwork, what I will call “extra-ordinary deathwork”. This, in principle,11 is unlike
other forms of deathwork in so far as it is temporally intermittent rather than con-
tinuous and arises in the context of extra-ordinary events, such as mass deaths
arising out of atrocities or mass disasters. Extra-ordinary deathwork is different
from regular mediator deathwork in so far as it frequently has ramifications that go
beyond the relationship between the dead and his or her immediate relatives, in
part due to the historical, political and legal significance of the institutions within
which such work is carried out, such as national commissions for truth, or interna-
tional criminal tribunals such as those at Nuremberg or for the former Yugoslavia
or Rwanda. In these contexts, the dead are often called upon to speak the truth
about war crimes or the crimes of authoritarian regimes, and have become central
to processes of democratization, most famously in Argentina and South Africa. It is
also due to the social and political importance of the mass dead and the ways in
which the tales that the dead speak, under professional guidance, enter into and
change the interpretation of history, constitutions, laws and social relationships.
Third, HFA departs from regular deathwork because it often, and necessarily,
reveals gruesome aspects of death that are “typically omitted” by regular public
rites such as funeral tributes and obituaries (Walter, 2005: 397). This concealment
is also embedded in what is sometimes called “barrier deathwork”, which deals
primarily with the corpse. Barrier deathwork attempts to maintain the barrier bet-
ween the living and the dead by omitting some of the “gorier details of the corpse’s
condition in order to protect the feelings of the family” (Walter, 2005: 391). Whilst
HFA also deals primarily with the corpse, it can depart from the principles of
barrier deathwork – in fact there is sometimes a demand by the families to see the
corpse and to know what happened – which also makes it “extra-ordinary”. For
example, the EAAF is currently working to identify and return human remains to
families of the missing in Mexico, where there are high levels of killings and dis-
appearances and yet legal investigations are rare. They are sometimes required to
return radically dismembered remains to families, and are asked by relatives for
an explanation of how the person died. The condition of the corpse makes it
impossible to protect the family from potentially traumatizing information
11
I write “in principle” here in order to question the assumption that war, mass atrocity and mass disaster are
“extra-ordinary”. Instead and arguably, they could be seen to be regular and continuous features of social and
political life. On this account, it could be argued that this type of deathwork perhaps takes its place alongside the
regular types. It is neither intermittent nor extraordinary.
(Doretti, 2015). Thus, the “regular model” of deathwork is challenged by the con-
text in which death occurred, but also because families are often involved in the
deathwork itself, whether through providing ante‐mortem data such as dental
and medical records and information about personal effects and distinguishing
features to forensic anthropologists, to even taking up direct aspects of deathwork
themselves, such as the collection of DNA and the search for and exhumation of
graves, due to the failure of the state to fulfil such duties.
3.4 Conclusions
This chapter illuminates two things by way of reflection on the central themes of
this volume. First, it documents new moves in the constitution of the field of
forensic activity labelled “humanitarian forensic action” in order to demonstrate
the ways in which the nexus between forensic science and humanitarian action – a
key theme of this volume – are in the process of further expansion and profes-
sionalization. As I have argued, this expansion has several consequences, not least
that of loosening forensics from its parent discipline, law. In addition, this expan-
sion has accompanied the rise in the social and political significance of the mass
dead. This is in no small part due to the importance of the mass dead to public life
in the latter part of the twentieth century and the first part of the twenty‐first, and
new death‐management practices that have chaperoned that prominence.
The second part of this chapter has taken the expansion of humanitarian
forensic action as an opportunity to align and compare it with more regular forms
of deathwork, as well as to define the ways in which it is distinct from the general
phenomenon. In so doing, it sets out the social importance of what I have called
“extra-ordinary” deathwork. It shows how HFA presents a type of deathwork that
presents clear continuities, and shares important characteristics with more reg-
ular, that is, perennial, forms of deathwork, but also how it departs from it. This
latter discussion addresses directly the second key theme of this volume: the ways
in which forensic action mediates between the dead and the living.
In his Eighteenth Brumaire, Marx famously argued that “the tradition of all dead
generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living”. Marx’s dead have
a political life that binds the living to the past, that shackles them, negatively, to
time‐old traditions. Differently, this recent engagement with the dead plays a role
in attempts to reinvigorate social and political life, in so far as the endeavour to
find, exhume and identify the dead victims of mass atrocities has been central to
political projects of democratization, and to human rights investigations across the
Americas, Europe, Africa and the Middle East.12 It is this wider significance – the
12
A deeper and more critical historico-political analysis of the significance of Marx’s comment to the prominence
of the dead in democratization projects is, unfortunately, beyond the remit of this chapter. Suffice it to say that the
dead have not straightforwardly been made salient to attempts to break politically with the past (such as in South
Africa and Argentina), but continue, also, to be central to the task of constructing national continuity with the past
(see Neocleous, 2005; Verdery, 1999), against which Marx argued.
References
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4.1 Introduction
The concepts of human rights and international humanitarian law are relatively
recent in the history of humanity, appearing just at the end of the first half of the
twentieth century. However, the absence of these words does not mean that
violent actions associated with these concepts have not existed since time
immemorial. How old are these behaviors, today internationally condemned? Is it
possible to trace them even in times and places where the written record has left
no evidence of it? What are the reasons behind these actions?
Violence in its different manifestations has captivated the interest of many gen-
erations of researchers from different backgrounds, such as history, sociology,
anthropology, psychology, medicine, biology and neuroscience; each of them con-
tributing their unique perspective and methodology to the understanding of this
phenomenon. This chapter focuses on evidence that bioarchaeology can offer to
the research of physical violence in the context of conflicts within or between
groups which would currently be considered violations of human rights and inter-
national humanitarian law.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
49
more complicated, because there is no unique answer for what qualifies as vio-
lence, as the action can be differently assessed by the victim, the performer, and the
witnesses (Eller, 2006; Riches, 1986, 1991). Thus, violence can also be more a judg-
ment than an act (Riches, 1991), as it “is not only varied but variably valued”
(Eller, 2010: 15). For that reason, Whitehead (2004a) claimed that the definition of
“violence” is not as important as the definition of “violent acts”, stressing that the
presumption that those acts share some typological characteristics is part of what
has hindered attempts to reach a consensual definition of violence.
Violence (physical or non‐physical) can be impulsive or can be used as a delib-
erate strategy to obtain something (James, 2011; Riches, 1986). In this way, vio-
lence has also been described as a “power relationship aimed at subjecting or
constraining another person” (Muchembled, 2012: 7), and as “an instrumentally
rational strategy of bargaining for power … [and] a form of symbolic action that
conveys cultural meanings, most importantly ideas of legitimacy” (Schröder and
Schmidt, 2001: 8).
In anthropology, there is a debate as to whether violence is biologically innate
or culturally constructed (the “nature vs. nurture” debate). Some scholars have
linked human violence and aggression to basic instincts of predatory or defensive
behaviour when facing threats (especially regarding the defence of the territory
or community), the promotion of intergroup dominance, and even male aggres-
sion of females that can be comparable to those exhibited by animals, especially
non‐human primates (e.g. Ardrey, 1967; Crofoot and Wrangham, 2010; Honess
and Marin, 2006; Lorenz, 1966; Smuts and Smuts, 1993). Nevertheless,
according to some psychologists, psychoanalysts and ethonologists such as
Sigmund Freud, Erich Fromm, Boris Cyrulnik, and Daniel Sibony, humans
show specific kinds of aggression (Muchembled, 2012: 10). Other researchers
emphasize (albeit in different degrees) the role of sociocultural and ecological
context in shaping violence (e.g. Carman, 1997; Fry, 2013; James, 2011;
Malinowski, 1941; Martin and Harrod, 2015; Muchembled, 2012; Parker
Pearson, 2005; Riches, 1986; Schröder and Schmidt, 2001; Thorpe, 2005;
Walker, 2001; Whitehead, 2004b).
Questions regarding the nature and impact of violence in the past vary from the
evidence of isolated cases of interpersonal violence to large‐scale conflicts. Ritual
violence, small‐scale fighting, raiding, war and warfare, family violence, and male
coalitional fighting are some of the forms in which physical violence is expressed.
Traditionally, bioarchaeology has centered on violence‐related trauma (the most
direct and evident sign of physical violence), albeit more recent investigations are
exploring other manifestations of violence, such as the manipulation and display
of the corpses to make a psychological and political impact on a population
Physical conflict Adult males Healed traumatic lesions on the anterior part of
resolution the skull, usually in the left side.
War and warfare Young males High prevalence of healed and unhealed lesions
on the torso, the anterior or posterior part of
the skull and parry fractures. Rarely buried in
a cemetery.
Raiding/female Adult females Healed fractures on the back of the skull
abduction (followed by lesions on the anterior part of
the skull). Possibly multiple trauma or re‐
injury. Males could also present non‐lethal
and lethal lesions on the anterior or posterior
part of the cranium.
Surprise ambush/ Adult males Perimortem cranial and infra‐cranial lesions.
assault Small group of people buried together.
Massacre Adults and Individuals buried together, +50% of them
subadults showing perimortem lesions on different
parts of the skeleton (especially on the
cranium).
Ritual battle Adult males Single or multiple non‐lethal wounds, especially
on the facial bones. Low prevalence of
perimortem trauma.
Violence against Adult females Injuries in diverse states of healing on the skull
women – IPV and ribs.
(domestic abuse)
Child abuse Children and Cranial fractures in individuals under 2 years
infants old. Long bone fractures in individuals under
18 months. Proliferative and unorganized
PNBF. Multiple trauma in diverse states of
healing.
Based on data presented by: Arkush and Tung (2013); Baraybar and Marek (2006); Barreto Romero (2012); Blondiaux et al.
(2002); Gaither (2012); Guilaine and Zammit (2005); Harrod and Martin (2014); Knüsel (2014); Lambert (1997, 2002); Lewis
(2010, 2014); Loe et al. (2014); Paine et al. (2007); Ríos et al. (2014); Salter‐Pedersen (2011); Salter‐Pedersen and Lund (2007);
Schats et al. (2014); Standen and Arriaza (2000); Standen et al. (2009, 2010); Torres‐Rouff and King (2014); Tung (2012,
2013, 2014); Van de Vijver and Kinnaer (2014); Walker (1989, 1997); Walker et al. (1997); Wheeler et al. (2007, 2013).
Violence has been studied through the lens of different theoretical frames, such
as the evolutionary perspective. This theory is helpful in studies that focus on the
origin and development of human violence, especially those covering a large
time‐span (Martin et al., 2012, 2013). Studies based on biocultural evolution
showed that the origins of violence can be traced back to very ancient times (e.g.
Frayer, 1997; Mirazón Lahr et al., 2016), and that “violence is not some unex-
plained aberrant act but is adaptive in many situations” (Martin et al., 2013: 68).
Ecology‐based theories are a group of theories (including human ecology,
cultural ecology, and human behavioural ecology) that center on the observation
of the human cultural and biological adaptation to (and modification of) a
particular environment (Martin et al., 2012, 2013). In this way, many authors
(e.g. Carneiro, 1970; Harrod and Martin, 2014; Jones et al., 1999; Lambert, 1997;
LeBlanc, 1999; Torres‐Rouff and Costa Junqueira, 2006) have suggested a link
between escalations of violence and environmental stress.
Another theory has been used to understand violence in the past is the gender
approach. This theory helps the bioarchaeologists to go beyond the dichotomy
male–female given by the sex estimation methods to reach a better understanding
of how genders (shaped by cultural contexts) faced stress (in this case, violence)
in a different manner (e.g. Jurmain and Kilgore, 1998; Tung, 2012, 2014).
More recently, social theories such as identity and the human body, inequality,
colonization and imperialism are helping to shape our understanding of violence
in the past. For a detailed recount of these theories, see Martin et al. (2012, 2013).
4.4 A + B = violence?
(Ferguson, 1997, 2011; Fuentes, 2004, 2013; Mead, 1937), has been challenged
by different studies which demonstrated that warfare could be present in uncen-
tralized nomadic and forager groups (e.g. Clastres, 2010; Guilaine and Zammit,
2005; Kelly, 2013; Lambert, 2002; Mirazón Lahr et al., 2016; Molto, 2015). In fact,
ethnographical records suggest that warfare was more frequent and lethal in pre‐
state populations than in modern‐day societies, and that murder and pillaging still
occur in societies traditionally considered to be peaceful (Guilaine and Zammit,
2005; Keeley, 1996). Nonetheless, it seems that violence in societies that were
adopting agriculture was generally low and not lethal (with cranial fractures usu-
ally affecting less than 10% of the adults) (e.g. Blau, 2007; Cunha et al., 2007;
Domett and Tayles, 2007; Doran, 2007; Douglas and Pietrusewsky, 2007;
Papathanasiou, 2011; Smith, 2014; Smith and Horwitz, 2007), representing
sporadic episodes of interpersonal conflict (Roksandic, 2006). However, higher
prevalences of cranial trauma (including perimortem fractures) have been
detected in some Mesolithic and Neolithic sites (e.g. Beyneix, 2007; Jiménez‐
Brobeil et al., 2009; Mirazón Lahr et al., 2016; Pechenkina et al., 2007; Roksandic,
2004; Teschler‐Nicola et al., 1999) indicating that warfare could be temporary and
restricted to some areas (Roksandic, 2004).
According to Martin and Harrod (2015: 124), violence in small‐scale societies
appears in the form of highly ritualized fighting, raiding for resources and women,
and feuds between rival groups. Schulting (2013: 31–32) noted that violence and
warfare were present in small‐scale societies of Europe even before the invention
of formal weaponry. Men (and even possibly women) were potential warriors who
fought if needed, using tools created for other purposes as weapons. According to
Guilaine and Zammit (2005, 21–22), prehistoric warfare involved lower numbers
(often involving non‐specialists) and unfolded without an elaborate strategic plan,
organization, or authority figure; contrasting with the professional and hierar-
chized armies and highly effective weapons that characterize modern war. However,
according to the authors, both types of warfare share some features, such as the
involvement of adult men as the usual active participants. In fact, young males are
usually involved in more (and in more lethal) violent events (both as perpetrators
and as victims) than females (e.g. Fry, 1998; Walker, 1997, 2001).
All of these (in appearance) contradictory observations lead to the conclusion
that multiple circumstances combine to produce and shape violence (c.f. Ferguson,
1997; Harrod and Martin, 2014; Martin and Harrod, 2015; Nielsen and Walker,
2009).
other hand, also has to deal with conceptual problems such as population non‐
stationarity, selective mortality, and hidden heterogeneity (Wood et al., 1992). In
the case of trauma, since it is a condition whose morbidity progresses with age,
the demographic profile of the sample can affect the prevalence values. In
consequence, a sample with a larger number of older individuals will tend to
show higher rates of trauma prevalence (Glencross, 2011; Glencross and Sawchuk,
2003).
Finally, although clinical, forensic, and bioarchaeological research obtain data
that are used to reconstruct the context of violence, they differ at the level of
social interaction that they usually cover. In this way, since the identity of the
actors of violence in the past is usually unknown, bioarchaeology research is
focused on the reconstruction of “the big picture” or the sociocultural and political
context in which those violent events took place; while clinical and forensic inves-
tigations are focused on the reconstruction of contexts that are more related to the
individual, such as family, school, work, and neighbourhood.
Bioarchaeology can benefit from clinical and forensic methodologies such as
the use of standardized protocols that can help in the comparison of results from
other bioarchaeological studies, and the inclusion of exhaustive differential diag-
noses that could avoid simplistic deductions (e.g. fracture on the forearm equals
defensive lesion equals violence). In addition, clinical studies help bioarchaeolo-
gists to see beyond the bone, and realize that a fracture is not only an isolated
appearance, but also a lesion that has implications for the soft tissue and the
overall health of the individual. Clinical studies, on the other hand, could learn
from the multidisciplinary perspective of anthropological research, and its stress
on cultural differences in the shaping of violence. The contribution of social sci-
ences and humanities can broaden the understanding of modern manifestations
of violence and its impact in a population level.
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5.1 Introduction
1
Strauss (1955) originally wrote: “Il n’existe probablement aucune société qui ne traite ses morts avec égards. Aux
frontiers mêmes de l’espèce, l’homme de Néanderthal enterrait aussi ses défunts dans des tombes sommairement
aménagées.” De Baets (2004) translated this as: “There is probably no society that does not treat its dead with dig-
nity. At the borders of the human species, even Neanderthal man buried his dead in summarily arranged tombs.”
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
67
Burial and cemetery practices include regulations that encourage the decent
and dignified treatment of the remains of the deceased.2 In cases where remains
are not available or have not been found, some communities have erected mon-
uments to commemorate the deceased. For example, following the 36‐year
internal conflict in Guatemala, communities erected “truth monuments” to
“restore a sense of dignity” and to acknowledge outstanding injustices (Gidley and
Roberts, 2003: 152). In Britain, nearly every village, town and city has a monument
in remembrance of those who died in the First World War (Hayman, 2018). Such
monuments support the existence of dignity after death, and “provide a place for
local communities to come together to grieve” (Cook, 2015: 30).
Financial and physical efforts invested in searching and recovering the deceased,
following a conflict or disaster, suggests that there is dignity after death (De Baets,
2009). Following the 2018 Sulawesi earthquake and tsunami, thousands of rescue
workers searched for persons that were not yet accounted for. Lewi Kai sat and
waited while the rescue team worked in rotation to search for his wife’s body,
trapped in a five‐storey building that had collapsed on her. The rescue team cut
through the reinforced concrete floor “layer by layer” to reach her. When the search
reached the eighth day, hopes of finding Kai’s wife alive had faded (Dowling, 2018).
Examples from other disasters involve a cucumber lined with sticks of incense
placed next to the body of a local shopkeeper to mask the smell of decomposition
(Phillips, 2015); materials, such as sheets and cardboard, draped over remains of the
deceased (Park, 2010), and one body wrapped in a grey blanket with the person’s
name written on a piece of cardboard placed next to them (Jean‐François, 2010).
Committing such commemorative acts, coupled with the determination to find per-
sons unaccounted for, suggests there is dignity after death (Cook, 2015).
Another practice that supports the existence of dignity after death is DNA anal-
ysis. This expensive and time‐consuming process is often used in identifying both
the recent and long‐deceased. An ICRC guide concerning the use of DNA analysis
in the identification of human remains states that “the only relief for their [a
missing person’s] families is … knowing that the remains of their relative have
been or can be treated with dignity” (ICRC, 2009: 3). Scully (2014) conducted a
study focusing on whether DNA matching of the long‐deceased with living family
members demonstrates an act of care towards the deceased. Common reasons for
why family members took part in the study included the terms “looking after” and
care:
I ended up with all this [the involvement in the FIP] because [an aunt] said to me you
have it, you’ll look after him.
I thought, well, someone’s got to care about it. It’s not right if no one cares enough
about, about them, about him.
(Scully, 2014: 319)
2
For example, the Federation of Burial and Cremation Authorities represents approximately 85% of all cremation
authorities in the UK, and provides guidance for several procedures, including for the use of coffin covers and the
packing and despatching of cremated remains (FBCA, 2015).
Care towards the deceased is also exhibited in clinical settings. For example,
care guidance for clinicians following death and transfer of the deceased encour-
ages the dignity of the deceased to be maintained and preserved (Wilson, 2015).
Guidance on the safe management of those who have died from Ebola or the
Marburg virus disease encourages “a symbol of dignity and clothing”,3 such as a
white cloth, to be provided when conducting burials (World Health Organization,
2017: 6).4 Showing care towards the deceased supports the existence of dignity
following death.
Reviewing international humanitarian law, statements encouraging respect
towards remains of the deceased are enshrined in the 1949 Geneva Conventions
and Customary Rules. For example, Customary Rule 113 states that all parties to
a conflict are to “take all possible measures” to prevent the desecration of remains
of the deceased (Henckaerts and Doswald‐Beck, 2005: 409). This obligation is
reflected in numerous military manuals.5 Further, under the Rome Statute of the
International Criminal Court (ICC), the war crime “outrages upon personal dig-
nity” extends to the deceased.6 In the J. Kikuchi and M. Mahuchi case,7 the
accused were convicted for wilfully “bayoneting and mutilating the dead body of
a United States prisoner of war” (UNWCC, 1949: 152), and in the T. Yochio trial,
the accused was convicted of killing eight prisoners of war and denying them an
honourable burial.8 The desecration of remains of the deceased and denying an
honourable burial are evidence that the remains and graves of the deceased are
perceived to be higher than a “thing” status. This demonstrates that the concept
of the deceased is emblematic of a more concrete than perceptual identity. Thus,
remains of the deceased are reified through commemorative practices.
International humanitarian law, military manual obligations and the extension
of “outrages upon personal dignity”9 to the deceased illustrates protection and
respect towards the deceased, but also provides insight into their perceived worth.
To most people, the desecration of human remains, including mutilation and the
denial of an honourable burial, is perceived as an insult. Other disrespectful acts
include using the remains of the deceased as “bargaining chips” to negotiate the
3
This includes patients who have died from suspected or confirmed Ebola or Marburg virus disease.
4
The guidance also encourages taking into consideration the religious and social context to ensure a dignified
burial takes place.
5
For conflicts of an international character, see the military manuals of Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Benin,
Burkina Faso, Cameroon, Canada, Congo, France, Germany, Kenya, Lebanon, Madagascar, Mali, Morocco,
Netherlands, New Zealand, Nigeria, Romania, Senegal, Spain, Switzerland, Togo, United Kingdom and United
States. For conflicts of a non-international character, see the military manuals of Australia, Benin, Canada,
Germany, Kenya, Lebanon, Madagascar, Spain and Togo (Henckaerts and Doswald-Beck, 2005).
6
With reference to the war crime “outrages upon personal dignity”, the 2000 ICC Elements of Crimes specifies
that Article 8(2)(b)(xxi) and (c)(ii) of the 1998 ICC Statute extends to dead persons (International Criminal Court,
2011).
7
See the J. Kikuchi and M. Mahuchi case in UNWCC, LRTWC, vol. XIII, pp. 152 ff.; 13 AD 289.
8
See the T. Yochio case in UNWCC, LRTWC, vol. XIII, pp. 152 ff.; 13 AD 289.
9
According to De Baets (2009), a strong motivator for the establishment of the International Criminal Court was
posthumous restoration of the dignity of the deceased in human rights violations.
release of soldiers (Levinson, 2011). This suggests that the remains of the deceased
have value, and thus should be treated with the equivalent respect.
Although a universal definition has yet to be agreed upon, the acts that the
living commit, and the application of current international humanitarian laws,
are indicative of dignity existing after death (Cook, 2015; De Baets, 2009; Foster,
2014). These acts contextualize the esteem in which the deceased are held and
respected.
10
Global bodies that promote such values include the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent
Societies (IFRC).
11
Additional Protocol I, Article 34(I) (adopted by consensus).
Category Duties
Body and property‐related Body – To provide protection regarding the remains of the
deceased.
Funeral – To honour the dead by conducting funerary rites.
Disposal – To dispose of the deceased (burial or cremation)
and not to disturb their place of rest.
Will – To respect the will of the deceased concerning their
body and property.
Personality‐related Identity – To search for and identify the deceased; to record
their death, cause of death, and details of the deceased,
including name, date of birth and (if applicable) their
nationality.
Image – To consider the privacy and reputation of the
deceased when publicly portraying them after death.
Speech – To consider the privacy and reputation of the
deceased when publicly conveying information about
them.
General Heritage – To identify and safeguard the heritage of the
deceased.
Consequential rights Memory – The right to mourn, to bury and cremate, and to
commemorate.
History – The right to know the truth about past human
rights abuses.
Source: De Baets (2009, 123), slightly adapted and abridged by this author.
spare, not to attack” (Sandoz et al., 1987: 146). Therefore, if the deceased have
posthumous dignity, they hold symbolic value and are thus deserving of respect
(Cook, 2015).
The concept of moral injury is relatively new in the social sciences and human-
ities, but is receiving increased attention within and outside of military settings
(Bryan et al., 2016). Maguen and Litz (2012) define moral injury as: “An act of
serious transgression that leads to serious inner conflict because the experience is
at odds with core ethical and moral beliefs” (Maguen and Litz, 2012: 1). The text-
book case of moral injury is the soldier who was ordered to commit an atrocity, an
act that may be against the soldier’s moral standards, who is then traumatized by
the knowledge of what they have done; such a soldier has suffered moral injury.
Moral injury can present itself in various forms, including psychological, spiritual,
behavioural and social. The extent of moral injury sustained is governed by con-
textual factors, such as, and including, the reactions of others (Litz et al., 2009).
Moreover, a soldier’s feelings of euphoria associated with the desecration of enemy
remains, including taking their personal effects as “battle trophies”, may change
over time. Such feelings may be replaced with guilt and shame due to the soldier
believing the original act transgressed their moral standards (Higgins, 1987). The
soldier may attempt to reconcile their actions, and absolve their feelings of guilt,
by returning personal effects to the deceased’s family.
Another allegory of battle trophy collection is that of H.S., a former Second
World War Navy electrician. H.S. returned from war having collected various tro-
phies, all of which he gave away except a Japanese soldier’s pocket book. “I saw it
as something personal, and that’s the reason I held onto it for fifty‐one years”
(Harrison, 2008: 779). H.S. wanted to return the pocket book to the soldier’s
family; Japanese officials were able to locate the brother of the deceased. Upon
receiving the pocket book, the brother wrote to H.S.: “I was deeply moved by the
fact that you have kept this notebook over five decades and have tried to find the
family of the owner. This notebook was my brother’s soul, and I feel as if my
brother has finally come back to us” (Harrison, 2008: 779). The return of such
personal items allows relatives of deceased soldiers finally to be able to conduct
funerary services, as these items act as a physical replacement for the missing
remains. Some family members described these belongings, such as a glove, pen,
or pocket book, as being a part of the person who had died (Harrison, 2008),
because it was “just like having a piece of… [their relative’s] body” (Bautista,
2004).
The field manual entitled Management of Dead Bodies in Disaster Situations states
that failure to identify remains of the deceased can cause moral injury to their
family members (PAHO and WHO, 2004). The field manual supports a broad
interpretation of moral injury: those who come to know about, or witness, an
offence, but did not commit it, may also suffer moral injury. For instance, a family
who learns that the remains of a loved one were disposed of carelessly, or given
undignified burials, may suffer moral injury as a result. This broad interpretation
of moral injury can be extended to include refugees fleeing from persecution‐
related violence, who are often exposed to events that transgress deeply held
moral beliefs, such as murder (Nickerson et al., 2015). Furthermore, it has been
suggested that journalists covering forced migration crises may be at risk of expe-
riencing moral injury. One such example is the case of a journalist who was asked
to help move remains of the deceased (Howden, 2018).
Moral injury may also occur where activities that minimize the suffering of
others, such as the dignified treatment of the deceased or returning remains to
bereft families, are not conducted. Moral injury is explained by understanding the
complex relationship that the living has with the human remains. Thus, remains
of the deceased are boundary objects.
Remains of the deceased, and objects associated with them while living, are
boundary objects with agency (Moon, 2012). Star and Griesemer (1989: 409)
defined a boundary object as “an object that lives in multiple social worlds and
which has different identities in each”. Boundary objects connect actors from
different social worlds; for instance, those who knew the person while alive as
well as those who did not. The structure of a boundary object “is common enough
to more than one world to make them recognisable” (Star and Griesemer,
1989: 393).
Actors may have common or diverging interests associated with the boundary
object. For example, in the mid‐1980s, the Argentinean Government began exhu-
mations of individuals killed by the junta. In 1984, the Government requested
some mothers claim their children’s remains and sign a certificate confirming,
“the child had fought with the police and was killed as a consequence” (Guzman‐
Bouvard, 1994: 140). Such conditions corroborated the junta’s assertion that the
use of violence was required. Consequently, the Argentinean mothers refused to
accept the remains. This example demonstrates the communicative capabilities
embodied by the remains of the deceased, and the boundary objects to be “situ-
ated in the context of the motivations of the people that choose or draw upon the
object” (Moon, 2012: 164). Therefore, the investment12 in the remains of the
deceased is different if groups have diverging interests. The relationship between
the significance of remains and their “use” can either safeguard the dignity of the
deceased or inflict moral injury (Cook, 2015).
According to De Baets (2009), the deceased retain traces of their humanity and
personality as symbolic value; thus, they hold posthumous dignity. Upholding this
assumption of posthumous dignity, there is then an expectation that the deceased
therefore deserve respect and value from the living. The deceased are unable to
protect their dignity and it becomes the responsibility of the living to safeguard it.
13
Receiving the remains of the deceased can also allow families to obtain death certificates. Such a document is
required for making legal claims (Sphere Association, 2018).
The inability to return remains of the deceased can have a significant impact on
the deceased’s family. Rick Downes remarks on the fate of his father, who went
missing in January 1952 when his plane went down over North Korea: “The lack
of closure creates a wound that never heals. It’s just there, and it goes on for gen-
erations” (Borger, 2018). Thus, returning the remains of the deceased is a critical
move towards families finding consolation.
Facilitating the return of remains of the deceased falls within the remit of
humanitarian action, and should not be overlooked by any actor with the capa-
bility to assist in this process.14 Family members have the right to know the fate of
their missing relatives (ICRC, 2018), and for the remains of the deceased to be
returned to them. According to Cook (2015), returning the remains of the
deceased is more than a physical transfer: “It may not end the anguish or provide
answers to all the questions, but it allows the deceased and living family members
to come together and, in a sense, return home” (Cook, 2015: 73).
5.7 Conclusion
This chapter has argued that dignity after death exists. This is exhibited by current
practices, and is further consolidated by international humanitarian law and
burial and cemetery regulations. This chapter has also highlighted the importance
of return‐of‐remains practices to minimize the suffering of families and
communities.
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6.1 Introduction
When atrocity and death are inflicted upon a group and people are left in the
wake of a humanitarian crisis, the corpses and body parts, their agency, their
memories and history assume a special social tension (Dreyfus and Anstett, 2017;
Moon, 2012; Buikstra, 2017; De Leon, 2015; Anstett and Dreyfus, 2014; Tung,
2014; Fontein, 2010; Hoskins, 2006; Card, 2002, Laqueur, 2002; Verdery, 1999).
In the recent history of humanity, extreme violence used against the living and
the dead, as well as a growing variety of sophisticated ways to destroy bodies, lead
to an enormous production of inert bodies and body parts (Anstett, 2018). All
these bloody episodes require new thoughts for humanitarian action to be con-
ducted in an appropriate way. In many ways, social sciences and forensic sciences
need to unite to face such humanitarian challenges.
Social sciences have had a decisive influence on legitimizing the body as an
object of inquiry, which also highlights its solid cultural role based on its symbolic
agency (Laqueur, 2015; Crossland, 2009; Hockey and Draper, 2005; Bourdieu,
1985, 1990; Turner, 1991; Corbin et al., 2005; Douglas, 1971, 1996 [1970], 2002
[1966]). Therefore, the agency of the corpses and body parts, and their associated
* The views expressed herein are those of the editor Roberto C. Parra and do not necessarily reflect the views of
the United Nations.
†
Co-lead authors.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
79
history and memories, must be taken into consideration, respected and commem-
orated, which contributes to understanding and processing episodes of death
through various forms of cultural expression worldwide (Robben, 2018; Laqueur,
2015; Krmpotich et al., 2010; Wilson, 2003; Hallam et al., 1999; Metcalf and
Huntington, 1991; Hertz, 1960). Such cultural displays of respect and consideration
contribute positively to maintaining a balance in terms of mental health for the
members of a society, directly contributing to the emotional wellbeing of those
people who have lost a loved one (Stroebe et al., 2007).
By contrast, the posthumous dignity1 of the dead might be threatened by var-
ious forms of cruelty, inhuman, or degrading treatment, such as mutilation, disso-
lution with chemical agents and other mechanisms of destruction that attempt to
completely eliminate the identity (whether administrative, or social and cultural)
of the deceased. In these events, the social life of the dead2 loses its coherence, and
their loved ones are left submerged in a permanent suffering that negatively
impacts all survivors.3 Along the same lines, we find that when we do not know or
recognize the identity of a deceased person, the corpse or the body parts remain in
a forced social anonymity, what Mary Douglas ([1966] 2002) has referred to as a
“matter out of place”;4 this state implies that the body of a deceased person remains
liminal, and is considered as an unclassified object removed by society from all
cultural, social and kinship affiliation as long as its identity is not precisely deter-
mined. Furthermore, some societies deny to an unidentified body its very human
condition and therefore right to dignity. In these contexts, forced disappearance as
well as reappearance of anonymous corpses becomes a humanitarian tragedy that
transgresses fundamental principles such as the right of the relatives to know the
fate of their loved ones.5 Pauline Boss (2017: 522) argued that “without proof of
death, the family are forced to imagine their own ending to their loss. This is
immensely challenging and is not required when there is evidence of death”.
In humanitarian forensic work, the process begins with the search, location and
rescue of the body, as well as the application of scientific techniques to reconstruct
1
“… an appeal to respect the past humanity of the dead and constitutes the foundation for the duties of the living”
(De Baets, 2009: 119). For further information, see Chapter 5, this volume.
2
We understand the social life of the dead as “the socioculturally mediated capacity to act” (Ahern, 2001: 110) in
connectedness and symbolic interaction with the social life of the living (Blumer, 1962).
3
Certainly, a kind of missing person is when “The dead: in numerous instances, people are unaccounted for because
they have been killed and their bodies left unattended, buried in, or burnt (or disposed of by some other means)”
(ICRC, 2013: 16) or “Some families may deal with the situation by choosing hope over despair and by clinging to
the most hoped-for scenario (i.e. that their missing relative is still alive). Sometimes, they might even behave as if
nothing had really changed in their lives. The cases of mothers continuing to prepare a missing person’s favourite
dishes, or leaving the light on in case he or she comes back, have been noted in various contexts. This is a way to
keep their loved one alive, in a sense, and to maintain his or her presence within the family” (ICRC, 2013: 44).
4
Mary Douglas does not relate this phrase directly to the subject of death, but throughout her theory, she also
considers the importance of the body symbolism within society. Some researchers have applied her concept to illu-
minate social problems around the dead (Moon, 2017; Schwartz-Marin and Cruz-Santiago, 2016; Sledge, 2005).
5
“In some countries, families have to wait for years before their missing relative is officially declared dead or
absent. This interval can seem an eternity for family members, whose lives stand still, so to speak: they are unable
to sell property, remarry, or even go through funeral rites” (ICRC, 2013: 16).
and preserve their identity.6 This process has a symbolically restorative effect
among those who survived, and it goes along with the undeniable right to respect
the dignity of those who have died (Cordner and Tidball‐Binz, 2017; Moon, 2012,
2016, 2017; Tidball‐Binz, 2012; De Baets 2004, 2009). Humanitarian forensic sci-
ence focuses on this point: to “reunite” the dead body with its personhood in life
through identification and, as a consequence, to restore its kinship ties with its
loved ones (Moon, 2017).
This chapter considers a humanitarian approach to mitigate the disruption in
continuity of identity that may lead to social death of the unidentified deceased
persons. Here we argue that an adjustment in the forensic approach is required,
and that this adjustment implies prioritizing the rescue of bodies and their belong-
ings from those places where they remain buried and in anonymity.
The dead permanently influence the thoughts and behavior of the living (Robben,
2018; Buikstra, 2017; Wagner and Rosenblatt, 2017; Moon, 2012; Shimada and
Fitzsimmons, 2015; Laqueur, 2015; Tung, 2014; Fontein and Harries, 2013; De
Baets, 2004, 2009; Howarth, 2010; Wilson, 2003; Hallam et al., 1999; Metcalf and
Huntington, 1991; Hertz, 1960), therefore maintaining an active social life. Claire
Moon (2012) has pointed out that a dead body has a social life, playing several spe-
cial roles as elements of social contact, confluence and conflict. Based on an Andean
case study where approximately 240 individuals were dismembered, Tiffiny Tung
(2014: 450) noted that “Those mutilated corpses were not just passive symbols of
power and physical prowess; they also generated authority for those who killed and
butchered them”. She argues that dead bodies can structure human interactions,
shape social networks, and configure systems of power. A clear example of these
connections can be found in Afro‐descendent societies of the Pacific coast in
Colombia, where there is a particular respect for people who have suffered a violent
death. Usually, the perpetrators of these crimes subject their victims to dismember-
ment while still alive, with the intention of provoking a severe hemorrhage, since
they believe that ripping the body apart facilitates the release of the spirit through
exsanguination – the spirit leaves the body with the blood. In this way, the perpe-
trator avoids possible persecution by the deceased’s soul and also blocks any possi-
bility of a spell that could be practiced by the deceased person’s family to find them.
The soul, after leaving the body through the hemorrhage, loses its course in the
world of the living without any chance of locating its executioner. In order to achieve
the perpetrator’s goal, the parts of a single body must be buried together in a specific
place, still carrying its belongings. These mutilated bodies and their associated
6
Regarding the differences, limits and convergences between the identity and the identification, Gowland and
Thompson (2013) offer us an interesting analysis on the subject.
possessions not only represent passive symbols of animistic cultural power, but they
are also elements that force the perpetrators to bury them, respecting their own
agency. In the Kasaï culture of the Democratic Republic of Congo, burials are an
essential part of life as well, and if the dead are not properly buried and accompa-
nied in their new journey, their spirit can haunt the living. As for the opening of
mass graves, for the Kasaï cultural context would mean the production of a living
dead whose power would be considered absolute, a kind of invincible zombie.
As Jane Buikstra (2017: 295) notes, dead bodies are never neutral: “They
demand our attention. They demand action that forces the living to think about
what is proper and what is not and act accordingly.” In Peru, the story of the death
of a child in the highland town of Cidruyo (Junin), exemplifies this influence of
the dead on the realm of “appropriateness”. The perpetrators of this murder were
forced to honor the child’s death by placing his belongings inside the burial con-
text, including one flute and two pets: a parrot and a pig. In addition, they per-
formed a ritual as sign of commemoration and respect for the deceased child; the
perpetrators understood that both the child’s body and its associated objects had a
special meaning that forced them to think and act with honor in the face of death.
Certainly, “… dead bodies demand response and urgent action. They are hard to
ignore…” (Wagner and Rosenblatt, 2017).
In 1990, one of the authors of this chapter observed that in the Tuamotu Islands
(French Polynesia), the dead, although properly buried, may become uncomfortable
and intolerant. When a Tuamotu group do not support the pressure exerted by this
dead, it can dig up the corpse in order to incinerate it, thus precipitating its full destruc-
tion and consequently its ultimate death. For the particular case of the Tuamotu the
dead bodies may therefore cast a negative shadow that threatens the thinking of the
living and makes it difficult to continue living peacefully; in this case the dead can be
completely eliminated. Certain funeral traditions in south, southeast and east Asia
destroy the dead body as quickly as possible, more often by cremation. In these mor-
tuary as well as commemorative rituals, the dead body matters actually far less that the
spirit and the memory of the deceased (Tsuji, 2018; Desjarlais, 2018; Wilson, 2003).
In the southwest of Colombia, during 2015, several cases were observed of
deceased bodies that were not claimed by their direct relatives. In some cases, the
relatives did not want to have notices of their deceased relative because they con-
sidered that they had caused considerable harm to society. In other cases, families
preferred not to recover a body that was identified as a family member by the
forensic teams, claiming that they had lost contact with this person. In all these
cases, families had feelings of fear in front of their own society, and thought they
were susceptible to being socially stigmatized with the taboo of impure dead,
which are considered dangerous and symbolically contagious of such “impurities”.7
7
See Mary Douglas ([1966] 2002) for analysis of the social aspects that can be considered impure due the pollution
of the dead body. This pollution of the social and dead body can be divided into four types. “The first is danger
pressing on external boundaries; the second danger from transgressing the internal lines of the system; the third,
danger in the margins of the lines. The fourth is danger from internal contradiction” (Douglas, [1966] 2002: 123).
However, in one case the combat partners of the deceased requested the
International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) to mediate with the public
authorities to claim the body and belongings, move it to a safe place and give the
dead the respective honors in secret. Situations like these can arise, but in most of
cases the families claim the body back or at least ask to know about the fate of the
dead body and its final disposition.
Douglas (1971) uses the example of laughter to illustrate the idea and the impor-
tance of the body as symbolic expression, in this case, the anonymous dead body
as “matter out of place”. Laughter is a physiological function that starts in the face,
but that can affect the whole body. However, it is the social situation that deter-
mines the extent to which the body can laugh: the fewer restrictions, the freer the
body is to laugh out loud; in this way, the dead body expresses itself symbolically
and becomes a symbol of the situation. The dead body transmits information about
the situation,8 so that the more traditional the place, the more formal it will be and
the greater the pressures exerted upon it. In autochthonous populations of the
central Andes and among the indigenous people of Amazonia, the bodies of the
buried but unidentified deceased persons can be understood for these commu-
nities as a symbolic means highly associated with violence and moral injury.9
Thousands of human remains are indeed still buried in clandestine graves and in
other places where those bodies were thrown, such as rivers and lagoons, during
the Peruvian armed conflict (1980–2000) by perpetrators of the killings. This
affects the cultural landscape and social order of the Andean communities (Robin
Azevedo, 2015) as “matter out of place” in terms of space landscapes (places of
deposit of bodies without respect), as in the symbolic interaction with those anon-
ymous deaths in such deposit places, which implies that those corpses and body
parts “have been violated, have suffered indignities” (Rosenblatt, 2010: 948).
The degradation and destruction of the bodies – or their abandonment – consti-
tute a form of violence that directly impacts the mentality of the living (Laqueur,
2015; De Leon, 2015; Rosenblatt, 2010). Rosenblatt (2010: 948) has argued that
“The violence against the bodies in mass graves reaches across the boundaries of
life; it is committed first against living human beings and then against their dead
bodies”. The social landscape imposes itself on the dead body and constrains it to
act in a concrete way; thus the dead body becomes a symbol of the situation as a
permanent icon of violence both structurally and culturally (Galtung, 1969,
1990).
Gell (1998) and Latour (2005) have theorized about such subjects, where the
dead body and its objects have their own agency and can also influence the
behavior of the living (Tung, 2014; Hoskins, 2006). Various other perspectives
support the idea of a social life of the dead, including its symbolic influence, its
8
As in the story of the death of a child in the highland town of Cidruyo; the taboo of impure dead in Colombia or
living dead whose power would be considered absolute in Kasaï.
9
“An act of serious transgression that leads to serious inner conflict because the experience is at odds with core
ethical and moral beliefs” (Maguen and Litz, 2012: 1).
posthumous dignity, and the respect for its agency (De Baets, 2004, 2009; Buikstra,
2017; Moon, 2012, 2017; Laqueur, 2015; Crandall and Martin, 2014; Fontein and
Harries, 2013; Harper, 2010), although others strongly disagree with this perspec-
tive (Rosenblatt, 2010). Among these, Rosenblatt (2010) focuses on the distinc-
tion between the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the idea that
individuals may maintain these rights after death. He argues that “in the case of
the dead, at least, ideas of agency seem ‘quite controversial’ indeed, too shaky and
too shifting a foundation to support the structure of human rights” (Rosenblatt,
2010: 934). He further states that “the dead not only do not have human rights;
they also do not have inherent dignity” (Rosenblatt, 2010: 941). However, the
American political scientist does recognize that the processes of location and
recovery of the bodies help to restore identity and memory (Wagner and
Rosenblatt, 2017; Wagner, 2015; Budreau, 2010; Sledge 2005). In opposition to
Rosenblatt’s view, some domestic law, such as in France, for example, recognizes
the dead body as a “sacred thing” (Labbée, 2006; Popu 2009) and attributes to the
corpse some specific rights such as the right to have its integrity respected. In
French law, any harm caused to the integrity of a cadaver is punishable according
to the article 225‐17 of the Criminal Code. The dead body in this precise – legal
and domestic – context therefore does have rights. At the international level, dis-
cussions on this subject can be reviewed in the publications of Gaggioli (2018) and
Smolensky (2009) in which they emphasize that not only do they have rights, but
that these rights directly impact the living if such rights are transgressed posthu-
mously; various examples are presented (Gaggioli, 2018; Smolensky, 2009).
of physical location, social and cultural connectedness and care (restitution and
burial). Therefore, when we are faced with an anonymous dead body and body
parts, we have two types of situations: the inert physical body, and its social body,
that is, its lost identity (Gowland and Thompson, 2013; Timmermans, 2006).
Mary Douglas notes that there are two kinds of bodies, the physical body and the
social body, so that:
The social body constrains the way the physical body is perceived. The physical experi-
ence of the body, always modified by the social categories through which it is known,
sustains a particular view of society. There is a continual exchange of meanings between
the two kinds of bodily experience so that each reinforces the categories of the other. As
a result of this interaction the body itself is a highly restricted medium of expression.
(Douglas, [1970] 1996: 72)
As Bourdieu has emphasized, “the body is in the social world, but the social
world is also in the body” (Bourdieu, 1990: 90), and the important role of the
body in the reproduction of culture (Bourdieu, 1985, 1998) would imply that if
we live among or over unidentified dead bodies, our social life would be in dis-
array, because by doing so we transgress the socially sanctioned behavior or
treatment of the dead (Laqueur, 2015). Douglas ([1966] 2002: 129) argued that
“any culture is a series of related structures which comprise social forms, values,
cosmology, the whole of knowledge and through which all experience is medi-
ated”. In this regard, as the anthropologist Claude Lévi‐Strauss (1955) wrote,
“there is probably no society that does not treat its dead with respect. At the bor-
ders of the human species, even Neanderthal man buried his dead in summarily
arranged tombs” (Lévi‐Strauss, 1955: 119). Robert Hertz (1960) also wrote, “The
body of the deceased is not regarded like the carcass of some animal: specific care
must be given to it and a correct burial; not merely for reason of hygiene but out
of moral obligation” (Hertz, 1960: 27). The biological and social properties of the
dead body are, then, the starting point for the culture that mediates and translates
them into “a system of natural symbols” (Douglas, [1970] 1996).
We start here with the principle that the image of the dead body is constructed
both socially and culturally: the human body is the image of society if not the
entire world, and there is no way of considering the body that does not imply, at
the same time, a social dimension (Berger and Luckmann, 1966; Douglas, [1970]
1996). In effect, these principles feed our understanding of how the socialization
process is also a process of individuation (Bourdieu, 1998) through “objective life
paths in the ‘social space’ and generator of subjective conceptions, expectations
and tastes – and practices – activities socially codified and reproduced over time,
promoting both social structuration and the actors’ incorporation of adjusted
mental, corporal and emotional dispositions” (Abrantes, 2013: 392). Therefore,
the biohistory10 of the anonymous dead needs to be classified with their own
identity. Tidball‐Binz (2012) stressed that scientific identification arises from our
Here we use the concept of “biohistory” following Claire Moon (2017) and Duncan and Stojanowski (2017).
10
“shared responsibility for the dead, from which derives the humanitarian need for
ensuring their proper recovery, management, analysis and identification, to pro-
tect their dignity and to prevent them from becoming missing persons”.
Additionally, Cook (Chapter 5) has highlighted the importance of returning
remains of the deceased to their loved ones, but when this is not possible, at least
the bodies should be rescued from the places where they were condemned to
disrespect.
As Rocío Magaña (2011) eloquently argued, attending to dead bodies “creates
opportunities for the state to emphasize its protective proficiency and authority
despite the structural abandonment and weakness that cause these deaths”
(Magaña, 2011: 170). It is evident that one of the most urgent needs of relatives
who are looking for a loved one – in this case, someone who has disappeared and
died – is the recovery of the dead body and its confirmed identification, and if this
is not possible, at least to know what happened to them, to try to honor their
memory and alleviate the suffering of their relatives (ICRC, 2013).
Along the same line of thought, we agree with Claire Moon (2016), who pointed
out that:
The principles of “respect” and “dignity” underpin, shape, and dominate the protocols
governing humanitarian treatment of the dead. These principles tell us something about
the social importance of the dead and are reflections of widespread social norms older
and more pervasive than those of IHL which, in turn, reflects and objectifies those
norms. That is, it turns them into the objects of legal administration.
(Moon, 2016: 58)
We should also reflect on the idea of leaving the bodies in burial sites until find-
ing more information to recover them. Early in this chapter, we argued that the
body has a social life and therefore some humanitarian needs that must be con-
sidered. Thousands of bodies are still in individual burial sites, mass graves, or
other deposit sites waiting for rescue or recovery, decomposing and at risk of dis-
appearing completely. From a humanitarian perspective, should we continue
working under a model that implies leaving the body in the same place where it
was originally deposited, in anonymity until documentation is advanced, or
should we rethink the approach?
As an active social agent, there are several ways in which the dead are kept alive
in the cognitive and social realms of the living. However, the dead can also die
socially when three components of social life are lost: (1) social identity; (2) social
connectedness; and (3) losses associated with the disintegration of the body.11 The
loss of social identity is related to the symbolization of an anonymous body, when
the body is not clearly identified, while the loss of connectedness is represented by
the absence of ritual, commemoration and memory that hinders the process of
dignifying the deceased and their loved ones. We agree with the definition of this
“connectedness” between the living and the dead provided by Shimada and
Fitzsimmons (2015: 3), when they argue that:
Death is immutable, perturbs us to varying degrees and triggers a wide variety of emo-
tional, behavioral, organizational, ideological and material responses and consequences
at both individual and communal level. Yet, death does not end or erase emotional
bonds or sense of indebtedness, memory, and other form of interpersonal relationships
established in life.
The “connectedness” between dead and living is “forming a cycle that con-
stantly renews itself” (Allen, 2015: 316), but when this relationship is broken, this
valuable indicator of the “social death” of a person is lost. On the other hand, the
category of “losses associated with disintegration of the body” means that our
social identity is inevitably connected to, and enacted through, our bodies (Hockey
and Draper, 2005; Králová, 2015). In many societies, when the dead body is lost
and/or is disintegrated before having been ritually properly treated, the social life
of the dead is under threat. The situation can then escalate up to the dead body’s
social death if the other dimensions have also been transgressed. However, the
recomposition or strengthening of their “connectedness” can serve as restorative
actions to preserve the social life of the dead, despite the fact that the other dimen-
sions have been affected. Certainly, “Around bones, photos and bootees, personal
and military histories are built; and family lives are dreamed into being” (Hockey
and Draper, 2005: 54)
Thus in Buenaventura (Colombia), some relatives of missing and deceased per-
sons who were never able to find the body of their loved ones due to various cir-
cumstances have been practicing a form of social and cultural “reconnection” to
maintain the social life of the dead and to avoid social death. The group of women
maintaining this tradition is named “Mothers for Life”; they practice the socializa-
tion of their pain through a reparative mechanism that they have called “the ritual
of the absent body”. As part of this ritual, the memory and cultural identities of the
deceased are highlighted, accompanied by chants and praises to the deceased, and
their life and actions are remembered and symbolized, conforming a scenario of
dignification. In this context, Mothers for Life have managed to strengthen the
memory of their deceased relatives and their identity, despite the fact that the body
has been disintegrated or lost. Mothers for Life “have found resilience using their
own culture and their own cosmovision, they have identified the path to finding
meaning, adjunct mastery, reconstructing identity, normalizing ambivalence and
revisioning attachment (Boss, 2017). Bell (2006: 542) suggests that “A funeral
without a body must, by eulogy or gesture or metonymic association, create a type
of body that can be mourned, fondled by grief, and then laid very clearly to rest”.
Similar experiences have been described for other contexts (Bolt, 2018).
Humanitarian Action
Lo nec
ty ial
Co
ss ted
Ide f Soc
n
of
nti
So ess
o
Location
ss
Identity
cia
Social
n
Lo
l
Death
Unidentified
Deceased
Person
Disintegration of the
Body
Care
Figure 6.1 Prevention and mitigation of social death as a forensic humanitarian action.
Conceptual framework adapted from De Baets (2009), Rosenblatt (2010) and Králová (2015).
De Baets (2009) has classified the duties of the living towards the deceased into
four categories related to: body and property (body, funeral, burial, will), person-
ality (identity, image, speech), general (heritage) and consequential rights (memory
and history) (see Chapter 5 for further information). Furthermore, Rosenblatt
(2010) proposes that to mitigate violence against bodies, it is necessary to guarantee
actions to preserve the protection of three fundamental aspects: identity, location
and care (see Figure 6.1). Sian Cook argues that “if it is not possible to undertake
the above duties, then moral injury may be inflicted” (Chapter 5), as well as legal
actions against such aggressions against the body of the deceased (Gaggioli, 2018).
The social death has a crucial meaning for humanitarian action; as Claudia Card
(2010) points out, “social death can aggravate physical death by making it
indecent, removing all respectful and caring ritual, social connections, and social
contexts that can make dying bearable and make one’s death meaningful” (Card,
2010: 262). Certainly, the descriptions offered by Maria Victoria Uribe (1996) in
Matar, rematar y contramatar12 helps us analyse the symbolism of violent death and
dismemberment of the bodies. In these criminal cases, killing and inflicting death
is not enough; rather, it is necessary to eliminate all traces of the victims’ existence,
including preying against their identity through dismemberment, in addition to
causing terror to their family members (Rajs et al., 1998; Holmes, 2017). According
to Gaggioli (2018: 187) “Mutilating dead bodies is a horrendous act that is per-
formed out of contempt for the dead and the living, and often to terrorize the
enemy through the display of lugubrious ‘war trophies’”. The mutilation of the
bodies is a serious attack against the dignity of the deceased; these are behaviors
that have been criminalized and severely sanctioned by international laws in
order to protect the dignity of the deceased and their families, as well as to preserve
When looking in depth at military contexts, Laura Wittman (2011) has high-
lighted that:
The ceremonial burial of one anonymous body, gathered from the battlefield and given
a proper tomb was a cathartic to mass death and the irretrievable loss of so many bodies
and the event had immense cultural and popular appeal. The Unknown Soldier was at
once a representation of the body of the nation and of the human body, both felt to be
ruptured, perhaps permanently, by the war and by modernity. The Tombs of the
Unknown Soldiers was a new memorial invented by the Italians, the French and the
British, in the last years of the war and its immediate aftermath, though it is clear that
concept of the Unknown Soldiers was widespread in all combatant nations, including
the United States and Germany.
(Wittman, 2011: 3)
In 1914, during the First World War, in the face of the exceptional accumulation
of anonymous dead, there emerged a strong popular demand in both France
and Germany to recover the bodies of soldiers missing in action, or at least to
perform a worthy burial. In France, the right for a soldier to benefit from an
individual and identified grave was thus part of a law passed on 29 December
1915, giving a specific status to those who were “morts pour la France” (“dead
for the country”: see Perich and Pouget, 2019; Pau, 2010, 2016).
Nevertheless, not all countries in the world necessarily follow best practice
regarding burial of corpses and body parts in regular cemeteries, and keep on
depositing them in common graves or in other inappropriate places (see
Figure 6.5), thus hindering their location when they are finally identified. This
serious problem was made visible mainly in Colombia after the identification
of thousands of bodies that could not be located in regular cemeteries due to
previous mismanagement.
3. Irregular cemeteries: These cemeteries are not necessarily linked to disrespectful
sites, and rather preserve the memory of the deceased, but are not known by
public authorities. They differ from the clandestine sites due to their purpose
and symbolic action. Irregular cemeteries indeed do not try to hide or conceal
corpses and body parts; instead they try to preserve the memory of the deceased.
A clear example is the cemetery in the small town of Bocas de Satinga, along
the Pacific Coast of Colombia, where two local people decided to bury dozens
of bodies that they rescued from a river. They understood that by recovering
corpses and body parts they would preserve the memory of these individuals
so that they could be identified with the help of forensic specialists in the
future. Other examples of irregular cemeteries are numerous battlefields (such
as those related to both World Wars, the Vietnam war, the Iran–Iraq war, or the
Pacific war between Peru, Chile and Bolivia, among others) where the bodies
are still deposited in the same place where they died, or where their battle
companions or even sometimes enemies managed to hastily bury them.
4. Clandestine deposit sites: Among the places included in this category are clandes-
tine burial sites, cremation furnaces, rivers, and other dumping locations (cliffs
and abysses, among others). These sites do not necessarily perpetuate memory;
on the contrary, their purpose is to facilitate oblivion and disappearance. While
decomposition (in rivers, lagoons, lakes, or oceans), cremation and dissolution
(with chemical substances) facilitate the disappearance of physical evidence,
clandestine burial sites offer the opportunity to at least physically recover the
remains of the people buried there. However, depending on the environmental
context of the place of deposit, the risk of disappearance increases over time.
The forensic work behind the identification of corpses and body parts in several
different scenarios is well known (Blau, 2016). In cases of massive disaster, corpses
and body parts are recovered, transferred to specialized forensic centers where
their identification is prioritized, while unidentified corpses and body parts are
sent to specific cemeteries. Similarly, in cases of corpses and body parts belonging
to migrants that are rescued and recovered from various sites, forensic information
is collected, and if an identification is not possible the bodies are temporarily
deposited in mortuaries or cemeteries (regular or irregular), while waiting for
more information about their identity. Meanwhile, when dealing with human
remains resulting from political, ethnic and/or religious violence, the forensic
approach changes drastically due to the sensitivity attached to the cases
(Fondebrider, 2002). In this scenario, corpses and body parts are usually recov-
ered years after the deathly events and scientific documentation is collected prior
to the recovery of the human remains, with the exception of those cases where
there are imminent threats and where the bodies must be recovered promptly
(Fondebrider, 2002).
memory while preserving their biohistory? We argue that in countries like Peru,
Colombia and Guatemala, and as it happens in other regions in the world with
similar environments (time since the interment events, and characteristics of the
conflicts), a humanitarian rescue of the bodies is of primary importance to avoid
total decomposition of their organic structure (the disintegration of the body) and
to restore their dignity as human beings. However, it is clear that humanitarian
actions of this nature cannot be carried out in all scenarios due to cultural factors,
beliefs about the dead, contamination by unexploded ordnance, political contexts,
or even ongoing hostilities. When conflict ceases, and adequate conditions to
locate and recover the bodies are guaranteed, the first step should be to carry out
simultaneously the rescue of bodies and the humanitarian action aiming at
forensic documentation of the identities of the possible deceased, as well as the
documentation about the contexts of death.
However, as Moon (2012) has argued, bodies and their belongings are “boundary
objects”:13
They lie at the intersection of different social worlds in which diverse parties – legal,
forensic, humanitarian, historical, political, social and familial – are differently invested.
Boundary objects link different – sometimes converging, sometimes diverging – inter-
ests, allowing groups to form working relationships.”
(Moon, 2012: 160)
Sian Cook (Chapter 5) has used the concepts of “posthumous dignity” (De
Baets, 2004), “boundary object” (Star and Griesemer, 1989) and “moral injury”
(Litz et al., 2009) to build a theoretical framework referring to the importance of
safeguarding the dignity of the deceased. Cook concludes not only that dignity
after death should be considered but underlines also that “the deceased are unable
to protect their dignity and it becomes the responsibility of the living to safeguard
it. The living can safeguard posthumous dignity by fulfilling the responsibilities of
the living” (Chapter 5). Scientists, politicians, society and the authorities as a
whole must recognize the liminality of the intermediate facilities of the unidenti-
fied deceased persons, and the special power of ambiguity and the unresolved
nature of their situation. “The relationship between the significance of remains
and their ‘use’ can either safeguard the dignity of the deceased or inflict moral
injury” (Cook, Chapter 5). The liminality of the boundary object has a strong
social impact that transcends as a moral injury that “involves an act of transgres-
sion that creates dissonance and conflict because it violates assumptions and
beliefs about right and wrong and personal goodness” (Litz et al., 2009). Moral
injury damaged in this way all moral order of society14 and mainly of the loved
ones who await news of their missing relatives.
13
“An object that lives in multiple social worlds and which has different identities in each” (Star and Griesemer,
1989: 409).
14
“System of rights, obligations and duties obtaining in society, together with the criteria by which people and
their activities are valued” (Harré, 1984: 219). For a broader discussion on moral order, refer to Goffman (1967);
Harré (1984); Wuthnow (1987); and Douglas (1999), among others.
In Peru and Colombia as well as in several other countries around the world,
thousands of bodies and body parts are disappearing from the places where they
were buried by their perpetrators, aided by environmental conditions, microor-
ganisms, anthropogenic actions, humidity, and particular chemical components in
the soil that are forcing a second disappearance of the individuals by degrading all
physical evidence of their existence. Certainly, in the case of Peru (Chapter 41,
this volume), specialists have spent dozens of years developing forensic investiga-
tions about who could be buried in a certain site, but when it comes time for
recovery the bodies have practically disintegrated or are so damaged that it is not
possible to document their biohistory, even at the molecular level.
On the other hand, as an answer to mitigate a second disappearance and the
social death, a new model of action has thus been devised to protect and restore
the dignity of the deceased without losing rigor in the forensic investigation. This
model consists of rescuing the bodies and placing them in funerary structures spe-
cially built to preserve the dignity of the deceased, while they wait for future
forensic analyses. These actions have achieved enormous success as a symbolic
mechanism of respect for the deceased and the society as a whole, where the state
serves as an agent that cares for its members and restores the dignity of those who
have died. The main idea in this model is to rescue the bodies so that no one is left
behind, recovering and relocating them in dignified places until their identity can
be determined and they can finally be returned to their relatives.
6.6 Conclusion
This chapter discusses the importance of the social life of the dead and their pro-
found connection with the social life of the living, as well as the imminent risk of a
social death if the bodies of those who have died are not rescued in time. Additionally,
we agree with the notion of respect to their posthumous dignity as human beings.
Posthumous dignity, agency, and the social life of the dead are theoretical founda-
tions that contribute to our understanding of humanitarian action in forensic sci-
ences beyond a legal perspective. This interpretation should be considered – in
addition to the legal framework – from a social and cultural perspective, taking into
account worldviews and needs of the relatives. Here lies the difference between the
application of forensic sciences from a humanitarian approach and the use of
forensic sciences in the context of human rights. We argue that the recovery of
bodies and body parts should facilitate the restoration of the deceased’s posthu-
mous dignity; this implies that the human remains should be rescued as soon as
possible from the place where they were deposited in a disrespectful way, and then
placed in a dignified site to wait until identities can be determined. Otherwise, the
moral injury may be inflicted, allowing the social death of the deceased. Finally,
prevention and mitigation of the social death of corpses and body parts is a forensic
humanitarian action beyond legal foundations.
Acknowledgement
The authors wish to thank Jana Králová and Claire Moon for valuable comments
on an earlier draft of this chapter.
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7.1 Introduction
The term “disappearance” has been traditionally associated with a form of state
repression used in many countries and in many political situations, whereby indi-
viduals fall through the cracks of a system and are, for the most part, never seen
by their families again.2 With no sign that an individual is alive yet with no body
to confirm their death, the families of the disappeared are left in limbo. The high
mortality rate of migrants attempting to cross the Mediterranean Sea3 leaves the
families of migrants who are missing in a similar predicament.4 There are two
1
The views expressed here are solely those of the authors and do not represent the views of the International
Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), the University of Buenos Aires, or CONICET.
2
Disappearance as a form of repression has been used in many countries and in many political situations. The
term has been used to describe political repression in Guatemala from 1966, in Chile from 1973 and in Argentina
from 1974. Although the military dictatorship formally started in Argentina in 1976 and lasted until 1983, the dis-
appearance and assassination of people began earlier (Gordon, 2008). Amnesty International traces the origins of
the term back to the 1941 Night and Fog Decree enacted by the German High Command, which “ordered that,
with the exception of those cases where guilt could be established beyond a doubt, everyone arrested for suspicion
of ‘endangering German security’ was to be transferred secretly to Germany under the ‘cover of night’” (Amnesty
International, cited in Gordon, 2008: 72).
3
The term “Mediterranean” is used latu sensu, including but not limited to routes (Western, Central and Eastern)
and countries on both sides of the divide (African countries and Turkey).
4
The United Nations Working Group on Enforced or Involuntary Disappearances (WGEID) has highlighted the
challenges posed by applying the terms “disappearance” and “missing” to migration, which has resulted in creating
confusion, ultimately hindering States’ obligations and search operations as well as associated criminal investiga-
tions (WGEID, 2011: para 18). Gabriella Citroni has also discussed the difficulties inherent in qualifying which
cases of those missing in relation to migration are a result of enforced disappearance and the resultant challenges
in determining exact numbers of missing migrants and those forcibly disappeared in Mexico (Citroni, 2017).
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
101
5
The authors do not intend, with the attribution of the term “disappearance” to the situation of migration, to dis-
regard or make light of those who are disappeared as a result of other situations including state-sponsored repres-
sion. The term is applied in this paper in light of the families who, in both instances, are left in a state of ambiguity
as a result of having a missing relative. The United Nations Working Group on Enforced or Involuntary
Disappearances (WGEID) has itself highlighted the underexplored problem of enforced disappearances of migrants
in its 2016 annual report. In particular, the WGEID observed that “the transnational nature of migration certainly
complicates the efforts of families of migrants who wish to obtain information concerning a disappeared relative.
In many instances, it is reported that there is no established protocol for family members to denounce a disappear-
ance abroad, in the country where the crime occurred. Similarly, there are no forensic databanks to register DNA
for the disappeared or evidence contributing to the research of remains…” (WGEID, 2016: paras 46–80).
6
The WGEID has noted that under international law, and in particular international humanitarian law and inter-
national human rights law, States have obligations to prevent and address the enforced disappearance of migrants.
To read more about States’ obligations in relation to the enforced disappearance of migrants, see WGEID (2017).
7
Current estimates on the migration file combine the category missing and dead migrant, and in reality they are
synonymous. Estimates of deaths in the Mediterranean are set to 17,644 between 2014 and 2018 according to the
International Organization on Migration (IOM), but vary widely in other regions (see Hinnant and Janssen, 2018).
The number of bodies recovered in European countries of arrival (we are not even considering countries of transit)
is, however, difficult to determine since the only objective calculation in European Mediterranean countries took
place between 1990 and 2013 (last, 2015) and accounts for 1125. After the peak in migrant deaths in 2015, that
figure increased substantially. The lack of reliable figures have also hampered a proper response to the problem of
identification.
8
For an interesting discussion addressing the identification (or lack thereof) of missing persons in a post-conflict
setting, see Robin Azevedo (2015).
This chapter explores how the search process may offer a solution to identifying
this new category of disappeared persons as a result of migration, if it embraces
disciplines other than forensics, including, but not limited to, human geography,
anthropology and sociology. This chapter also encourages a re‐thinking about
current procedures to search for the missing and to restore the identities of those
recovered in other situations, such as post‐conflict. To do so, the methodology
must adopt a holistic approach, tracing the trajectory of an individual from the
beginning of his/her journey and letting go of the commonly held assumption
that all the missing are dead.
The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) defines the “missing” as
individuals for whom “their families have no news and/or who, on the basis of
reliable information, have been reported missing as a result of an armed
conflict – international or non‐international – or of internal violence, internal
disturbances or any other situation that might require action by a neutral and
independent body” (ICRC, 2009). This is a broad and humanitarian definition
covering a range of situations where people disappear, including armed conflicts,
violence, natural disasters and migration. The term “missing” takes into consideration
the fact that families are victims of the situation, are affected regardless of the dif-
ferent contexts of disappearances, and have the same need and right to know.
Furthermore, the ICRC makes no conclusion as to the fate of missing persons and
therefore includes those potentially alive or dead. The authors of this paper take a
similar viewpoint to the ICRC’s for furthering the following discussion.
This chapter will firstly frame the tragedy of missing migrants. It will explore
the problem of collecting data about missing migrants followed by a discussion
about challenges in locating and/or identifying them. The forensic tools and
procedures at our disposal to innovate the current response and address the
families’ right to know will then be explored. Lastly, the chapter looks at how
taking a broader, non‐body centred approach to forensics may be relevant to
searching for missing persons within other situations, including conflict, post‐
conflict and disasters.
Most estimates discuss numbers of missing and dead according to only those two
categories. While simple, the problem is slightly more complicated; individuals are
considered to be “missing” in as much as somebody else is looking for them as a
result of not having news of their whereabouts and hence fate. The dead may also
bear the condition of “missing” in so much as their fate, but not whereabouts, has
been determined. How do we categorize, however, those individuals who may
well be missing but whose families may assume are still alive, and ignore their fate
and whereabouts? This is not unusual given the long time periods that are accept-
able for families to go without communication from their family member who is
migrating. How could we count these missing, or consider them, when no request
to trace their whereabouts and fate has been made?9
According to IOM and UNITED, respectively, 2877 and 3037 individuals were
reported dead amidst attempts to reach Italy.10 A recent update of the University
of Amsterdam database in Sicily and Calabria (between 2014 and 2017; Last et al.,
2017; Last and Spijkerboer, 2014; Last, 2015) detected 214 bodies of deceased
migrants during the same period; this list excludes at least over 500 bodies from
the 18 April 2015 shipwreck11 that remain unidentified, bringing the figure to
some 742.12 Based on the latter, we could argue that, if assuming the reported
missing are dead, the number of bodies recovered would be about 24% of the
individuals reported dead in 2015. The latter clearly poses an issue regarding what
could be achieved in terms of fate and whereabouts, considering that the number
of missing and potentially dead people represent only a fraction of the total.
Under both international humanitarian law (IHL) and international human rights
law (IHRL), the obligation to clarify the fate and whereabouts of missing persons
also implies respect for the families’ right to know the fate of their relatives
reported missing, their whereabouts or the circumstances and cause of their death
(AP I, Art. 32; ICPPED, Art. 24). In addressing this right, States must take all
appropriate measures to investigate cases of disappearance and to inform families
about the development of such procedures.13 As explicitly stated within the
Geneva Conventions Additional Protocol I, the activities of States, parties to the
conflict and international humanitarian organizations must be “prompted mainly
by the right of families to know the fate of their relatives.”14 These rules are also
pertinent for missing migrants and their families. If individuals migrate due to an
9
It is important to acknowledge that families of missing migrants do have agency to a certain degree with respect
to information about their missing relative; in many cases, they may have sketchy information regarding the fate
of their loved ones, but while struggling to know more they ignore, are unaware and may lack access to those
mechanisms that could afford them a more formal response. A similar situation occurs in Central American routes
(see Citroni, 2017) (i.e. tracing) that may result in an official acknowledgement of the fate (i.e. a death certificate),
allowing them to initiate or close the mourning process as well carry out administrative processes (inheritance,
marriage, adoption, etc.).
10
It must be understood that all lists are not readily comparable; for example, both IOM (https://missingmigrants.
iom.int/downloads)and UNITED (UNITED List of deaths, http://www.unitedagainstracism.org) include the dead of
18 April 2015 as 750 and 900 respectively in their total for 2015. The total mortality across the Mediterranean for
2015 was 3782 people.
11
See Miglierini (2016), “Migrant tragedy: Anatomy of a shipwreck,” https://www.bbc.com/news/
world-europe-36278529
12
https://www.ilfattoquotidiano.it/2018/04/18/naufragio-18-aprile-2015-le-vittime-sono-1-000-il-ragazzo-
con-la-pagella-e-gli-altri-morti-che-la-politica-cerca-di-dimenticare/4294850/
13
Customary International Humanitarian Law, Rule 117. Accounting for Missing Persons. See: https://ihl-databases.
icrc.org/customary-ihl/eng/docs/v1_cha_chapter36_rule117
14
Ibid.
armed conflict, parties to the conflict must facilitate any enquiries made by the
relatives of those who are reported missing with the aim of restoring contact
between families.15 Parties to a conflict also have an obligation to search for,
recover and identify deceased persons, including migrants, to ensure their remains
are handled with dignity and their families are notified.16
The right to know of families has two primary components: the fate or the
condition of the person (alive or dead), and the whereabouts – both combined
aim to clarify or “undo” the ambiguous nature of “disappearance”. The combination
of eliciting the fate and whereabouts of missing individuals is indispensable for
providing answers to families and enforcing their right to know. Fate is narrowly
defined as the legal responsibilities of states regarding the status of a person
(citizen or non‐citizen) including but not limited to the relevant documentation
to support such a status (dead, detained, missing, etc.). In operational terms, death
is more often than not a tangible state requiring specific documentation to prove
its fact (see Last et al., 2017). Such documentation is the responsibility of the State
through its medico‐legal system, hence the need to reinforce this system and
respond to the rights of the dead (the dead as a category of victim) and the needs
of the families to know their loved one’s fate.
The division between fate and whereabouts is more operational than theoret-
ical. Fate cannot be separated from whereabouts in as much as it defines the
circumstances under which a specific outcome (fate) materializes. Whereabouts is
defined as the information concerning the “parkour” (or journey) and location of
the missing person (dead or alive). Such information is investigative in nature,
and whenever it transcends national borders (i.e. migration) it may be difficult to
seize and organize. However, information on the whereabouts can also clarify the
fate of a missing individual, for example, when circumstantial information assists
in determining the fact that a sought person is dead.
15
Geneva Conventions iv, Art. 26 (for the whole of civilian populations); Additional Protocol I, Art. 74; ICRC
Customary Law, above note 6, Rule 105. See also Rule 131: “In case of displacement, all possible measures must
be taken in order that… members of the same family are not separated.”
16
GC IV, Arts 16(2) (whole of the populations), 129(2), 130–131 (internees); AP 1, Arts 17, 33, 34.
17
The Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team (EAAF) has worked on the identification of the disappeared using
a multidisciplinary and comprehensive approach since 1984 (www.eaaf.org).
later assassinated. Even today, the whereabouts of most of those who disappeared
remain unknown. After over 700 identifications, the Argentine Forensic
Anthropology Team (EAAF) found that individuals whose kidnappings were
closely related possibly followed the same IDC circuit, and that their whereabouts
were most probably also related: “… from the beginning, it has been a priority to
establish some kind of relationship between the different cases of disappearance
(…) any disappearance is often closely related to another case of disappearance, a
relationship that rarely appears explicit in the complainants.”18 Such links have
proven crucial in narrowing down searches. Relevant relationships among the
disappeared, although non‐explicit in the majority of the cases, were identified
and exploited. Information such as the date and place of a kidnapping and political
affiliation, among others, helped to build a network of the disappeared and single
out groups of individuals emerging from it. Other information derived from solved
cases was used in a statistical validation instance, whereby the best set of rules
(those generating groups consistent with the previous results for the same region)
were determined and emerging groups (of individuals) were detected. These
groups were used to prioritize and ascribe some victims to the same illegal circuit,
thus helping construct hypotheses of identity using non‐genetic information
(Caridi et al., 2011).
Migrants do not become missing in a single and independent way; their disappear-
ance emerges as part of collective, interdependent and complex phenomena. If it
is possible to formalize the underlying network, capturing relevant relationships
among these individuals, missing and not, some new information may emerge to
assist the investigative process. Below we provide a few examples of the latter.
missing 4
missing 1
missing 3
survivor 1
began the travel
boarded the boat
saw
missing 2
witness 2
witness 1
Figure 7.1 Example of a small network. There are two types of nodes, missing persons
(ellipses) and survivors or witnesses (rectangles), and three different types of links
(a continuous line means that the connected individual began the travel together, a
double line means that the connected individuals boarded the same boat, and the dashed
line means that one of the individuals, survivor or witness, saw the other one). All
networks were built using Cytoscape (cytoscape.org; Shannon et al., 2003) and R
software (www.r‐project.org).
of his trip and survivor 1 said he had boarded the same boat with missing 2. Missing 4
was reported as missing by his family. So far he is alone in the network because
no link has been established as yet. Therefore, the formalization of the network
may shed light on other individuals involved in the same event, while updating
our knowledge regarding the magnitude of the particular event.
10
3
4 11
7
2 9
12
13
14
8 5
6
Figure 7.2 Network involving missing (ellipses) and survivors (rectangles). Colours
represent the fates of the individuals: blue for those individuals belonging to the event of
shipwreck A, red for event shipwreck B, and those in grey for those individuals whose
whereabouts are unknown.
similar variables such as date and place of departure for their travel, language,
occupation, and so on. In such cases, relations are implicit. The challenge remains
to capture them through an analysis of individual attributes using, for example,
geographical and temporal functions, among others. For example, it is possible to
state a link between two individuals if they disappeared within close geographical
proximity (determined by a certain number of kilometres) and close dates (within
a certain temporal window). In this example, where geographical and temporal
functions define links, there are two parameters involved (distance and temporal
windows).
When interpreting implicit relations, it is necessary to validate inferred connec-
tions using information other than individuals’ attributes. For example, each rule
for defining links provides a different network and, as a consequence, different
group structures; thus rules and parameters need to be validated. For example,
Caridi et al. (2011) determined a set of appropriate rules to define implicit connec-
tions among people who disappeared in the State of Tucumán during the last mil-
itary dictatorship in Argentina. Rules to link individuals based on their temporal,
geographical and political attributes were established, as well as other data
obtained from previous cases and EAAF researchers’ own experience were used
to statistically validate the results.
C
D
A B
Figure 7.3 In green (ellipses) are individuals with collected TR, AMD and BRS, in yellow
(ellipses) individuals with only TR, and in red those for which we have TR, but not AMD,
nor BRS. Individuals in grey (ellipses) represent cases for which no TR, AMD or BRS
were collected. Survivors are coloured in brown, witnesses (rectangles) in light blue, and
other actors (triangles) in blue.
assume that we are capturing these non‐evident relationships on the basis of the
attributes of each one (similar ones in time, geography, and other attributes which
became relevant in the studied context). Once this network of explicit and non‐
explicit connections is formalized, it will be possible to make inferences regarding
routes, places and events.
Finally, a group (macro‐level), rather than individual (micro‐level) approach
to searching for the missing is more beneficial; each new piece of information
that arises from part of a network may shed light on others. Hypotheses can be
assessed at a later stage using all available information as well as specific lines of
evidence (micro‐level). The combination of the two perspectives (macro‐ and
micro‐levels) is a more adequate framework to take advantage of two visions:
one considering only those relevant variables to manage a large data system
without taking into account particular details from each individual and/or each
event, and another one considering all detailed information pertaining to a
specific case.
The term forensic humanitarian action, being “the application of the knowledge
and skills of forensic medicine and science to humanitarian action, especially
following conflicts or disasters” (Cordner and Tidball‐Binz, 2017), is perhaps a
restrictive term despite its broad scope. In a recent short communication, Rosenblatt
(2019) has warned that “some experts describe humanitarian forensic action in
traditionalist terms and as if there were a single humanitarian ethos amongst
practitioners, now spearheaded by the ICRC”. Indeed, humanitarian forensic
action can often be narrowly applied, focusing on the “dignified management of
dead bodies” rather than seeing the potential of forensics to generate a much larger
search continuum. Traditionally, the tenet “dignified management of the dead” is a
tool resting on two elements: firstly, the rights the dead have to be respectfully
upheld; and secondly, the willingness of states to identify them (see also Moon,
2014, 2018). The management of the dead therefore is a means to create a con-
ducive environment within which the dead will see their identities restored.
However, whether it be from the perspective of the fight against impunity or
from a humanitarian perspective, discussions around resolving cases of missing
persons, whether that be in relation to migration or other situations including
post‐conflict, need to incorporate scenarios in which there may not be bodies,
thereby transcending the notion that forensics is solely focused on the existence
and identification of human remains (see Moon, 2014, 2018).
In other words, to increase the resolution of the missing, again regardless of the
situation, requires a broader methodology, well beyond that provided by tradi-
tional practices of tracing, forensic medicine, forensic anthropology and related
disciplines, understanding that the term forensic refers to “the application of
7.7 Conclusion
This chapter has argued that migrants attempting to cross the Mediterranean Sea
are the “new disappeared”, emerging within a situation that, unlike domestic
jurisdictions, involve multiple countries, legal frameworks, political will or the
The holistic methodological approach to resolving the missing migrant issue is also pertinent and applicable to
20
absence thereof, and above all, the sea.21 Advocating for better systems of
accounting, monitoring and management of the dead in countries of arrival, while
a necessity, is not per se the sole solution. A number of other steps would need
to be adopted in addition to those already proposed, including broadening and
re‐thinking how the search process is currently undertaken.
The identification of deceased migrants is possible, although not in the high
numbers wished for. The high mortality rate among migrants crossing the
Mediterranean and on the African side (likely higher than the former) has also
highlighted the fact that some lives are more grievable than others (Butler, 2009).
It remains clear that success in identifying deceased migrants will be strongly
dependent on the existence of mortal remains in countries of transit and arrival,
the information attached to them (finding, associated evidence, post‐mortem
examination and traceability),22 and the ability to contact and locate families in
countries of origin.
This chapter has outlined how the search for answers related to the fate and
whereabouts of missing individuals can be greatly enhanced if a number of disci-
plines are incorporated into the process. While adopting a methodology related to
forensic sciences, the process must also expand beyond an understanding of the
missing as presumed dead, and begin from the moment an individual embarks on
a migratory journey until their fate and location is established – whether that be
alive or dead. To increase case resolution in relation to migration, the search for
the missing must thus incorporate other disciplines and expand upon the tradi-
tionally forensic‐lead process to reflect the two realities.
Finally, while innovating forensic processes may mean being able to provide
some information about the fate of missing migrants to their families, many will
never receive the remains of their relatives, given the fact that not all bodies are
recovered. The extremely limited to no response to family’s needs for truth could
well mean that the uncertainty of disappearance will never leave them and they
will forever remain in a state of limbo. Nevertheless, faced with this unfortunate
and cruel predicament, many families may prefer some information to none, par-
ticularly from a source they consider reliable. Faced with a constant flow of gossip
and speculation from those around them and social media, families are placed in
a state of constant turmoil: “Some people said they saw her in Izmir in Turkey,
while others said she was seen in Limbach in Germany… Some people posted on
Facebook that they found HH…” (Attia et al., 2016). One of the most stressful
aspects for families in relation to the missing is their lack of agency when attempt-
ing to obtain information and find answers (Citroni, 2017: 743–745). While some
families may have pieced together scant traces of information about the fate
and/or whereabouts of their missing relatives, they still need and require such
21
Kovras and Robins (2016) have ably described the Mediterranean as a wall of bodies separating Europe from
Africa.
22
An interesting proposal of traceability of unidentified migrants’ remains has been developed by the Catania
branch of the Italian Red Cross whereby every actor involved in the recovery, examination and disposal of a body
shares the information in a common database.
Acknowledgement
The authors would like to thank Madeleine Leroyer for her valuable comments
on an earlier draft of this chapter.
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8.1 Introduction
A source of reflection and inspiration, not only for scientists, artists, sages, but for
all people, was the interaction between death and life, the questions about death
and what happens after death. Beliefs, religions, philosophies, traditions, rites and
rituals, behaviours and attitudes: all have been influenced by the reality and con-
cept of death (Aramesh, 2016). The death tolls after disasters, particularly after
earthquake disasters, have been subject to various research works. The resilience
of local communities is affected by the high death tolls. The high number of dead
people after earthquake disasters needs to be considered as a dramatic wake‐up
call for the required learning, and necessitates long‐term strategies for earthquake
disaster risk reduction and for building an earthquake culture (Ibrion et al., 2015b,
c; Ibrion, 2018; Ibrion and Paltrinieri, 2018). The handling and the management
of the dead bodies after disasters is seen as an important element of disaster
response (Ibrion et al., 2015b; PAHO, 2016). Beliefs, cultural traditions, rites and
rituals are considered as vital resources for the resilience of survivors. However,
they may shape differently the resilience of survivors and the disaster management
for the handling of dead bodies. Further, some of the beliefs may have two differ-
ent impacts – positive and negative – on the resilience of survivors (Ibrion et al.,
2015b). Education and knowledge does not necessarily or dramatically change
beliefs and disaster risk perception. People with high levels of education can have
very strong beliefs. Moreover, they can also be influenced by the powerful beliefs
of their families, relatives and rest of the community. The riskscape of Bam, before
the 2003 Bam earthquake disaster, was negatively impacted by the strong cultural
beliefs (Ibrion et al., 2014; Parsizadeh et al., 2015). These beliefs are interwoven
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
117
with earthquake disasters also through theodicy and strong fatalistic beliefs
(Berberian, 2014).
The research objective of this study targets investigation of the beliefscape in
Iran, and particularly the beliefs linked with death and the interaction between
the dead and living. The following sections provide theoretical insights about risk
culture, resilience and disaster risk governance. As a research methodology, within
this study, an adaptation of the resilience engineering research method is applied.
The resilience engineering is seen as a comprehensive and advanced concept of
risk management, where disasters are seen as causes of the non‐linear combination
of the performance variability of system functions (Furuta, 2015). According to
Hollnagel (2013), building and engineering resilience into a system requires four
capabilities of the system: capability to respond, capability to learn, capability to
monitor, and capability to anticipate. Narratives of the earthquake disaster survi-
vors, various other narratives and life stories, ethnographical approaches, various
academic studies and scientific materials were also used for this study.
Risk is connected to cultures, times and places, and essentially, a risk culture is
particularly connected with knowing to live with risk emerging from different
types of hazards, natural or man‐made. An example of risk culture is the earth-
quake culture, which is principally linked to knowing how to live with the earth-
quake risk. The earthquake culture requires time in order to develop, but also
over time it can become forgotten and even lost. The place can influence the
earthquake culture; place‐specific strategies towards the earthquake disaster risk
reduction and enhancement of resilience can have a positive impact on building
an earthquake culture. The status of a cultural nation can contribute towards
building and enhancing an earthquake culture, but it is not a guarantee for
existence of an earthquake culture. The rhythm of learning from past disasters
can highly impact a risk culture. For instance, living with earthquake disasters in
Iran needs to be replaced by learning to live with earthquakes in Iran. The
resources and particularly the management of resources are of great importance
for building and development of an earthquake culture (Ibrion, 2018). Moreover,
the identification of stakeholders and their particular needs and requirements
plays an important role in building of an earthquake culture.
8.3 Resilience
Resilience is the intrinsic ability of a system to adjust its functioning prior to, dur-
ing, or following changes and disturbances, so that it can sustain the functions
of system, under both expected and unexpected conditions (Hollnagel, 2013).
The system, in order to become resilient, needs to have the ability to be proac-
tive. Resilience denotes the ability of systems to absorb effects of changes and
disturbances within the environment, the capacity to maintain functionality of
systems, the capacity to recover from damages and to renovate and to improve
through the process of learning from past experiences (Furuta, 2015).
Furthermore, Furuta (2015) distinguished between resilience in emergency situ-
ations and resilience in ordinary situations. In Iran, earthquake disasters, through
their high death tolls and massive destruction, have dramatically impacted the
resilience of individuals and communities (Ibrion et al., 2015b, c). Moreover,
over time, the resilience of individuals, communities and places has been
conditioned by various cultural parameters or factors (Ibrion, 2018; Ibrion and
Paltrinieri, 2018).
The aspects investigated about the beliefscape are mainly linked to the beliefs of
the Muslim Shia, and few aspects were also captured about Zoroastrian beliefs.
The term beliefscape is composed of “beliefs” and “‐scape” – a suffix which comes
from landscape – and offers an integrated way of presenting the beliefs associated
with the space/place of Iran. In order to offer a broad overview of the various
beliefs, and to be aware of the belief system in Iran, the term of beliefscape was
employed. The beliefscape of Iran comprises many and various beliefs, which
have deep roots in the history and culture of Persia/Iran. The focus here is partic-
ularly on those beliefs linked to death and the interaction between the living and
the dead.
Figure 8.1 Esfand (left) and a blue Turkish‐style amulet (right) used for protection from
the evil eyes. Photos by Michaela Ibrion, Yazd and Shahr‐e‐Rey, Iran.
hot water, which kind of soap or perfumes should be used. After washing, the
body is anointed with camphor – this ritual is called hanut – at the points where
the body touches the ground during praying (forehead, palms of hands, tip of
nose, kneecaps, and tip of big toes); camphor is also applied to the eyes, ears and
armpits. The body is covered by kafan, which is a white cotton material with no
embroidery or inscriptions (Khalili Batmanglij, 2009).
After these rituals are accomplished, namāz‐e mayyet (the prayer for the dead) is
performed. This prayer consists of five takbīrs (sayings of Allāhu Akbar meaning
“Allah is the Greatest”), and is made without either rokūʿ (bending) or sojūd (pros-
tration). The body is carried to the cemetery in a casket called tabut, and this is
usually done by close male family and friends; it is considered a good deed to help
in carrying the casket or to even touch it. When the body is taken out of the casket
and placed in the grave, the head and front side of the body should face Qebleh
(Mecca), and under the head, Lahad (a stone or brick) is placed. Islamic prayers
are recited in the ear of the deceased in order to prepare the dead for interrogation
with Nakir and Monker or Munkar, two angels that test the faith of dead people
in their tombs. The grave is covered with soil and sprinkled with rosewater and
covered with flowers and candles. During the ceremony of burial, all participants
should wear black clothes (Khalili Batmanglij, 2009). Weeping, crying and other
expressions of sorrow among family and relatives are displayed, encouraged and
expected. During the first night after burial, a special prayer called Namāz‐e waḥsat
is performed, in order to lessen the fears and terror of the deceased in the tomb.
Each Muslim person has canonical duties such as ablutions, regular praying
(Namaz), fasting, a pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, and payment of religious
taxes. If the deceased did not accomplish all of these obligations, the family has
the moral obligation to compensate for it. Moneys are paid to the clerics in order
to perform for the deceased all the missing praying and fasting, and all the reli-
gious taxes unpaid shall be settled in order to ensure a smooth transition of the
deceased to the next world. A memorial service – khatm – is arranged after three
days and other major commemoration days are Hafteh which is the seventh day,
Cheleh, which is the 40th day, and Sal, which is one year after death. The gravesite
is visited and is sprinkled with rosewater and decorated with flowers and candles.
Food offerings are given to all participants and other people (see Figure 8.2).
A special religious service takes place in the mosque. All of these ceremonials
are accomplished by all families, as it is believed that they are considered as good
deeds – savab – and will give more peace and will enhance the moral status of the
deceased. Moreover, it is believed that it is a good deed to visit the graveside every
week, on Thursday afternoon, shab‐e jom’a (Price, 2001). According to the Sunni
Muslim, and in contrast to the Shi’a Muslim, raising and decoration of tombs,
extensive funerary rituals, excessive lamentation, and having funerary cere-
monies and memorials is forbidden. Moreover, women are strictly prohibited
from visiting tombs and cemeteries. As per a pious Shiite Muslim, the pilgrimage
and visits to the tombs of an Imam are seen both as a religious duty and a good
Figure 8.2 Food offerings for commemoration of the Cheleh (40 days). Photos by
Michaela Ibrion, Yazd, Iran.
deed to be achieved during lifetime; high on the list are the pilgrimages to the
Imam Reza in Mashad, to the Imam Ali in Najaf, Iraq, and to the Imam Hossein in
Kerbala. However, the Sunni Muslim does not practice such pilgrimages to tombs
and cemeteries (Aramesh, 2016).
For Zoroastrian communities, the funerary rituals are very much elaborated.
Over time, the Zoroastrian rituals influenced the Shia Muslim’s funerary rituals and
commemorations (Price, 2001). However, there are many differences, both in
beliefs and rituals. At the death of a person, the Zoroastrian people wear white and
they do not believe in or encourage any excessive and loud lamentations. In ancient
Persia, before Islam, as per Zoroastrianism, dead bodies were not buried in order
not to contaminate the pure elements of Earth, such as soil and water. The bodies
were also not cremated, in order not to contaminate other important elements such
as fire and air. The dead were left in special places – Dakhmeh or dakhma – meta-
phorically called “the tower of silence” and exposed to the actions of vultures and
the sun until their total desintegration (Aramesh, 2016). No tombs or headstones
were used for bones of the deceased. In Iran, the practice of dakhma was banned by
the government in the 1970s and it was totally abandoned by the Zoroastrian com-
munities in Yazd, Kerman and Tehran. Nowadays, burial is practiced among
Zoroastrians, but with an adequate lining of the grave with stones and cement.
According to Zoroastrian beliefs, it is not the body of a dead person that requires
attention, but the fate of the soul of the deceased. Consequently, all those who have
passed away are not commemorated through monuments, but in prayers. Memorial
prayers are recited at the house of the deceased and at fire temples on many occa-
sions: on the third day after death, on the tenth day, after one month, and after one
year. Moreover, ten days at the end of each year are dedicated to the remembrance
of all souls. During all major festivals, gahambars, jashne, and on the occasion of rites
of passage like, for example, varadh‐patra, prayers are officiated for the souls of the
departed. All Zoroastrian families need to memorize and record the names of their
ancestors and remember them during the memorial prayers (Eduljee, 2017).
faced great criticism from both religious scholars and from ordinary people. The
cost for developing such a device was almost 30,000 USD (the equivalent of almost
100,000,000 tomans at that time). However, it was observed that in terms of
usage of water, the traditional method of washing uses around 500–700 liters of
water per body, but the automated corpse washer uses only 50–60 liters of water.
Nevertheless, the implementation of this technical device requires a strong reli-
gious and cultural approval (Mohammadi Doostdar et al., 2014).
that even the dead people were sad!” (Ibrion et al., 2015b). A rapid burial of dead
people was perceived by survivors as an important part of their moral duties, which
needed to be performed with no delay, regardless of the dramatic circumstances
that occurred. However, the rapid burial of dead people had a double impact – a
significant positive impact and a significant negative impact – on the resilience of
survivors. Survivors accomplished their moral and cultural duties for the immediate
burial, but shortly afterwards, deeply regretted the rapid burial without accom-
plishment of the traditional funerary rites and rituals. When funerary rites and
rituals are not accomplished, families, relatives, neighbors and other members of
communities strongly believe that serious moral sins were committed and the dead
people are not in peace. Moreover, the rapid burial of dead people had a significant
negative impact on the disaster management for the handling of dead bodies, as
many were buried without being identified. In Bam 2003, the dead bodies were
identified and gravesites were marked with special signs to be recognized later,
only if family members and relatives were present. The survivors and witnesses to
the Bam disaster were all in a rush to bury the dead bodies, whether identified or
unidentified. Even the organizations involved in the rescue and body recovery
were sending the dead bodies directly to cemeteries with no identification.
This unsettling situation had a negative impact on the resilience of survivors. The
dead bodies represented not only the physical bodies of the dead, but also their
sociocultural identities, as members of families and communities in Bam. Moreover,
non‐identification of dead people contributed to the controversies regarding the
numbers of dead after the earthquake. There was no centralized or accurate system
or death‐recording process immediately in place after the Bam earthquake.
Other type of beliefs examined by Ibrion et al. (2015b) in the context of the 2003
Bam and 1978 Tabas earthquake disasters refer to the Qiamat (literally “Judgment
Day”). These beliefs were also identified after the Rudbar 1990 earthquake disaster
(Ibrion et al., 2015a, c). The end of the world and the Qiamat are strongly linked to
the occurrence of earthquakes, and especially earthquake disasters. The beliefs
about Qiamat are strongly linked to the verses of the Qu’ran, particularly Sura 99,
Az‐Zalzalah (“the Earthquake”), Ayat 1‐8. A narrative from a 2003 Bam survivor
refers to the Qiamat: “…Suddenly at that second, it was like Qiamat, when nobody
knows anybody. I was not thinking at all of earthquake at that time. I was thinking
that Qiamat came, and everything will become powder and everything is falling
down… Everybody will die…” (Ibrion et al., 2015b: 72). The survivors and wit-
nesses of the 2003 Bam earthquake disaster recalled that all their families, relatives,
neighbors and even the rescue and relief forces were affected by waves of looting.
In Bam, after the earthquake on 26 December 2003, for at least the first 72 hours,
the looting was a horrendous reality that affected both living and dead people, and
a survivor remembered very outrageous and immoral acts: “They were stealing the
stuff of people and putting in the car and adding one or two more dead bodies on
top of the car or on the taken stuff. When passing from the security checks out of
the city, they were saying these are our families and we are taking them to be
buried out of the city. However, after passing the security checkpoints, they were
just throwing away the dead bodies” (Ibrion et al., 2015b: 71). In Tabas, in 1978,
people were not much afraid of looting, but they mainly feared that the dead bodies
of their families would be buried without their knowledge and in unknown places.
In Bam 2003, no emergency medical teams were present in the area in the first
hours, and people were very much in a hurry to bury bodies presumed as dead.
There were many rumors about the possibility of people believed to be dead being
buried alive. According to survivors and witnesses to the disasters, the majority of
dead people were buried without a confirmed cause of death. In these circum-
stances, there was a chance that “some [people] were buried alive”. A survivor
witnessed a case where a person was buried alive, but at the last minute, they
realized that the person was still alive and was removed from the grave. Another
survivor confirmed that “…In my opinion, many were buried alive. Because, they
even found some people alive between the dead ones” (Ibrion et al., 2015b: 70).
Figure 8.3 Nakhl Gardani (undecorated and not during Muharram). Photos by Michaela
Ibrion, Yazd, Iran.
Figure 8.5 Funerary car employed for the funeral ceremony of Reza Shah in May 1950.
Photos by Michaela Ibrion, Shiraz, Iran.
was subject to controversy and there were many rumors about the involvement
in his death of the SAVAK (secret police during the last Shah Pahlavi). Other
rumors supported the theory of suicide and the fact that Takhti was very deeply
affected by the death of Mossadeq as well as personal problems. However,
according to Islamic beliefs, suicide is a terrible sin. The family would encounter
difficulties in the accomplishment of funerary rituals and burial in a cemetery.
Nationalists considered Takhti very much connected with their movement and as
one of their heroes. His funeral ceremony took place at Ebn Bābuya in Rey, south
of Tehran, and was attended by many of Mossadeq’s followers. The anniversary of
Taḵhti’s death has been commemorated at his tomb every year since his death,
and is attended by many people (EI, 2012).
Figure 8.6 The designated part of a cemetery for the burial of shahid (left), and the graves
of three brothers (all three died in the same year) shahid (right). Photos by Michaela
Ibrion, Yazd, Iran.
The beliefscape of Iran is complex, and various aspects have presented in the sec-
tions above. It can be noted that the beliefs linked to death and the interactions
between the living and dead are well represented in Iran. Moreover, the theme of
death is very strong and well supported by disaster risk governance in connection
with the beliefscape of Iran. The capacities of resilience linked with the beliefscape
of Iran are shown in Figure 8.7.
The beliefscape of Iran has been shaped over a long time span and has suffered
changes and accommodated adaptations. Moreover, the beliefscape of Iran has
influenced the resilience of Persia/Iran, the risk culture and the disaster risk gov-
ernance in Iran, and this influence is evaluated as both positive and negative. The
disaster risk governance of Iran has negatively impacted the beliefscape of the
country and its risk culture, particularly the earthquake culture (see Figure 8.8).
Capacity of Capacity of
Learning Response
The
Beliefscape
of Iran
Capacity of Capacity of
Monitoring Anticipation
Resilience
of Iran
The
Beliefscape
of Iran
Risk Disaster
Culture- Risk
Earthquake Governance
culture
Figure 8.8 The interrelations among beliefscape, risk culture, resilience and disaster risk
governance.
However, the disaster risk governance still has the potential to negotiate the
building of an earthquake culture in Iran and to make a significant positive and
constructive impact on the beliefscape and risk culture of the country. In case this
is done at the earliest, it could have a positive impact on the resilience of people
and the country.
Iranian society encompasses an amalgamation of various beliefs that empha-
sizes the predominance of death, death‐related rites and rituals and behaviors and
even lifestyles. Aramesh (2016) also highlighted the complexity of beliefs and
attitudes in Iran and the role of poems, particularly during the last decades. The
poems of Hafez and Khayyam have become very popular, particularly because
they emphasize the importance of life versus the harshness and inevitability of
death. Moreover, these poems highlight the centrality of happiness in this earthy
life and the importance of discovering both basic and significant human values.
Iran is considered to be one of the most resilient countries and nations of the
world, and its resilience is very much linked to the beliefscape that has been
shaped over a very long time span – centuries and even millennia. However, this
beliefscape is continuously created and re‐created, and the rhythm of changes and
adaptations is very accentuated in the last 100 years, and particularly the last half
century. Paradoxically, these changes and adaptations are not among those that
might support and enhance the resilience of communities and of the country.
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9.1 Introduction
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
135
of recovering the human remains of the disappeared, identifying them and return-
ing them to their families in dignified conditions.
Perhaps the question is: why establish these parallel processes, when there is
already a penal process in which the alleged authors are investigated, and the
remains recovered? The answer is that in an ideal scenario a penal process should
satisfy the needs of the victims and their families in an integral way, that is, it
should sanction the authors and restore the recovered human remains to their
families; however, reality is a lot more complex. There are events – forced disap-
pearances – that take place during times of mass violation of human rights, such
as the period of violence that occurred in Peru between 1980 and 2000, and many
other situations of disappearance, involving different actors and variables.
Considering the time passed since then, we are talking about over 30 years of
search in most cases. There is also the need to consider the geographical and
accessibility conditions; soil features that deteriorate skeletal remains and make
identification more difficult each day; structural conditions of vulnera-
bility – poverty, a mother language different from Spanish, social stigma, most
close relatives are now old, and so on. Besides, on many occasions the penal
investigations, which can be delayed for years due to the complexity of finding
proof, do not reach a definitive sentence that identifies and sanctions the people
responsible and/or recovers human remains and restores them to their
families.
To respond to this situation of dissatisfaction regarding the protection of human
rights, the government approved Law No. 30470, the Law for the Search of the
Missing during the Period of Violence 1980–2000, as an alternative to provide
answers to the families of the missing and prioritize their needs. Thus, the public
policy for the search of the missing from a humanitarian approach constitutes a
mechanism of transitional justice that aims to relieve the suffering, incertitude
and need for answers of the families of the missing (Art. 2, Law 30470).
On a national level, the policy is being implemented by the Office for the Search
for the Missing (Direccion General de Busqueda de Personas Desaparecidas – DGBPD)
of the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights (MINJUSDH), an office recently cre-
ated by Supreme Decree No. 013‐2017. This office is responsible for the
management of the National Registry of Missing Persons and Burial Sites (Registro
Nacional de Personas Desaparecidas y Sitios de Entierro – RENADE) and the
implementation of the National Plan for the Search for the Missing.
The structure of the search for the missing from a humanitarian approach
involves three stages: (1) humanitarian investigation, understood as the process
1
Directive No. 001-2017-JUS/VMDHAJ-DGBPD, which regulates the process of search for the missing with a
humanitarian approach, Article 5.3. Stages of the process of search for the missing with a humanitarian approach.
2
Different circumstances can make it so that it is not possible to find and restore the human remains of the missing
(for example, if they were incinerated). This is one of the reasons why an adequate psychosocial accompaniment
is necessary, so that the families can be helped to process the information and heal. Other examples are the cases
of bodies thrown into the sea or into rivers, such as the Huallaga River. We have found that, in these situations,
the families are in a continuous search for the missing person, but, mostly, in search for an answer from the State.
3
There is also the possibility of finding living persons, in a different country or region, with a new identity.
Although it is not a large number of people, there have been cases like these reported by the Special Registry of
People Absent by Forced Disappearance and by the Unified Registry of Victims (RUV). This requires a different
strategy and a different kind of answer for the family.
4
Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Final Report, Volume VIII, pages 217–218. Available in Spanish: http://
www.cverdad.org.pe/ifinal/pdf/TOMO%20VIII/TERCERA%20PARTE/I-PSICOSOCIALES.pdf
5
Law No. 30470, Article 2, literal (e) Psychosocial Accompaniment: Is the group of actions at an individual,
familiar, communal and/or social level, oriented to prevent, attend and confront the psychosocial impact of disap-
pearance and, so, favor the development of processes for the search of missing persons, accompanying the families
in all the stages of forensic investigation and restitution of remains, favoring the recovery and emotional wellbeing
of the families.
6
Law No. 30470 Article 2, literal (f) Material and logistic support for the families: Is the group of actions deployed
by different sectors of State so that the families participate in the process for the search, recovery, analysis,
identification, restitution and proper burial of the remains of missing persons.
7
Directive No. 001-2017-JUS/VMDHAJ-DGBPD, which regulates the process of search for the missing with a
humanitarian approach, Article 5.2.2 Competence of the DGBPD.
people who disappeared during the period of violence in Peru (1980–2000), rein-
forcing the compromise for the protection and guarantee of human rights in a
Constitutional Rule of Law.
The Office for the Search for the Missing (DGBPD) was created in June 2017 by
Supreme Decree No. 013‐2017‐JUS; since then, it has been working in the four
regions with the highest number of missing people during the period of violence
between 1980 and 2000: Ayacucho (9927 missing people), Junín (2978), Huánuco
(2536) and Huancavelica (1054).8 To provide integrated support to the families of
the missing, the DGBPD has offices in Lima, Ayacucho, Huanuco, and Junin.
One of the first and main achievements of the DGBPD is the implementation of
the National Registry of Missing People and Burial Sites (RENADE), which cen-
tralizes, systematizes and filters information from pre‐existing archives and data-
bases of public and private entities related to the search for the missing. So far, it
includes information from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, the Unified
Registry of Victims (RUV), the Especial Registry of People Absent by Forced
Disappearance of the Ombudsman Office, the Interamerican System of Human
Rights, the National Association of Families of Kidnapped, Detained and
Disappeared People of Peru (Asociación Nacional de Familiares de Secuestrados,
Detenidos y Desaparecidos del Perú – ANFASEP) and part of the information in
the Antemortem Database of the Peruvian Forensic Anthropology Team (Equipo
Peruano de Antropología Forense – EPAF), plus the new information being gath-
ered by the DGBPD.
With this information, in April 2018 the DGBPD presented the first list of
missing people of RENADE, establishing that at least 20,329 people disappeared as
a consequence of the period of violence in Peru. This number includes both the
people whose destiny is unknown and the cases of unrecognized deaths, in which
the destiny is known, but there is no legal certification of death (Article 2 of Law
30470).9 It is important to note that this was the first time that an official number
of missing persons during the period of violence was presented in the country,
including their names, place of disappearance, the date when it occurred, and the
sources of information, so as not to subject the families to new interviews for
information that they have already provided.
RENADE is also a tool for the development of search strategies and the recon-
struction of contexts. Within the processes being conducted by the DGBPD, there
8
Source: Registro Nacional de Personas Desaparecidos y Sitios de Entierro (RENADE) – database under construction.
9
Law No. 30470, Law for the Search for Missing Persons during the Period of Violence 1980–2000. Available in
Spanish:https://busquedas.elperuano.pe/normaslegales/ley-de-busqueda-de-personas-desaparecidas-durante-el-periodo-
ley-n-30470-1395654-1/
are approximately 294 cases in the first stage of humanitarian investigation10 with
different levels of complexity and available information about the destiny of the
victims; the DGBPD has developed a classification that proposes different strat-
egies for these cases.
There are also 38 cases in which this stage has ended and the joint interven-
tion11 with the Prosecutor’s Office has been programmed to recover the human
remains found. Among these cases, we can emphasize the recovery of 14 missing
people in the region of Ayacucho, in the districts of San José de Ticllas, Acocro,
Vinchos and Cangallo, whose restitution took place in an ecumenical ceremony in
the Cathedral of Huamanga.
Likewise, there have been joint interventions in the district of Chinchao, in the
region of Huanuco, where the remains of a couple that disappeared in 1991 were
recovered, whose family had searched for them for over 27 years; in the district of
Anchonga, in the region of Huancavelica, the remains of six people that disap-
peared between 1982 and 1983 were also recovered; and in the district of Vinchos,
in the region of Ayacucho, seven bodies from people who disappeared in 1984
were recovered from different burial sites.
The skeletal remains of one person were found during the preliminary work for
the construction of the Mental Health Community Center of Angaraes
(Huancavelica), in the area previously occupied by the military base of Lircay;
they were recovered by the forensic team of the Prosecutor’s Office, and the
DGBPD provided psychosocial accompaniment to the families that approached
the area. Due to the urgency of moving forward with the construction of the
Mental Health Community Center, so that the Regional Government would not
lose the funding, the Prosecutor of Huancavelica designated the team of the
DGBPD as forensic experts to conduct an exploratory excavation of the area. This
exploration recovered some fragments of human remains and associated objects.
The DGBPD also gathered biological samples from the relatives of the missing
people associated with the ex‐military base, in order to incorporate them into the
Genetic Databank for the search of the missing in Peru, perform the genetic anal-
ysis, and contribute to the identification of the human remains recovered.
The Genetic Databank (Banco de Datos Genéticos – BDG) was created by
Legislative Decree No. 1398,12 to contribute to the identification of the people
10
Humanitarian Investigation: First stage of the search process, led by the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights,
which includes the group of investigative actions, be it documental, in the field or other kind, for the generation,
gathering, verifying and analysis of information about contexts and circumstances related to the disappearance of
people, which allow the determination of the destiny of the victims and, if possible, to locate and identify the burial
sites where their mortal remains may be deposited. Directive No. 001-2017-JUS/VMDHAJ-DGBPD.
11
Joint intervention: Second stage of the search process, planned and coordinated by the Office of the Prosecutor
and the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights, it includes the group of actions related to the recovery, analysis and
assessment of the evidence, which, scientifically studied, may permit the identification of the missing persons and
their restitution to their families, the determination of the cause of death and, if possible, to obtain information
that can serve as proof in court. Directive No. 001-2017-JUS/VMDHAJ-DGBPD.
12
Legislative Decree No. 1398, Legislative Decree that creates the Genetic Databank for the Search for Missing
PersonsinPeru.AvailableinSpanish:https://busquedas.elperuano.pe/normaslegales/decreto-legislativo-que-crea-el-banco-de-
datos-geneticos-par-decreto-legislativo-n-1398-1689445-1/
who disappeared during the period of violence (1980–2000). The BDG stores the
genetic profiles from the biological samples of the close relatives of missing people
and from the human remains recovered during the investigations, to conduct its
analysis, match and validation, in order to establish kinship indexes that con-
tribute to identification. Thus, this scientific tool constitutes a great support for the
search process from a humanitarian approach.
Joint interventions were conducted in the districts of Acos Vinchos and Santiago
de Pischa in Ayacucho, recovering the remains of eight people that disappeared
between 1990 and 1991. In Acos Vinchos, five victims were taken by the mem-
bers of the Shining Path, then murdered and their bodies disappeared, and now
have been found in a collective grave in the community of Andaraccay. In Santiago
de Pischa, people who had organized to defend themselves from the rebels were
killed by the Shining Path in 1991 and 1998, and their bodies disappeared. From
June to December 2018, the remains of 38 people missing due to the period of
violence were recovered.
To guarantee adequate psychosocial accompaniment,13 these interventions
have had support from the DGBPD, the Ministry of Health through the Community
Health Center of Acobamba (Huancavelica), the Health Post of San Juan de
Cullhuancca (Ayacucho) and the Regional Health Offices (Dirección Regional de
Salud – DIRESA) of Huanuco and Huancavelica.
It is important to emphasize that the ceremony of restitution is planned in
coordination with the families, with respect for their religious and cultural beliefs,
in order to provide a proper burial and deliver proper answers to them, ending an
anxiety and uncertainty that has extended for over 36 years. If the families prefer
it, the restitution ceremonies are conducted in their community, and the DGBPD
coordinates the material and logistic support14 to facilitate their active participa-
tion across the different stages of the search, which reinforces the humanitarian
approach to the process.
The goal is to conduct the recovery, analysis, identification and restitution in
less than 6 months, in contrast with the current time from recovery to restitu-
tion – 1 year or more15 – in ordinary penal processes.
Finally, during Human Rights Week, a symbolic ceremony was conducted in
Acos Vinchos (Ayacucho) in recognition of the local people who disappeared
13
Law No. 30470, Article 2, literal (e) Psychosocial accompaniment: Is the group of actions at an individual,
familiar, communal and/or social level, oriented to prevent, attend and confront the psychosocial impact of disap-
pearance and, so, favor the development of processes for the search of missing persons, accompanying the families
in all the stages of forensic investigation and restitution of remains, favoring the recovery and emotional wellbeing
of the families.
14
Law No. 30470 Article 2, literal (f) Material and logistic support for the families: Is the group of actions deployed
by different sectors of State so that the families participate in the process for the search, recovery, analysis,
identification, restitution and proper burial of the remains of missing persons. For example: coffins, construction
of burial places, transportation, board and lodging for the families, among other logistic issues to consider.
15
The waiting time from recovery to the restitution of the bodies to their families in penal processes is still a pend-
ing issue for the State, and we cannot forget that over 1500 sets of human remains are stored in the facilities of the
Institute of Forensic Medicine of the Prosecutor’s Office, pending identification and/or restitution. In some of these
cases, more than 10 years have passed since their recovery.
during the period of violence; this ceremony involved the placing of a commem-
orative plate and the presence of the vice Minister of Human Rights (MINJUSDH),
local authorities, and the families of the missing people from the district.
9.4 Conclusion
The advancement made in the past two years in the search for the people who
disappeared during the period of violence in Peru has been fundamental in estab-
lishing the foundations of a public policy that prioritizes a humanitarian approach,
and provides the answers that the families of thousands of missing persons have
been waiting for for decades. It is a complementary mechanism to the system of
justice, whose goal is to sanction those responsible for committing the crime; it
guarantees the search, recovery and proper restitution of the recovered remains,
putting the families in the center of the process, so that it can contribute to miti-
gation of the pain and uncertainty.
The DGBPD of the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights fulfils a fundamental
role for the implementation of the scientific tools that make the search more
effective, such as the RENADE and the Genetic Databank, which guard both ante‐
mortem and post‐mortem information about the victims and the context of their
disappearance, which feed each other internally to establish hypotheses for the
search and identification of the victims, thus building a more efficient process
than the alternatives previously used in Peru.
On 7 September 2018, the President of the Republic reaffirmed his commit-
ment to the families of the missing by moving forward in the search from a
humanitarian approach, by approving the Legislative Decree that creates the
Genetic Databank, a proposal formulated by the Ministry of Justice and Human
Rights, in an unprecedented public event in the Presidential Palace with the par-
ticipation of representatives of the families of the victims. This commitment is
essential for implementation of a public policy; the political will of the authorities
involved is key to its success, as implementation is a path with high and low
grounds, requiring budget assignation, and consensus among different actors,
both public and private.
Thus, the process for the search for the missing led by the DGBPD is a joint
effort that requires the work and commitment of public actors (the Prosecutor’s
Office, the Ministry of Health, regional and local governments, etc.), private actors
(NGOs) and the families of the victims, including their active participation, with
respect for the cultural and religious differences in a multicultural land such as
Peru, and under a constitutional and democratic rule of law.
10.1 Introduction
The views expressed here are solely those of the authors and do not represent the views of the International
1
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
143
Against this backdrop, this chapter’s aims are threefold: to explore the forensic
setup and response capacity of the Philippines; to examine how this was applied
in practice during the forensic humanitarian response to the Marawi crisis; and
finally to discuss the forensic challenges that were encountered in this complex
context.
AFP are not immediately present, the local Chief of Police has the instant site
command, which is then to be handed over to the AFP upon their arrival.
As mentioned above, there are many agencies involved in the MDM Cluster;
with that in mind there is a protocol for which agency takes the lead on identifi
cations of the dead. The choice of agency in charge is dependent largely on the
nature of the event. In cases of natural disasters, such as typhoons or earthquakes,
the NBI has the lead, whereas mass fatalities due to human‐generated activities
are handled by the PNP (Duque, 2007). However, both agencies should coordi
nate with one another, as well as other related subject‐matter experts, such as
academics or external forensic personnel. The disposition of the dead, in cases
where identification is not possible, ultimately falls under the responsibilities of
the LGUs, who bury the unidentified in marked collective graves. Identified
remains are released to the next of kin by the LGU after issuance of a death certif
icate. In situations where deceased foreign nationals are identified during the pro
cess, the NDCC liaises with the respective embassies to arrange repatriation or
other means of disposition.
It is well understood by the agencies within the MDM Cluster that the Philippines
is prone to natural disasters, and subsequent to the challenges faced and sobering
identification rates of the victims of Typhoon Haiyan, the MDM Cluster embraced
the approach of training civilian first‐responders on the management of the dead
in mass fatality events. Within this framework, and with support (both material
and forensic expertise) from the ICRC, the PRC trains volunteers from all of its
chapters. These current trainings are largely oriented with, and focus on, the
WHO/ICRC manual for the Management of Dead Bodies after Disasters (Cordner et al.,
2016). They are also targeted towards untrained lay personnel (i.e. volunteer
first‐responders), but the ultimate goal will be to feed into a coordinated DVI
response in the future (Cordner et al., 2016; Ellingham et al., 2016).
erupted, which was unprecedented with regards to the scale of the fighting, its
urban nature, and its duration (Franco, 2017a). The Marawi crisis was triggered
on 23 May 2017, when the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) conducted an
operation in the attempt to arrest Abu Sayyaf leader Isnilon Hapilon (Franco,
2017b, 2018). Hapilon’s forces fought back and additionally called for reinforce
ment from the Maute Group (which is also known as the Islamic State of Ranao
and is comprises former MILF guerrillas who have pledged their allegiance to IS,
as well as foreign fighters) and the Bangsamoro Islamic Freedom Fighters (BIFF),
a breakaway group of the MILF. A firefight between government troops (Armed
Forces of the Philippines (AFP) and the Philippine National Police (PNP)) and
militants that subsequently erupted led to the rebel groups laying siege to the city
of Marawi. Due to this, President Duterte declared martial law for the entire island
of Mindanao on 24 May 2017, less than 24 hours after the fighting began
(Heydarian, 2017). The Marawi crisis turned into a five‐month urban warfare
operation including both the deployment of large numbers of troops, as well as air
raids across the city. As a result of the fighting, the human cost was devastating:
400,000 internally displaced persons (IDPs), leaving a reported death toll of 978
militants, 168 government troops and 87 civilians (Reyes, 2017).
Following conflict or disasters, the management of the dead (to include the
protection of their dignity, as well as proactive means towards their identification
to prevent them from becoming missing persons) is regarded as one of the three
pillars of humanitarian response, together with care for the survivors and the
restoration of basic services (Cordner and Tidball‐Binz, 2017; Cordner and Ellingham,
2017). Under international humanitarian law (IHL) the dead are a distinct category
of victim, and as such have the right to have their personal dignity and identity
protected (Petrig, 2009; ICRC, 1977, 2002).
The Marawi crisis posed several complexities and challenges to the humani
tarian response. In effect, the declaration of martial law dictated all response
activities, including the management of the dead, to be coordinated through the
AFP. During the initial three weeks of the conflict, it was categorized as a localized
incident, which left the local PNP in charge of disaster victim identification (DVI)
activities. One of the challenges first encountered with this approach was the
limited experience in the subject matter by the local PNP personnel. This changed,
however, once the declaration of the Marawi siege became a national disaster, and
the MDM Cluster was activated from 14 June 2017. In effect this meant: first
responders trained and advised by the ICRC/PRC and/or the military’s Search,
Rescue and Retrieval (SRR) teams could collect human remains; the PNP Manila
SOCO (Scene of Crime Officer) team then took overall charge of DVI (and the NBI
forensic team was alerted and on standby should their support be requested by
to be processed by the PNP DNA laboratory in Manila for future comparison with
collected family reference samples of missing people. Due to the rapid decompo
sition of remains, no bodies were released to families based on visual identification
without corroboration of the identification by primary indicators. Once bodies
were received at the funeral homes, they were externally embalmed in an effort
to delay the decomposition. This measure was taken as there were no available
refrigeration units at that time. Unidentified and unclaimed remains were buried
“apartment style” in above‐ground burial crypts, which are common in cemeteries
in the Philippines and are typical temporary burial options for lower socioeco
nomic members of the community, as these crypts can be leased for five years at
a time. Crypts were to be marked with the unique reference number assigned to
the bodies by the PNP. Above‐ground burial crypts are ideal as temporary burial
solutions for unidentified remains, as they allow for easy extraction of the bodies
upon identification.
widespread phenomenon in the early stages of the Marawi response. For example,
some individuals with family ties to the rebel groups feared being suspected or
even arrested themselves if they came forward to the PNP (Crisis Committee
2017, personal communication). The 400,000 IDPs were spread between different
surrounding cities as well as several evacuation camps, many of whom had been
separated from family with no means of contacting them. It was therefore decided
by the MDM cluster and the ARMM Crisis Management Team to set up Family
Assistance Centers (FACs), which would also function as AMD collection points,
in seven different evacuation centers. These AMD collection points were to be set
up in tents for privacy reasons and manned by two AMD collection‐trained and
un‐uniformed PNP staff. These collection points were set up for purely humani
tarian reasons to facilitate the identification of missing and suspected deceased
individuals; no information for prosecution of any kind should be collected. PRC
helpdesks throughout the camps acted as referral points for families, and PRC staff
were given sensitization training on AMD collection in order to be able to brief
families on the process and manage their expectations. All collected data were
planned to be centralized and managed by the PNP.
10.5 Discussion
The Marawi crisis exemplified the cohesive, integrated approach that was envi
sioned in the creation of the multi‐agency MDM Cluster. This was especially
visible in both the deployment of trained first‐responders as well as the professional
forensic capacity using the Interpol DVI protocols in the processes of identification.
In particular instances where time is limited and swift action and decision‐making
are required (i.e. during the opening of the peace corridor for access to human
remains), having the framework in place for rapid crash‐course training sessions
for staff without any previous experience in management of the dead (MotD) has
proven vital. The PRC, who provide recurring MotD training to first‐responders as
part of their cluster duties, have developed programme curricula which can be
rapidly adapted to varying circumstances. Therefore, the forensic response
demonstrated the compatibility of this first‐responder approach with identifi
cation procedures following international standards and guidelines (Cordner and
Ellingham, 2017).
The Marawi Crisis further highlighted the importance of planning and
coordination in order to conduct a successful disaster response. Disaster
management plans, including provisions for the management of the dead, should
be developed and in place in advance (Cordner et al., 2016). The Philippine
Management of the Dead and Missing Cluster does just that: it develops plans for
the response and promotes coordination amongst the different agencies to deliver
on it. However, the MDM Cluster has only recently been formed (i.e. it was initi
ated five years ago), and it is primarily focused more on the response to natural
disasters than to armed conflict. Because of its recent establishment, the MDM
Cluster has not yet been involved on the ground level very many times. Evidence
for this was manifested in the different coordination exhibited at the Manila level
(e.g. a high level of coordination), which has not yet trickled down to all provin
cial level groups. In the provincial areas, not all relevant staff have received
training, and in some instances there was a lack of awareness of the structure and
role divisions that were agreed upon by the MDM Cluster. Because of these chal
lenges, getting all relevant personnel up to speed caused some delays in the initial
response to the Marawi crisis. Taken together, these issues highlighted the need to
ensure there are sufficiently trained personnel on standby and ready to deploy in
all provinces of the country when the need arises.
Another factor impeding the response to management of the dead in Marawi
was the lack of access and opportunity for the recovery teams due to the ongoing
conflict and the associated security risks, such as active shooting and air strikes,
strategically placed improvised explosive devices, and so on. Safety and security of
first‐responder recovery personnel is paramount, and under no circumstances
should they ever be exposed to unnecessary risks. It was therefore vital to await
the necessary security clearances before proceeding in the recovery process. These
delays, coupled with the hot and humid climatic conditions, contributed to rapid
decomposition rates of human remains, which in turn further complicated the
work for the recovery teams. A closer integration between the MDM Cluster and
forensic specialists, many of whom are affiliated with the academic rather than
the humanitarian sector, would further facilitate a smoother identification process
in the future.
The response to the Marawi crisis has further highlighted the importance of
cultural and religious sensitivities to the forensic procedures involved. The prime
aim of humanitarian action is to alleviate the suffering of those affected by war
and conflict, and the approach of humanitarian forensics is no exception.
Communication and coordination needs to include the multicultural commu
nities and all religious leaders. Further, sensitivities to all beliefs and customs, and
incorporating this awareness into the forensic response, is equally as important
and crucial as the scientific process in the management of the dead.
The forensic response to the Marawi crisis demonstrated the benefit of an
integrated humanitarian forensics in action approach. There were challenges
encountered, and some of these proved to be a huge learning curve for the field.
Responders were faced with a multitude of unanticipated challenges, highlighting
the need for extensive planning and preparedness, not just at central but also at
provincial level, even before an incident happens, and cross‐discipline training
and capacity‐building. It also showed the value of integrating trained first‐
responders into the forensic process. The field of forensic humanitarian action is
still evolving, and due to precisely the humanitarian mission, there is no “once
size fits all” – each response will be different depending on the context, taking the
specific needs and circumstances of the affected population into consideration.
The Philippines, however, while still in the process of developing their technical
forensic capacity, have fully embraced the multidisciplinary and integrated approach,
and are on the way to being at the forefront of forensic humanitarian action.
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to express their gratitude to the entire ICRC team in the
Philippines (particularly the Manila Delegation, Davao Sub‐Delegation and
Cotabato Office) for their unwavering support during the forensic support mis
sions. Thanks especially to Pamela “Sarji” Muldong and Archiebald Molos (PRC)
for sharing their in‐depth knowledge on the Philippine MDM file, as well as J.C.
Pagaling for not only going above and beyond, tirelessly pulling his weight on the
ground, but also for his invaluable input and fact‐checking in the preparation of
this manuscript.
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11.1 Introduction
The search for missing persons has been, in recent decades, one of the humani-
tarian processes that brings together thousands of victims in various countries and
for which there are transnational projects, institutional programs, regional plans,
and multiple working documents, built from judicial, forensic and sociological
contexts, as well as from international organizations.
In Colombia, the sociopolitical conditions and forms of crime associated with
forced disappearance involve the action or omission of state agents, armed groups
outside the law, drug trafficking, criminal gangs, dissent, and common crime – a
context that has enabled forensic specialization in the collection and analysis of
ante‐mortem and post‐mortem information, identification of human remains and
in the process of finding missing persons.
This forensic expertise translates into rigorous procedures of case documentation,
recording, and storage of information that, from the outset, must have scientific
relevance and reliability, supporting qualified conclusions to guide the search and
identification of bodies. This process corresponds to the integration of information.
To address this issue, this article will present key operational definitions for the
standardization processes and the actors involved in the integration of information,
premises to consider in the proper handling of useful data related to the search
and identification procedures, as well as better practices partially implemented in
Colombia, which have allowed the finding of missing persons and the identification
of human remains, subject to medico‐legal necropsy.
The views expressed here are solely those of the author and do not represent the views of the Institute of Legal
1
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
159
11.2.1 Conceptualization
To advance the process of information integration in the search for missing per-
sons and identification of human remains, it is necessary to define the following
operational concepts:
• Missing person: Any person who is missing from their natural environment. This
definition does not exclude the person’s report, considering that, due to
personal, family and social conditions, the disappearance may not be reported
to the authorities responsible for the report.
• Unidentified body: Corresponds to a corpse (regardless of its status), where there
is no report of its name (identification data) at the time of discovery and/or
burial.
• Ante‐mortem information: All the data collected from sources in a technical way
that identifies and characterizes a person, before disappearance or when alive.
• Post‐mortem information: All the data collected from the basic file of the corpse
subjected to a medico‐legal autopsy,2 and supported during the identification
process.
• Documentation: The review, compilation, and verification process of ante‐mor-
tem and post‐mortem data obtained from primary sources (documents, regis-
ters, databases, among others), which provide reliable information. The
documentation process starts with the technical collection of information and
runs throughout the search and identification process, considering the source’s
variability and accessibility.
• Characterization: An analysis and interpretation tool of the individual’s
information based on human behavior, allowing the definition of characteristics
that identify or include the person within a population. This tool guides the
search and identification processes, limits the population analysis, and defines
space–time characteristics.
• Technical consultation: This procedure allows location of the target population
(candidates), based on consulting specific variables selected through the anal-
ysis of probabilities, prioritization and/or relevance, and defined by the indi-
vidual’s previous characterization (unidentified corpse or missing person).
• Technical cross‐referencing: This is a procedure by which the available information
of a missing person or an unidentified body (ante‐mortem and post‐mortem),
or candidate (unidentified corpse or missing person) is cross‐checked to rule out
or confirm that the information produced is about the same person or not. The
technical cross‐referencing procedure is subsequent to the technical consultation,
when many cases are analysed and cross‐checked.
The basic file of unidentified bodies contains the description and photographic documentation of morpho-chro-
2
matic characteristics, signs, clothing, accessories for personal use, dental information and medical history, post-
mortem fingerprints, oral autopsy and biological sample for genetic analysis; data obtained from the autopsy.
11.2.2.2 Documentation
The documentation procedure is a fundamental part of the verification, correction,
and traceability of the collected data. It is essential to bear in mind that, in cases
of ante‐mortem data collection, the first primary source is the memory of family
members, who, depending on various situations such as the type of interview, the
interviewer’s ability, the relationship with the missing person and the circum-
stances of disappearance, may or may not remember useful details in identification
processes. The foregoing does not imply that ante‐mortem information is
subjective; actually, applying the scientific method in techniques such as the
“forensic interview for identification purposes”3 and the documentation procedure
will cross‐check the data, producing high levels of reliability for forensic experts
who use non‐genetic information as a support for expert integrated identification
reports, as explained in later chapters.4
11.2.2.3 Characterization
Characterization implies knowledge in context, analysis, integrability of vari-
ables, and criminological and victimological projection of the case. This can be
considered a highly complex procedure; however, the routine in handling cases,
regional immersion, and forensic suitability allow that, in an incipient and almost
unconscious way, many of the technicians as well as professionals assigned to the
search and identification processes carry out these tasks in their everyday work
and permanently at the local level.
The characterization procedure is carried out and standardized within the
processes of human search and identification; its usefulness is fundamental as a
technical support for cross‐referencing.
11.2.2.4 Cross‐referencing
According to Colombian regulations,5 cross‐referencing is the “process of analysis
and set of tasks aimed to correlate the data included in the National Registry of
Disappeared Persons or those available in other sources of information, allowing
to orientate or reference the identification of a body, the search for a missing
person or a case investigation”, which implies the processing (consultations and
3
The forensic interview for identification purposes is an information-gathering technique, which starts from
recognizing the psychosocial impact on the missing person’s family members, and includes within its activities and
tasks the concept of “do no harm” and forensic work with a psychosocial focus as fundamental axes of the integral
attention to the victims.
4
Chapters 32 and 45.
5
Article 6 of Decree 4218 of 2005, regulated by article 9 of Law 589 of 2000.
11.2.2.5 Monitoring
The monitoring process is the constant review of ante‐mortem and post‐mortem
data, which allows, from a cycle of cross‐referencing, the supply of data for
missing persons and unidentified corpses into the permanent data collection
when storage does not provide finite populations, that is, when the data system-
atization continues, due to unfinished information entry or the ongoing crime of
enforced disappearance. Information monitoring is fundamental in the search
for missing persons and identification of human remains, making it possible to
recognize the lack of information available in the consultation processes and
technical cross‐referencing.
6
An example is Mexico’s General Law on Forced Disappearance of Persons, Disappearance Committed by
Individuals and the National Missing Persons Search System. Current text as of 01-16-2018. New Law published
in the Official Gazette of the Federation on 17 November 2017; and Law No. 30470, the “Law on the Search for
Missing Persons” who disappeared during the 1980–2000 period of violence in Peru, published on 22 June 2016,
in The Official Gazette El Peruano.
11.4.1 Normative
Although international instruments of relevance for the prevention, attention, and
investigation of enforced disappearances exist, internal regulations must provide
States with working guidelines that allow the attainment of minimum standards in
the integration of ante‐mortem and post‐mortem information. These guidelines
must include means of transfer, disclosure and cross‐checking, integration methods,
data entry and IT security, and responsibilities for administration, supervision and
data entry. Its initial standard design is intended for the operational support of the
administrative, intervening and supervising entities.
Ante-Mortem/Post-Mortem Database, AMPM, International Committee of the Red Cross; National Register of
7
Missing People, RND (Colombia); National Registry of Data on Missing and Disappeared Persons, RNPED (México);
National Registry of Missing Persons and Burial Sites, RENADE (Peru).
with fewer resources (human, professional and technological) may cause diffi-
culties in the timeliness and quality of the data in the designed system.
On the other hand, carrying out inter‐institutional processes can be more of a
challenge compared with those described previously. First, the institutions
involved may or may not share the same skills and tasks, limiting internal
processes, but on the other hand, it facilitates allocation of differentiated profiles
for the system administrator. However, achieving consensus is an ongoing and
complex inter‐institutional process that requires leadership from the administrative
or supervisory entity to guarantee the convening and spaces for discussion, despite
changes in directives, governments, regulations, or the interposition of mecha-
nisms, such as in the case of transitional justice.
• Decree 1260 of 16 December 1970, Art. 1 Marital status of a person Title II Right
to name and guardianship Art. 3 “Everyone has the right to individuality and
therefore to the name given by law.”
• Decree 786 of 1990, “By which title IX of Law 09 of 1979 is partially regulated,
regarding the practice of clinical and medico‐legal autopsies, as well as vis-
cerotomies and other dispositions, are dictated”.
• Law 38 of 1993, “For which the fingerprinting system is unified, and the dental
chart is adopted for identification purposes”.
• Law 589 of 2000, “By which genocide, enforced disappearance, forced displace-
ment and torture are typified; and other provisions are dictated”.
• Law 600 of 2000 Code of Criminal Procedure (24 July 2000) Chapter VIII
Special Provisions – Inspection of the scene Art. 290 Literals 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 9.
• Resolution 248 of 2001 from the Institute of Legal and Forensic Medicine, “by
which provisions are dictated for the functioning of the corpse identification
network”.
• Law 906 of 2004 Code of Criminal Procedure (31 August 2004) Chapter IV ‐–
Methods of identification Art. 251. – Methods.
• Decree 4218 of 2005, regulatory decree of article 9, law 589 of 2000, Chapter II
art. 4., Chapter III art. 6 literal 2, and subsequent, Chapter IV of the National
Register of Disappeared Persons Art. 7., art. 8 and subsequent.
• Law 975 of 2005 (Justice and Peace Law – 25 July 2005) Article 48 “The mea-
sures of guarantees and non‐repetition, adopted by the different authorities
directly involved in the process, must include: 49.2 The search for missing or
deceased persons and aid for identifying and returning them to be buried,
according to their family and community traditions”.
• Law 971 of 14 July 2005, by means of which the urgent search mechanism is
regulated, and other provisions are dictated. The urgent search mechanism for
preventing the crime of enforced disappearance.
• Law 1408 of 2010, whereby memorial honors are paid to victims of the crime
of enforced disappearance and measures are issued for their location and
identification.
• Law 1418 of 2010, by means of which the “International Convention for the
Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance” is approved and adopted
in New York on 20 December 2006.
• Resolution 5194 of 2010 from the Ministry of Health and Social Protection,
which regulates the services of cemeteries, exhumation, burial, and cremation
of human remains.
12.1 Introduction
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
171
Two strategies can be adopted depending on the level of certainty about the
whereabouts of the victims: closed or open population. “Closed population”
corresponds to victims located through testimonies of relatives or eyewitnesses
who were present when the person was deceased and/or buried, so they gave
detailed information concerning the disposal location (mainly cemeteries or places
where the crime happened) as well as number of deaths, identities, date of death,
disposal containers and treatment of the corpses prior to burial. As many of them
were disposed inside niches, the archaeologist’s function is limited to removing
the tombstone, recording the disposal container, and recovering and documenting
human remains and their associated elements. Only underground funerary struc-
tures require conventional excavation with soil removed. In those cases, forensic
archaeology is able to corroborate the validity of the witness testimony and to
ensure that physical evidence of the crime had been left undisturbed since the
deposition.
In another group, “open population” corresponds primarily to people whose
relatives are unaware of their whereabouts and are believed to be buried in mass
graves. Suspected mass graves pointed out by witnesses to the burial were exca-
vated both within military facilities and among scattered hills near communities
where massacres took place, all confirming the presence of remains after survey
of the surrounding area and digging exploratory trenches. Mass graves contain
bodies buried without names or identifying documents, although clothing and
personal items have been found; many of them are not recognizable or recalled by
acquaintances since decades have already passed. There is no evidence of when
death occurred, and it is commonly found that associated elements, such as bags
around the head, blindfolds and ropes, strongly suggest torture prior to death.
Localization of mass graves without witness accounts is a major challenge.
Failure can be attributed to the fact that bodies were buried in unmarked graves
and, due to several decades having passed since deposition, it is difficult to find
them by conventional visual survey. Evidence of a mass grave is masked through
natural landscape change, hence mounds and sunken areas of refilled dirt have
been covered by homogeneous vegetation and debris over time. In Peruvian cases,
remote sensing techniques were employed to find buried remains in former
military establishments where buried evidence is already known, such as aerial
photography, ground‐penetrating radar (GPR) and satellite images searching for
disturbed soil and differential vegetation growth, but with a lack of success.
The fieldwork recovery of human remains in mass graves may become more
complex, especially because many of them had been subsequently disturbed and
recovery is restricted to body parts rather than bodies. Perpetrators dismembered
bodies before burial and scattered the remains across multiple graves, with the
goal of hiding their crimes, and even unearthed the bodies to re‐deposit them in
secondary mass graves. These were also occasionally disturbed to incinerate
remains, which were then redistributed in tertiary deposits.
formation of sites with human remains have defined their modus operandi, that is,
the set of useful characteristics that establish the identity of the perpetrator based
on the finding of recurrences in actions, the repetitive use of elements and the
selection of places. These particularities allow us to establish characteristics easily
distinguishable in the pre‐, peri‐ and post‐depositional treatment of human
remains. Under the principle that human behavior has patterns, it is to be expected
that the mass disposition of the dead would reflect those patterns of behavior.
However, it is important to bear in mind that criminal behavior can introduce
extreme variations in the disappearance and destruction of both human remains
and archaeological contexts.
As result of human rights violations, bodies have been deposited in caves, cem-
eteries, dumps, ossuaries, isolated graves, sepultures, and so on, but all of them
have been listed synonymously under the generic term “burial sites” (TRC, 2004),
denoting a lack of classificatory systems as they consider that all human remains
are underground without exception. This restricted connotation is not appro-
priate to refer to mutually exclusive categories, for example, human remains
within funerary structures (sepultures) or human remains disposal on the surface
(Estrada, 2016). Therefore, problems are encountered in distinguishing between
different forms of disposal and locations.
In response, we proposed the term “site with human remains and their associ-
ated elements”. This site is the physical location of final disposal of human remains
and is defined as a spatial and temporal location of human activity of the recent
past related to human rights violations, including non‐human actions that occur
over time, which generate a visible change in the landscape. In order to systema-
tize the information, a typology has been drawn up. Three mutually exclusive
categories are proposed, established from (a) final form of disposal,1 (b) differential
treatment of the body prior to deposition,2 and (c) disposal agent:
1. Site with human remains and their associated elements buried underground:
contains the remains of unknown victims buried in mass graves. Body deposi-
tion was clandestine and denoted careless burial.
2. Site with human remains and their associated elements on the surface: corpses
were intentionally left scattered on the surface, unburied, and consequently
the remains were exposed. This was part of the “exemplary punishment”
carried out by terrorist movements.
3. Site with human remains and their associated elements within funerary
structures: corpses were deposited inside an excavated or constructed cavity
(niche, grave, sepulture). They were deposited according to the desires of their
families, according to their traditional funerary customs.
1
This category could involve several stages at different times that reduce the amount of material to be disposed
(Sprague, 2005). For example, a body could be left on the surface for a time, then disposed of in a funerary
structure.
2
Differential treatment reflects attitudes of respect, disrespect or purposeful destruction.
If the individual is dressed in clothes, they serve to enfold the remains, keeping
the anatomical connection of trunk and arms, and pelvis and legs. In the absence
of clothes, right and left sides are bagged up separately, and labeled by side.
Once the deposit is emptied, the bottom of the grave and the depth below
ground surface must be established.
Degree of flexure
Upper and lower limbs must be recorded considering the sagittal plane (midline)
of the body. The following terms are used: (1) abduction: a body part turned away
from the midline of the body and (2) adduction: a body part close to the midline
of the body.
Hands can take different positions. These can be found crossed, closed fist,
extended, or each hand in different positions. Generally, in a funerary context,
hands could be located on the pelvis, on the chest (attitude of prayer), on the
opposite shoulder, on the face, or around the legs in cases of seated bodies.
Associated elements, when they appear with human remains, may be a source of
information about the victims or for reconstruction of events surrounding the
death. For example, clothing style might give us an approximate time when the
crime happened, while biological elements like leaves and fly pupae could indi-
cated the season when the bodies were buried. These must be carefully docu-
mented in relation to their proximity to the individual and must be bagged with
the same nomenclature in the same box assigned to the body.
Unique personal effects may be immediately associated with their owners and
could be used to identify an unknown victim, while others could be artefacts used
in the murder and could give clues about the identity of the perpetrators; subse-
quently they will serve as forensic evidence.
Clothes are the most recurrent elements found with human remains.
Documentation must differentiate between dressed clothes (on the body) and
clothes located off the body. Generally, funerary contexts contain dressed bodies
and the disposal container can contain additional clothes used as an improvised
pillow for stabilizing the head of the deceased. Non‐funerary contexts may con-
tain dressed corpses, with additional ligatures and blindfolds on the body, with
few personal artefacts, and generally isolated.
A mixture of natural and synthetic fabrics can be found. Clothes made with
natural fibers (cotton and wool) often disintegrate quickly, while body decay
occurs. This may give the false impression that individuals were naked when they
were deposited. In the other hand, synthetic fabrics are resistant to the humid
environment and soil acidity, and consequently in many cases they help with
bone preservation and have prevented the dispersal of the human remains. Also,
clothes can preserve traces of wounds, so they should be recorded before removing
the body to provide evidence as a possible indicator of cause of death, especially
when bullets are absent in the record.
The disposal container refers to receptacles that hold the corpse (Sprague, 2005).
Common receptacles include the following:
• Coffin: Portable container made of metal or wood. It has a rectangular shape at
present, but in earlier times had a trapezoidal shape.
• False coffin: Structure made with wooden strips that simulate a real coffin. The
wooden strips are placed around the corpse defining a frame. The vertical
accumulation of these wooden strips subsequently defines a box.
• Wrapper: Corpses have been found wrapped with fabrics and plastic bags.
• Covered: Corpse was partially or full covered on top by fabrics or plastics.
The term deposit came originally from geology. In archaeology the term deposit
refers to a set of accumulated elements generated intentionally or accidentally by
humans, environmental and biological agents, or a combination of these factors.
The forensic deposits consist of four basic components: space, time, human
remains and associated elements. Based on these terms and according to the con-
tributions of Duday (1997), Fondebrider and Mendoça (2001), Roksandic (2002),
Ubelaker (2003), Sprage (2005) and Komar and Buikstra (2008), the following
terms for classification of forensic deposits are proposed:
(a) According to the number of individuals:
• Individual deposition: The human remains belong to a single individual.
• Multiple deposition: More than one individual was disposed of in the same
place and at the same time. According to the disposal order, these are
subdivided into two categories:
–– Collective deposition: Human remains were placed one after the other in
an orderly manner, with enough space between them. It is very common
to find individuals in dorsal decubitus position and aligned in the same
direction.
–– Massive deposition: Human remains were placed simultaneously in an
overlapping and disorganized manner, lying in all directions. Any align-
ment can be observed.
(b) According to the interment of the human remains:
• Primary deposition: Human remains are recovered at the same place where
they were deposited. This means that the processes of decomposition
occurred in situ (Duday, 1997) and generally the anatomical connections
are preserved. Where it has been disturbed, the deposit fill contains loose
bones and destroyed associated elements.
• Secondary deposition: It is not the original placement of the human remains.
The primary location was intentionally disturbed and remains subsequently
re‐deposited. Has been recorded in cases where burial practices have been car-
ried out by family members (second funeral/ossuaries), or in an attempt by the
perpetrators to hide evidence in a clandestine manner. Generally, the assem-
blage contains broken and loose bones, disarticulated body parts and partial
bodies with evident taphonomic damage. Associated elements are scarce.
• Tertiary deposition: As for a secondary deposition, human remains have
been moved from their primary location, but they then received a specific
treatment, usually incineration to reduce them, and were subsequently
disposed in another place.
(c) According to temporal criteria:
• Synchronous deposition: Humans remains were disposed of simultaneously
in the same place. Corresponds to one unique event.
• Diachronic deposition: Human remains were disposed of in different events,
reflecting the reutilization of the same space.
(d) Body preparation prior to final deposition:
• Funerary treatment: Funerary practices were carried out by the community
(relatives, neighbors and friends). The corpse is arranged according to
custom and burial rites shortly after death. These include diverse practices
such as washing the corpse and dressing it with religious habit or day‐to‐
day clothing. Bodies are disposed at local cemeteries or in desolate places
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13.1 Introduction
From the point of view of forensic anthropology, the first step for the identification
of human remains is the reconstruction of a biological profile, which is a descrip-
tion of the individual’s sex, age, ancestry and stature. Age is one of the key com-
ponents towards this purpose (Cunha et al., 2009). Aging is defined as the
accumulation of cellular changes to the body over time, due to either stochastic
defects or the regulated developmental process (Garinis et al., 2008). Colloquially
speaking, aging is measured chronologically, although sometimes it cannot accu-
rately match with “biological age”, which is influenced by intrinsic and extrinsic
factors, like genetics, disease and lifestyle (Song et al., 2010).
Based on forensic anthropology methodologies, age can be estimated very accu-
rately in childhood using developmental techniques on teeth (Demirjian, 1973;
Gustafson, 1950; Hagg and Matsson, 1985; Liliequist and Lundberg, 1971) and
bone (Hoffman, 1979; Pfau and Sciulli, 1994; Albert, 1998; Ubelaker, 1987).
However, the “transition phase” (between 20 and 25 years) marks the end of
skeletal growth and development, and only a few characteristics can then be cor-
related with age, like the development of the third molar (Blankenship et al.,
2007) and the fusion of the sternal end of the clavicle and the iliac crest epiphysis
(Meijerman et al., 2007; Schmidt et al., 2007; Izumi, 1995), among others. In
adulthood, there is a physiological degeneration of skeletal and dental structures
with some correlation with age, although the estimation of these parameters in
this stage of life is a challenge because these changes are influenced by endoge-
nous and also exogenous factors. While several methods have been proposed to
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
183
determine age in adulthood (Lamendin et al., 1992; Brooks, 1955; Iscan et al.,
1984; Kerley and Ubelaker, 1978; Lovejoy et al. 1985; Rissech et al., 2007), these
techniques estimate physiological age, which is different from chronological age,
as described above, increasing the difficulties of accurately determining this
parameter as the person gets older (Cunha et al., 2009).
Consequently, new methodologies for age estimation are required. Newly
developed approaches are based on the natural process of aging, which leads to
alterations of tissues and organs on different biochemical levels (Balin and
Allen,1989). This chapter will divide these techniques into two groups: chemical
and molecular biology.
These approaches for age estimation are based on chemical alterations during the
aging process. These include a broad range of modifications, and, as a result, the
induction of changes on protein configuration, leading to aging progression.
±1.5–4 years with correlation coefficients around 0.97–0.98 (Ritz‐Timme et al.,
2000a). This could be related to the fact that dentin is in greater proportion than
enamel and suffers less contamination and alteration such as attrition (Helfman
and Bada, 1976). Additionally, the preferred technique to carry out this estimation
is gas chromatography.
Despite the accuracy and simplicity of this methodology, it has some disadvan-
tages. It depends on the type of tooth because the period of dentin synthesis in the
first years of life varies from tooth to tooth (Yekkala et al., 2007; Ohtani and
Yamamoto, 1991a, 1991b, 2005). Moreover, different values were observed when
labial and lingual portions of the same tooth were compared (Ritz et al., 1993).
However, the analysis of the “entire dentin of central longitudinal sections” and
the standardization of sampling is recommended to overcome this drawback (Ritz
et al., 1993; Ohtani and Yamamoto, 1992). Additionally, this technique requires
the use of healthy teeth (Griffin et al., 2008). Also, it is influenced by temperature,
making this technique unsuitable for corpses exposed to fire (Ohtani, 1997). It
also requires several control teeth of the same type as the specimen, although this
disadvantage can be solved by using artificial standards (Ohtani and Yamamoto,
2010; Ohtani et al., 2005).
In comparison with classical forensic anthropology techniques, this method is
extremely consistent and its accuracy makes it suitable for use in bodies with long
post‐mortem intervals (Ritz‐Timme et al., 2000b).
antigen (Tanchot et al., 1997). Towards the creation of a broad repertoire of TCR
molecules, each immature T lymphocyte experiences unique somatic rearrange-
ments in its TCR loci during intra‐thymic development, deleting the intervening
DNA sequences and circularizing into “episomal DNA molecules”, also called
signal joint TCR excision circles (sjTRECs). These products do not replicate during
cell division and are present in higher concentrations in the most recent thymic
emigrant population, after which they are diluted out by cell division. Previous
studies pointed out an age‐related decline in the number of these sjTRECs within
the peripheral T‐cell pool (Douek et al., 1998; Kong et al., 1998).
Based on these previous studies, some authors analysed sjTREC rearrangements
for forensic purposes. Pido‐Lopez et al. (2001) demonstrated a decrease of sjTREC
rearrangements with age based on PCR analyses of peripheral blood. The authors
also noted a sexual dimorphism in these levels. Other authors (Zubakov et al.,
2010) quantified sjTRECs, finding a strong correlation with age; however, the
error between chronological and estimated age was high (±8.9 years). Although
this study confirmed the sexual dimorphism demonstrated previously, including
this factor in the prediction model did not improve age estimation. Studies by Ou
et al. (2011, 2012) demonstrated a significant alteration with age in sjTREC levels
in peripheral blood samples (Ou et al., 2011) with an error between chronological
and estimated age of 10.47 years, and in their most recent study (Ou et al., 2012)
in bloodstains, with an error of 9.42 years. In this latter work they also tested the
influence of short‐ or long‐term storage time. Although they did not find differ-
ences up to 4 weeks of storage, they found them on samples with storage of
longer than 1.5 years. Additionally, in 20‐year‐old bloodstains they found a time‐
dependent decrease in the correlation coefficient, possibly due to deterioration of
the material.
(Salpea et al., 2012). There have been several studies demonstrating the correla-
tion between methylation levels and age (Bocklandt et al., 2011; Garagnani et al.,
2013; Zbiec‐Piekarska et al., 2015a; Weidner et al., 2014, 2015; Bacalini et al.,
2015) in blood samples, finding a difference between chronological and predicted
age of around 5 years. ELOVL2, EDARADD, ASPA, ITG2B seem to be the key
genes in these estimations. Zbiec‐Piekarska et al. (2015b) combined ELOVL2,
Clorf132, TRIM59, KLF14 and FHL2 to get a more accurate estimation, with 3.9
years difference between chronological and predicted age.
Bekaert et al. (2015) used four age‐associated genes ASPA, PDE4C, ELOVL2
and EDARADD, for age prediction in blood samples, getting the highest accuracy
with ELOVL2, with an error between chronological and predictive age of 3.75
years. This study was extended to teeth samples, with an accuracy of 4.86 years.
This latter study in teeth complemented a recent one (Giuliani et al., 2016) where
the authors analysed methylation levels with age in different tooth tissues
(cementum, dentin and pulp) and three genes ELOVL2, FHL2 and PENK, finding
accuracy differences among tissues that vary from 2.25 years (pulp) to 2.45 years
(cementum) and 7 years (dentin). This points out the usefulness of this method-
ology for forensic anthropology applications.
13.4 Conclusion
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14.1 Introduction
When faced with a set of unidentified skeletal remains, correctly sexing the
individual can significantly reduce the pool of potential identifications. To estimate
sex, the analyst relies on a combination of morphological features and/or mea-
surements of skeletal elements that are known to be sexually dimorphic between
males and females. Human skeletal remains exhibit sexual dimorphism in both
size and shape, with these sex differences resulting from a combination of genetic
and environmental factors that are generally expressed at or around the time of
puberty. Moore (2012) provides a detailed description of the intrinsic and extrinsic
factors related to sexual dimorphism and sex estimation. While we understand
that hormones, genetics, nutrition, and life history activities can contribute to var-
iable expressions in sexually dimorphic traits, the exact contributions of each of
these factors and how they interact is not yet understood. This is further compli-
cated by the fact that different sexually dimorphic traits are likely under different
influences. For example, morphological sex differences in pubis shape do not
serve the same sexually dimorphic function as sex differences in browridge pro-
jection, and thus are not likely to be under the same influences. The role of sexual
selection in human sexual dimorphism must also be considered. Population dif-
ferences in expression of dimorphism have been documented repeatedly. In this
chapter, we will briefly describe the primary variables used by forensic anthropol-
ogists for sex estimation, what we know regarding variables influencing the
expression of those traits, and how practitioners are trying to reconcile these var-
iations to create global standards in sex estimation.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
199
Within each population, males are generally taller and weigh more than females.
Thus, measurements of body length (related to stature) and joint size (related to
body mass) can be informative in differentiating the sexes. There are two caveats
that must be considered when using size variables for sex estimation. First, recog-
nize that we said that males are on average larger than females. Body size is not a
bimodal variable with a clear separation between males and females. There is a
gradient of body sizes with a large overlap of male and female sizes, with some
females being larger than some males. The average male within each population
is always larger than the average female, however, and the distribution is such
that sex can be estimated with a fairly high accuracy. Second, note that we stated
within each population. Populations vary not only in their overall size, but also in
their degree of sexual size dimorphism. For example, while males tend to be
overall about 7% taller than females (Alexander et al., 1979; Fink et al., 2007;
Gaulin and Boster, 1985; Gustafsson and Lindenfors, 2004; Holden and Mace,
1999), sex differences in stature range from 4–11% depending on the population
(Gaulin and Boster, 1992; Holden and Mace, 1999; Stini, 1976). There is even
more population variation when it comes to body mass, with sexual dimorphism
ranging from 7–28% (with an overall average of 15%) (Ruff, 1994, 2002; Smith
and Jungers, 1997; Stini, 1972, 1976).
Rensch’s Rule (Rensch, 1960), which is used to explain dimorphism variation
in mammals, suggests that variations in size dimorphism are due to an allometric
effect of body size. Rensch predicted that across a taxonomic lineage, sexual size
dimorphism increases with increasing body size. Multiple studies support this
concept (Abouheif and Fairbairn, 1997; Clutton‐Brock et al., 1977), while others
believe the relationship is more variable (Lindenfors and Tullberg, 1998; Ralls,
1977). Similarly, there is no consensus on the applicability of Rensch’s Rule to pri-
mates or modern humans (Gaulin and Boster, 1985; Gustafsson and Lindenfors,
2004; Wolfe and Gray, 1982). Sexual selection has also been proposed to play a
role in population differences in sexual size dimorphism, as has mating systems
(Gray and Wolfe, 1980), phylogenetics (Gustaffson and Lindenfors, 2004; Kemkes‐
Grottenthaler, 2005), and nutrition (Gray and Wolfe, 1980; Greulich, 1951;
Stinson, 1985). None of the proposed variables appear to explain all of the
observed variation in sexual size dimorphism among populations, and it remains
possible that all of the variables play some role. To further complicate things, dif-
ferences in levels of dimorphism among populations or across time can be a result
of changes in male body size (increase or decrease), female body size (increase or
decrease), or a combination of both.
Population differences in body size and sexual size dimorphism, however, means
that when forensic anthropologists are utilizing metric methods for sex estimation,
they need to utilize population‐specific equations in order to obtain the most accu-
rate results. Using equations from a larger‐bodied population on a male from a
Morphologically, the greatest sex differences exist in pelvic shape due to the
functional constraints and adaptations of childbirth in females. Females tend to
display a transversely “stretched” pelvic morphology, resulting in broader, greater
sciatic notches, relatively longer pubic lengths, greater subpubic angles, and
sharper ischiopubic rami, amongst other traits. Morphological variation has also
been documented in skull form, primarily related to degree of robusticity. Males
tend to have more prominent browridges, chins, muscle markings, and larger
mastoid processes than females. Females tend to display more vertical foreheads
with evidence of frontal and parietal bossing. To a lesser extent, postcranial
morphological differences have been noted between the sexes, for example,
humeral olecranon fossa shape and trochlear extension (Rogers, 1999); however,
these traits are not as reliable as skull and pelvic characteristics or postcranial
metric analyses and are not frequently employed in sex estimation (Klales, 2013).
The adaptive function of the morphological skeletal traits used for sex estimation
vary greatly. Sexual dimorphism in some traits, such as mastoid process size and
prominence of nuchal crests, are the result of relatively larger musculature in
males compared with females (on average). The ventral arc of the pubis, although
also a site of muscle attachment, varies not in size between the sexes, but in the
angle relative to the pubic symphysis. Budinoff and Tague (1990) suggest that sex
differences in the ventral arc can be explained by the relatively longer pubis in
females which results from post‐adolescent growth. This transverse elongation of
the female birth canal also explains sex differences in the subpubic angle and
associated subpubic concavity, as well as the thinner ischiopubic rami in females,
and perhaps even the broader, greater sciatic notch. The broader male ischiopubic
ramus has also been attributed to the need for greater area of attachment for the
crus penis (Phenice, 1969). Other sexually dimorphic traits, such as the browridge
(or supraorbital torus/supraciliary arches) and the mental eminence have more
enigmatic adaptive functions. Some have suggested both the browridge and
mental eminence have biomechanical functions related to mastication (Daegling,
1993; Endo, 1970; Russell, 1985), but there has been little empirical support for
this hypothesis (Baab et al., 2010; Hylander et al., 1991). Structural hypotheses
based on bridging the viscero‐ and neurocranium for the browridge (Moss and
Young, 1960; Ravosa, 1988) and on the receding mandible in Homo sapiens for the
mental eminence (Reisenfeld, 1969; Weidenreich, 1936) have also been proposed
with mixed support. Overall, however, none of these theories seem to adequately
explain the presence of these traits in modern humans, nor the sexual dimor-
phism observed or variation in sexual dimorphism.
Although not well understood, we also know that overall body size does not
explain the degree of morphological sexual dimorphism in traits, and that varia-
tion between skeletal regions within individuals exists. Garvin et al. (2014) looked
at the influence of age and body size on cranial trait expressions and found that
any significant correlations were very low and did not uphold across all subgroups.
These body size results were confirmed by Horbaly et al. (2019). Thus, larger indi-
viduals within each sex do not necessarily have more pronounced cranial sex
traits, again suggesting that different intrinsic and extrinsic variables play a role in
different aspects of skeletal sexual dimorphism. This is also an important note
when dealing with commingled remains; one cannot assume that a cranium with
more prominent male cranial traits necessarily belongs to larger postcranial ele-
ments. Best et al. (2018) used geometric morphometrics to look at sexual dimor-
phism of the cranium and os coxae, and similarly found that a more male cranium
is not necessarily associated with a more male pelvis. This may not surprise
practitioners that have worked with a skeleton that displays ambiguous or contra-
dictory sex indicators across different regions. In such cases it is well documented
that the pelvis provides the more reliable sex assessment (Best et al., 2018).
What we do know is that sexual trait expressions and levels of dimorphism
vary among different populations. Walker (2008) documented such population
variation in his seminal article re‐describing his five cranial traits and ordinal
scoring method, which was first presented in Buikstra and Ubelaker (1994) and
provided discriminant functions for sex estimation. Despite acknowledging
population differences in trait scores and dimorphism (e.g. noting that the English
sample was more gracile than the US samples), he pooled the English, US White
and US Black to create “modern” equations. We might expect such a pooled
equation to then misclassify more US samples as males and more English samples
as females. This could explain the sex bias reported by Garvin and Klales (2017)
where they found that the Walker method correctly sexed 93% of their US male
sample but only 68% of their US female sample. Garvin et al. (2014) and Tallman
(2016) also illustrated population differences in cranial trait expressions. Garvin
and Ruff (2012) found more population differences in geometric morphometric
(i.e. shape) analyses of chin morphology than actual sex differences, and also
noted more subtle shape variations in chin and browridge morphologies across
populations. While considerably more accurate than the skull for sex estimation,
population differences in morphological pelvic traits have also been documented
(Davivongs, 1963; Iscan, 1983; Patriquin et al., 2003; Walker, 2005). For example,
the pubis traits of Phenice (1969) were shown to exhibit population variation
when applying them within the context of the Klales et al. (2012) method.
Specific groups such as Thai and Hispanic populations have lower levels of overall
sexual dimorphism (i.e. smaller stature and body size compared with African and
European groups). Overall, these two populations had less trait variation and/or
a greater frequency of lower/gracile scores in males when compared with the
populations for which the method was developed, US Whites and Blacks.
Generally, when the Klales et al. (2012) equation was utilized in groups with
lower sexual dimorphism, accuracy dipped below 90% (~87%), while accuracy
remained over 90% in groups with similar levels of sexual dimorphism as the US
calibration sample (Kenyhercz et al., 2017). Attempts have since been made to
begin generating population‐specific equations, for example in Mexican groups
in Gomez‐Valdes et al. (2017) and for use with undocumented border crossers
discovered in the US in Klales and Cole (2017). Further complicating the use of
morphological traits are the documented secular changes occurring in skeletal
size and morphology (e.g. Jantz and Meadows Jantz, 2000; Klales, 2016). Again,
given all of this variation and potential influencing factors (and unknown factors),
population‐specific methods should be utilized. Use of global equations or
equations derived from other populations would have similar consequences as
those discussed above.
As previously mentioned, global equations may not always be the best answer for
sex estimation. Yes, you can improve global equations by ensuring the derivation
of those equations from large and diverse reference samples, ensuring that the
reference samples encompass extreme populations, and population samples are
equally distributed to reduce any bias towards one or another (e.g. Kenyhercz
et al., 2017). And it is also true that those global equations may report adequate
accuracy rates. But those accuracy rates represent its overall performance. The
global equations would not adequately reflect the precise sexual dimorphism or
sexual expression of each population group. Thus, we argue that global equations
are not the right answer when the goal is individual identification. In such sce-
narios, equations that best represent the population from which the individual is
derived should be utilized, if available, to obtain the most accurate results.
The need for population‐specific sex estimation methods/equations poses a
number of issues. How realistic is it to develop equations for each population? Are
journals willing to publish such niche studies? What if skeletal collections are not
available to derive equations for a population? What if you don’t know the
ancestry or population of the individual? With the increased accessibility of med-
ical imaging, such as CT scans, many populations who may lack large skeletal
collections still have an opportunity to create standards from clinical or post‐mor-
tem medical images. While it is not realistic to have population‐specific standards
for every single method and every single skeletal element, studies can focus on
the smaller subset of traits that have proven to be the most reliable and are most
commonly utilized by practitioners. And based on current publications, it appears
that journals recognize the need for population‐specific methods and are willing
to publish such studies. In many human rights scenarios, the population at hand
is also generally known or at least suspected. In other scenarios where the
population is unknown and cannot be reliably estimated, a global equation, such
as the one presented by Kenyhercz and colleagues (2017), can still provide impor-
tant information and facilitate identification; it just may not be as accurate or pre-
cise as a comparable population‐specific equation. Thus, global equations do have
their place in forensics, but it is important for practitioners to understand the
implications of using a broad, global equation and to be sure to take those impli-
cations into consideration when interpreting their results and searching for the
identity of the individual. The same is true if the practitioner decides to apply an
equation derived from a “similar” population group, or equations that may not be
global but incorporate multiple population groups; differences in trait expressions
and dimorphisms between the groups need to be considered.
Familiarity with the range of trait expressions and sexual dimorphism within
the population at hand is pertinent. Numerous studies have shown that experi-
ence plays a significant role in sex estimation accuracy (Klales et al., 2012; Lewis
and Garvin, 2016). In mass causality situations, seriation may prove a useful tool
for sex estimation, especially if the number of males and females contained within
the situation is known. But even in the absence of such information it can help
the practitioners get an overview of the trait and size variation. Keep in mind,
however, that sexual trait expression cannot be used to associate remains from
different anatomical regions in commingled situations. Thus, care should be taken
to keep documented provenience from any excavations with the skeletal remains
and associated skeletal remains together.
Another option to address population variation in sexual dimorphism is to build
global databases of trait scores and skeletal measurements and to make those
databases and resultant equations accessible to all. The software program FORDISC
3.1 (Jantz and Ousley, 2005) is a good example. FORDISC 3.1 contains 13 modern
(1930 onwards) populations to which analysts can compare skeletal measure-
ments of their unknown individual for combined sex and ancestry estimation
(Ousley and Jantz, 2012). The groups within FORDISC are restricted to American
(White, Black, Native American, Guatemalan, and Hispanics from Pima County)
and East Asian (Japan, Vietnam, China) populations for the skull. The postcranial
measurements are further restricted to only US Whites and Blacks. Also contained
within FORDISC 3.1 are the skull measurements for 27 worldwide populations
from Howells (1973).
More recently two large databases have been undertaken in an attempt to gen-
erate global standards for sex estimation. The MorphoPASSE database (www.
morphoPASSE.com) includes options for both population‐specific equations and
standardized global equations for sex estimation using pubis traits (Phenice, 1969;
Klales et al., 2012) and skull traits (Garvin et al., 2014; Klales, 2018; Walker,
2008). Similarly, the DSP: Diagnose Sexuelle Probabiliste includes a worldwide
sample of pelvic measurements from 12 different populations (Murail et al.,
2005). The sample sizes are large in both databases (n = 2162 MorphoPASSE; n =
2040 DSP) and are being continuously updated to integrate more populations
throughout the world. Noticeably absent from all of these worldwide databases
are some of the populations and countries where human rights work is currently
or has been conducted, including the Philippines, Cyprus, Guatemala and
Argentina. Thus, efforts to increase reference databases need to be a continued
process, and when utilizing such large resources, the practitioners still must keep
in mind the implications of using a global equation or a population‐specific
equation derived from a group other than that of the decedent. It is important for
all practitioners to be familiar with the study samples, not just including popula-
tions, but also temporal periods and sample sizes, behind each method/equation
utilized.
While the creation of global equations is challenging, global standardization
goes beyond presenting equations. It is important to standardize best practices and
procedures. In the US, scientific working groups have been established to draft
forensic best practices, and the Forensic Anthropology Working Group does have
documents on sex estimation (https://www.nist.gov/topics/forensic‐science/
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15.1 Introduction
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211
their sample from 6 months to 7 years old at the time of death. Furthermore, it
should also be remembered that the researches listed above were carried out using
archaeological samples.
It has been suggested that morphometric‐geometric techniques should be
included to increase the consistency in sexual estimation (González et al., 2005)
and prioritize the use of techniques that are based on quantifiable characteristics
to eliminate subjectivity (Luna and Aranda, 2005). Vlak et al. (2008) included
measures and landmarks in its evaluation of the ilia of 56 known‐sex juveniles,
but they did not find statistically significant differences. They point out that the
recorded correlation of age characteristics needs to be explored in the context of
ontogeny of sexual dimorphism. Likewise, the evaluation of the intra‐ and inter‐
observer error carried out by Cardoso and Saunders (2008) concludes that the
morphological features have little accuracy and results are not reproducible due
to the enormous variation in the morphology, difficulties in interpreting the cri-
teria, and perhaps a lack of association between the expression of traits and sex.
A modification of the Schutkowski method, with acceptable results, had been
made by Rissech and Malgosa (2004), who analysed the growth of the ilium using
six variables to diagnose sex and age. Results show that ilium length may be used
for diagnosing sex from 16 years old, while the ilium index is useful as a sex
discriminant from 15 years old.
Morphological differences between men and women begin after seven weeks ges-
tation (Moore and Persaud, 2007). During skeletal growth, sex steroids affect size,
shape and mass peak of the human skeleton, influencing the formation of both
endochondral and intramembranous bone, and reabsorption of endocortical bone
(Turner et al., 1994). The bone mass and the growth range is about 5 cm per year
in both sexes before puberty. Upon reaching puberty, sex steroids, predominantly
estrogens in women and androgens in men, have several main effects in
combination with other hormones: they are responsible for the sexual dimor-
phism in the skeleton, initiate the increase in the speed of pubertal growth, and
are responsible for the closing of the epiphysis platforms, resulting in the cessation
of longitudinal growth of the long bones.
During adolescence there is a transient phase of approximately two years, in
which bone growth undergoes a sharp increase due to the differential production
of sex steroids in concert with the action of growth hormone, thyroid hormone
and cortisol. An average peak speed of about 9 cm per year is reached in women
at approximately 11 years of age, while men reach a peak of 10.5 cm near to
13–14 years old (Turner et al., 1994). The sexual dimorphism of the skeleton is
therefore dependent on the production of the sexual steroid. Men are typically
taller and have more cortical bone than women (Turner et al., 1994).
Changes in the speed and acceleration of growth in adolescents affects almost
all parts of the body, but not all parts of the body experience the adolescent out-
break at the same time (Bogin, 1999). The female pelvis reaches the upper adult
pelvic strait only between 17 and 18 years of age (Marquisa La Velle, mentioned
by Bogin, 1999: 212), showing that the outbreak of adolescent growth, which
occurs before menarche, did not influence the size of the pelvis in the same way
as the rest of the body. It concludes that the pelvis and the female pelvic upper
stratum follow their own slow pattern of growth, which continues for several
years even after reaching adult height (Bogin, 1999). Hromada (mentioned by
Scheuer and Black, 2004: 343) identified two growth phases in the fetal pelvis
between the second and the seventh month, where there was no discernible
sexual difference between the dimensions, while the sexual dimorphism becomes
more apparent between 7 months and birth.
Graeme (2003) pointed out that estrogen is essential for epiphyseal maturation
and pubertal growth, since it is the main hormone responsible for the acquisition
and maintenance of bone mass in both men and women. He pointed out that tes-
tosterone seems to play a relatively tiny role and appears to help maintain bone
formation and serves as a substrate for the aromatization of estrogen in the testes
and also in peripheral tissues, including bone.
From the point of view of physiology, the bones that comprise the pelvic complex
do not have specific receptors for sex hormones, so the differences in sexual dimor-
phism are established according to the pattern of growth and maturation. Coleman
(1969) pointed out that there is a differential growth in the pelvic complex between
male and female, mainly in relation to the total growth of the pubic and internal ace-
tabular regions. Coleman (1969) indicated that the growth of the pelvic bone has a
multidirectional dynamic, a complex process that exhibits certain sexual differences
and innumerable individual differences. The parts are growing essentially like long
bones with metaphyses present at the opposite ends of the same. A complex of bones
such as the pelvis should be considered in relation to the total growth of the area
being studied, as during its increase in size it is remodeled to maintain its relationship
with the changing and dynamic soft tissues that surround it (Coleman, 1969). These
accommodate themselves to the tensions installed by the growing bone. The impor-
tance of the spatial relocation of the bone components of the pelvic complex becomes
evident when their dimensions must be increased to accommodate the growing soft
tissues lodged in the interior (Coleman, 1969). Delaere and Dhem (1999) argue,
from a microscopic and microradiographic point of view, that the ilium grows exactly
like long bones and closely related to the local distribution of stress mechanisms.
A corollary that springs from the discussion is the question of when did the
modern human pattern of sexual dimorphism emerge. According to Rosemberg
and Trevathan (1995), modern human differences in the pelvis reflect different
balances and selective contrasts between men and women imposed by locomo-
tion and birth. On the other hand, Bruzec and Murail (2006) pointed out that the
dimorphism of the pelvis is the result of a functional modification and evolu-
tionary adaptation. The man’s pelvis is adapted to perform a biped walk while the
woman’s pelvis reflects a compromise between locomotion and parturation that
requires a voluminous pelvic girdle for the safe passage of a large fetal head
through the birth canal.
The so‐called Test Admissibility Criteria (also known as the Daubert Criteria)
marked a “before and after” in the forensic sciences. These criteria are the
following:
a. Be testable, evaluated and demonstrate security.
b. Have a low error range.
c. Be accepted by the scientific community.
d. Have been submitted to review by the scientific community.
With this, it is expected that the methods of analysis of human remains used in
forensic investigation have acceptable margins of reliability and safety.
Schutkowski’s method is questionable by the simple fact of comparing a figure
of the ilium and the jaw in which it is difficult to recognize the morphognostic
characteristics that discriminate between both sexes. It turns out to be even more
complicated to perform the evaluation based on qualitative characteristics “more”
or “less than”. Taking these criteria into account, we can be sure that the method
proposed by Schutkowski (1993) cannot be accepted as a safe method for esti-
mating sex in forensic cases. Its application would be difficult to sustain since, in
practice, it has shown difficulties in reproducing the same results in different bone
samples in different parts of the world (Sutter, 2003; Vlak et al., 2008, Cardoso
and Saunders, 2008). In general, the results obtained allow us to conclude that it
is impossible to estimate the sex of non‐adult individuals based on morphological
criteria recorded with the naked eye.
A very usual practice, without much support, has been to repeat the techniques
presented in the manuals of forensic anthropology. It is not enough, then, that a
method is presented in a specialized journal to be considered as a method appli-
cable to all populations (Rodríguez Cuenca, 1994: 137–139; 2003: 111; 2004:
108–110; Sanabria Medina, 2004: 300–303; Krenzer, 2006: 3–5). Its external
validity is pending verification.
At this level, the following question should be asked: does the subadult ilium rep-
resent sexual dimorphism?
At this time, investigations carried out seem to indicate that the sexual dimor-
phism in the subadult skeleton is based solely on growth and maturation issues.
Men take longer to mature but reach a greater stature with respect to women,
who mature more quickly but reach a shorter height with respect to men.
Additionally, men have denser bones with respect to women. As noted by Coleman
(1969), LaVelle (1995), Humphrey (1998) and Vlak et al. (2008), these differences
would be expressed in relation to the ontogeny of sexual dimorphism. This growth
is affected by the action of the surrounding soft tissues of the pelvic complex that
influence their fetal development (Delaere and Dhem, 1999).
Now, accepting that sexual dimorphism is due to issues of growth and matura-
tion, and our interest is to use the method in forensic cases, one might ask then:
is it methodologically correct to use archaeological osteological collections to
estimate the reliability of a method developed from a historical collection
(Spitalfield)?
If we take into consideration that the bones of the pelvic complex are acting as
long bones, in addition to the fact that the human population undergoes constant
changes in their growth pattern, the answer to this question could be a definitive
no. Within this same perspective it is important to point out that subadult individ-
uals found in cemeteries are those that were not “successful” in their development,
possibly due to endocrine abnormalities, diseases or malnutrition which may have
delayed or affected their normal development (Loth and Henneberg, 2001).
15.6 Conclusions
Considering the admissibility criteria, we can be sure that the method proposed by
Schutkowski (1993) cannot be accepted as a general method for sex estimation in
forensic cases. The application in different populations generates different levels
of success, and the method does not satisfy the conditions of reproducibility or
verifiability. Its application can give random results.
In the meantime, we suggest the genetic diagnosis of sex for subadult remains.
DNA analysis has a crucial interest in the field of human identification, but when
DNA cannot produce a profile or is not always available, a useful option is to do a
molecular test of amelogenin protein. This test is based on the identification of X
and Y chromosomes, does not need a big investment, and is commonly available
in laboratories attached to universities. Testing of amelogenin offers the possibility
of a reliable method to determine the sex of subadult remains in forensic
investigation.
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2
16.1 Introduction
Age estimation in the living and the dead represents a crucial parameter in forensic
and humanitarian contexts. Forensic age estimation in the living is often related to
adoption and imputability (Cunha et al., 2009); and it has become a more frequent
demand in recent years due to the migration crisis, whereby 29% of births world-
wide remain unregistered, sub‐Saharan Africa being the area with the lowest rate
of birth registration (Bhatia et al., 2017). This situation leaves millions of children
without any documentary evidence of their age. Also, as a consequence of that,
age estimation is required in cases of unaccompanied minors seeking asylum.
Regarding age estimation of the deceased, building up a biological profile is the
first step in the identification process, which is a general description of the indi-
vidual’s age, sex, ancestry and stature. This information narrows the search among
the possible missing that could match with such a description. Therefore, age‐at‐
death estimation is one of the main pieces of information used to identify the
remains.
In both cases (aging the living and the dead), forensic professionals must apply
objective, scientific and validated methods of age estimation. This process of
documentation not only applies for identifying a body, but also in understanding
the demographic distribution of the victims (Kimmerle et al., 2008).
Age estimation can be achieved by different approaches. Macroscopic skeletal
age estimation consists of the analysis of certain areas of the skeleton that are
informative for age estimation. In the same way, dental age estimation consists of
the analysis of the dental tissue changes that are correlated with age. In addition,
histological analysis of bone and dental samples can also be carried out to estimate
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
219
However, Bocquet‐Appel and Masset (1982) were the first ones exposing the
limitations of age estimation in human skeletal remains, emphasizing the lack of
reference sample characteristics, which was understood as a concern to generate
optimal results (Parra, 2009). The disproportion between human populations
and their secular changes have been studied in biological anthropology, and
differences between human groups have been demonstrated. These differences
correspond to the population variation according to inheritance and the environ-
ment, as well as processes of biological vulnerability. Although human population
variation is a phenomenon frequently interpreted by biological anthropology,
recent approaches in forensic anthropology have indicated that efforts should
focus on multidisciplinarity (Komar and Buikstra, 2008).
As stated previously in this chapter, the scientific rationale of dental age estimation
relies on the processes of dental development and post‐formation changes, and
their correlation with chronological age. Thus the aim of dental age estimation is
to provide the best and most accurate assessment of chronological age of the
individual using scientific methodology.
The accuracy of dental age estimation is defined by how close the difference
between chronological age and estimated dental age is to zero and how that can
be predicted and reproduced (Cardoso, 2007; Cameriere et al., 2008).
Different methods based on tooth developmental changes and eruption timing
have been developed that offer accurate age estimates from weeks intra‐utero
until the individual reaches adulthood (considering the transition from subadult
to adult individual as the end of dental and skeletal development). After that,
dental age estimation methods can only rely on post‐formation changes, as the
third molars have already completed their development. Thus, development and
eruption can no longer be aging criteria. Post‐formation changes such as root
translucency, periodontal condition, apical root resorption or attrition are influ-
enced by nutrition, pathology, parafunction, occupation, as well as sex and
ancestry. According to that, population‐specific studies are necessary in order to
determine whether a certain method is suitable to be applied or not in a specific
individual.
and fetal periods of prenatal development, and permanent dentition begins its
formation during the fetal period. However, deciduous and permanent dentition
development will continue for years after birth. Thus odontogenesis is the longest
developmental period of any set of organs in the human body (Feherenbach and
Popowics, 2016).
As mentioned above, the odontogenesis of the primary dentition starts in the
embryonic period, between the sixth and seventh week of prenatal development.
The process of odontogenesis can be divided into five stages or phases: initiation,
bud stage, cap stage, apposition, and the maturation stage. The first stage of tooth
development is initiation, where ectoderm induces the mesenchymal tissue to ini-
tiate the whole formation process. First the ectoderm lining the stomodeum gives
rise to oral epitelium, and later, the oral epitelium will give rise to the dental
lamina, which is the structure that will give rise the dental germs. The dental
lamina forms in the developing jaws where the future dental arches of the pri-
mary dentition will form, and its formation progresses posteriorly from the mid-
line (Feherenbach and Popowics, 2016; Sadler, 2014). In the eighth week of
prenatal development, the bud stage begins, where the dental lamina grows and
gives rise to ten buds in the upper jaw and ten other buds in the lower jaw that
penetrate the ectomesenchyme; those buds are the primordia of the deciduous
teeth (Sadler, 2014). Later, the deepest surface of the bud invaginates, creating a
depression that results in the enamel organ. In addition, a condensation of cells
forms around the epithelial bud, that results in the dental papilla. The enamel
organ is responsible for the synthesis and secretion of enamel, while the dental
papilla is responsible for the formation and secretion of dentine and pulp. Thus, in
the apposition stage, enamel, dentine and cementum are produced by enamel
organ and dental papilla cellular byproducts. Finally, the maturation stage is
reached when the matrices of hard dental tissue types subsequently fully miner-
alize to their correct levels (Feherenbach and Popowics, 2016).
But the start time of tooth formation is different for the different teeth. So, for
deciduous dentition, central incisors are the first to develop, followed by the first
molars, and then lateral incisors, canines and second molars. Following this
fashion, the mandibular teeth are the first in initiating their development, and
slightly after, the maxillary teeth will start their formation. And in the same way
for permanent dentition, the first teeth to develop are the first molars, followed by
central incisors, canines, lateral incisors, first premolars, second premolars, second
molars and finally the third molars. Regarding the permanent dentition, the first
molars are the first ones to develop, followed by central incisors, lower lateral inci-
sors, canines, upper lateral incisors, first premolars, second premolars, second
molars and finally the third molars. So the different teeth will show different stages
of formation and mineralization according to their starting time of development.
The crown is first developed, and once the enamel is formed on the crown, the
root begins its formation; at the same time, eruption movements start from the
bone towards the oral cavity. In the same way as tooth development, different
Central Maxillary 14th week iu 1.5 months 1.5 years 7.5 months
incisor Mandibular 14th week iu 2.5 months 1.5 years 6 months
Lateral Maxillary 16th week iu 3 months 2 years 9 months
incisor Mandibular 16th week iu 2.5 months 1.5 years 7 months
Canine Maxillary 17th week iu 9 months 3.5 years 18 months
Mandibular 17th week iu 9 months 3.5 years 16 months
1st molar Maxillary 15.5th week iu 6 months 2.5 years 14 months
Mandibular 15.5th week iu 5.5 months 2.5 years 12 months
2nd molar Maxillary 19th week iu 11 months 3 years 24 months
Mandibular 18th week iu 10 months 3 years 20 months
iu, intra‐uterine.
teeth erupt at different times. Primary dentition begins its eruption at approxi-
mately 6 months of age, and concludes at approximately 2 years of age. Around 6
years of age, the permanent first molar erupts. So, from 6 to 12 years of age
mixed dentition is shown in the oral cavity, meaning that primary and permanent
dentition are visible in the mouth. From approximately 12 years of age, only
permanent dentition is present, as all primary teeth have been replaced by the
permanent ones (Scheid and Weiss, 2012).
Tables 16.1 and 16.2 show the beginning of the mineralization, the complete
development of the crown and roots, and the eruption times for deciduous and
permanent dentition.
Tooth development is a good age indicator even in intra‐uterine life. As stated pre-
viously, mineralization of the deciduous teeth begins in the 14th week of prenatal
development, which means that from the 14th week of prenatal development,
mineralized dental structures can be easily visualized and evaluated through
radiography.
In addition, histological analysis of the striae of Retzius can be informative as
well. During the secretory stage of enamel development, ameloblasts produce
approximately 4 μm of enamel matrix everyday. However, a rhythmic variation of
the enamel deposition occurs every 4 days. As a result of that, microscopic growth
lines named “striae of Retzius” can be detected in the enamel (Lewis and Senn, 2013).
Central incisor Maxillary 3–4 months 3–4 years 10 years 7–8 years
Mandibular 3–4 months 4–5 years 9 years 6–7 years
Lateral incisor Maxillary 10–12 months 4–5 years 11 years 8–9 years
Mandibular 3–4 months 4–5 years 10 years 7–8 years
Canine Maxillary 4–5 months 6–7 years 13–15 years 11–12 years
Mandibular 4–5 months 6–7 years 12–14 years 9–10 years
1st premolar Maxillary 1.5–1.75 years 5–6 years 12–13 years 10–11 years
Mandibular 1.75–2 years 5–6 years 12–13 years 10–12 years
2nd premolar Maxillary 2–2.5 years 6–7 years 12–14 years 10–12 years
Mandibular 2.25–2.5 years 6–7 years 13–14 years 11–12 years
1st molar Maxillary 0 months (birth) 2.5–3 years 9–10 years 6–7 years
Mandibular 0 months (birth) 2.5–3 years 9–10 years 6–7 years
2nd molar Maxillary 2.5–3 years 7–8 years 14–16 years 17–21 years
Mandibular 2.5–3 years 7–8 years 14–16 years 17–21 years
23.5 years ± 1.12 (AlQahtani et al., 2010, 2014). While no sex differences are
reflected in the atlases, AlQahtani’s computer application permits male, female
and unknown data to be entered; even though there is no statistical significance
between sexes, the results obtained when entering male or female data are slightly
different (Adserias‐Garriga et al., 2018).
When using these atlases, special attention must be paid to the concept of
eruption, because while Ubelaker defines eruption as the point in time that the
tooth emerges through the gingival tissue, AlQahtani defines eruption as emer-
gence through the alveolar bone (Lewis and Senn, 2013).
Regarding the staging systems, the Moorrees system (Moorrees et al., 1963a,
1963b) and the Demirjian system (Demirjian et al., 1973; Demirjian and Goldstein,
1976) are the most often used in forensic odontology. The Moorrees system pro-
vides sex‐specific graphs for developmental staging of deciduous and permanent
maxillary and mandibular teeth, including incisors, canines, premolars and molars
(Moorrees et al., 1963a, 1963b). In 1973 Demirjian developed a chart, updated in
1976, consisting of eight stages of dental development (from A to H), which
included the evaluation of all left mandibular teeth except the third molar
(Demirjian et al., 1973; Demirjian and Goldstein, 1976). Even though this system
was based on the left mandibular quadrant, contralateral teeth can also be
evaluated if the left quadrant presents one or more missing or not recordable
teeth. The Demirjian method is gender‐specific and it has been validated for
different populations (Koshy and Tandon, 1998; Willems et al., 2001; Blenkin and
Evans, 2010; Cruz‐Landeira et al., 2010; Gungor et al., 2015; Melo and Ata‐Ali,
2017; Kelmendi et al., 2018).
As the teeth development process progresses and the different teeth achieve
their complete development, fewer dental age indicators remain available. Around
the age of 14 years, the only remaining tooth undergoing growth and formation
is the third molar. Even though the third molar is the most developmentally
variable tooth, it is the most reliable biological indicator during adolescence and
early adulthood (Harris et al., 2010; Lewis and Senn, 2013).
In 1993 Mincer developed a scoring system applying Demirjian’s eight develop-
mental stages on third molars, labeled A to H. This method is widely used to
assess the legal majority of age, thus when stage “H” is achieved there is a high
probability that the individual is at least 18 years old (Lewis and Senn, 2013).
UT‐Age is a computer application that simplifies and expedites age assessment
based on the Mincer method (Lewis et al., 2008; Lewis and Senn, 2013). This
computer tool allows the selection of ancestry based on different population‐
specific studies (Arany et al., 2004; Blankenship et al., 2007; Kasper et al., 2009;
Mincer et al., 1993).
Since the combination of age estimation techniques results in an increase in
accuracy of the estimation, Schmeling et al. (2004) proposed an age estimation
method combining dental and skeletal indicators, using third molar, hand and
wrist bones and clavicle development.
Recently, age estimation studies have been performed using magnetic reso-
nance imaging (MRI) on third molars. The great advantage of the use of MRI
rather than radiographs or computerized tomography is that MRI does not need
ionizing radiation emission, which is a key point when dealing with living indi-
viduals. Nevertheless, it must be taken into account that the appearance of MRI
molars differs greatly from that on radiographs; thus, a specific staging technique
is required to classify the maturity of the third molars on MRI. Research con-
ducted by De Tobel et al. is giving promising results for its application, achieving
accurate age estimates and opening a new technical field for development of
further age estimation methods (De Tobel et al., 2017a, 2017b, 2017c).
Once the third molars have completed their development, showing a closed apex,
developmental changes can no longer be used to estimate the individual’s age. So
adult age estimation techniques and methods can only rely on post‐formation
changes in dental tissues.
Several age estimation techniques and methods that rely on post‐formation
changes have been developed. All those methods are based on the evaluation of
one or more post‐formation changes by simple visual macroscopic evaluation, the
use of imaging technology or microscopy.
Gustafson published in 1950 a method for dental age estimation of adult indi-
viduals by the evaluation of six post‐formation changes: attrition, periodontal
recession, secondary dentine and cementum apposition, root resorption and root
translucency. Each parameter is scored between 0 to 3, and the addition of all six
scored traits is applied to a formula that calculates the estimated age (Gustafson,
1950). However, this study assumes that the effects of all variables are equal on
age, and it considers that all variables are independent (Harris et al., 2010), which
are significant limitations of that study. However, this publication is widely referred
to and it has been the basis of later studies on forensic dental age estimation.
In 1971 Johanson developed a modification of the Gustafson method, evalu-
ating the same six post formation parameters microscopically on sectioned teeth.
The traits are scored in a seven‐stage system, and they are applied to a regression
formula that weights differentially the effects of each parameter on age estimation
(Johanson, 1971). No consideration is made for sex or ancestry differences.
As previously mentioned, not all post‐formation changes have an equal effect
on age estimation. Maples established a correlation between dental post‐formation
changes and chronological age. In that sense, root transparency showed the best
correlation followed by secondary dentin apposition, attrition, gingival recession,
cementum apposition, and finally root resorption was the variable that showed
least correlation with chronological age (Maples and Rice, 1979). Accordingly,
new methods were developed by the reduction of variables, focusing on those
that showed more accurate correlation with chronological age.
Due to the important contribution of root transparency, Bang and Ramm in
1970 based their age estimation technique just on this variable. The Bang and
Ramm method accounts for tooth position and provides age estimation data for
intact and sectioned teeth. Therefore, it is a destructive technique (Bang and
Ramm, 1970; Adserias‐Garriga et al., 2017).
Maples (1978) developed a method of age estimation generation regression
formulae considering root translucency and secondary dentin apposition. Also
considering the differential impact of post‐formation changes on the age esti-
mates, Lamendin et al. (1992) considered root transparency and periodontal
recession for age estimation; however, Lamendin’s method does not consider sex
and ancestral differences in the estimates, whilst Prince and Ubelaker modified
Lamendin’s method by taking into account sex and ancestry, developing different
formulae for black and white individuals, as well as for males and females (Prince
and Ubelaker, 2002).
Kvaal and Solheim (1994) developed a method to estimate age that relies on
the progressive pulp size changes due to secondary dentin apposition. This method
was modified by Kvaal et al. (1995) using ratios of pulp/root length, pulp/tooth
length, and pulp/root width at different unirradicular tooth locations. The use of
ratios instead of direct measurements avoids any potential angulation or magnifi-
cation radiographic errors (Kvaal et al., 1995). Also, based on the pulp size
reduction, Cameriere and colleagues developed an age estimation method by
evaluating the ratio pulp/tooth area in digitized radiographs (Cameriere et al.,
2007, 2012).
Unlike other methods previously mentioned in this chapter, Lamendin, Prince
and Ubelaker, Kvaal and Cameriere methods use non‐destructive techniques, and
thus they can be applied to the dead and the living.
Color changes in dental tissues can also be used to estimate age. Tooth color
evaluation by visual comparison using a tooth shade guide shows a significant
inter‐observer error, but the use of spectrophotometry offers a more objective and
accurate color evaluation (Martin‐de las Heras et al., 2003). Age‐related changes
can be measured in dentine and enamel. Since dentine is more isolated within the
dental structure, it is less affected by external factors than the enamel. Nevertheless,
dentine color evaluation requires the tooth extraction and dentine exposure, so
dentine color changes can only be evaluated in the dead, whilst enamel color
changes can be evaluated in the living.
Even though tooth wear is traditionally used to estimate age in ancient remains
(Brothwell, 1989), it is of little use in contemporary populations since in recent
times attrition is very moderate even in old age. There several external factors that
must be considered because they can affect age estimation, such as orthodontic
treatment, root canal therapy, dental restorations, trauma and occlusion (Adserias‐
Garriga et al., 2018).
Table 16.3 Dental age estimation methods available and whether applied to living or
dead individuals, whether they are sample‐destructive or not, and whether ionizing
radiation is used.
that can have an important impact on the estimates, affecting accuracy and preci-
sion (Parra, 2009).
Table 16.3 presents the different dental age estimation methods available,
whether they can be applied to the living or dead individuals, whether they are
sample‐destructive or not, and whether ionizing radiation is implied with the
method.
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children: Demirjian’s technique revisited. Journal of Forensic Sciences, 46, 893–895.
17.1 Introduction
Identification of dead bodies or living persons is, given the humanitarian and legal
(civil or criminal) implications, one of the main challenges usually faced by
forensic practitioners.
Age is an innate characteristic of a person’s identity and determines the rela-
tionship between the person and the state. Depending on national legislation,
persons acquire specific rights and obligations (criminal responsibility, consent for
marriage or sexual relations, access to the labor market, emancipation…) according
to a specific age (EASO, 2018).
In some cultures, chronological age is not the criterion for a child to become
an adult, but certain physical changes or cultural behavior (e.g. marriage).
For instance, Islamic law takes into account the concept of rushd or mental
maturity, and children’s maturity is considered on a case‐by‐case basis (Smith and
Brownless, 2011).
On the other hand, Art. 1 of the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC),1
the framework of all international guidance in relation to children, defines a child/
minor as any person below 18 years of age and restricts the application of the
rights contained within the CRC to those who are below that age. Additionally,
Art. 7 establishes the obligation to register the child after birth.
Convention on the Rights of the Child. Adopted and opened for signature, ratification and accession by General
1
Assembly resolution 44/25 of 20 November 1989, entry into force 2 September 1990, in accordance with article 49.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
235
2
According to UNICEF publications, only half of the children under five years old in the developing world have
their births registered.
3
Ley Orgánica 5/2000, de 12 de enero, reguladora de la responsabilidad penal de los menores.
4
According to UNICEF, the number of unaccompanied and separate children (USAC) applying for asylum in the
European Union increased from 4000 in 2010 to some 20,000 in 2017. https://www.unicef.org/eca/what-we-do/
emergencies/latest-statistics-and-graphics-refugee-and-migrant-children.
5
Geneva Declaration of the Rights of the Child of 1924, adopted Sept. 26, 1924, League of Nations O.J. Spec.
Supp. 21, at 43 (1924).
6
Declaration of the Rights of the Child, G.A. res. 1386 (XIV), 14 UN GAOR Supp. (No. 16) at 19, UN Doc. A/4354
(1959). Convention on the Rights of the Child, G.A. res. 44/25, annex, 44 UN GAOR Supp. (No. 49) at 167, UN
Doc. A/44/49 (1989), entered into force Sept. 2, 1990.
7
Ni ilegales ni invisibles: realidad jurídica y social de los menores extranjeros en España. Fundación UNICEF-
Comité Español, Consejo General de la Abogacía Española (CGAE) (2009). UNICEF España.
8
UNHCR Newsletter. Separated Children in Europe Programme. 2000 Dec–2001 Jan.
9
UNHCR, Guidelines on Policies and Procedures in dealing with Unaccompanied Children Seeking Asylum, Geneva 1997.
10
UNHCR Newsletter. Separated Children in Europe Programme. 2001 Feb–2001 Mar.
11
UNHCR Newsletter. Separated Children in Europe Programme. 2001 Oct–2001 Nov.
12
UNHCR Newsletter. Separated Children in Europe Programme. 2002 Jun–2002 July.
13
Age Assessment for Unaccompanied Minors. When European countries deny children their childhood. Vivien Feltz. MdM
International Network Head Office. 2015.
14
Separated Children in Europe Programme (SCEP) Statement of Good Practice, 2009.
Documents Estimations Age Social service Psychological Dental Physical Sexual Carpal Collar Dental Other
submited based on assessment assessment interviews observation development maturity (hand/ bone X‐ray
physical interview observation wrist) X‐ray
appearance X‐ray
Austria ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Belgium ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Bulgaria ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Croatia ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Cyprus ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Czech ✓ ✓
Republic
Denmark ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Estonia ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Finland ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
France ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Germany ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓**
Greece ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Hungary ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ***
Ireland ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Italy ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓* ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Latvia ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Lithuania ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Luxembourg ✓ ✓ ***
Malta ✓ ✓ ✓
Netherlands ✓ ✓ ✓
Norway ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Poland ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Portugal ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ****
Documents Estimations Age Social service Psychological Dental Physical Sexual Carpal Collar Dental Other
submited based on assessment assessment interviews observation development maturity (hand/ bone X‐ray
physical interview observation wrist) X‐ray
appearance X‐ray
Romania ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Slovakia ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Slovenia ✓ ✓
Spain ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Sweden ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ *****
Switzerland ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
United ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓
Kingdom
27 19 17 11 6 16 11 7 23 12 19 4
• The implementation of the principle of BIC requires the child at the centre and
to be adapted to the specific needs of the applicant (gender, range of disputed
age, cultural background, and so on).
• BIC must be applied as soon as doubts over the claimed age appear. The appli-
cant should be considered and treated as a child until he or she is found to be
an adult.
• The child, or the presumed child, must be appointed a guardian/representative
who ensures that the child can participate in the assessment, has been informed
about the age assessment process in a child‐friendly, gender‐sensitive and
age‐appropriate manner in a language that the child can understand, and does,
in fact, fully understand the assessment process.
• The age assessment process must be conducted using a holistic and multidisci-
plinary approach.
• Since no single method currently available can determine the exact age of a
person, a combination of methods assessing not only the physical development
but also the maturity and the psychological development of the applicant can
reduce the range of age in question.
• No method involving nudity, or the examination, observation or measurement
of genitalia or intimate parts, should be used for age assessment purposes.
Age is defined as “the period of time someone has been alive or something has
existed”.15 That definition places birth as the starting point from which an indi-
vidual’s age is calculated under a chronological criterion, which corresponds to
the legal criterion. But chronological is not the only criterion of age. Others, like
social, psychological or biological, can be approached.
As forensic age estimation is requested by authorities when age cannot be docu-
mented, it is usually based on the individual’s maturation process according to the
stage of development of certain biological structures (bones, teeth). But although
the sequence is common to all individuals (every individual passes through the
same stages), chronology (age at which every stage is reached) varies depending
on genetic and environmental factors (sex, ethnicity, socioeconomic status). That
means that biological and chronological age are not synonyms. Chronological age
follows a continuous and unstoppable course (tomorrow or in three years we will
be one day or three years older than today), while biological age, defined as the
age a person reaches a particular stage of development, follows a much more
irregular and inconstant evolution, as bone or teeth developmental processes
sometimes speed up and sometimes slow down or even stop, influenced by a
variety of genetic and environmental factors. Every child has their own rate of
growth and maturation, and it is not merely a reflection of their chronological age
(Logan and Kronfield, 1933). Scientific studies correlating both chronological and
biological age aim to limit this variability range within predictable margins.
16
Separated Children in Europe Programme. Position Paper on Age Assessment in the Context of Separated
Children in Europe 2012.
17
Directive 2013/32/EU of the European Parliament and of the Council of 26 June 2013 on common procedures
for granting and withdrawing international protection (recast). Official Journal of the European Union
L 180/60 - 29.6.2013.
18
AGFAD: Study Group on Forensic Age Diagnostics. Founded in Berlin in 2000, the group has published guide-
lines on age diagnosis on living individuals for criminal, civil and asylum proceedings among others.
All the age assessment methods based on dental maturation follow the same
procedure. First, developmental stage of each tooth is evaluated from radio-
graphic records. Next, the stage of development is related to the age of each
tooth, obtained from the study of a sample of known age. As dental maturation
processes differ for the two sexes, sex must also be taken into consideration
(Levesque et al., 1981).
Due to differences between methods and populations of different origins, these
factors must be expressed as well as the confidence interval. Numerous studies
have provided maturation scales in both deciduous and permanent teeth popula-
tions, identifying the successive states of development, although they show differ-
ences in the methodology employed (longitudinal versus transversal methods,
definition of the developmental stages, etc.) (Demirjian et al., 1973; Moorrees
et al., 1963a, b; Nolla, 1960).
During childhood, when simultaneous development of several teeth can be
observed, most methods show variations of around 2 years to the average for
confidence intervals of 90–95%, indicating rather low accuracy. Studies carried
out on samples of known ages (Liversidge, 1994; Saunders et al., 1993) show
differences of some six months compared with the real ages.
The two most recognized systems to evaluate the degree of dental development
are those proposed by Moorrees et al. (1963a, b) and Demirjian, Goldstein and
Tanner (1973).
The Moorrees method presents the chronology of the formation of the
permanent mandibular posterior teeth (C‐M3) and the later stages of development
of the permanent maxillary and mandibular incisors (I1 and I2) in charts designed
for determining the dental maturation of an individual for each tooth separately,
expressed in terms of standard scores. The range of variation (± 2 SD) was less
than 1 year for crown development in early infancy, 3–5 years for root formation
after 2 years of age, about 6 years for the apical closure of premolars and second
molars, and 8 years for the third molar (Moorrees et al., 1963a, b).
The Demirjian method evaluates from radiographic records, from a sample of
French‐Canadian children, the degree of calcification of the seven permanent
teeth in the left mandibular hemiarch, excluding the third molar. Eight matura-
tion stages (A to H) are defined for each tooth, from the beginning of crown
calcification to the root apex closure. Each tooth is attributed a formation stage,
then converted into a score depending on the sex. The scores of the seven teeth
are added to obtain the so‐called dental maturity score on a scale from 0 to 100.
This score is transformed through the corresponding tables into dental age. As the
method does not include a valuation of third molars, it can only be used for pre-
adolescent ages (Demirjian et al., 1973).
The widespread use of this method as an infant age assessment procedure has
meant that the results of the Demirjian study have been tested in other
populations. Numerous studies over recent decades show a slight delay in matu-
ration of the original French‐Canadian population, causing overestimation when
the original results of the method are applied to other populations (Davis and
Hagg, 1994; Eid et al., 2002; Frucht et al., 2000; Koshy and Tandon, 1998;
Liversidge et al. 1999; Loevy and Goldberg, 1999; McKenna et al., 2002; Nykanen
et al., 1998; Nystrom et al., 1986; Prabhakar et al., 2002; Willems et al., 2001).
This overestimation varies between some months and several years in age, and it
is recommended that standard values based on studies of the same population to
which the method is applied are used. For that reason, the method has been val-
idated in other different populations, modifying the scores according to the results.
The easiest and most accurate adaptation of Demirjian’s dental maturity scoring
system seems to be the one proposed by Willems (Prabhakar et al., 2002; Willems
et al., 2001). It provides non‐gender specific scores when dealing only with teeth,
without any information about sex (Willems et al., 2010). Using the Willems
method, the corresponding score of each tooth is expressed directly in years, and
the result after adding the partial scores will be the estimated age.
Analysis of populational origin has shown significant influence also when using
the Willems method. Papers have been published in recent years comparing both
methods of Demirijan and Willems in different populations, with contradictory
conclusions on which of the two methods estimate age more accurately (Hegde
et al., 2017; Zhai et al., 2016; Duagnto et al., 2016).
This means that estimation of age based on dental maturation should be done
with caution, considering it one more tool to help us to get the most accurate
diagnosis, based on as many methods as available.
Attempts to standardize, calibrate and evaluate procedures have been scarce up
to now, pointing to the need for guidelines on this and all other aspects. The
International Organization for Forensic Odonto‐Stomatology (IOFOS) has pub-
lished recommended procedures for quality assurance in forensic dental age
estimation19.
http://www.odont.uio.no/foreninger/iofos/quality/Age-IOFOS.htm
19
to be a broad current consensus that the Demirjian method is the most suitable,
for several reasons. Demirjian stages are defined by morphological changes that
are more objectively evaluated than speculative estimates of length (Olze et al.,
2005, 2006). Stages of root formation are more clearly defined and show the
highest values for inter‐observer and intra‐observer agreement and for correla-
tion between the defined stages and true age (Dhanjal et al., 2006).
Liversidge and Marsden (2010) recommend two new methods of age estimation
using third molar root stages after calculating dental age based on 30 previously
published methods using Demirjian and Moorress. The two new methods
(Levesque et al. adapted and Liversidge adapted) show absolute differences as
1.45 and 1.71 years respectively, a standard deviation of bias around 2 years and
95% confidence interval of estimated age at least ± 4 years. According to their
results, if the third molar is “A½” (apex closure) or “Ac” (apex closure complete),
on the “balance of probabilities, age is at least 18”. They also offer values of
likelihood ratio being at least 18 (LR = 13.61) once the third molar is mature, and
consequently age cannot be estimated from root stage.
Different studies show that third molar development is completed earlier in
black than white individuals, indicating that ancestry‐specific data should be used
to prevent overestimation in black individuals (Uys et al., 2018) However, the
similarity found in maturity between some world groups makes Liversidge sug-
gest that population‐specific reference studies are unnecessary to estimate age “at
the individual level”.
Results of the published works agree in stating that once the third molar reaches
the H stage of Demirjian, the probability that an individual is of legal age is greater
than 90%, independent of ethnic origin, sex or the tooth evaluated (Arany et al.,
2004; Meinl et al., 2007; Mincer et al., 1993; Solari and Abramovitch, 2002). For
this reason this element can be considered a useful marker to resolve the question
of whether an individual of unknown age can be considered an adult for legal
purposes.
2. Single bone method (numerical method): The degree of maturity is determined for
individual bones, given a progressive score according to the stage of development,
and combined by adding them up to calculate an overall maturity stage. The
Tanner and Whitehouse (TW) method (Tanner et al., 1983) is the most popular
numerical method for bone age assessment. The method assesses specific ossifica-
tion centers of the hand and wrist through two systems: RUS (radio, ulna and
selected metacarpals and phalanges) and Carpal, which analyses the carpal bones
except for the pisiform. The individual bones are matched to a series of written
criteria describing eight or nine standard stages, labeled A to H or I, through which
each bone passes in its progression to maturity. Each stage is defined by up to three
criteria and is assigned a specific score. The sum of the scores results in a skeletal
maturity score (SMS) that can be transformed into skeletal age.
To improve accuracy and reproducibility of the TW method, the scoring system,
maturity stages, skeletal ages and equations have been modified throughout the
years, yielding three different versions (Tanner et al., 1983, 2001).
Although numerical methods would seem to be more reliable than those based
on a radiographic atlas, TW is technically more challenging than GP, is far more
expensive in terms of time, and bone age ends at around 16.5 years for boys and
15 years for girls, which makes it less suitable for age assessment when the
threshold is 18 years (Schmeling et al., 2007). Whichever the method applied,
radiographic examination of the hand is a very useful tool indicating a highly
probable minority of age when hand bone development is not attained (Schmeling
et al., 2016).
the most likely age based on the combined individual findings and a critical discussion
of the case. If the most likely age is above the legally relevant age threshold, the
age limit has probably been exceeded. In those cases, reports should take into
account the legal benefit of the doubt, given the lack of reference studies with
physical, skeletal and dental features collected concurrently, so it is not yet
feasible to know the statistical variability when they are used in combination.
If the relevant age limit is surpassed with probability bordering on certainty, they
apply the concept of minimum age, that is, the minimum age of the reference study
(age of the youngest person in the reference population). When several fea-
tures are examined, the minimum age corresponds to the highest established
minimum age.
According with what is proposed by EASO (2018), results are conclusive when:
• They ae agreed by two experts (when only one method was required) or by a
multidisciplinary panel of experts (when several methods are required).
• The margin of error of the final result is documented.
• The lowest age of the margin is established as final.
Reports must be written in a non‐technical language that can easily be
understood by decision‐makers, usually a magistrate or prosecutor.
17.7 Conclusions
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18.1 Introduction
1
EQUITAS is a non‐profit organization that was founded in 2004 in response to the need for an independent
forensic team to investigate serious human rights violations in Colombia.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
257
with different tools used for different types of cases in accordance with their
complexity.2
The adequate characterization and analysis of these complex variables in cases
involving human rights violations is fundamental, not just to determine the type
of forensic approach, but also to define methodological strategies and alternative
techniques that significantly contribute to the effective investigation of these cases.
This chapter presents the actions proposed and promoted by EQUITAS for the
documentation, approach and integrated analysis of cases involving serious viola-
tions of human rights based on an interdisciplinary perspective that includes
methodological and technological innovations. To achieve this, specific case
studies are discussed.
In Colombia, state authorities have favored search strategies based on witness and
perpetrator testimonies as the main source of information used to locate clandes-
tine graves. Although this has facilitated the discovery of approximately 9000
bodies at the national level, it is clear that the methodology has limitations in
terms of the quantity and quality of information available, which has prevented
the discovery and recovery of an increased number of victims.
As a result, there is a clear need to implement innovative, interdisciplinary,
participatory and systematic regional research methodological strategies. With
this objective in mind, EQUITAS has developed a search strategy called Predictive
Statistical Spatial Modeling (MESP), focused on the municipalities of Recetor and
Chámeza in the department of Casanare (Figure 18.1).
The MESP strategy is based on: an initial stage of collecting and analysing
information associated with cases of disappearances, such as criminal investigation
2
EQUITAS has been active in the conceptualization and categorization of complex cases of human rights viola-
tions – especially those involving the search, recovery, analysis and identification of bodies – using two main cate-
gories of complex variables: (1) variables associated with the circumstances of death and scenarios of the location
or disposal of the body, which include: adverse biogeographical conditions that hinder access; ecologically complex
spaces (fluvial environments, tropical rainforest, high mountain areas); scenarios with secondary disturbance
(secondary pits, areas that have been altered or disturbed by the presence of crops, energy/mining projects and
areas with landmines, all of which affect the integrity of the body disposal sites. Additionally, the factors involved
in the burial of multiple bodies with synchronous or multiple timeframes, and the disposal of a body in multiple
zones (multi-location) are included in these types of variables. (2) Variables affecting forensic analysis and
identification of the body, such as the age of the case or the use of destructive mechanisms such as dismember-
ment, the use of acid, crematory ovens or the actions of predatory animals. This category also includes variables
associated with the quality of forensic analysis, particularly in scenarios involving the presence of multiple forensic
investigations on the same body at different periods of time. These cases represent a challenge as they involve the
disruption of the bodies using inadequate criminalistic or forensic approaches. These cases can also negatively
affect the gathering of information due to absences or deficiencies in the documentation process.
W E
MUNICIPALITY OF CHÁMEZA
MUNICIPALITY OF RECETOR
CASANARE DEPARTMENT
COLOMBIA
3
Quantum GIS (or QGIS) is a free geographical information system for GNU/Linux, Unix, Mac OS and Microsoft
Windows platforms.
4
Information obtained through a partnership with the United Nations agency UNOSAT.
Figure 18.2 GIS interface for searching for missing persons in Recetor and Chámeza.
The left bar shows the coverage ranges used as information and the central area shows
the data display. In green is the influence area (buffer) of the zones with increased
density of exhumations.
The layers of information contained in the GIS were used for the development
of the predictive model, organizing them by information type into four categories:
location of burials (dependent variable); environment; infrastructure; and modus
operandi of the paramilitary group as independent variables. This information was
processed using the MaxEnt 3.3.3k5 (Phillips et al., 2006) distribution analysis
software, which produced a heat map with the zones that are the most similar to
areas where clandestine burials have occurred, based on statistical predictions
made from the information entered into the software.
Once the modeling was carried out, a heat map was generated with the size of
each pixel representing 160 × 160 m, covering a total area of 2800.64 Ha, which
identified areas that have the highest probability of finding clandestine burial
sites: 581.12 Ha with a probability between 0.80 to 0.89, 1548.8 Ha with a proba-
bility between 0.70 and 0.79, and 670.72 Ha with a probability between 0.60 and
0.69. The modeling of this information in the municipalities of Recetor and
Chámeza identified the Guruvita, Coimogo and Vijagual trails as the points where
most burials are concentrated. In addition, the El Vive, El Vijúa and El Vegón
sectors demonstrated a probability of finding similar clandestine burial sites of
between 0.6 and 0.79 (Figure 18.3).
It is important to emphasize that the success of this tool depends on the quantity
and quality of the georeferenced information that it uses for modeling. In this
sense, EQUITAS is updating the modeling process by including new information
5
Maxent is a program originally used for the prediction of the distribution of specific species, and allows users to
calculate the probable distribution of a species using partial or deficient information.
The challenges facing the search for missing persons make alternative methods
and techniques an opportunity to increase the efficiency of these processes. Tools
provided by GIS and predictive modeling are not just used for documentation,
visualization and spatial analysis, but also for the identification of patterns that
guide decision‐making in relation to search processes. These are based on the
evaluation and relationships of analytical variables in a given scenario.
EQUITAS has carried out two applied investigations to determine the universe
of missing persons. Universe estimation contributes not just to the quantification
of a phenomenon, but also to its characterization and classification, which means
that it contributes to answering the questions: who are the victims? How many
are there? What happened to them? Where are they?
The first experience involves a statistical estimate carried out in 2007 by the
Human Rights Data Analysis Group (HRDAG) from the Benetech organization in
partnership with EQUITAS (Guzman et al., 2007). Following the analysis of six
information sources, a total of 512 individual disappearance cases were
consolidated, from which an estimate of 2553 disappeared persons was made for
the department of Casanare based on the statistical pattern of disappearances
between 1997 and 2004 in 14 municipalities.
Taking into account the results and recommendations for this applied method-
ology, EQUITAS made improvements for the implementation of a second investi-
gation in the department of Norte de Santander.
The applied research that was conducted in this department consisted of mod-
eling the universe of missing persons using the Multiple Systems Estimation (MSE)
procedure6 available from the RCapture package (Rivest and Baillargeon, 2015)
and achieved using the RStudio Team integrated development environment
(RStudio Team, 2017) and the R program (R Core Team, 2017). The estimation of
underreporting was carried out using a 95% confidence interval.
6
The Multiple Systems Estimation takes into account the underreporting of human rights violations and has been
used to address this phenomenon in several countries (Ball, 2016).
3000
2500
2000
# Records
1500
1000
500
0
< 1990 1990 – 1998 1999 – 2004 2005 – 2017
PERIOD
Missing Forced Disappearance Extrajudicial Executions Kidnapping
7
The typologies were associated with all forms of the loss of freedom and attacks on physical integrity that can lead to
the person being classified as a disappeared person, without distinction to his or her status as a living or deceased person.
As a result of the modeling, the under‐reporting values for the universe were
obtained as shown in Table 18.1. The result obtained by independently calculating
the under‐reporting for each typology and for the consolidated result is consis-
tent, because the total of the estimate for the typologies was 20,904, which is close
to the upper limit of the confidence interval calculated for the consolidated
result (19,128).
In making an estimate with the four consolidated typologies, the result was
61% under‐reporting: 18,380 victims ± 748. This reveals the magnitude of the
phenomenon in the department and forms an urgent appeal to the authorities to
search for these disappeared persons and prevent and punish this crime.
This case presents multiple elements that combine to create a high level of com-
plexity, particularly in relation to the identification stage. It involved 29 adult
victims who died in violent situations that generated a profound corporal affecta-
tion, characterized by the presence of lacerations, fractures, mutilations or
dismemberment.
For this type of scenario, the forensic disaster protocols and approaches suggest
an interdisciplinary intervention that facilitates an integrated analysis of all
corporal elements in order to achieve the correct identification of the person
(INMLCF et al., 2016; ICRC, 2016). However, an additional element of this case
was the adverse environmental and safety conditions, which affected the minimum
working conditions required for forensic analysis.
Faced with this situation, it was necessary to carry out two forensic approaches
for the identification of these victims: the first approach included a medical‐legal
necropsy and an anthropological, odontological and genetic analysis of body ele-
ments that were in an advanced state of decomposition; the second approach,
implemented after more than a decade, takes into account this analysis in relation
to the characteristics of the bones that were found.
The benefits offered by forensic genetics for identification processes in these
adverse situations are clear, since they facilitate the recovery and analysis of DNA
obtained from bone tissue and its subsequent comparison with the genetic
information of the victim’s family members (Martinez‐Espin et al., 2009;
Hombreiro, 2013). However, there are documented cases in which the level of
degradation and contamination is so high that multiple genetic processes are
necessary to collect sufficient information that will allow identification (Figueroa
et al., 2012).
Considering this scenario, and taking into account the negative effects of the
re‐processing of biological samples, in terms of both cost and the time it takes,
EQUITAS conducted a retrospective analysis of technical information obtained
from the first forensic analyses in order to develop a differential identification
strategy.
Environmental and contextual characteristics that were previously reported as
conditions that may affect the capacity for analysis of genetic material were con-
sidered and assigned to two main categories: (1) variables associated with the
victim’s biological profile, which did not just use information from the forensic
technical analysis of the first approach, but also ante‐mortem information col-
lected by EQUITAS through semi‐structured interviews; (2) variables associated
with the context of death, which collected information about the number and
type of injuries present in the victim and the environmental conditions in which
the body was found.
In order to determine the effect of these variables on genetic analysis, a success
rate value was estimated. This estimate included the number of amplified loci for
each of the 90 biological samples used in the analysis, and the recommended
minimum standard of amplified loci for complex samples (16 loci) (INMLCF
et al., 2016).
This analysis used the multivariate nonparametric Regression and Regression
Tree Analysis tool (CART, classification and regression tree). Although it does not
in itself constitute a model that can predict what type of samples presented a neg-
ative genetic result, it does present a descriptive result that makes it possible to
detect which of the variables that were associated with this particular case had the
greatest effect on the genetic result.
The generated regression tree explains 85% of the data that were used in the
analysis (Figure 18.5). It suggests that the variable that generates the first branch
of the tree, providing 10.62% of the variability in the model, is the PMI (Cat_PMI),
that is, the time elapsed between death and the first legal–medical analysis. There
30
< 30 Can,L_b,Ab_
F Lwr,No,U_L
Frag_bod = Yes
Not
8 9 10 44 45 23 6 7
1.062 1 0.688 0.875 0.75 1.125 1.438 1.5
14% 16% 9% 17% 8% 12% 12% 12%
Figure 18.5 Classification tree and regression proposed for the analysis of the success rate of genetic analysis.
are other associated variables that affect the success of genetic analysis related to
the age of individuals (Age1) and associated clothing (Clth); however, it is impor-
tant to highlight the variable body fragmentation (Frg_bod) variable that is related
to the presence of fracture‐type lesions, given that it groups 25% of the samples
(nodes 44 and 45) that have a success rate of less than 88%.
Given these results, it is possible to raise the need for a differential genetic
approach in which alternative methodologies proposed for the recovery of genetic
material from complex samples are prioritized (Edson et al., 2018). This approach,
as described by other authors, refers to the use of alternative laboratory method-
ologies and techniques. In this case, these are not proposed as a support system for
negative results, but as the first option for analysis.
It is necessary to carry out retrospective analyses that are more in‐depth,
including an increased number of cases that would better highlight the contrast-
ing different environmental and contextual conditions. This and other approaches
could strengthen this model, making it possible to generate complex sample pro-
files that allow researchers to better select, prior to genetic analysis, the best
technical alternatives for analytical purposes. This would optimize not just the use
of resources, but also the use of the samples, meaning that a larger amount of
victims’ bone tissue can be delivered to their families with dignity.
different to that reported in scientific literature for deaths in combat; (b) the omis-
sion of observations of trauma from blunt objects or other unexpected injuries
allegedly suffered in combat; and (c) the absence of relevant information in the
records of the inspection of corpses, which makes it difficult to reconstruct the
context in which the events occurred.
For the second investigation, a sample of cases from a specific subregion in
Colombia was selected (Antioquia and Coffee Region), since these cases have a
geographical relationship and are supported by military records. A total of
177 records of fatalities were consolidated for the period 2003–2009 in order to
carry out an in‐depth analysis of the context of deaths reported as combat casu-
alties, characterize the injuries and possible injury patterns, determine survival
rates and thus determine whether or not these were alleged extrajudicial
executions.
A methodology was constructed based on a protocol for classifying mixed
variables using a classification and regression tree (CART). This methodology
evaluated which of the input variables (independent or predictive) have the
greatest impact on the output variable (dependent or response). Independent var-
iables included information related to the biological profile of victims, descriptions
of where the events occurred and the content of military reports. The dependent
variable corresponded to the mechanism of death of victims, and the typology and
description of firearm projectile injuries8 (Giannou and Baldan, 2011).
The Rpart package (Therneau and Atkinson, 2018) was used to calculate the
classification tree, Rpart.plot (Milborrow, 2018) was used to graph the tree, and the
entire procedure was carried out using the RStudio Team (RStudio Team, 2017)
integrated development environment for the R program (R Core Team, 2017).
The ordering protocol produced 9 terminal nodes with the inclusion of data
from 131 of the 154 individuals selected for analysis (Figure 18.6). These nodes
are subject to the probabilities of survival that the method assigns.
Likewise, the tree identified the input variables in the model that most influ-
enced the output result for each of the nodes, that is, they showed the variables
that had the greatest effect on the model (Table 18.2).
To understand the structure of the tree, take Node 4 for example, the first from
left to right. This node groups 5% of the sample and indicates an average proba-
bility of survival of the victims (0.444), which is the lowest probability of survival
in the whole tree. These cases possibly had very high scores in the description and
typology of the injuries. In Node 4, the vital structure variable “vit_est” = w3_4,
w5_6, which means that the PAF injuries suffered by victims associated with this
group involved between 3 and 6 serious wounds that affected the vital tissue;
these wounds and their representation in the tree are related to 8 battalions “army
bas” = b,d,g,k,m,ñ,q,s. The patterns that group the other variables not reflected in
8
The analysis methodology was based on the ICRC’s Injury Assessment Scale and Classification System for War
Injuries (Giannou and Baldan, 2011).
a,c,e,f,h,i,j,l,n,o,p,r,t,u,v,w
w1_ a,c,e,i,j,n,o,p,r,u,w
a,j,o,u
w0,w1_ adl,tng,ynb
no adl,ynb
4 5 6 56 57 58 59 30 31
0.444 0.833 0.611 0.611 0.556 0.778 0.833 0.667 0.722
5% 12% 22% 7% 10% 12% 13% 10% 8%
Figure 18.6 Classification tree for forensic analysis of suspected extrajudicial executions and probability of survival.
the tree were analysed directly from the database. This established that the
classification of this node corresponds mostly to cases related to the battalion “s”
and mechanisms of cardiogenic or neurogenic death.
Another of the representative findings is shown in Node 6, which grouped 22%
of the cases; within the ordering code, the tree shows that this node includes the
analysed cases of 5 battalions (f,h,l,t,v), with one of these battalions producing the
highest frequency of records (“f”). In the case of deaths associated with this bat-
talion, the ranking showed a high probability of survival (0.61).
In conclusion, this type of analysis makes it possible to evaluate predictive var-
iables that affect responses or output variables, based on the information available
from contextual, medical, legal and military reports, and effects on vital tissue,
bone tissue, injury distribution, death mechanism, among others. This makes it
possible to identify patterns in reported cases.
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19.1 Introduction
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
275
The academic roots of the use of stable isotopes in forensic anthropology origi-
nated with trace element analysis, primarily aimed at dietary reconstruction.
Trace elements enter the food chain from the soil and then through plant growth
(Comar et al., 1957). As humans drink water and eat the plants and/or animals
that feed on plants, trace elements are transferred to human tissues. Laboratories
are equipped to measure the concentrations of these trace elements (Sowden
and Stitch, 1957; Stitch, 1957; Fassel, 1978), offering information about the
foods consumed and potentially the location of the soils involved in plant
growth. The proportion and quantity of trace elements in water and the food
chain varies geographically (Schroeder et al., 1972). The quantities of trace ele-
ments such as strontium (Odum, 1951) also reflect the trophic level of human
consumption within the food chain. Levels of trace elements largely decrease
with movement up the food chain. Concentrations are greatest in root crops,
followed by leafy plants and then herbivores. Concentrations in humans reflect
the proportion of their diet involving these different levels of the food chain.
Anthropologists have analysed extensively trace elements like strontium to dis-
tinguish plant‐eaters from meat‐eaters (Sillen and Kavanagh, 1982) and to
reveal historic status differences in diet (Schoeninger, 1979). Further, strontium–
calcium ratios of juveniles have provided evidence of the age of weaning
(Sillen and Smith, 1984). Analysis has also recognized variation of levels of trace
elements within different tissues of the skeleton (Hodges et al., 1950; Tanaka
et al., 1981; Grupe, 1988).
Chesson et al. (2018) provide a recent review of the history of isotope analysis and
applications to forensic anthropology. They note that quantities of elemental isotopes
found in food and water vary geographically. These quantities shift following human
consumption and subsequent deposit in various body tissues. Different elemental iso-
topes offer distinct information about human consumption (Klepinger, 1984). Carbon
isotopes reflect consumed plants from different photosynthetic pathways. Most plants
use a C3 pathway and produce lower values than those such as maize and sugar cane
that involve a C4 method of photosynthesis (Vogel and van der Merwe, 1977). In
contrast, nitrogen isotopes reveal the extent of protein consumption (DeNiro, 1987),
legumes vs. non‐legumes, or aquatic vs. terrestrial dietary components (DeNiro and
Epstein, 1981). Hydrogen and oxygen isotopes reflect geographical variation in water
content. Strontium isotopes reveal geographical variation in geological structure
(Chesson et al., 2018). The plant uptake of strontium reflects root depth and contact
with subsurface soils and minerals (Dambrine et al., 1997). In broad‐based research,
isotope analysis has been used in studies of human evolution (Schoeninger, 1995)
and ecological niche definition (Newsome et al., 2007).
Combined use of different isotope analyses can elucidate many aspects of diet
(Ambrose, 1986). Katzenberg and Schwarcz (1986) demonstrated how analysis of
strontium coupled with carbon and nitrogen isotopes clarified palaeonutrition in
archaeological remains from southern Ontario, Canada. Van der Merwe et al.
(1993) analysed light, stable isotopes to elucidate the subsistence base of forma-
tive cultures at Valdivia, Ecuador. Lee‐Thorpe et al. (1993) used a similar approach
for dietary reconstruction of prehistoric farmers in South Africa. Richards et al.
(1998) relied mostly on carbon and nitrogen isotopes for dietary reconstruction
from individuals recovered from a cemetery site in England.
When present, hair provides a resource for dietary/isotope analysis. Roy et al.
(2005) utilized carbon and nitrogen isotope analysis to evaluate diet in preserved
hair samples from ancient Plains Indians. In a similar study, Britton et al. (2018)
analysed carbon, nitrogen and sulfur isotopes from hair from a precontact site in
Alaska. Honch et al. (2006) used carbon and nitrogen isotope values for palaeodi-
etary investigation in both human and non‐human skeletal remains from Copper
Age cemeteries in Bulgaria.
As noted by Balasse et al. (1999), isotope analysis can be conducted on pre-
served collagen and/or apatite. Since these materials and other body components
represent distinct patterns of formation and remodeling, they reveal different
information about dietary timing (Ambrose and Norr 1993; Tieszen and Fagre,
1993). Ubelaker et al. (1995) examined carbon isotope concentrations in bone
collagen and apatite as well as nitrogen isotope values in bone protein in remains
from a precontact site in highland Ecuador. Excavations at the Ecuador site
revealed evidence suggesting the presence of very high status individuals as well
as those of low status. Analysis suggested great maize consumption among the
elites, likely in the form of beer (chicha).
Coupled with other anthropological data, stable isotope analysis can address
key issues. For example, White and Schwarcz (1994) studied temporal change in
dietary values in samples of Nubian mummies from Sudan. Katzenberg and
Pfeiffer (1995) used nitrogen isotope evidence to establish weaning ages in a
nineteenth century Canadian sample. In a similar study, Wright and Schwarcz
(1998) studied stable carbon and oxygen isotopes in tooth enamel to establish the
timing of breastfeeding and weaning in prehistoric samples from Guatemala.
Isotopic research has focused extensively on the methodology of analysis (Bada
et al., 1989; Sealy et al., 2014), in addition to understanding how stable isotopes
relate to bone metabolism (O’Flaherty, 1992). Yet, it should be noted that age at
death must be considered in isotope analysis (Katzenberg, 1993). Katzenberg
et al. (1993) found that age at death was a factor in their study of carbon and
nitrogen isotope ratios in prehistoric maize horticulturalists from Ontario, Canada.
How much variation of isotope values can be found within individuals? This
question is important since its answer will dictate what tissues should be sampled.
DeNiro and Schoeninger’s (1983) early study of carbon and nitrogen ratios of
bone collagen in rabbits and mink found little variation within skeletons, between
sexes and among individuals with the same diet. Later, Ambrose (1990) and Price
et al. (1994) noted some variation within the skeleton. Fricke and O’Neil (1996)
detected variability of oxygen isotope values within tooth enamel, and Ben‐David
and Flaherty (2012) reported differing stable carbon and nitrogen isotope values
in different tissues.
19.4.2 Residence
The geographical place of residence during tissue formation represents the
primary focus of stable isotope analysis in contemporary forensic anthropology.
Such information is vital in determining the geographical origin of unidentified
migrants and individuals who perish in terrorist attacks. The questions are usu-
ally: “Were they from here; if not, from where?” Analysis of stable isotopes offers
hope in answering these questions.
As early as 1985, Schoeninger noted geographical area can impact measures of
both carbon and nitrogen isotopes used in trophic level dietary analysis. Also,
Ericson (1985) noted that strontium isotopes offered information on residence
patterns.
Katzenberg and Krouse (1989) showed that analysis of multiple stable isotopes
offered valuable information on geographical origins. Their key study examined
isotopes of carbon, sulfur, oxygen, nitrogen and hydrogen in human hair of indi-
viduals from five different countries and three regions of Canada. They found
differences that collectively offered diagnostic evidence of origin. They also noted
that study of different tissues and fluids within one individual likely would reveal
geographical features of the life history of that person. Bol et al. (2007) later
found that multiple stable isotope analysis of human hair revealed migration
evidence in their study in southwest England.
Follow‐up studies by Schwarcz and Schoeninger (1991) noted that values of
carbon and nitrogen show geographical variation that might have forensic impli-
cations. Sealy et al. (1991) highlighted the potential of strontium isotope ratios to
pinpoint geographical location. Katzenberg (1992) reported on the great potential
of stable isotope analysis to detect residence patterns if proper quality controls
were in place. Schoeninger and Moore (1992) agreed with Sealy et al. (1991) that
strontium isotope analysis had great potential for geographical analysis, but added
that sulfur isotopes were useful as well. Working with archaeological samples,
Sealy et al. (1995) used isotopes of calcium, nitrogen and strontium from different
tissues to examine place of residence. Grupe et al. (1997) employed strontium
isotopes in bone and tooth to detect geographical mobility within late Neolithic
samples from Bavaria. Ezzo et al. (1997) also used strontium isotopes to distin-
guish locals from migrants within a prehistoric sample from east‐central Arizona.
At the turn of the century, anthropologists emphasized analysis of different
tissues to reveal aspects of the life history of migration within individuals
(Meier‐Augenstein, 2007; Chesson et al., 2018). Beard and Johnson (2000) pre-
sented three examples of this approach involving a deer killed illegally, commin-
gled human remains from Vietnam, and archaeological human samples from the
southwest area of the United States. Remien et al. (2014) and Vautour et al.
(2015) report how hair length corresponds to chronological life history migration,
which can be revealed through isotope analysis.
In 2008, Juarez published her study of strontium isotope analysis focusing
specifically on identification issues related to unidentified migrants along the US/
Mexico border. Her study constructed a database of strontium values gleaned
from analysis of tooth enamel within four different Mexican states. The prelimi-
nary report showed promise that regional isotopic values could be documented to
help place the origin of migrant remains recovered further north. Bartelink et al.
(2014a) noted that in addition to strontium, carbon, nitrogen, sulfur, oxygen and
lead isotopes can contribute information. Database construction of isotope values
from different tissues can facilitate geolocation of unidentified human remains in
many forensic contexts (Bartelink et al., 2018). Meier‐Augenstein (2010) also
emphasizes that stable isotope analysis of remains in poor condition can aid in
narrowing down the region in which the individual resided, so that more local
DNA databases can be searched to speed identification efforts.
Bartelink et al. (2014b) demonstrated how carbon and nitrogen isotopes could
be used to predict region of origin of human remains recovered in relation to past
military conflicts. Their study distinguished humans from North America from
those originating in Asia.
19.5 Summary
Clearly, analysis of multiple isotopes from different tissues can provide useful
information to determine geographical origin of unidentified human remains.
The research summarized above illustrates the importance of quality control, espe-
cially detection of diagenesis or other factors that might compromise interpreta-
tion. Future developments likely will feature database construction of isotopic
values in different areas of the world (isoscapes). Such comparative data should
allow answers to the questions “is the skeleton from here; if not, from where?”
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20.1 Introduction
* Co-lead authors.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
285
Almost all natural chemical elements occur in more than one isotopic form, with
the vast majority being stable isotopes. Stable isotopes do not decay, unlike radio-
isotopes (radionuclides). Compartmental isotope abundances are not fixed but in
a continuous state of flux. For example, the natural abundances on Earth for
carbon‐12 (12C) and the one neutron heavier stable isotope carbon‐13 (13C) are
typically given as 98.9 and 1.1 atom%, respectively. However, when comparing
13
C abundances in sugar from sugar beet (C3 photosynthesis) and sugar cane (C4
photosynthesis), we typically find they are 1.0827 and 1.0986 atom%,
respectively, even though in every other respect the sugar made by these two
plants is chemically identical.
Since expressing the difference as atom% would mean dealing with very small
numbers (the aforementioned difference is 0.0159 atom%), the 𝛿‐notation was
introduced to link sample isotopic composition to an internationally agreed isotopic
composition of a standard zero‐point. The 𝛿 value of the heavier isotope h of a
chemical element E for a given sample reported versus a given standard is defined
by Equation 20.1 where Rsample is the ratio of the heavier isotope over the lighter
(e.g. 2H/1H or 13C/12C) for the sample and Rstandard is the ratio for the zero‐point. For
𝛿2H values, that zero‐point is Vienna Standard Mean Ocean Water (VSMOW); for
𝛿13C values, it is defined by Vienna Pee Dee Belemnite (VPDB) (Coplen, 2011).
h
Esample/standard h
Estandard R sample / R standard 1 (20.1)
For carbon and the example of the two sugars, the corresponding Rsample for beet
sugar and for cane sugar would be 0.0108894 and 0.0110510, respectively. With
Rstandard for VPDB equal to 0.0111796 (Coplen, 2011), the corresponding 𝛿13CVPDB
values are −0.02596 and −0.01150, respectively, with the minus signs denoting a
13
C abundance in the samples less than that of the standard VPDB (which by
virtue of Equation 20.1 has a 𝛿 value of 0). Since 𝛿 values derived from Equation 20.1
are numerically very small, for reasons of convenience they are typically expressed
in parts per thousand (‰); e.g. −0.02596 × 10−3 = −25.96‰ and −0.01150 × 10−3
= −11.50‰. It is important to note, ‰ is neither a unit nor a unit modifier in the
SI (Système International, or International System) but is purely a mathematical
convention for expressing small numbers.
The 𝛿 notation as defined by Equation 20.1 has been adopted for reporting stable
isotope ratios of non‐metal elements (e.g. H, C, N, O and S), although the
corresponding standard zero‐points and their agreed Rstandard differ. As mentioned
previously, relative isotope abundance values of 2H and 13C are anchored by VSMOW
and VPDB, respectively. Oxygen isotope abundance values (𝛿18O values) of carbonate
minerals are traditionally anchored by VPDB. However, in all other matrices – be it
water, inorganic or organic compounds – 𝛿18O values are anchored by VSMOW.
Nitrogen isotope abundance values (𝛿15N values) are reported relative to atmosphere
(air), while 𝛿34S values are reported relative to Vienna Canyon Diablo Troilite (VCDT).
While “light” element (non‐metal) H, C, N, O and S stable isotope systems are
the most commonly used for isotopic profiling of human remains, “heavy” element
(metal) isotope systems can provide useful information too. In particular, metal
isotope systems that contain a radiogenically stable isotope (a product of the decay
of a long‐lived radionuclide), such as Sr or Pb, are increasingly used in archaeology
and forensics (Beard and Johnson, 2000; Crowley et al., 2017; Keller et al., 2016).
The application of these tracers is not dependent on isotopic fractionation because
any isotopic fractionation is corrected for during analysis (Faure and Mensing,
2005). As such, stable isotope ratios of metal systems are typically reported as
Rsample, with no conversion to 𝛿 notation – for example, 87Sr/86Sr or 207Pb/204Pb.
Paraphrasing the adage “you are what you eat,” isotopically, you are what you eat
and drink – give or take a few ‰ for the non‐metal elements. The isotopic abun-
dances of H, C, N, O, S, Sr and Pb in human tissues reflect the isotopic make‐up
of food consumed and water consumed or used during bathing, and thus reflect a
person’s life history including geographical travel‐movements and dietary choices
(Bol et al., 2007; Dickson et al., 2000; Fraser et al., 2006; Hu, 2015; Macko et al.,
1999; O’Connell and Hedges, 1999b, 1999a; O’Connell et al., 2001; Richards
et al., 2001, 2003; Tipple et al., 2013; Wilson et al., 2007). In other words, geolo-
cation and diet influence the isotopic composition of tissues such as hair, nail,
bone and teeth, and can be used to aid human identification.
Isotopic profiles of human tissues can provide life history or life trajectory
information about an unidentified decedent, at longer‐term or more recent time-
scales – or both – depending on the tissues available for analysis. Approximate
time periods represented by the body’s chemical recording devices are presented
in Table 20.1. In contrast to the aforementioned traditional means of identification
(e.g. DNA, fingerprints or dental records), isotopic profiling does not necessarily
rely on an individual‐specific database. By comparing the isotopic profile of one
tissue with that of another or to patterns of isotopic variation observed at the
population level, it may be possible to provide information useful for identification.
The body’s major source of hydrogen is water (H2O), be it from water directly
consumed through liquid intake; water indirectly consumed in foods such as fruits
and vegetables; water used to prepare meals and beverages; or hydrogen chemi-
cally bound in food. Although water consumed directly as liquid intake could
come from a bottle or the tap, bottled water is ultimately derived from precipita-
tion and highly correlated with local tap water (Bowen et al., 2005b). Necessary
resources for inferring geographical life histories include global databases of
water,1 interpolated isotope landscapes or isoscapes (Figure 20.1) (Ehleringer
et al., 2008), and spatial or functional models for the distribution of H and O
1
The Global Network of Isotopes in Precipitation: http://www-naweb.iaea.org/napc/ih/IHS_resources_gnip.html;
or Waterisotopes.org.
month
Fingernail Months prior to 3 mm nail Keratin 2
H Geographic
death segments (whole nail) historyb
(thumb) 3 mm = 1 month 13
C; N; S Diet; lifestyle
15 34
fraction
Cortical 20 to 25 years Mid‐shaft Carbonate 13
C; 18O Diet;
bone prior to death bonec (bioapatite) geographic
history
(femur) approx. 20+ (diaphysis) Phosphate 18
O Geographic
years (average) (bioapatite) history
Collagen 13
C; 15N; 34S Diet; lifestyle
fraction
Teeth Childhood/ Enamelc Carbonate 13
C; 18O Geographic
adolescence (bioapatite) history
(M2, M3) 6 to 15 years of Phosphate 18
O Geographic
age (bioapatite) history
a
Time‐frames given for bone are approximate and should not be mistaken for fixed points in time. For further information on
bone remodeling rates refer to Meier‐Augenstein and Fraser (2008); Martin et al. (2015); Hedges et al. (2007); Pearson and
Lieberman (2004].
b
Analysis of Sr isotopes in hair and nail can provide complementary information on geographic history: see Tipple et al. (2013,
2018); Vautour et al. (2015); Mancuso and Ehleringer (2018), Font et al. (2012).
c
Bone and enamel can also be analysed as bulk or “whole” material for Sr and Pb isotopes: see Font et al. (2015); Kimmerle
and Kamenov (2015); Kamenov and Curtis (2017); Kamenov (2008) .
δ18O (‰)
–3.5 to –1.6
–5.5 to –3.5
–7.5 to –5.5
–9.4 to –7.5
–11.4 to –9.4
–13.3 to –11.4
–15.3 to –13.3
–17.3 to –15.3
–19.2 to –17.3
Figure 20.1 Example isoscape, presenting predicated mean annual precipitation 𝛿18O
values for Europe. Image reprinted with permission from waterisotopes.org.
isotopes in precipitation and drinking water (Bowen et al., 2007; Bowen and
Revenaugh, 2003; van der Veer et al., 2009) and how these correlate with the
corresponding isotopic compositions of human tissues (Bowen et al., 2009;
Ehleringer et al., 2008; Fraser and Meier‐Augenstein, 2007; Podlesak et al., 2012;
Thompson et al., 2010).
The basic principle behind establishing dietary lifestyle using isotopic profiles is
the fact that the body’s only source of C, N and S is a person’s staple diet. This can
result in significant differences in the carbon isotopic composition of tissues of
people living in different world regions – for example, Europe and Asia versus
North America – due to the different levels of C3 plant‐derived carbon (e.g. sugar
beet, rice, or wheat with a relatively low 13C abundance) versus C4 plant‐derived
carbon (e.g. sugar cane or corn with a relatively high 13C abundance) in their
respective diets (Valenzuela et al., 2011, 2012). In North America, there is a per-
vading influence of C4 carbon derived from sugar cane, but primarily corn; corn is
used as animal feedstock (Chesson et al., 2008, 2012) and corn syrup even
serves as a cheap source of sweetener in processed foods, including beverages
(Brooks et al., 2002).
The nitrogen isotopic composition of body tissues can be used as an indicator of
a person’s consumption of animal protein, that is, carnivore versus omnivore
versus vegan. In general, due to trophic level shift, 𝛿15N values increase by
approximately 3.4‰ when moving up from one trophic level in a food web to
another (Fry, 2008; Post, 2002). However, factors such as nutritional stress, health
status, or pregnancy can also influence an individual’s overall N balance and thus
isotopic profile (Fuller et al., 2004, 2005). Furthermore, results from a controlled
diet study suggest it may take more than four weeks before 𝛿15N values of tissues
such as hair, plasma, or urine are changed by variations in the level and source of
daily protein intake (Petzke and Lemke, 2009).
The sulfur isotopic compositions of an individual’s tissues are also related to
diet, and primarily indicate from where the dietary protein came (Richards et al.,
2001). Sulfur in humans is present in two amino acids, cysteine and methionine,
and there is very little isotopic fractionation when these amino acids are incorpo-
rated from diet into body tissues, such as bone collagen or hair keratin (Richards
et al., 2003). Sulfur in soil, the source of sulfur for most plants and animals, comes
mainly from underlying S‐containing bedrock with a contribution from rainfall
(and sea‐spray) (Fry, 2008). Oceans have a relatively similar 𝛿34S value, freshwater
systems have a wide range of 𝛿34S values worldwide, and inland locations have
predictable 𝛿34S values based on bedrock 𝛿34S values. As a consequence, the mea-
sured 𝛿34S values of plants and animals in a region are distinct to that geographical
location. It is thus possible to measure sulfur isotope ratios of human tissues to
determine the geographical source of that S (consumed as dietary protein) as a
tool for human provenancing. It is useful in distinguishing between inland and
coastal locations (Buchardt et al., 2007; Krouse and Grinenko, 1991; Zazzo et al.,
2011), and variations in diet and geography can result in significant differences in
the sulfur isotopic profiles of tissues from people living in Europe and North
America (Valenzuela et al., 2012). The use of sulfur isotope analysis in this way is
analogous to Sr and Pb (see below); however, the advantage of including sulfur
isotope ratio measurements is that S is present in shorter‐term memory tissues
such as hair, whereas Sr and Pb are often measured in teeth, which form at earlier
periods of life.
The Sr and Pb isotope ratios of human tissues have strong potential to
complement and refine geographical life history information derived from
non‐metal isotope systems (Font et al., 2015; Tipple et al., 2018; Vautour et al.,
2015). In contrast to H and O, which are sourced from the atmosphere (via the
hydrological cycle) and isotopically fractionate following large‐scale climate
processes, Sr and Pb in soils, waters, plants and animals are sourced primarily
from rocks (Bataille and Bowen, 2012; Beard and Johnson, 2000; Gulson, 2008;
Hodell et al., 2004; Nakano, 2016; Sharpe et al., 2016). As such, spatial patterns
of Sr and Pb isotopic variation differ drastically from those of H and O and relate
to the age and lithology of geological units. These geology‐derived isotopic pat-
terns are propagated and/or mixed in water and ecosystems (Bataille and Bowen,
2012; Bataille et al., 2012; Keller et al., 2016). However, in the case of Pb isotopes,
industrial activities have added considerable anthropogenic Pb to the environ-
ment, which often dwarfs the natural Pb isotopic variations (Kamenov and
Gulson, 2014); anthropogenic sources of Pb, particularly aerosols, are the primary
control of Pb isotopic variations in the present day. The spatiotemporal Sr and Pb
isotopic variations from natural and anthropogenic sources are ultimately trans-
mitted to human tissues through food/water ingestion or surface exposure.
When considering the isotope record contained within, human tissues can be
categorized in one of two ways: (1) tissues with a longer‐term “memory,” such as
bone and teeth; and (2) tissues with a shorter‐term “memory,” such as hair and
nail (see Table 20.1). The biomineral and proteinaceous fractions of bone and
teeth reflect geography and diet over years by recording isotopes present in
drinking water and food (D’Angela and Longinelli, 1990; Daux et al., 2008; Font
et al., 2015; Longinelli, 1984). For the isotopic analysis of Sr or Pb in bone or tooth
enamel, tissues are typically analysed as bulk or “whole” material (Font et al.,
2015; Kamenov, 2008; Kamenov and Curtis, 2017; Kimmerle and Kamenov,
2015). Hair and nail can provide a record of both geographical history and diet
ranging from 14 days up to 20 months or more, depending on the length of hair
or nail available for analysis (Bol et al., 2007; Fraser et al., 2006; Mancuso and
Ehleringer, 2018, 2019a, 2019b; O’Connell et al., 2001; Sharp et al., 2003; Tipple
et al., 2013).
Bone and teeth are often the longest surviving human tissues post‐mortem, and
if conditions are favorable, can remain pristine for hundreds or even thousands of
years (Lee‐Thorp, 2008). While a tooth, in particular tooth enamel, once fully
formed does not remodel and thus provides information about a person’s early
childhood and adolescence, bone does remodel, or turnover, though at rates rang-
ing from 4% to 20% per year (see below). These characteristics make bone and
teeth an excellent source of information in applications of isotopic profiling
(Meier‐Augenstein, 2018; Meier‐Augenstein and Fraser, 2008; Rauch et al., 2007;
Schwarcz and Walker, 2006). It also makes them an excellent resource for research
in the fields of anthropology and bioarchaeology and we note that current forensic
applications of isotope analysis rely heavily on work carried out in an archaeolog-
ical context (Chenery et al., 2010; Longinelli, 1984; Luz et al., 1984; Price et al.,
2004). As such, any interpretation of isotope data from the tissues of present‐day
people has to account for the uncertainty arising from the lack or limited extent
of corresponding databases and knowledge derived from them.
18
Owater/VSMOW 1.54 0.09 18
Ophosphate/VSMOW 33.72 1.51 (20.2)
18
Ophosphate/VSMOW 0.98 18
Ocarbonate/VSMOW 8.5 (20.3)
Most early work on bioapatite focused on the analysis of the phosphate compo-
nent, but the sample preparation process is difficult and time‐consuming as phos-
phate must be precipitated as silver phosphate from fairly large sample sizes using
the acute poison hydrogen fluoride to demineralize samples prior to precipitation.
Oxygen isotope analysis of the carbonate component of bioapatite offers a valid
alternative approach to gain information on geographical provenance, provided
that diagenesis has not significantly affected the bioapatite. After a simple sample
preparation process to isolate bioapatite from powdered bone using hydrogen per-
oxide or sodium hypochlorite, the powder is soaked in a weak solution of acetic
acid, and then the carbonate component is acid digested at a constant temperature
(Kusaka and Nakano, 2014; Passey et al., 2007) and the evolved CO2 analysed for
its 18O isotopic composition.
It is important to note that the temperature at which carbonate is acid digested
will affect the fractionation of 18O from [CO32−] into CO2 and H2O, and researchers
have shown that the temperature‐dependent acid fractionation factors (α) for
“modern” enamel, “archaeological” enamel, and pure carbonate minerals follow
18
OVSMOW CO32 X 1.03091 18
OVPDB CO32 X 30.91(20.4)
Case study
The DPAA is charged with the recovery and identification of US war dead, from the years including World War
II up to 1990. The DPAA is a multifaceted scientific and research agency within the US Government that
employs both military and civilian personnel. Innovation of current scientific methods and procedures are part
of DPAA’s mission; in 2012, DPAA (then JPAC) began a collaboration with California State University, Chico, to
explore the use of stable isotope analysis for casualty resolution. This exploration has resulted in multiple
papers and presentations showcasing the role that statistical treatments of isotopic data can have in the
investigations of human remains (Bartelink et al., 2014, 2015, 2018; Holland et al., 2012). In 2018, a US
military member was identified in part through the use of stable isotope analysis. This case study presents an
overview of that identification.
In the late summer of 1965, the pilot of a F101‐C aircraft was on an observation mission of surface‐to‐air
missile sites along coastal central Vietnam. During the mission, the lead aircraft was hit by ground fire and
eventually disabled. After climbing to altitude, the pilot ejected and was blown inland toward a mountainous
region of Vietnam. Voice radio contact was established with him on the ground for multiple hours. During the
ensuing rescue operations, the pilot’s radio contact was eventually lost and never regained, and he was not found.
Interviews with local Vietnamese nationals produced a few case leads in the early 1990s. Four witnesses led
US government and host nation officials to where they claimed the pilot had been found and subsequently
killed during a firefight. While no evidence to substantiate their claim was discovered, a later series of
interviews with new witnesses led to the eventual turnover of two small fragments of bone (a metacarpal and
a phalanx) and several pieces of material evidence. Because the remains were too small for DNA testing in the
1990s, all evidentiary materials were curated pending scientific advancements. By 2017, mitochondrial DNA
(mtDNA) testing was possibly viable; both skeletal fragments were sampled, and one yielded a sequence.
While the comparison with the missing casualty was a match, the commonality of the mtDNA sequence data
was such that an identification could not be easily substantiated, and additional evidence was needed.
Stable isotope analyses of C and N of collagen, and C and O of bioapatite, were attempted for both skeletal
fragments. One sample yielded a poor C/N ratio and isotopic compositions of collagen were not reported. The
second sample had collagen 𝛿13C and 𝛿15N values more similar to US population means (−16.3‰ and +11.8‰,
respectively) than the means of individuals from the Southeast Asian (SEA) countries of Vietnam and Laos
(−19.6‰ and +11.6‰, respectively). Likewise, the 𝛿13C values of bioapatite extracted from both bone
fragments were closest to the US population mean (−10.27‰) than samples that come from SEA (−14.43‰).
(Data for population means were reported from Isolocate (Berg and Kenyhercz, 2017);
see below.)
As noted previously, Bartelink and colleagues (2014) used discriminant function analysis to segregate US
service persons from SEA individuals following stable isotope analysis. Their protocol has been expanded into
a proprietary computer database and graphic user interface, Isolocate, by Berg and Kenyhercz (2017), which
uses linear discriminate function analysis to discriminate between populations based on measured stable
isotope ratios. When the case samples were compared statistically with US and SEA populations, both bone
fragments were classified as being US in origin (posterior probabilities of 0.938 and 0.963); the sample
modeling had cross‐validated accuracy rates of 84% and 91%, respectively.
Interestingly, the O isotope data were difficult to interpret. The bioapatite 𝛿18O values of the two bone
fragments were converted to drinking water 𝛿18O values following Equations 20.2–20.4, mapped onto a tap
water isoscape for the continental United States (Bowen et al., 2007), and then compared with the casualty’s
home of record. The comparison was not particularly compelling as the nearest location with tap water 𝛿18O
values similar to those predicted was much further inland and north (about 300 miles) than the pilot’s home
of record. While not completely discordant, the oxygen isotopic profiles were not considered useful in
identification of the pilot.
The identification of the pilot was constructed through a multi‐pronged scientific investigation and series of
conclusions. First, the two skeletal fragments were found in the location where the pilot purportedly had died.
Second, both skeletal elements were human. Third, mtDNA was eventually extracted from one bone sample,
but not the other, and that mtDNA matched the family reference specimen for the pilot. Fourth, both samples
yielded similar apatite isotopic profiles, confirming an origin from the US and not SEA (i.e. that the individual
consumed a “Western” diet versus an “Eastern” diet). Finally, pilot‐matching identification media, allegedly
discovered near the remains location, was turned over to US officials in 2017. While no single line of evidence
was strong enough to be the basis of the identification, the totality of the evidence, including the isotopic
data linking both bone fragments together, allowed for the clear resolution of the missing pilot.
Epilogue: When the pilot’s identification was briefed to his surviving wife and daughter, the family noted
one fact not present in his military service record – the family was living near Lyon, France, for many years (5+)
prior to the pilot’s call to active duty. The O isotopic profiles of the remains, when converted from bioapatite
𝛿18O values to drinking water 𝛿18O values and compared with a precipitation isoscape for Europe (see
Figure 20.1), were similar to those estimated for regions near Lyon, France.
The fact that human hair and nail grow more or less continuously and at known
rates can be exploited to obtain chronological information useful for reconstructing
an unidentified decedent’s recent life history. This reconstructed record can aid with
victim identification, but also has applications in the investigation of human traf-
ficking and terrorism. While methods to categorize and compare hair on the basis
of morphology, taxonomy, chemical composition and DNA have been established
and used for more than 20 years, the ability to investigate recent changes in
geographical movement and dietary intake based on the sequential isotopic analysis
of hair and nail is largely due to the continued efforts of a handful of research
groups during the last decade (Bol et al., 2007; Bowen et al., 2005a, 2009; Chesson
et al., 2010; Ehleringer et al., 2008; Fraser et al., 2006, 2008; Fraser and Meier‐
Augenstein, 2007; Mancuso and Ehleringer, 2018, 2019a, 2019b; Meier‐Augenstein,
2006, 2018; Meier‐Augenstein and Fraser, 2008; Nardoto et al., 2006; O’Connell
et al., 2001; Santamaria‐Fernandez et al., 2009; Thompson et al., 2010).
Analogous to the forensic application of isotopic profiling to bone and teeth,
isotopic analysis of hair and nail is focused on the relationship between water
source and tissue – specifically H and O isotopic compositions – since this can pro-
vide information on a person’s recent geographical history. Analysing hair and
nail for C and N isotopic compositions can reveal recent changes in diet that may
coincide with a change in H and/or O isotopic composition as a result of movement
from one location to another. In another analogy to the forensic isotopic analysis
of bone and teeth, the current knowledge base regarding isotopic profiling of hair
and nail from modern people owes a lot to research in bioarchaeology and
anthropology (Fuller et al., 2004, 2005; Huelsemann et al., 2009; O’Connell and
Hedges, 1999b; Petzke et al., 2005; Petzke and Lemke, 2009; Sharp et al., 2003;
Wilson, 2005; Wilson et al., 2007).
Hair and nail share a number of common characteristics. The major constituent
of both by weight is a family of fibrous structural protein called collectively “ker-
atin.” Both hair and nail are static by nature, that is, while both are being contin-
uously formed, neither keratinized hair nor nail is a living tissue. Once formed,
the keratin proteins are isolated from the rest of the body and do not remodel.
Human scalp hair grows at a rate of 7–10 mm/month and beard hair grows at a
rate of 12 mm/month, while the growth rate of pubic hair is typically 6 mm/month
(Wilson and Gilbert, 2007). However, these figures should not be taken to mean
every single strand of hair on a person’s body is growing at a constant rate all the
time. Hair grows by active mitosis in the hair follicle and each follicle goes through
a cyclic pattern of activity that produces 20 to 30 hairs during its lifetime. On the
average human scalp at any given time, 90% of the follicles are in anagen, the
growth phase, which lasts 6–10 years. The anagen phase is followed by catagen,
the regression phase, lasting 14–21 days for scalp hair with ~2% of the follicles on
a normal scalp being in this phase. Telogen is the final phase during which hair is
shed and it lasts 30–90 days (accounting for the balance of 8% of follicles) for
scalp hair, but as long as three years for pubic and chest hairs. As an important
practical consequence of this, a lock of hair comprising 50‐100 individual strands
should be sampled whenever practical to ensure that, for any given analysed seg-
ment, the majority of hair was in the anagen phase thus yielding data representa-
tive of recent life history. In cases where few hair strands are analysed, it may
possible to use inverse models to deconvolute the signal (Remien et al., 2014).
Assuming 30% of the hydrogen in human hair is directly derived from “liquid”
hydrogen (Sharp et al., 2003) it follows that populations with 𝛿2Hwater/𝛿2Hhair
correlation equations that have slopes near 0.3 source their “liquid” hydrogen
locally or at least regionally, while the contribution of “solid” hydrogen comes
from mixed but predominantly non‐local food sources. People living in North
America are a prime example for such a population (Ehleringer et al., 2008). Even
if food is purchased at the local grocery store, its ultimate origin may have been
the “global” supermarket. A study by O’Brien and colleagues clearly demonstrated
this fact: no matter where a selection of food was purchased in various states of
the US (including Alaska), its isotopic composition was essentially the same
(O’Brien and Wooller, 2007).
In contrast, any increase of the 𝛿2Hwater/𝛿2Hhair correlation slope beyond 0.3
would be indicative of an increased uptake of “solid” hydrogen from food of local
or regional origin. In simple terms, the more local (and seasonal) the origin of
food consumed by a given population, the more positive the slope of the 𝛿2Hwater/
𝛿2Hhair correlation equation should be. Studies of populations with different
consumer behavior did indeed yield different slopes for the corresponding 𝛿2Hwater/
𝛿2Hhair correlation equations (Bowen et al., 2009; Fraser and Meier‐Augenstein,
2007; Thompson et al., 2010) with the hair/water correlation equation for people
from indigenous (“non‐globalized”) populations having the steepest slope of 0.78
(Bowen et al., 2009).
of about −15‰ have been reported for Inuit hair (Canada) (Bowen et al., 2009;
Meier‐Augenstein, 2018). By comparison, similarly high 𝛿13C values are found in
hair from people living in South Africa, though here these elevated 𝛿13C values
result primarily from a high level of C4 plant‐derived carbon in the South African
staple diet.
Gulson, 2014). This does not mean that these isotopic profiles are completely free
from confounding influences. For instance, a predominantly marine‐sourced diet
may shift terrestrial 87Sr/86Sr ratios that could be exploited forensically towards
the range of 87Sr/86Sr ratios found in seawater. An analogous argument could be
made for Pb isotope ratios from influences such as lead emissions from anthropo-
genic sources. However, with careful consideration of the likelihood and potential
magnitude of such confounding factors, measurement of Sr and/or Pb isotope
ratios can help narrow down potential regions of geographical origin when
combined with light element isotope signatures of hydrogen and/or oxygen when
multiple disparate regions in the world share similar modeled 𝛿2H and/or 𝛿18O
values of source water (Kamenov and Curtis, 2017; Kamenov et al., 2014).
20.6 Conclusion
The isotopic profiles of human tissues such as bone, teeth, hair and nail hold great
potential for forensic investigations by providing valuable information regarding
an unidentified decedent’s life history that cannot be obtained by any other ana-
lytical method. Profiling based on temporal records of isotopes in human tissues
can unlock valuable information about a person’s life history, if interpreted in
context and with cognizance of potentially confounding factors. While isotopic
profiling alone will not be able to “identify” a person directly, it holds the potential
to focus an investigation, to provide corroborating information that supports a
particular line of enquiry to the exclusion of others, and to act as a screening tool
for repatriation of victims of multi‐national, multi‐ethnic mass disasters – thus
ultimately helping to assert a person’s most basic human right, their right to their
personal identity.
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rcm.5131
21.1 Introduction
Isotope analysis has long been used in archaeological research to establish whether
an individual is local or non‐local to a particular region. Those same methods can
be applied to modern cases and aid in establishing whether a corpse is from the
region where they were found. That premise is expanded upon here to create pre-
liminary isoscapes – predictive surfaces of isotopic values based on field‐sampled
data – to evaluate its utility in excluding regions, and perhaps identifying potential
places of origin, for particular samples. We start by testing the success of three
isoscape models in identifying the source of water samples, and then test its effec-
tiveness at identifying sources of archaeological human remains. The longer‐term
and more pressing concern is to use these and future isoscape models to begin to
narrow down the geographical origins of victims from the Shining Path war in
Peru, during which, in the 1980s to 1990s, approximately 69,000 mostly indige-
nous people were killed.
We use stable oxygen isotope data from surface water samples in the Andes to
construct three oxygen isoscape models. Water sample collection in Peru is
ongoing, and future isotopic research will aim to integrate multiple isotopes to
create a more comprehensive isoscape that can be used to estimate the geographical
origins of corpses. In those regards, this study is preliminary and simply lays the
foundation for ongoing work to create an isoscape model that will enable
researchers to exclude possible regions as the geographical origin for particular
victims and pinpoint other areas as possible homelands. We do not claim that
these isoscape models will immediately lead to positive identifications. Instead,
the hope is that isoscape models will enable human rights workers to concentrate
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
311
outreach and identification programs in areas where they are more likely to find
surviving family members. We do not yet have stable isotope data from victims of
the conflict; those data will be collected as part of a separate and ongoing project.
Instead, we use stable oxygen isotope data from well provenienced archaeological
human teeth to test the utility of these preliminary isoscape models. While this
isoscape modeling could potentially be combined with DNA testing, we note that
the isotopic approach is less invasive than DNA analysis (Montgomery, 2010); it
does not require family members to come forward and give biological samples for
DNA testing.
values will be averaged in their bodily tissues, making it difficult to connect δ18O
values obtained from human tissues to one specific water source.
Based on previous research for the best water sources to use as proxies for
drinking water in the Ayacucho Basin and Peru more broadly (Knudson, 2009;
Toyne et al., 2014; Tung et al., 2013, 2016), we focus on producing an isoscape
using flowing surface water only (e.g. rivers, streams, canals). We acknowledge
that the victims of the civil war in Peru may have consumed water from other
sources, and this will certainly be given further consideration in the future phases
of this work. For now, we limit our models to flowing surface water isoscapes pro-
duced through three different geospatial techniques: (1) ordinary kriging; (2)
multiple linear regression; and (3) regression kriging, all described below.
Furthermore, while we focus on modeling only one isotope in this current study,
ongoing work is focused on creating a multi‐isotope isoscape.
–6
–10
–14
–18
–22
Figure 21.1 Map showing the locations of the 575 surface water samples.
Shuttle Radar Topography Mission project (NASA, 2013), and was downsampled
to a 1 km resolution to lower the computational requirements of the analysis
using the open source GRASS GIS (GRASS Development Team, 2012). Latitude
was calculated in the R statistical programming language using the spatial
dimensions of the DEM.
–14
Elevation (masl)
High : 6008
Low : –127 N
0 25 50 100
km
–77 –74
Figure 21.2 Map showing the locations of the archaeological (dental carbonate) samples
with the number of samples analysed from each site.
data and data from Tung et al. (2016). The distribution of stable oxygen iso-
tope ratios at each site was evaluated and statistical outliers were excluded
from the archaeological test dataset. Outliers were defined as those smaller than
Q1 − 1.5 × IQR (interquartile range) or greater than Q3 + 1.5 × IQR (Tukey’s rule).
When testing the models against the archaeological dental samples, the archae-
ological data have to be converted to make them directly comparable to the stable
oxygen isotope values obtained from water. The δ18O values obtained from the
archaeological dental carbonates are initially reported in standard Vienna Pee Dee
Belemnite (VPDB), and are then converted to δ18OSMOW (δ18OcarbonateSMOW = (1.0391
× δ18OcarbonateVPDB) + 30.91) (Coplen et al., 1983). Dental enamel carbonate δ18OSMOW
values were then converted to drinking water δ18OphosphateSMOW (δ18OphosphateSMOW =
(0.98 × δ18OcarbonateSMOW) − 8.5) (Iacumin et al., 1996). Finally, given that fraction-
ation alters the ratio of 16O to 18O as it moves through mammalian tissues, the
phosphate δ18OSMOW was finally converted to make it comparable to surface water
values (δ18O drinking waterSMOW = (δ18OphosphateSMOW − 22.7)/0.78) (Luz et al., 1984) (and
for other conversion formulas, see Chenery et al., 2012).
21.2.2 Methods
Data cleaning and reduction of the water sample database excluded samples for
the following reasons: (1) the sample did not fall along the Global Meteoric Water
Line when the hydrogen and oxygen isotope values were plotted against each
other (this would suggest significant evaporative effects and thus poor data
quality) (Craig, 1961); (2) the water samples were not from a flowing water
source (e.g. lakes, cisterns, etc. were excluded); and (3) the water sample was
from an underground water source or natural spring. Finally, samples that were
collected from the same location were averaged together, to provide unique values
for each location. The cleaned dataset was then split into training and testing
sets with 80% used to calibrate the models, and 20% reserved to validate and
compare the models.
technique, regression kriging (RK) combines the other two methods by running
a regression model and performing kriging on the residuals (Hengl et al., 2007:
1303). In this way, the model can adjust to the effects of environmental variation
between known locations while simultaneously accounting for spatial autocor-
relation and local meteorological effects. In addition to a prediction map, each
model provides a map estimating the uncertainty (expressed as the variance of
the prediction distribution) associated with the prediction at all locations. All
data analysis was completed in R using the “gstat” package (Gräler et al., 2016;
Pebesma, 2004; R‐Core, 2018).
21.3 Results
* Bershaw et al. (2016); Buzon et al. (2011); Flusche et al. (2005); Gagnon et al. (2015); Rohrmann et al. (2014); Turner
et al. (2009); Webb et al. (2013).
50
40
Count
30
20
10
–20 –19 –18 –17 –16 –15 –14 –13 –12 –11 –10 –9 –8 –7 –6 –5 –4 –3
δ18OSMOW n = 575
Figure 21.3 The distribution of δ18OSMOW values from the 575 flowing surface water
samples that were used to generate the three models. The three modes are apparent at
−15, −9, and −5‰.
80
60
Count
40
20
Figure 21.4 The distribution of δ18OdrinkingwaterSMOW values from the archaeological dental
carbonate samples (n = 396).
Figure 21.5 Locations and δ18O values of the 575 water samples and the Ordinary Kriging
isoscape model generated from those values. Also see Figure 21.6a to see how this the
Ordinary Kriging model compared to the other two models.
Figure 21.6 Predicted δ18OdrinkingwaterSMOW for the three models across the study region.
(a) Ordinary kriging model; (b) multiple linear regression model; (c) regression kriging
model, which combines the ordinary kriging and multiple linear regression models.
* Less than 0.07% of the predictions for linear regression were less than −20‰. These strongly negative predictions are likely the result of sensor errors of isolated pixels in the DEM
and do not significantly affect the results. This is also true of the 9.1 value in the uncertainty surface.
Table 21.3 Summary of the results in which the archaeological samples are tested against
the three models that were generated with the water dataset.
predicted the location of the test water sample approximately 97% of the time,
while eliminating a minimum of 18.1% of the survey area.
21.4 Discussion
Validation of the three models using the test water samples shows slightly differ-
ent outcomes. In terms of the successful identification of possible water sources
and the elimination of areas from which a water source might be derived, the
MLR performed the best, excluding a minimum of 23.6% of the study area while
maintaining a 97% successful prediction rate. However, the MLR also had the
greatest MSE. RK, in contrast, had the lowest MSE, while eliminating at least
18.1% of the bounded area as a potential location for each sample – the second
best performance of the three in eliminating areas. This contrast is only magnified
upon close inspection of the area eliminated metric.
The minimum area eliminated metric provides a way of understanding the
worst‐case scenario for a given model, but it does not provide a full picture of the
model’s capabilities. Figure 21.7 shows how the area eliminated by each model
changes across the measured δ18O values. In addition to having the highest
minimum area eliminated, the MLR also eliminates substantially more of the
100
90
Percentage of Study Area Eliminated by Model
80
70
60
50
40
30
20
–19 –18 –17 –16 –15 –14 –13 –12 –11 –10 –9 –8 –7 –6 –5 –4 –3
δ18O SMOW
Figure 21.7 This graph shows the percentage of the study area eliminated depending on
the δ18O value of the sample submitted to each of the three models.
study area than either of the other two models between δ18O values of −13‰
and −8‰. This portion of the distribution is crucial because, as shown in
Figures 21.3 and 21.4, a substantial proportion of both the water samples and
archaeological samples fall within this range. As such, the MLR model far
outperforms the other models in terms of eliminating portions of the study area,
while maintaining a high rate of success at identifying the locations water samples
were collected, in spite of its much poorer MSE. This demonstrates that a model
with low MSE does not necessarily imply it is the best model for identifying
locations of origin.
samples, the OK model is actually doing worse than randomly picking locations.
The MLR model, with a success rate of 74.7% and a minimum eliminated area of
23.6%, did no better than random in the worst case, but did better for δ18O values
at the tails of the distribution. However, as shown in Figure 21.4, the peak of the
distribution of archaeological samples is between −14‰ and −13‰: precisely the
range where the MLR model is least capable of eliminating areas (Figure 21.7).
These results suggest that the δ18OdrinkingwaterSMOW found in human dental samples
is distributed differently across the landscape than the δ18O in flowing surface
water. Looking at a couple of case studies from the dataset offers some ideas as
to why this might be. At Beringa (n = 25 archaeological samples; range = −18.2
to −11.5‰; mean = −15.4‰) and Ayacucho (n = 145 archaeological samples;
range = −14.8 to −10.6‰; mean = −12.8‰), the RK predictions of the source
water δ18O, −16.2‰ and −14.0‰ respectively, are within the range of values
found in archaeological samples at the site. However, in each case, the mean of
the archaeological samples is slightly more positive (18O‐enriched) than the model
predicts. This could reflect that the population relied on stored, boiled, or other-
wise prepared water that was subject to evaporative enrichment (see Gagnon
et al., 2015). Alternatively, it is possible that the existing formulae for converting
between isotopic standards and modeling fractionation as oxygen is incorporated
into human tissues are not sufficiently accurate to compare their results to the
isotope models directly (and see Chenery et al., 2012; Coplen et al., 1983; Iacumin
et al., 1996; Luz et al., 1984). The variation and uncertainty that is associated with
these processes and the formulae that model them are not completely under-
stood, making it difficult to evaluate the effect these conversions are having on
the success of the models. More research is needed in this area, and studies such
as this one may aid in clarifying the reliability of existing formulae.
One area of promise is that these models can eliminate certain regions as a
potential source, but this prediction is highly dependent on the oxygen isotope
value from the individual. For example, given the concentration of δ18O values
between −15 to −8‰ in Peru, it would be difficult to eliminate large regions of the
study area if a sample value falls within that range. Values on the left or right tail,
however, will yield larger areas of exclusion (Figure 21.7) and may be able to dis-
criminate between highlands and coast, or northern and southern Peru. This pre-
liminary study has shown that, among the three isoscape models, the MLR model
performed the best in terms of its accuracy in predicting the location of a sample,
while also excluding the largest amount of the landscape as a source. As more
drinking water source samples are collected throughout the region, we estimate
that the accuracy of this model – and the others – will improve. Looking forward,
the addition of other isotopes that are tied to landscape, such as strontium and
lead, will contribute to developing more robust isoscapes, which may ultimately
aid in excluding more areas of provenience and hone in on identifying possible
geographical origins of the unidentified dead.
Acknowledgements
We would like to acknowledge the funding agencies that made this work possible:
National Science Foundation‐Archaeology and Physical Anthropology Divisions
(grant # 1420757 to Tung); Vanderbilt University Chancellor Fellowship to Tung;
National Science Foundation SBE Postdoctoral Fellowship (#1809470 to Scaffidi).
We also thank Manuel Mamani and Anna Fernandez who assisted in collecting
the surface water samples, and Theresa Miller and Edward Zagarra who assisted
in collecting rainwater samples. We are grateful to the editors, Roberto Parra and
Douglas Ubelaker, for inviting us to contribute to this volume.
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Specialized Forensic Team, Institute of Legal Medicine and Forensic Sciences of Peru, Lima, Perú
3
Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner (OHCHR), United Nations; and Bioarchaeology and
4
22.1 Introduction
* The views expressed herein are those of the editor Roberto C. Parra and do not necessarily reflect the views of
the United Nations.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
331
analyses have been used in other forensic contexts to narrow down the possible
region of origin of unidentified bodies (Bartelink et al., 2014a; Ehleringer et al.,
2010), and the applications of those techniques may prove to be a valuable strategy
for finding surviving family members and move closer to a positive identification
for an unidentified individual.
During the early years (1982–1983) of the period of violence in Peru (1980–2000)
disappearances were reported in rural, highland regions, which led communities
to request that the government search for clandestine graves. When clandestine
graves were finally found in the city of Lima in 1993, the government finally
intervened and investigated these cases. This resulted in some action; the
government tried to develop a system by which archeological science was applied
to the recovery of human remains in forensic contexts. Despite those early
attempts, it was not until 2000 that forensic anthropology became important for
prosecutors’ investigations. This led to the need for a unified work protocol in
cases of serious human rights violations. Thus, in 2002, in conjunction with the
Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC, 2001–2003),1 the “Plataforma
Conjunta” (Joint Platform) was established, providing a space for discussion about
international protocols. The main objective was to adapt international guides
about forensic investigations (e.g., see Cordner and McKelvie 2010) to the local
Peruvian context.
A major finding of the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission was that
the internal armed conflict in Peru between 1980 to 2000 constituted the most
intense, extensive and prolonged episode of violence in the entire history of the
republic (CVR, 2003). According to CVR estimates, the Peruvian internal armed
conflict resulted in the death of around 69,000 persons. With thousands of people
missing, relatives and friends of the disappeared were the first to undertake the
search for their loved ones. This was followed in a few cases by state institutions,
such as the Public Ministry (PM), and non‐governmental institutions interested in
the protection of human rights and the search for missing persons.
In 2003, the Public Ministry created a governmental forensic team (Equipo
Forense Especializado – EFE), and its main duties were to provide technical
support for prosecutors’ legal investigations into the search, recovery, analysis and
identification of human remains recovered from clandestine graves or other
places. This forensic team (EFE) attended 94% of all investigated forensic cases to
date (see Chapter 41), which involved around 4000 recovered individuals; 2200
individuals were identified and returned to relatives for a dignified burial.
Although EFE has made incredible strides in locating, identifying, and returning
the bodies to families, there are still approximately 1800 unidentified individuals
that have been uncovered so far that await personal identification and a return to
their relatives for mourning and proper funerary rites. In those remaining 1800
cases of persons that forensic scientists are actively working to identify, there was
no positive identification for several reasons, including post‐mortem (tapho-
nomic) degradation that inhibited skeletal observations useful for identification.
Moreover, there was insufficient evidence about the ante‐mortem conditions of
the victim (e.g. specific identifying characteristics, lack of dental records, etc.).
There were additional barriers to identification, such as synchronic open contexts,2
unaccounted numbers of disappeared individuals, long periods elapsed since a
family member had seen the victim, and inability to obtain DNA from the victim
or obtain DNA from possible surviving family members. Furthermore, although
the Peruvian government created the DNA Laboratory of the Public Ministry in
2002, there was a dearth of qualified personnel to direct and work within this
facility, a problem that was exacerbated by limited budgets. As a consequence,
there remains some 1800 unidentified bodies for which, in a few cases DNA has
been obtained, but there are grossly insufficient DNA samples from surviving
family members, which are necessary to find matches and make identifications.
Those 1800 unidentified bodies are not the only cases left to resolve; there are
untold thousands of victims’ bodies still to be located, excavated, identified, and
then returned to families to reaffirm human dignity through a culturally appro-
priate funerary rite.
Given the difficulty in making positive identifications based solely on gross
observations of human skeletal remains, combined with the challenges and
expense of using DNA analysis in those identification efforts in Peru, we recom-
mend exploring the use of stable isotope analysis and isoscape modeling (see
Chapter 21) to contribute information that may assist in the positive identification
of unknown remains that are recovered from clandestine graves in Peru. Given
the premise that “you are what you eat and drink,” we can use isotope data to
track an unidentified body back to possible geographical locales where they lived
during their childhood and perhaps adulthood and last few months of life, depend-
ing on which body tissues are examined (Chapter 21). To ensure that this isotopic
and isoscape modeling will be useful, forensic anthropologists and other human
rights workers must obtain information from surviving family members about the
childhood and adulthood locations of missing family members. This information
has already been collated by the Ministry of Justice, and there exists a database of
missing persons, their place of birth and their last known residence before they
were disappeared.
2
This term refers to the existence of more than one open context related to missing persons in the same
geographical area, a situation that complicates information-gathering and the identification process.
3
This is an expression used by relatives of missing persons to describe their visits to several institutions looking
for help in their search for answers about what happened to their missing relatives.
4
Maize is a C4 plant, which has a distinct photosynthetic pathway relative to plant foods like tubers and quinoa,
which are plants with C3 photosynthetic pathways. C4 plants have δ13C values around -9‰, while C3 plants have
δ13C values of approximately -21‰.
Preliminary responses to
Evaluating sources
Family, relatives
witnesses and Documentary archives, testimonies, (Within the types of “open
psychosocial Preliminary Truth and Reconciliation Commission, contexts” it is common to record
counselor Forensic Ombudsman's Office, IACHR1 Cases, cases in information that does not provide
Criminal Court, among others. the location of a burial place. It
Investigation
(search for is generally usual to return to the
information evaluation stage in search for
within the more information and resume the
context of the process). In this re-evaluation the
Document Appraisal of the case within the three investigator determines if a
disappearance)
researcher types of contexts and complex burial place is known or we need
(search for situations cited in this text. to suggest that the body will not
information in be found.
documented
sources)
Forensic Archaeology
(Location and recovery of human remains and belongings)
Figure 22.1 A flow chart showing the interaction between the various phases of
investigations when searching for victims’ bodies and attempting to identify them in
Perú. Source: Inter‐American Commission on Human Rights.
22.6 Conclusions
Positive identification of unidentified persons that were killed during the Peruvian
internal conflict of 1980–2000 is extremely challenging when only gross skeletal
analysis is used. Although this is an essential component of the forensic investiga-
tion, the addition of isotopic analyses of the unidentified person’s tissues in
comparison to the geographical isotope map of Peru (i.e. the isoscape that is built
on known and predicted oxygen and strontium isotope values in various regions
in Peru) should enhance our ability to eventually make more identifications. In
sum, we strongly recommend the integration of isotopic and isoscape analyses
into the forensic science toolkit used in Peru. While we are clear about not claiming
that isotope and isoscape analyses alone will result in positive identifications, we
are clear in suggesting that the isotope information obtained from unidentified
bodies may aid in excluding certain regions as possible geographical origins (e.g.
excluding high altitude zones in the central Peruvian Andes as the place of
residence when the person was an infant/child), while also including certain
regions (e.g. the person likely lived in coastal areas in central to southern Peru
while an infant/child). These geographical suggestions can then be compared with
the missing persons database managed by the DGBPD – General Office for the
Search of Missing Persons within the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights – in
Peru to seek out individuals of the correct sex and approximate age‐at‐death who
were born and resided in particular regions of Peru during their early juvenile
years. Those family members could then be contacted, and with permission,
shown images of personal effects that were found with the particular body, and
possibly obtain DNA from surviving family members and the body. In this way,
the isotope and isoscape analyses become one of several key tools used in moving
towards positive identification. In conclusion, we suggest that the integration of
these methods will aid in supporting the humanitarian spirit of Peruvian Law
No. 30470.
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23.1 Introduction
In the last 15 years, there has been growing interest in the application of water
isotope analysis to provenance and migratory behavior for populations of forensic
significance (Thompson et al., 2010; Bowen et al., 2005, 2009; Bowen, 2010;
Ehleringer et al., 2008; Podlesak et al., 2008; Meier‐Augenstein and Kemp, 2010;
Meier‐Augenstein and Fraser, 2008; O’Brien and Wooller 2007; Warner et al.,
2018). More recently, studies have focused on the development and testing of
semi‐mechanistic models to predict region of origin based on the O and H compo-
sition of scalp hair (Thompson et al., 2010; Bowen, 2010; Podlesak et al., 2008).
These models, constructed with assumptions based on modern American popula-
tions, demonstrated that the non‐exchangeable O and H isotopic composition of
hair is dictated in large part by tap water. Other significant contributions come
from non‐locally‐derived foods and locally produced foods, the latter of which is
presumed to be isotopically related to local water resources (Hobson et al., 1999).
Versions of these models with additional adjustable parameters were tested on
historic and modern international populations (Thompson et al., 2010; Bowen,
2010). Successful application of the Bowen model to non‐American populations
indicates that the model may be transferred to other regions.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
345
In Mexico, it is often the case that drinking water, cooking water, and bathing
water come from different sources (Fernando and Cervantes, 2016; Rodríguez‐
Tapia et al., 2017; Rowles III et al., 2017). Water stress is driven by uneven
development, poor water sanitation, epidemics, and municipal deficiencies (Sosa‐
Rodriguez, 2012; Rodríguez‐Tapia et al., 2017; Ayala and O’Rourke, 1989; Borroto
and Martinez‐Piedra, 2000; Davis, 2005; Armienta and Segovia, 2008; Bundschuh
et al., 2012; Espinosa‐García et al., 2015; Arcega‐Cabrera et al., 2017). In the sec-
tion below, we outline how the populations in seven Mexican regions at the focus
on this study are impacted by water stress, and how these nuanced experiences
impact drinking water choices and water isotope mapping. We also investigate
differences in the sources of agricultural water and drinking water in Mexico, and
the impact these differences have on modeling assumptions.
In Mexico, municipal water access is managed by hydrological administrative
regions (HAR), and 60% of municipal water is derived from groundwater sources
(CONAGUA, 2015). Michoacán is classified as a region of high water stress
(CONAGUA, 2015). The region has been negatively impacted by seismic activity,
and water stress comes from leaks in the municipal water system, drought, over‐
extraction of surface waters and industrial pollution (Ayala and O’Rourke, 1989;
Davis, 2005; Chávez‐García and Bard, 1994). Municipal water in Michoacán
comes mainly from surface waters, and water quality in the Rio Lerma river basin
is not fit for drinking, cooking or bathing (Sedeño‐Díaz and López‐López, 2007).
Mexico State and Mexico City are the most water‐stressed regions in Mexico
(Martinez et al., 2015; CONAGUA, 2015; Kimmelman, 2017). Ground and sur-
face water in the region suffer from the second highest levels of pollution in the
country (Rodríguez‐Tapia et al., 2017; Espinosa‐García et al., 2015; Cifuentes and
Rodriguez, 2005). Consequently, as many as 87% of homes in the region rely
completely on bottled water for drinking and cooking (Cifuentes and Rodriguez,
2005). Morelos is classified as having a high level of water stress due to industrial
and sewage pollution. For Veracruz, water scarcity is a concern due to the unequal
distribution of treated drinking water (Martínez‐Mier et al., 2005; CONEVAL,
2013; Mokondoko et al. 2016). Only 68.1% of rural inhabitants have access to
treated tap water compared with 91.1% of urban populations, which leads rural
populations to rely unsustainably on rivers and streams for water (Pacheco‐Vega,
2015; Návar, 2011). Similarly, in Chiapas, only 78% of the total population have
access to municipal water, and 32% of rural populations have no access to
municipal water (CONAGUA, 2015). In Chiapas, soda is cheaper than water and
the region consumes as much as half a gallon of soda per person per day (Lopez
and Jacobs, 2018). Over 30% of Oaxacans lack municipal water or sanitation ser-
vices, and almost 50% live in poverty (Rowles III et al., 2017). As a result, both
municipal supplied water, well water, and unimproved water sources (stream or
river water) all suffer from unsafe microbial levels. Bottled water usage for
drinking water is as high as 100% in many regions of the state (Rowles III et al.,
2017; Vertiz, 2011; McCulligh and Tetreault, 2017).
Depending on their state of residence, between 80 and 100% of Mexicans
report using bottled water as their only source of drinking water (Joshua, 2018;
Espinosa‐García et al., 2015; Kimmelman, 2017; Guardiola et al., 2013). As a
consequence, expenditure on bottled water can be more than 14% of monthly
income per household (Gutieŕrez et al., 2012). Bottled water is primarily pro-
duced by four major companies in the Mexican industry: Coca‐Cola/FEMSA,
Nestle, PepsiCo and Danone. Together, these companies hold 80% of the bottled
water market share, with more than 6000 small companies constituting the
remaining 20% of market share (Greene, 2014). The large companies have
several bottling plants in the country that draw water from local sources but dis-
tribute their products nationally (Franco et al., 2015). For example, water from
the Chiapas Coca‐Cola plant provides about 5–7% of total bottled water beverages
for the country (Pani, 2017). As bottled water is not strictly regulated in Mexico,
both small and large companies use water from multiple sources including aqui-
fers, groundwater, rainwater and river water. Since 2000, Coca‐Cola alone has
used water from 19 different aquifers and 15 different rivers (Franco et al., 2015).
Sources of agricultural water, which inform the isotopic signature of locally
produced foods, differ by HAR. In Mexico, the majority of agricultural water
comes largely from surface water sources (64%), which are subject to
for drinking water isotopes. With the model thus modified, parameters were
adjusted to provide a good fit to data from several geographically disparate
indigenous groups.
The success of the Bowen model in describing hair isotope variations as a
function of drinking water (in this case, regional precipitation) is interesting in
that it suggests that l, the fraction of diet derived from local sources, can be treated
as a global constant. Hair samples from nearly all the indigenous groups fell along
a common line indicating the same fraction of food being locally derived.
Furthermore, the non‐local dietary contribution was still described using data
representing the modern continental United States. Yet the hair samples origi-
nated from populations in regions ranging from Canada to Pakistan to Botswana,
and a timespan from the 1930s to 1950s. Similarly, fs, a physiological parameter
likely to be subject to inter‐individual variability, was treated as constant over all
samples and individuals.
We aim herein to investigate the impact on model quality of using different
approaches to represent the contributions of non‐local and local diet to hair iso-
topes. Essentially, l is likely to differ based on socioeconomic, cultural and biological
differences between individuals, and that difference is critical to making
quantitative links between hair and region of origin.
For this study, we used a subset of paired (N = 62) human hair, (N = 76) tap water
and (N = 73) bottled water samples from a larger dataset of unpaired samples
(N = 290 for tap water, N = 156 bottled water, and N = 118 hair). For samples to
be considered paired, they needed to be from the same location (e.g. city or town).
Sample locations were only included in this subset if at least two hair and water
samples were available for analysis. All hair samples were obtained from anony-
mous confirmed residents from ten cities in six Mexican states (Table 23.1).
Samples consisting of beard or scalp hair, representing several milligrams of
material, were collected on site, in clean coin envelopes. Data on city and state of
residence was collected for all samples.
Tap water samples were collected from the homes of private donors and local
restaurants. All water samples were collected in acid‐washed 300 ml HDPE bottles
following the recommendation of Spangenberg (2012) with no head space. Water
and hair samples were prepared and measured for δ2H and δ18O isotopes at the
SIRFER lab at the University of Utah following the methods outlined in Thompson
et al. (2010) and Bowen et al. (2005). Briefly, hair samples were equilibrated for
a 7‐day period with hair reference materials. Following equilibration, weighed
hair samples and water samples were pyrolysed in a temperature conversion
elemental analyser (TC/EA) and the H and O isotope ratios of hair and water sam-
ples were measured using an isotope ratio mass spectrometer (IRMS) operated in
continuous‐flow (CF) mode. Analytical precision for water samples was 0.3‰ and
0.1‰ for hydrogen and oxygen isotopes respectively. Analytical precision for hair
samples was 2.2‰ and 0.3‰ for δ2H and δ18O respectively. All data are reported
using the standard delta notation δX = [Rstandard/Rsample − 1] × 1000, and all data are
reported against the internationally accepted standard VSMOW. General statistical
analysis was conducted in SPSS version 25. Parameter estimation for model fitting
was performed in Matlab using the approach of approximate Bayesian
computation.
23.5.1.1 Results
Figures 23.1 to 23.3 and Table 23.1 show the spatial variation in the complete
sample of δ18O and δ2H isotopes in Mexican tap water, bottled water and hair sam-
ples. Tap water values spanned a range from −12.7‰ to +0.4‰ and −91.7‰ to
−4.2‰ for δ18O and δ2H, respectively. Tap water samples differed in their standard
deviation by collection location. Standard deviations ranged from 0.1–2.9‰ for
δ18O and 1.7–15.2‰ for δ2H. For 93% of samples, standard deviations for repli-
cated water samples from the same locations were small, at <1‰ and <6‰ for
oxygen and hydrogen values respectively. Samples from Papantla Veracruz
showed an unusually high level of deviation, indicating inconsistency in water
sources. The calculated local meteoric water line (LMW) for tap waters was
δ2H = 7.54 δ18O + 5.0‰, r2 = 0.91, P < 0.001. Bottled water values spanned a range
of −11.5‰ to 0.5‰ and −80.2‰ to 1.3‰ for δ18O and δ2H, respectively. Bottled
water samples differed minimally in their standard deviation by collection loca-
tion. Standard deviations ranged from 0.03–1.3‰ for δ18O and 0.3–14.9‰ for δ2H.
For 62% of bottled water samples, standard deviations for replicated water
samples from the same locations were small, at <1‰ and <6‰ for oxygen and
hydrogen values respectively. Samples from Veracruz showed an unusually high
level of deviation (±1.8‰ and ±14.9‰) for O and H respectively, indicating
multiple sources for bottled waters. The calculated water line for bottled waters
was δ2H = 7.34 δ18O + 2.8‰, r2 = 0.97, P < 0.001. Wassenaar and colleagues (2009)
11.8 – 12.1
12.1 – 12.4
12.4 – 12.7
12.7 – 12.9
12.9 – 13.2
13.2 – 13.5
13.5 – 13.8
13.8 – 14.1 0 125 250 500 750 1,000
Miles
14.1 – 14.4
–80.6 – –78.9
–78.9 – –77.2
–77.2 – –75.5
–75.5 – –73.8
–73.8 – –72.0
–72.0 – –70.3
–70.3 – –68.6
–68.6 – –66.9 0 125 250 500 750 1,000
Miles
–66.9 – –65.2
0.0
Tap water Bottled water
–10.0 δ2 H = 7.54 × δ18 O + 5.0‰ δ2 H = 7.34 × δ18 O + 2.8‰
R2 = 0.91 R2 = 0.97
–20.0
A
B
D
–30.0 C
δ2 H vs. VSMOW (‰)
–40.0
Hair
–50.0 δ2 H = 2.98 × δ18 O – 133.3‰
R2 = 0.21
–60.0
–70.0
–80.0
–90.0
–100.0
–14.0 –12.0 –10.0 –8.0 –6.0 –4.0 –2.0 0.0 2.0 4.0 6.0 8.0 10.0 12.0 14.0 16.0
δ18O vs. VSMOW (‰)
Figure 23.3 A plot of the δ2H and δ18O isotope ratios for tap water samples marked by
dots and bottled water samples marked by dashes, and hair (solid line). Points marked
by letters A–B are isotopically enriched points discussed in the text. Points C–D are
isotopically depleted points discussed in the text.
previously reported two water lines for Mexico, the Mexican meteoric water line
δ2H = 7.5 δ18O + 6.1‰ defined by precipitation IAEA stations from three locations
(Mexico City, Veracruz and Chihuahua), and a groundwater meteoric water line
δ2H = 7.9 δ18O + 6.4, r2 = 0.95 based on their collected dataset. The LMW for tap
waters is virtually indistinguishable from that of groundwater. However, the water
line calculated for bottled waters has a lower slope, possibly indicating evapora-
tive effects in some of the bottled water samples.
Hair values ranged from 9.5‰ to 15.5‰ and −90.8‰ to −54.4‰ for δ18O and
δ H, respectively. This range is slightly smaller than those previously reported by
2
Bowen et al. (2009), Ehleringer et al. (2008) and Thompson et al. (2010). The
most depleted δ18O and δ2H hair values came from individuals in the state of
Morelos. Like the water samples, hair samples differed in their standard devia-
tions by collection location. Standard deviations ranged from 0.2‰ to 1.1‰ and
0.8‰ to 12.9‰ for δ18O and δ2H, respectively. Excluding hair samples from
Veracruz, all remaining locations demonstrated a standard deviation that was less
than that for the entire sample. A linear regression through the hair dataset pro-
duced a weak correlation, δ2H = 2.9 δ18O − 113.3, r2 = 0.21, P < 0.002. A subset of
paired N = 62 hair and N = 76 water samples was culled from the larger dataset to
investigate the impact of locality on samples (Table 23.1). Stable isotope composi-
tion for the subset of paired water samples ranged from −11.1‰ to −4.6‰ for δ18O
and −77.4‰ to −24‰ for δ2H, and ranged from 12.1‰ to 15.4‰ for δ18O
and −81.1‰ to −56‰ for δ2H for paired hair samples. Cook’s distance identified
both the Veracruz groups in the subset as outliers. The Gutierrez Zamora population
had a particularly irregular relationship between δ2H isotopes in hair and water.
The water values for both Veracruz locations were enriched relative to the rest of
the sample subset, which make sense for its coastal location, but the δ2H isotopes
in hair were among the most depleted. A linear regression through the subset of
hair data produced a weak correlation δ2H = 3.26 δ18O − 118.6, r2 = 0.31, P < 0.07.
The weak correlations between O and H of both the individual hair samples and
the subset of group means is in stark contrast to the strong correlations reported
by Bowen et al. (2009), r2 = 0.75 and r2 = 0.88 for samples and means, Ehleringer
et al. (2008) for samples r2 = 0.87, or Thompson et al. (2010) for group means
r2 = 0.80. The following relationships between hair (h), tap water (tw) and bottled
water (wb) from the data subset were produced using least squares regression:
δ18Oh = 0.35 δ18Otw + 16.6‰, r2 = 0.38, P = 0.05; δ2Hh = 0.229 δ2Htw − 60.8‰, r2 = 0.36,
P = 0.06; and δ18Oh = 0.33 δ18Owb + 16.8‰, δ2Hh = 0.229 δ2Hwb − 58.6‰, r2 = 0.22,
P = 0.18 (Figures 23.4 and 23.5). These paired group means for tap water and hair
were entered into the process‐based model published by Bowen and colleagues
(2009), in order to compare model outcomes, and determine whether the implicit
assumptions of the model were appropriate for this population.
16.5
δ18Oh = 0.357 × δ18Ow + 16.7‰
R2 = 0.380 Tultepec
15.5
Oaxaca City
Tzintzuntan
14.5
Pátzcuaro
δ18O Hair (‰)
Mexico City
13.5
Quiroga
Cuernavaca
12.5
Palengue
Papantla
11.5
Guiterrez
Zamora
10.5
–12 –11 –10 –9 –8 –7 –6 –5 –4 –3 –2
δ18O Water vs. VSMOW (‰)
Figure 23.4 Mean δ O values measured in paired hair and tap water samples, data points
18
–50
–55
δ2Hh = 0.221 × δ2Hw – 61.3‰ Mexico City
R2 = 0.34
–60 Tultepec
Oaxaca City
–65
δ2H Hair (‰)
Tzintzuntan
–70 Pátzcuaro
Quiroga
–75
Cuernavaca
–80 Palengue
Papantla
–85
Guiterrez
Zamora
–90
–90 –80 –70 –60 –50 –40 –30 –20 –10
δ2H Water vs. VSMOW (‰)
Figure 23.5 Mean δ2H values measured in paired hair and tap water samples, data points
are mean per site.
absorbed through
drinking water dietary breathing
contribution contribution (O only)
loss through
body water breathing
hair
Figure 23.6 Pathway diagram showing how hair isotopes are conceptually related to the
key inputs of food and water in the Ehleringer et al. (2008) and Bowen et al. (2009)
models.
For the ten hair isotope datasets reported in Table 23.1, we must then estimate a
total of 26 parameter values – 6 characterizing inputs assumed to be shared by all
ten locations, and 20 describing the location‐specific properties l and fs. With only
two data points for each location (i.e. one for each isotope), this model represents
an underdetermined system. Approximate Bayesian computation (ABC) is a
statistical approach that can be used to infer credible parameter intervals for com-
plex models when faced with the challenge of very small datasets (Csilléry et al.,
2010). The approach requires a generative model to approximate the likelihood
function – essentially a probability distribution indicating how likely the experi-
mental dataset would be, given a set of beliefs about the distribution of model
parameter values. The ABC method starts with sampling parameter values, θ,
from distributions P(θ) that represent any existing knowledge about the possible
parameter values. In our case, we know little more than the upper and lower
bounds of the parameter values (e.g. 0 < l, fs < 1), so we used bounded uniform
distributions as uninformative a priori assumptions for all parameters. These were
implemented as scaled beta distributions (α = 1, β = 1) to take advantage of that
distribution’s ability to evolve from uniform to a variety of unimodal intermediate
shapes as the hyperparameters α and β are increased.
Having sampled values for each of the 26 parameter values, the isotope semi‐
mechanistic model was used to generate predictions for 2H and 18O in hair. We then
compared the predictions with the hair isotope data and preserved the parameter
values if the prediction adequately reflected the data (i.e. storing to the posterior
distribution ∝ P(θ|x)). After repeating this sample‐predict‐compare process for
1000 different samples, we used the cumulative degree of success in predicting
the data as a means of updating our prior assumptions about the parameter distri-
bution. With this improved knowledge about the system, we repeat the sampling
process. Several similar iterations yield increasingly credible parameter distributions
by narrowing our sampling domain of the 26‐dimensional parameter space to
those regions that yield the best fit to the data, that is, those values that have the
greatest probability of giving rise to the observed data. Expressing the mean and
appropriate quantiles of these distributions provides both an estimate of each
parameter’s value and a 95% credibility interval. Thus, instead of a single value
with confidence bounds, one obtains a distribution of values for each parameter
that can be interpreted as representing uncertainty in the estimated parameter
value (Tavaré et al., 1997).
Prior applications of the Bowen and Ehleringer models assumed tap water to be a
valid proxy for drinking water. Using our local tap water measurements and
an international food contribution identical to the modern US supermarket diet
(δ2Hd = −115, δ18Od = 36), we fail to find values for l and fs that map to the Mexican
hair samples. Figure 23.7 demonstrates the poor quality of fit achieved via this
approach, wherein l and fs are assumed to vary with location, and the local
food contribution is expressed as a fixed offset from tap water (Δ2Hd,l = −50‰,
Δ18Od,l = 35.4‰).
Given the significant water stress in the region and the prevalence of bottled
water use in both drinking and cooking, we considered whether estimating the
drinking water isotopic signature might improve the quality of the model fit.
(a) (b)
18 –50
16 –60
δ18Ohair
δ 2Hhair
14 –70
12 –80
ε = 0.6 ε = 0.4
10 –90
–15 –10 –5 0 –80 –60 –40 –20
δ18O tw δ 2Htw
(c) (d)
18 –50
16 –60
δ18O hair
δ2H hair
14 –70
12 –80
ε = 0.4 ε = 0.3
10 –90
–15 –10 –5 0 –80 –60 –40 –20
δ18O water δ 2H water
Figure 23.7 Model fits using American dietary parameters. Models assume established
USA values for non‐local dietary contribution and local diet offset from drinking water.
(A–B) Local tap water is used for the isotopic composition of drinking water. (C–D)
Drinking water is assumed to be homogeneous for this region and its isotopic composi-
tion is estimated as part of the Bayesian fitting algorithm. Data and model predictions are
shown as square markers and circle markers respectively. The model reported by Bowen
is also shown as a dotted line.
Figure 23.7 parts C and D report the modestly improved fit. However, the δ18Oh
values predicted now appear to be independent of location. Indeed, the estimated
drinking water signature (δ2Hwe = −61‰, δ2Hwe = −5.9‰) has been treated as a
global parameter. As drinking water is the basis for expressing the local food iso-
topes, the local food signature is now also independent of location. The only var-
iable that can account for the variation in hair 18O is the local value of l. This
proves to be an inadequate tuning parameter. This is a logical outcome, as the
local contribution to diet, when calculated from the estimated drinking water, is
δ2Hd,l = −111‰ and δ18Od,l = 29.5‰. That is nearly identical to the US supermarket
diet and consequently does not allow the model to have the degrees of freedom
necessary to fit the hair isotopes.
Figure 23.8 shows the quality of fit achieved using our Bayesian approach and esti-
mating not just drinking water, but also new values for the local and non‐local die-
tary contributions. The 18O and 2H data are concurrently modeled with similar
accuracy, as indicated by the mean summary statistic values (ε = 0.009 and 0.01 for
18
O and 2H respectively). The estimated values for the Mexican non‐local dietary sig-
nature and local diet offset were (mean [95% intervals]): δ2Hd = −136‰ [−135,−137],
δ18Od = 17.8‰ [17.6,18.2], δ2Hd,l = −84‰ [−83,−86] and δ18Od,l = 48‰ [47,48]. Those
for drinking water were δ2Hwe = −65‰ [−63,−68] and δ18Owe = −10‰ [−10,−11].
Interestingly, this estimated isotopic signature for regional drinking water is very sim-
ilar to the mean value for our bottle water samples, δ2Hwb = −65.5‰, δ18Owe = −9.4‰.
16 –60
δ18Ohair
δ2Hhair
14 –70
12 –80
ε = 0.009 ε = 0.01
10 –90
–15 –10 –5 0 –80 –60 –40 –20
δ18Otw δ2Htw
Figure 23.8 Model fits using estimated Mexican dietary parameters. Drinking water is
assumed to be homogeneous for this region and its isotopic composition is estimated as
part of the Bayesian fitting algorithm. (A) δ2H; (B) δ18O. Data and model predictions are
shown as square markers and circle markers respectively. The model reported by Bowen
is shown as a dotted line.
0.3
Cuernavaca Patzcuaro Gutierrez
Palenque Zamora
0.2 Mexico Tzintzuntzan
Tultepec City
P(I)
0
0.3 0.35 0.4 0.45 0.5 0.55 0.6
I
0.3
Quiroga Tzintzuntzan Mexico City Papantla
Patzcuaro
0.2 Cuernavaca Palenque
Oaxaca
P(fs)
0
0.1 0.15 0.2 0.25 0.3 0.35 0.4
fs
Figure 23.9 Intervals estimated for l and fs in the ten locations for which hair samples
were analysed.
may be more closely tied to socioeconomic status, coastal access, and regional
animal husbandry practices than the relative contributions of international and
regionally derived foods (l). Indeed, the three highest values for fs correspond to
Palenque, Oaxaca City and Papantla. Two of these locations, (Oaxaca City and
Palenque) are classified as having high to very high marginality indices. The
Consejo Nacional de Población (CONAPO, the Mexican national council on
population) generates marginality indices every ten years based on census data
(Vertiz, 2011). The marginality index (MI) is a summary measure that differenti-
ates states and municipalities according to socioeconomic deficiencies such as lack
of access to education, inadequate housing, insufficient monetary income, and
rural living. Although MI tells us nothing about the circumstances of any individual
person, it serves as a coarse characterization of SES differences between locations.
Thus, individuals in areas of high MI might be expected to have limited access to
animal protein, and their hair would reflect H fixed from body water to a greater
extent (i.e. high fs).
The lowest fs value is obtained for the coastal location of Gutierrez Zamora,
where marine protein consumption is likely high. Readily available local seafood
will tend to produce markedly different isotopic signatures and distinctly different
relationships between l and fs than might be observed for inland locations.
Michoacán is one of the major pork‐producing regions in Mexico and a location
where consumption of pork is affordable for local populations (Hernandez et al.,
2014). Non‐urban locations like Quiroga, Tzintzuntzan and Patzcuaro having fs
values interspersed with more affluent urban centers is likely consistent with the
state of Michoacán hosting an industry that offers relatively low‐cost and
abundant access to high‐quality protein.
23.9 Conclusions
We quantified the relationship between modern Mexican hair and water samples
using a modified approach to the semi‐mechanistic framework established by
Bowen et al. (2009). This framework was developed based on the assumption that
individuals consume water that comes from sources near their place of residence,
and that the isotopic signature of that water is quickly reflected in hair isotopes.
That assumption is not likely to hold true for our Southern Mexican population.
The paired hair–water data presented herein does not represent a consistent trend
between hair and tap water. Instead, we found a rather more nuanced connection
between what Mexicans are drinking and what shows up in their hair. After con-
sidering multiple factors that might alter the quality of the model fit, we found
that our data are consistent with a population whose drinking water has no con-
nection to place of residence. Instead, the drinking water isotopes match almost
exactly with the mean of bottled water samples. The bottled water and beverage
industry likely supplies most of what is consumed by Mexicans, as tap water is
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24.1 Introduction
In the 1990s, the United States launched a number of border security operations,
including “Operation Hold the Line” (a.k.a. Operation Blockade) in El Paso, Texas
in 1993; “Operation Gatekeeper” in San Diego, California in 1994; “Operation
Safeguard” in southern Arizona in 1995; and “Operation Rio Grande” in south
Texas in 1997 (Martínez et al., 2014). While these “prevention through deter-
rence” policies of the US Border Patrol have greatly reduced illegal migration
across the southern border, this period has been marked by a sharp increase in
undocumented border crosser (UBC) deaths as migrants are funneled through
more inhospitable areas and often die due to heat‐related illness (Baker, 2014;
DeLeón, 2015; Jimenez, 2009; Martínez et al., 2014; Reineke and Martínez,
2014). Between 1998 and 2016, the remains of more than 6500 UBCs have been
recovered from along the US–Mexico border (Wexler, 2016).
In 2012, the number of deceased UBCs in south Texas exceeded that of Arizona,
with the majority of the deceased representing Central American nationals (Kovic,
2013; Spradley et al., 2018). Most of the migrant deaths in Texas occur near the
Falfurrias border checkpoint in Brooks County (Rio Grande Valley sector), located
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
369
approximately 70 miles north of the US–Mexico border. Most often, migrants are
dropped off from vehicles along roadways and are instructed to walk around the
checkpoint (Gocha et al., 2018; Reineke and Martínez, 2014). As migrants attempt
to walk through flat, rugged terrain on remote, private ranches, they often become
lost and disoriented, and eventually succumb to heat‐related illnesses. The high
volume of deaths has resulted in a massive identification challenge, especially
given the lack of infrastructure and resources in this rural area of Texas. Many
barriers to identification exist, including lack of documentation about the human
remains and recovery context, lack of ante‐mortem records, difficulties obtaining
family reference DNA samples, and the extent of decomposition. Due to financial
constraints, local authorities began burying unidentified migrants at Sacred Heart
Cemetery in Falfurrias around 2009. Remains were buried without conducting
complete scientific analyses for identification, including the use of DNA testing as
required under Texas Administrative Code (Kovic, 2018).
Forensic anthropologists have featured prominently in the identification pro-
cess of deceased migrants interred without the required DNA analyses. In 2013,
forensic anthropologists began exhuming unidentified remains interred at Sacred
Heart Cemetery for analysis and identification (Latham and Strand, 2018). The
numerous field seasons of exhumations have recovered hundreds of deceased
migrants, which are currently being analysed and identified through the efforts of
Texas State University and their collaborators (Gocha et al., 2018; Spradley et al.,
2018). Despite tremendous efforts by forensic anthropology teams, DNA special-
ists, and non‐governmental organizations, identification and repatriation efforts
have proceeded at a slow pace (Spradley et al., 2018). This unprecedented
identification challenge has led to the use of multidisciplinary approaches to
identification, including the use of an array of biological and cultural data associ-
ated with the remains, supported to a large degree by efforts of volunteers and
non‐governmental organizations (Anderson and Spradley, 2016; Spradley et al.,
2018). Currently, Texas State University leads the migrant identification effort in
Texas through a project called Operation Identification (OpID).
Over the past decade, the use of stable isotope analysis (SIA) has emerged as an
identification tool for provenancing unidentified decedents (see reviews in
Bartelink and Chesson, 2019; Bartelink et al., 2014a, 2014b, 2016; Cerling et al.,
2016; Chesson et al., 2014, 2018a, 2018b, this volume; Ehleringer et al., 2007,
2010, 2015; Kamenov et al., 2014; Lehn et al., 2015; Meier‐Augenstein, 2007,
2010). Recently, a handful of SIA case studies have focused on identifying UBC
remains from the US–Mexico border (Bartelink, 2018; Bartelink et al., 2018;
Bartelink and Chesson, 2019; Kramer et al., this volume) and also determining
whether an unidentified decedent is likely a foreign national from Latin America
(Bartelink and Chesson, 2019; Ross et al., 2016). Currently, baseline isotope data
are markedly lacking for most regions within Latin America and the circum‐
Caribbean; however, a few recent studies have generated datasets useful for
provenancing studies (Juarez, 2008; Juarez et al., this volume; Laffoon et al.,
2017; Kramer et al., this volume).
Here we present SIA results for bone–tooth pairs from UBCs from Brooks County,
Texas. Bone and tooth samples were prepared for SIA, including carbon and
nitrogen isotope analysis of bone collagen, carbon and oxygen isotope analysis of
bone bioapatite and enamel bioapatite, and strontium isotope analysis of tooth
enamel. Using a multi‐isotope approach, we narrow down the likely region‐of‐
origin for these individuals. We then present preliminary interpretations of
isotope results for two case studies to illustrate the use of SIA as an investigative
tool for deceased UBC cases from Texas.
and to repatriate them to family members. Through OpID, migrant remains are
transferred to the Forensic Anthropology Center at Texas State (FACTS) for
skeletal processing, analysis, DNA sampling, and temporary curation (Spradley
et al., 2018). Part of this effort includes collaboration with the Argentine Forensic
Anthropology Team (EAAF), who are assisting with family reference sample DNA
collection, as well as the University of North Texas Center for Human Identification
and Bode Cellmark Forensics, Inc., who have processed and compared DNA pro-
files for identification (Gocha et al., 2018; Spradley et al., 2018). OpID has
expanded beyond Brooks County, Texas to cemeteries in neighboring Starr and
Willacy Counties where additional unidentified migrant remains are buried
(Spradley et al., 2018). As of 2018, only about 29 individuals have been positively
identified out of the more than 270 cases received through OpID. Many of those
identified are from the Central American countries of Guatemala, Honduras and
El Salvador, the so‐called Northern Triangle, although a considerable number of
the unidentified likely originated from Mexico (Gocha et al., 2018).
A paired sample consisting of one premolar tooth and one metatarsal was col-
lected from 30 sets of OpID remains by researchers at FACTS. In addition, another
13 sets of remains were sampled and submitted for SIA through the University of
Indianapolis. These former samples included a wider variety of tooth types and
bones, with data previously reported in Bartelink et al. (2018). Teeth were sampled
to provide childhood diet (δ13C) and origin information (δ18O and 87Sr/86Sr), whereas
bones were sampled to provide information on adult diet (δ13C and δ15N) and origin
(δ18O). Permission to sample was provided through FACTS, and funding was
provided through the AAFS Humanitarian and Human Rights Resource Award and
through a California State University, Chico David Lantis Award. Residual bone
and tooth materials were returned to FACTS upon completion of isotope testing.
Stable isotope ratios of C, N, and O were measured through isotope ratio mass
spectrometry (IRMS). Isotope ratios of samples are reported relative to an inter-
national standard using the delta (δ) notation as described above. As a matter of
convenience, δ values are often reported in parts per thousand or “per mil” (‰).
The δ13C and δ15N values of bone collagen were measured by continuous‐flow
IRMS at the Stable Isotope Facility at the University of California, Davis, using an
elemental analyser (PDZ Europa ANCA‐GSL) interfaced with an isotope ratio
mass spectrometer (PDZ Europa 20‐20). The δ13C and δ18O values of bone and
enamel bioapatite were measured by continuous‐flow IRMS at IsoForensics, Inc.
in Salt Lake City, Utah, using a GasBench II (Thermo ScientificTM) interfaced to an
isotope ratio mass spectrometer (FinniganTM MAT 253). Sample preparation pro-
cedures are reported in Bartelink et al. (2014a) for C, N and O isotope analysis.
Strontium isotope ratios (87Sr/86Sr) were measured on digested tooth enamel
samples at the Department of Geology and Geophysics at the University of Utah
via high‐resolution multi‐collector inductively coupled plasma mass spectrometer
(MC‐ICP‐MS, Thermo ScientificTM Neptune PlusTM). Isoscape maps were gener-
ated using ArcGIS 10.4 (ESRI) for each of the 43 individuals, although only two
are presented here as case studies.
24.4 Results
Descriptive statistics for the stable isotope values are reported in Table 24.1.
The mean bone collagen δ13C value is −13.6‰ (± 2.3‰, 1 SD) and the mean δ15N
value is +9.4‰ (± 1.3‰, 1 SD). The mean δ13C value for bone bioapatite is –8.4‰
(± 2.6‰, 1 SD) and for enamel bioapatite is −5.3‰ (± 3.0‰, 1 SD). The mean δ18O
value is −6.6‰ (± 1.1‰, 1 SD) for bone bioapatite and −5.5‰ for enamel bioapa-
tite (± 1.4‰, 1 SD). For Sr, the mean 87Sr/86Sr ratio for tooth enamel is 0.70703
(± 0.00116, 1 SD; OpID 399 was excluded as an extreme outlier).
The mean δ13C values of bone collagen as well as bone bioapatite and enamel
bioapatite are consistent with our expectations for UBCs and indicate a very high
dietary contribution from C4 resources (e.g. corn products). The high degree of
variation in δ13C values (1 SD of 2.3 to 3.0‰) is primarily influenced by four indi-
viduals with lower δ13C values for their bone collagen, bone, and enamel bioapa-
tite. Isoscape prediction maps based on O and Sr isotopes further suggest that
these individuals could be of US origin (not shown). Bone bioapatite and bone
collagen δ13C values show a strong positive correlation (r = 0.941, p < 0.001), indi-
cating that both whole diet (reflected in bioapatite) and the protein source of the
diet (reflected in collagen) are strongly influenced by the consumption of C4
resources. Similarly, bone and enamel bioapatite δ13C values show a strong positive
correlation (r = 0.897, p < 0.001), indicating dietary continuity in the consump-
tion of C4 resources between childhood and adulthood.
Measured δ15N values show relatively low variation across the sampled OpID
cases, consistent with consumption of terrestrial herbivore protein, albeit in some-
what different amounts between individuals. Further, bone bioapatite and bone
collagen δ13C values both show a moderate negative correlation with bone c ollagen
δ15N values (r = −0.683, p < 0.001 and r = −0.583, p < 0.001, respectively), suggest-
ing that C4 resource consumption is negatively correlated with consumption of
low trophic‐level protein sources. This could reflect differences in socioeconomic
status between individuals, whereby corn products are consumed in the greatest
amounts by individuals with more limited access to terrestrial meat products.
Isoscape prediction maps were based on δ18O values of precipitation for the US
and Latin America. However, isoscape prediction maps based on 87Sr/86Sr ratios
are only possible within the US since baseline reference data on Sr isotopic varia-
tion in the environment are limited for Latin America. For the majority of the
UBC samples, isoscape prediction maps based on O isotope ratios are consistent
with a Latin American origin, and include areas within Mexico as well as portions
of Central America. These predictions also include areas within the continental
US. Out of 41 tooth samples for which there are O isotope data for enamel bioapa-
tite, 88% (n = 36) included predictions within Latin America. Only five individ-
uals fell into the continental US only based on their δ18O values (between −8.7 and
−6.9‰). Interestingly, these individuals also have the lowest bone collagen and
bone and enamel bioapatite δ13C values in the entire study, suggesting a diet con-
sisting of a mixture of both C3 and C4 resources (more similar to a US American
12 Mean = –13.58
Std.Dev. = 2.261
N = 43
10
8
Frequency
0
–20.00 –18.00 –16.00 –14.00 –12.00 –10.00 –8.00
δ13C Bone Collagen (‰, VPDB)
Figure 24.1 Histogram of bone collagen δ13C values (n = 43) showing a multimodal
distribution, which can be partitioned into low, medium, and high C4 diet groups.
diet). Figure 24.1 is a histogram of the 43 bone collagen δ13C values, and shows
a multimodal distribution. When this distribution is equally partitioned into low
(n = 6), medium (n = 13), and high C4 (n = 24) diet groups, 87Sr/86Sr ratios of
paired enamel and bone bioapatite δ13C values tend to cluster by group
(Figure 24.2). This suggests a relationship between the amount of C4 consumption
and geographical location.
Two case studies are used to illustrate how a multi‐isotope approach can be used
to generate investigative leads regarding unidentified UBC cases. The first case
study (OpID 423) is an unidentified Hispanic male, 29–54 years of age, with an
estimated stature between 5 feet 2 inches and 5 feet 5 inches. His remains were
discovered in Falfurrias, Texas, in August 2010 and were buried in the Sacred
Heart Cemetery. The decedent was wearing a shirt that was made in Guatemala,
providing possible region‐of‐origin information. The δ13C values for bone collagen
(−9.8‰), bone bioapatite (−4.8‰) and enamel bioapatite (−1.7‰) indicate a diet
heavily focused on C4 resources (i.e. corn products), consistent with UBCs from
Latin America (Table 24.2). The isoscape prediction map based on enamel
bioapatite δ18O values includes the continental US, central and southern Mexico,
C4diet
Low C4 diet
Medium C4 diet
High C4 diet
.71000
Sr/86Sr Enamel
.70800
87
.70600
.70400
Figure 24.2 Bivariate plot of bone bioapatite δ13C values (n = 40) and tooth enamel
Sr/86Sr ratios between low, medium, and high C4 diet groups.
87
Guatemala and Costa Rica (Figure 24.3). Although the isoscape prediction map
only includes Sr predictions for the US, the 87Sr/86Sr ratio (0.70568) is consistent
with known reference data for Guatemala, especially regions along the Motagua
River Valley (Hodell et al., 2004; Laffoon et al., 2017; Price et al., 2015; Wright,
2005). Although not definitive, the data cannot rule out that OpID 423 could be
a Guatemalan national.
The second case study (OpID 401‐C) is an unidentified Hispanic female,
15–21 years of age, with an estimated stature between 4 feet 9 inches and 5 feet
5 inches. Her remains were discovered in Falfurrias, Texas, in November 2011 and
were buried in the Sacred Heart Cemetery. Although clothing and other personal
effects were recovered with the remains, none pointed to a specific country or
region‐of‐origin. The δ13C values for bone collagen (−13.1‰), bone bioapatite
(−7.1‰) and enamel bioapatite (−4.7‰) indicate a dietary emphasis on C4
resources (i.e. corn products), consistent with Latin American dietary practices
(Table 24.2). However, the isoscape prediction map based on enamel bioapatite
δ18O values includes exclusively the continental US (Figure 24.4). The isoscape
prediction map also includes Sr predictions for the US, and the δ18O value and
87
Sr/86Sr ratio (0.70648) overlap primarily within areas of the Intermountain West
(Figure 24.4). However, when only the 87Sr/86Sr ratio is considered, the
measurement results could be consistent with the Motagua River Valley of
Guatemala or Copan region of Honduras (Hodell et al., 2004; Laffoon et al., 2017;
Figure 24.3 Isoscape prediction map for Case Study 1 (OpID 423) using the oxygen and
strontium isotopic compositions of tooth enamel. (Water base layer data used for region‐
of‐origin prediction from Bowen et al., 2007, and Bataille and Bowen, 2012.) The
darkest gray highlighted areas indicate locations where the individual may have obtained
his drinking water (based on measured δ18O values of enamel bioapatite). The lighter
gray highlighted areas indicate locations where the individual may have obtained his
food (based on measured 87Sr/86Sr ratios of tooth enamel). The red highlighted areas
indicate locations where both O and Sr isoscape predictions overlap, representing the
most likely regions‐of‐origin. Note that oxygen SIA predicted areas within northern and
southern Mexico, Guatemala, Costa Rica, and the US for this individual. (Map created by
B.J. Tipple, IsoForensics, Inc.)
Price et al., 2015; Wright, 2005). Some possible scenarios for this residence pattern
include one in which the decedent was born in Mexico or Central America, lived
in the US for some period of time, and then traveled back or was deported to a
Mexican/Central American location from the US, before dying in an attempt to
re‐cross the border into Texas. Additional Sr isotope measurement results on the
bone would be useful in this case, since it may indicate whether she moved bet-
ween childhood and adulthood. This case highlights the complexity of predicting
region‐of‐origin given that different isotope systems can be consistent with more
than one location. At this point in time, there is not enough information to narrow
the region of origin for OpID 401‐C, so several possible scenarios should be
considered.
Figure 24.4 Isoscape prediction map for Case Study 2 (OpID 401‐C) using the oxygen
and strontium isotopic compositions of tooth enamel. (Water base layer data used for
region‐of‐origin prediction from Bowen et al., 2007, and Bataille and Bowen, 2012.) The
darkest gray highlighted areas indicate locations where the individual may have obtained
her drinking water (based on measured δ18O values of enamel bioapatite). The lighter
gray highlighted areas indicate locations where the individual may have obtained her
food (based on measured 87Sr/86Sr ratios of tooth enamel). The red highlighted areas
indicate locations where both O and Sr isotope predictions overlap, representing the
most likely regions‐of‐origin. Note that oxygen SIA predicted a US origin for this
individual, which is further supported based on available strontium data for the US.
(Map created by B.J. Tipple, IsoForensics, Inc.)
Stable isotope analysis is a useful investigative tool that can aid in the identification
effort of deceased undocumented border crossers by narrowing down probable
regions‐of‐origin. In this study, we identified a clear dietary emphasis on C4
resources (i.e. corn products), as well as dietary continuity between childhood
and adulthood among the UBC remains recovered from Texas analysed to date.
The case studies presented highlight the value of a multi‐isotope approach for
predicting region‐of‐origin, as well as some of the complexities involved with
reconstructing the life and travel history of UBCs. For migrants who cross the
US–Mexico border, we assumed that food and water were most likely consumed
locally at their place of origin. However, we recognize that the development of a
global supermarket economy and the increased use of bottled water may hinder
our efforts in using stable isotopes as geolocation tools. The addition of strontium
isotope baseline maps and a representative sample of tap water from different
regions within Latin America will aid in narrowing down provenance predictions
for future case work.
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank Roberto Parra, Sara Zapico and Douglas Ubelaker
for their kind invitation to contribute to this volume. We thank Kate Spradley,
Tim Gocha, Danny Wescott and Krista Latham for their assistance with the collec-
tion of isotope samples and contextual data. We thank Sam Mijal, Alina Tichinin
and Vanessa Reeves for preparing collagen and bioapatite samples. Special thanks
to Thuan Chau and Michael Lott of IsoForensics, Inc. for their assistance with
analysing the strontium, oxygen and carbon isotope ratios of bone and tooth sam-
ples, and to Dr Joy Matthews of the UC Davis Stable Isotope Facility for analysing
bone collagen samples for carbon and nitrogen isotope ratios. Funding was
provided through the AAFS Humanitarian and Human Rights Resource Award
and through the California State University, Chico’s David Lantis Award.
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School of Biological Sciences, University of Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA
2
Department of Geology and Geophysics, University of Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA
4
Global Change and Sustainability Center, University of Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA
5
25.1 Introduction
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
385
Hair has been termed the “most sophisticated biological composite material”
(Popescu and Höcker, 2007). Hair is a highly stable complex external secretion,
with one of the lowest solubilities measured for a protein (Popescu and Höcker,
2007; Robbins, 2012). A thorough description of hair histochemistry, macro‐ and
microscopic morphology, and the molecular and genetic factors regulating hair
biosynthesis is beyond the scope of this chapter, and can be found in the provided
references. However, it is important to describe a few important features of hair.
Hair is 95% proteinaceous; this proteinaceous material is composed primarily of
the fibrous protein α‐keratin arranged as helicoidal microfilaments (Popescu and
Höcker, 2007; Robbins, 2012; Swift, 1997). The hair shaft or fiber (visible above
the skin) has a macroscopic structure comprised of a thin cuticle and a thicker
cortex, and in some types of hair there is a central portion known as the medulla;
externally the hair shaft can be described as a proteinaceous monofilament
covered with scales.
The follicle, not visible above the skin, is made of epithelial cells and connective
tissues, and it is where the hair fibers are “born” (Popescu and Höcker, 2007;
Robbins, 2012). Five different zones are recognized in the follicle where the hair
shaft is produced and extended: zone 1 – bulb zone (cell proliferation and
differentiation); zone 2 – elongation (fibril formation); zone 3 – pre‐keratinization
(lateral aggregation); zone 4 – hardening (keratinization); and zone 5 – post‐
hardening (hard keratin).
Humans have three types of hair: lanugo, vellus and terminal (androgenic)
(Robbins, 2012). Lanugo corresponds to the hair found covering the body of fetus
and newborns; vellus is found in children and in some areas of adult women;
while terminal hair is the most common hair type found in adults. Hair has a
growth pattern with three phases followed by shedding (Popescu and Höcker,
2007; Robbins, 2012). Phase 1, the anagen, is the active growth phase of hair.
During this phase the hair fiber grows about 0.8 to 1.4 cm every 30 days (Lehn
et al., 2018; Robbins, 2012; Sachs, 1995). Phase 2, the catagen or transition stage,
lasts only a few weeks (less than a month). During catagen, the metabolic activity
of the follicle slows down, and the base of the bulb migrates upward towards the
skin pore, forming what is known as a club hair. Phase 3, the telogen or resting
stage, lasts between 4 and 8 weeks. During this stage the bulb is completely
atrophied and growth has stopped. At the end of the telogen the hair fiber is even-
tually shed, pushed out by the new hair that begins to grow beneath, and a new
cycle starts. The main difference among terminal hair in different parts of the
body corresponds to the duration of the different growth phases, particularly the
anagen. Scalp hair stays in anagen for 2–6 years, although longer periods have
been recorded. Usually 90% of scalp hair is at anagen at any given time, with the
other 10% is in catagen or telogen.
In its natural, untreated state, hair is 95% proteinaceous, with the remaining
5% composed of lipids, glycoproteins, pigments (eumelanin and pheomelanin)
and remnants of DNA (Robbins, 2012; Robbins and Kelly, 1970; Swift, 1997). Hair
is composed of about 17 amino acids and amino acid derivatives (such as cysteic
acid, Table 25.1: Petzke et al., 2005a; Robbins, 2012; Robbins and Kelly, 1970).
Overall, hair is composed of 50 wt% (weight percent) C, 22 wt% O, 16 wt% N,
7 wt% H and 5 wt% S (Popescu and Höcker, 2007; Robbins, 2012). The high
content of S, in comparison with other proteins, is due to the high abundance of
cystine, the oxidized dimer of the amino acid cysteine. Cystine content in human
hair is about 13 to 18% (Table 25.1). The cystine cross‐links (S‐S bonds) provide
hair fibers with high temperature stability and very low solubility (Popescu and
Höcker, 2007; Robbins, 2012). Also, these S cross‐links are responsible for the
curliness of hair and are the target of many hair treatments. Thus, the overall high
content of C, N, S, O and H; the high stability that translates into high rates of
preservation; and the continuous growth pattern of hair make it (and other kera-
tinous tissues such as fingernails) a great candidate for stable isotope analysis.
Percentages (%) are approximate and vary depending on hair type and methods of keratin digestion
and amino acid separation (Robbins, 2012; Robbins and Kelly, 1970).
* Tryptophan and citrulline have been reported by some authors.
** Cysteine is also found as half‐cystine and cystic acid.
25.3 Methods
Preparation of hair samples for stable isotope analysis (SIA) usually involves
treatment with a chloroform:methanol (2:1) mixture to remove lipids and surface
contaminants and is followed by drying in an oven or at room temperature
(Bowen et al., 2005a; Ehleringer et al., 2008; Meier‐Augenstein, 2010; O’Connell
et al., 2001; Valenzuela et al., 2011). For bulk analyses, hair is ground to a fine
powder. To reconstruct past travels and dietary changes, hair samples are
sectioned into small segments; segment length depends on how many hair fibers
are bundled together to reach a minimal mass per sample, but it could be between
0.25 and 1.0 cm. Powdered or sectioned hair is weighed, and then dried prior to
SIA to remove sorbed water in cases of O and H isotope analyses (Bowen et al.,
2005a; Meier‐Augenstein, 2010). Stable isotope analyses are nowadays conducted
in a continuous flow mode, coupling an elemental analyser (EA; for δ13C, δ15N and
δ34S) or a high‐temperature conversion (TC/EA; for δ18O and δ2H) to an isotope
ratio mass spectrometry (IRMS) instrument.
For SIA of H, several days are needed for exchangeable H atoms to equilibrate
with water vapor in the laboratory’s local atmosphere before segmenting (Bowen
et al., 2005a; Ehleringer et al., 2008; Meier‐Augenstein, 2010). After analyses, the
contribution of the exchangeable H atoms to the hair δ2H values must be removed
by comparison with appropriately calibrated laboratory hair standards with a known
fraction of exchangeable atoms (Bowen et al., 2005a; Meier‐Augenstein, 2010).
Although hair was previously described as a composite structure, during SIA the
measured signal overwhelmingly corresponds to the amino acids of the keratin
molecules (Figure 25.1). Stable isotope ratios of the elements C, N, S, O and H can
α-Carbon
Side
Chain
Figure 25.1 Basic structure of an amino acid. The general formula of an amino acid is
composed of an α‐carbon atom, a carboxyl group, an amino group and a side chain
group (R). The side chain varies in each amino acid.
be classified into two groups according to their source. C, N and S are solely incor-
porated into human tissues from food; as a consequence, sometimes they are
referred to as “dietary isotopes.” O and H are incorporated from a mix of sources
(e.g. drinking water, food, atmospheric air, etc.) but are usually thought to reflect
primarily locally available drinking water (Cerling et al., 2016; Chesson et al.,
2014; Ehleringer et al., 2008, 2015; Fraser et al., 2006; Lehn et al., 2011; Meier‐
Augenstein, 2010).
25.4.1 Carbon
The carbon atoms in amino acids of hair keratin are divided into different groups
according to their origin and metabolic routing. The carbon skeletons of nine
essential amino acids derive directly, without modification, from ingested dietary
proteins, peptides and free amino acids (Brody, 1999). These are called essential
amino acids due to the fact that humans lack the enzymatic pathways to synthe-
size them (Brody, 1999). On the other hand, the C skeletons from non‐essential
amino acids can be synthesized de novo using C derived from the catabolism of
carbohydrates and fats (Brody, 1999). The amino acid tyrosine is derived directly
from another amino acid, the essential phenylalanine. Non‐essential amino acids
can also be acquired directly from dietary protein or free amino acids. The
proportion of de novo synthesis varies with many metabolic aspects and nutritional
condition, as well as with diet quality (whether diet meets the demands of metab-
olism), which can change with growth, metabolic state and disease condition.
Consequently, analyses of δ13C values of individual amino acids reveal different
values for essential amino acids and non‐essential amino acids in hair (Petzke
et al., 2005a). Ultimately the δ13C values of hair represent a mixed signal, but
always originating in the dietary carbon.
25.4.2 Nitrogen
The only source of N for the amino groups of proteins corresponds to the N of
amino acids consumed as proteins or as free amino acids in the diet (Brody, 1999).
All amino acids contain one atom of N in the amino group, and in hair only three
amino acids contain N atoms in the side chain (Table 25.1). Regarding N isotope
fractionation, amino acids can be divided into two groups (Table 25.2): those that
are most frequently involved in transamination and deamination reactions
(trophic amino acids), which are enzymatic reactions exchanging or removing N
from amino acids; and those that seldom participate in such reactions (source
amino acids) (Chikaraishi et al., 2009; McClelland and Montoya, 2002). The latter
group will therefore undergo less enzymatic processing and less N isotopic frac-
tionation, reflecting almost directly the isotopic composition of the source of the
ingested amino acids. In contrast, during the deamination reactions that generate
excretion products (urea), enzymes remove N atoms faster from 14N‐C bonds than
from 15N‐C bonds, thus tissues become 15N enriched (Fry, 2006; Kelly, 2000).
Because of this, the trophic amino acids greatly increase their δ15N values with
Table 25.2 Amino acids classified as essential vs. non‐essential according to the ability
to synthesize the C backbone, and as source vs. trophic according to nitrogen isotope
fractionation.
Source Trophic
Phenylalanine Isoleucine
Essential Lysine Leucine
Threonine Valine
Serine Aspartic acid
Non‐essential Glycine Glutamic acid
Tyrocine Proline
Alanine
each trophic step. Bulk hair analyses result in a mixed δ15N signal with the end
result of tissue δ15N values being higher than the food by approximately 3–5‰.
25.4.3 Sulfur
Similar to N, the only sources of S for the side chain group of proteins are ingested
amino acids and proteins – specifically, the ingestion of cysteine and methionine,
both S‐bearing amino acids (Brody, 1999). Cysteine is a non‐essential amino acid;
it can be obtained directly from food or synthesized de novo; however the tiol (or
sulfhydryl) group (S‐H) of newly synthesized cysteine is derived from the essential
amino acid methionine (Brody, 1999). No large enzymatic fractionation is
expected during S metabolism due to the low relative mass difference between
the two isotopes measured, 34S and 32S (Fry, 2006). However, internal metabolic
recycling of proteins appears to increase the δ34S values of animal tissues under
low quality diets (as based on protein content; Richards et al., 2003).
δ2H – δ18O
precipitation
δ18O δ12H
of O2 (C-H essentail AA)
δ2H – δ18O
food
δ12H
follicle water
δ2H – δ18O
food δ2H – δ18O
water Hair
δ18O
δ18O Gut water
δ2H – δ18O Body
Drinking Water
water
δ2H – δ18O
Water
vapor Loses:
CO2, urine,
vapor, faeces
Figure 25.2 Conceptual illustration of Ehleringer et al. (2008) process‐based model. The
schematic represents the flow of O and H from the sources (drinking water, water vapor,
food and food water, and atmospheric oxygen) through the intermediate pools (body
water, gut water, and follicle water) and finally into hair keratin. Recent work adds a small
contribution of O derived directly from dietary amino acids (Magozzi et al., under review).
O’Grady et al., 2012; Podlesak et al., 2008). Figure 25.2 shows a conceptual model
of body water inputs and losses, as well as hair isotope values.
25.4.5 Oxygen
Most of the O in proteins is associated with the carboxylic acid group. Only five
amino acids have extra O atoms as part of their side chain (Table 25.1). At low pH
the carboxyl O atoms are subject to isotopic exchange with the surrounding water
(Ehleringer et al., 2008; Kohn, 1996; Podlesak et al., 2008). In the case of ingested
foods, isotopic exchange takes place when amino acids are cleaved from proteins
in the stomach (low pH). After absorption through the intestinal wall, subsequent
isotopic exchange is low due to a more neutral pH. Thus, the O atoms in the
carboxylic acid group during protein synthesis should largely reflect the isotopic
composition of gut water. Gut water is mainly composed of gastric fluids, body
water and drinking water (Figure 25.2). Human gut water isotope values are
assumed to be in isotopic equilibrium with body water (Ehleringer et al., 2008).
A fraction of the O atoms contained in amino acid side chains may be routed
directly from dietary amino acids, though this fraction has not been estimated,
and a recent estimate based on an inventory of O in essential and non‐essential
amino acids suggests that this comprises ~19% of all keratin O in human hair
(Magozzi et al., under review).
25.4.6 Hydrogen
The H atoms in amino acids of hair can be classified into four groups according
to their original source, their metabolic routing, and their exchangeability
(Bowen et al., 2005a; Ehleringer et al., 2008; Fraser and Meier‐Augenstein,
2007; Podlesak et al., 2008). First, H atoms involved in C‐H bonds from both
essential and non‐essential amino acids routed directly from the diet do not
exchange with body water, and thus their isotopic composition should be directly
related to the isotopic composition of dietary protein (without fractionation or
discrimination). Second, H atoms involved in C‐H bonds from non‐essential
amino acids synthesized de novo should reflect the isotopic composition of body
water at the time the H atoms were fixed. The degree of non‐essential amino
acids synthesized de novo, and thus the fraction of H atoms fixed in vivo, as men-
tioned before, likely depends on the amount of protein consumed, the amino
acid composition of dietary intake and the nutritional condition of the person.
Third, H atoms not involved in C‐H bonds (i.e. H atoms in carboxyl, amide and
sulfhydryl groups) can exchange with surrounding water and thus reflect body
water isotopic composition. For these two groups (H atoms in C‐H bonds of non‐
essential amino acids synthesized de novo, and H atoms not involved in C‐H
bonds) there is potential for H isotopic exchange with body water. Finally, a
small fraction of H atoms (9–16%) in non‐C‐H bonds that freely exchange after
hair production will reflect the local atmospheric water vapor, and this
confounding effect should be removed or corrected during SIA and prior to
interpretation of measured isotope data (Bowen et al., 2005a; Chesson et al.,
2009; Coplen and Qi, 2012).
13 13 13 13
Chair f1 C1 f2 C2 fn Cn(25.1)
f1 f2 fn 1 (25.2)
This represents a system of n sources, where all proportional inputs (f) must add
up to 1 (Equation 25.2). In Equation 25.1 it is assumed that all sources have been
adjusted for isotope discrimination between source and keratin. In this system,
differences among individuals or changes through time within an individual will
be determined by differences or changes in any or all of the following:
a. the δ‐values of the sources;
b. the proportional inputs (f) from the varied sources;
c. metabolic and physiological processes affecting discrimination factors.
Consequently, any differences such as geographical and cultural differences
affecting the sources (δ‐values or f) will translate into distinct hair isotope values,
providing a tool to match individuals with regions and/or populations. In the
following section we present some of the established isotope patterns that might
be useful in provenancing studies. Later in the chapter we will discuss patterns
at the individual level related to metabolic states that can change the expected
isotope ratios and also serve as a tool aiding in individual identification.
For years researchers have known that the isotope ratios of modern humans differ
among some countries (Bol and Pflieger, 2002; Katzenberg and Krouse, 1989;
McCullagh et al., 2005; Minagawa, 1992; Nakamura et al., 1982; O’Connell and
Hedges, 1999; O’Connell et al., 2001; Schoeller et al., 1986), but it was not until
recently that large datasets were developed and global, regional and even intra‐
city patterns of isotopic variation were revealed (Bol et al., 2007; Hülsemann
et al., 2015; Lehn et al., 2011, 2018; Mützel Rauch et al., 2009; Nardoto et al.,
2006; Valenzuela et al., 2011, 2012). The use of the “dietary isotopes” for region‐
of‐origin assignment of humans is based on the principle that these isotopes reflect
geographically distinct dietary patterns. The natural, and human‐induced, varia-
tions in the isotopic composition of plants and animal tissues are reflected in the
diet of modern humans (Hüelsemann et al., 2009; Nash et al., 2012; O’Connell
and Hedges, 1999; Petzke et al., 2005a). Although there have not been extensive
studies of modern human food isotope ratios (Carter and Chesson, 2017), some
studies have revealed important patterns that influence human hair isotope values
(Chesson, 2009; Chesson et al., 2008; Jahren and Kraft, 2008; Martinelli et al.,
2011). Before describing hair isotope patterns, we describe a few important things
about food isotope ratios.
Differences in the way plants use atmospheric 13C during photosynthesis create
the most basic level of variation in δ13C values (Ehleringer and Cerling, 2002). C3
plants (plants that make a 3‐carbon compound as the first stable product of C fix-
ation) are those that discriminate most against 13C during photosynthesis, and
thus their tissues have the lowest δ13C values (average of −27‰; Farquhar et al.,
1989). C4 plants (CO2 molecules are first incorporated into a 4‐carbon compound)
incorporate more 13C during photosynthesis and have higher δ13C values
(average of −13‰; Farquhar et al., 1989). Thus, C3 and C4 plants have distinct
non‐overlapping δ13C values. This distinction is passed on to the δ13C values of
animal consumers. Corn (maize) and sugar cane are C4 plants, while vegetables,
fruits, and most grains (such as wheat, rice, oat, etc.) are C3 plants. Consequently,
δ13C values can be used as markers of relative consumption of these two groups of
plants or animals fed on their tissues.
The natural distribution of C3 and C4 plants is strongly influenced by tempera-
ture, thus there are latitudinal and elevation trends of δ13C values (Ehleringer,
1978; Ehleringer and Monson, 1993; Sage et al., 2018). Martinelli et al. (2011)
found that the δ13C values of beef used to produce the McDonald’s Big Mac vary
across countries, and tend to be lower at higher latitudes, following the expected
reduction of C4 vegetation in colder regions. Furthermore, countries may deviate
from these plant distribution patterns due to the practices of the modern industri-
alized agriculture and food industry. For example, in the USA, the 13C/12C isotopic
ratios in beef and chicken reflect their consumption of corn silage or corn meal
that comprise their feeds (Chesson, 2009; Jahren and Kraft, 2008). In contrast,
European beef and lamb have lower carbon isotope ratios (−26 to −22‰; (Camin
et al., 2007; Perini et al., 2009; Piasentier et al., 2003), reflecting a higher C3 (e.g.
wheat, rye, barley) component of the feed.
As mentioned above, the stable nitrogen isotope ratio in the tissues of a
consumer is enriched in 15N over the diet (by about 3 to 5‰; DeNiro and Epstein,
1978, 1981; Kelly, 2000; Peterson and Fry, 1987). In humans this increment with
trophic position reflects the proportion of consumed animal proteins. While no
major differences in 15N/14N isotopic ratios exist among different plant types,
except for the N‐fixing plants which tend to have lower isotope ratios (Peterson
and Fry, 1987), the use of different agricultural practices may result in distinctive
isotope ratios for crops. For example, the use of synthetic fertilizers with δ15N
values around 0.0‰ (Vitòria et al., 2004) produces crops with lower isotope ratios
than crops fertilized with manure (Bahar et al., 2005; Masud et al., 1999). In
modern industrialized agriculture, most synthetic fertilizers have δ15N values
around 0.0‰.
Sulfur isotope ratios vary significantly between marine and terrestrial environ-
ments (Peterson and Fry, 1987). Although terrestrial environments present large
ranges of sulfur isotope ratios, plant δ34S values average near +2 to +6‰ over large
areas, and are distinct from the +17 to +21‰ values of marine phytoplankton and
seaweeds (Fry, 2006). Very little sulfur isotope fractionation occurs during animal
metabolic processes, thus the isotopic differences between terrestrial and marine
primary producers are reflected in the consumer’s tissues (Arneson and MacAvoy,
2005; Richards et al., 2003). Furthermore, atmospheric deposition (sea spray
effect) generates soils, plants and animals with higher δ34S values near the ocean,
and lower values with increasing distance to the coast (Zazzo et al., 2011).
10.0
δ15N, hair
9.0
8.0
7.0
–24 –23 –22 –21 –20 –19 –18 –17 –16 –15
δ13C, hair
Figure 25.3 δ C and δ N values of hair from children sampled in three public schools in
13 15
These studies show the importance of large datasets to detect differences among
demographic groups within cities. These group distinctions could be used as an
ancillary tool for individual assignment to a population of origin.
Low : –15.1
Kilometers
0 500 1,000 2,000
Figure 25.4 Visual representation of δ18O values for predicted mean annual precipitation
for South America. This spatial model, or isoscape, was generated by Bowen (2010a;
Bowen et al., 2013) based on simple predictors such as latitude and elevation, plus an
interpolation of residuals (obtained from the comparison of the model with global data
from the Global Network of Isotopes in Precipitation, GNIP). The spatial distribution of
predicted δ2H values is similar to the δ18O values.
related to latitude and elevation, the overall trend is to have higher δ18O and δ2H
values towards low latitudes, low elevation and coastal regions, and lower δ18O
and δ2H values towards high latitudes, higher elevation and regions of the interior
of the continents (Bowen, 2010a, 2010b; Bowen et al., 2013).
The spatial variation of precipitation isotopes is translated into surface water,
tap water and other drinking water sources such as bottled water, soda and
alcoholic beverages (Bowen et al., 2007; Chesson et al., 2010). In the USA, the
δ18O and δ2H values of tap water are strongly correlated with those of precipita-
tion, although they are not equal due to different fractionation and mixing factors
resulting from water management (Bowen et al., 2007; Good et al., 2014). There
are certain regions where water isotopic compositions deviate from values pre-
dicted based on temperature and humidity; these correspond mainly to warm
regions where water is stored in shallow reservoirs and open to evaporation, or in
regions where the water source changes according to the intensity of consump-
tion, moving from local water to water imported from other regions (Bowen et al.,
2007; Good et al., 2014). Globally, and on average, it has been seen that the
isotopic composition of bottled water tends to be similar to the composition of
local water sources available naturally in the same region (Bowen et al., 2005b).
The same happens with the isotope values of soda and beer purchased in different
cities across the USA, which, despite slight variations, present a congruence with
the isotopic composition of tap water of the places of purchase (Chesson et al., 2010).
As explained above, O and H atoms in human hair are directly acquired from
drinking water, ambient water vapor, diet and atmospheric O2. The spatial varia-
tion of the water δ18O and δ2H values is translated linearly to human tissues with
a high correlation, because the isotopic signal of human body water is dominated
by the liquid component of water directly imbibed or consumed through the
cooking of food (Daux et al., 2008; Ehleringer et al., 2008; Fraser and Meier‐
Augenstein, 2007; Kohn, 1996; Longinelli, 1984; O’Brien and Wooller, 2007;
Sharp et al., 2003). Water vapor acquired through respiration maintains the local
geographical signal as it is the product of evaporation processes at the local or
regional scale, but the isotopic composition of atmospheric O2 is constant around
the planet (Ehleringer et al., 2008; Kohn, 1996). The only source of isotopic vari-
ation with the potential to mask the local geographical signal is food imported
from other regions (Bowen et al., 2009; Ehleringer et al., 2008). Even so, in cases
where it is assumed that an isotopically homogeneous “continental supermarket”
diet exists, for example, for modern human hair from the USA, the correlation
coefficients between city average tap water and hair have been reported higher
than 0.90 for both O and H isotope values (Ehleringer et al., 2008).
Ehleringer et al. (2008) presented a mechanistic model of incorporation of
stable isotopes of water into human hair (Figure 25.2). This predictive model,
which relates the δ18O and δ2H values of hair with those of water and therefore
with geography, reached a congruence of approximately 86% when comparing
the true region‐of‐origin of hair samples with the predicted origin within the USA.
Later work made use of this model and improved it by incorporating additional
parameters (Bowen et al., 2009; O’Grady et al., 2012). Bowen et al. (2009) worked
with hair stored in museums of native populations of the mid‐twentieth century
from different regions of the world, and found higher slopes for the relationship
between hair and water isotope values than those observed by Ehleringer et al.
(2008) for modern residents of the USA. The interpretation of Bowen et al. (2009)
is that for these populations the isotopic signal of the food is more strongly “linked”
to that of precipitation because the great majority of the food was obtained locally,
in contrast to the modern US diet described above. Bowen et al. (2009) modified
Ehleringer’s model by including two additional parameters, one that related and
connected the isotope values of the food with the isotope values of local water,
and another that varied the fraction of amino acids synthesized de novo in these
populations, assuming different proportions of protein in their diet. Thompson
et al. (2010) reported δ18O and δ2H values of hair from modern populations in Asia
(China, India, Mongolia and Pakistan); the relationship between the isotopes of
hair and water was intermediate between the US reported by Ehleringer et al.
(2008) and the historical samples from native populations reported by Bowen
et al. (2009). Thompson et al. (2010) suggested that for Asian populations there is
a greater proportion of local food in the diet than for the US, but less than for the
historical samples of indigenous populations. Furthermore, the slopes of the linear
relationships between hair isotopes and water isotopes were lowest for the
American samples (slope for δ18O relationship was 0.35, slope of δ2H was 0.27),
intermediate for the Asian samples (for δ18O it was 0.39 and for δ2H it was 0.42)
and highest for the historical samples (for δ18O it was 0.70 and for δ2H it was 0.78)
(Bowen et al., 2009; Ehleringer et al., 2008; Thompson et al., 2010). It is worth
noting that in Ehleringer et al. (2008) and Thompson et al. (2010), water samples
were collected alongside hair samples, while in Bowen et al. (2009) the local
water isotopic composition was modeled.
Different nutritional and metabolic conditions can alter the isotope ratios of a
person’s tissues, deviating the hair signal from the expected values according to
their population of origin. This can obscure the interpretation of movements, but
can also help in identifying an individual. In particular, nutritional stress and N
imbalance, more specifically negative N balance, have been shown to affect the
isotope ratios of hair. Fuller et al. (2005) showed in cases of nutritional stress,
such as morning sickness during pregnancy, that the δ15N values of hair increase.
Similarly, patients with anorexia and/or bulimia nervosa have higher δ15N values
than clinically normal controls (Hatch et al., 2006; Mekota et al., 2006). In all
these cases there are trends of increasing δ15N values and weight loss under nutri-
tional stress. One particular condition that was reported to produce lower δ15N
values in hair is cirrhosis (Petzke et al., 2006). It appears that in cirrhotic patients,
the altered liver metabolism (deamination and transamination occurs in the liver)
affects the nitrogen isotope values of the amino acids. Finally, Fuller et al. (2004)
also reported that during gestation women show a decrease in δ15N values but
no change in δ13C values, as a result of changes in the N balance. However, in
most cases there was a concomitant dietary adjustment to deal with the afore-
mentioned conditions, therefore it is not clear whether the changes in isotope
ratios were due to the N imbalance or the new diet. Regardless, people with these
conditions have been shown to have different isotope ratios.
Uncontrolled diabetes or any other metabolic condition affecting body water
homeostasis and water flux has the potential to produce human tissues with
markedly different isotope ratios. Although not in humans, O’Grady et al. (2010)
showed that diabetic mice have different body water δ2H and δ 18O values com-
pared with control mice. This is because affected mice, as happens with diabetic
humans, have a very high water flux and therefore their body water isotope
values reflect closely this dominant pool.
The sequential SIA of hair provides a longitudinal temporal record of recent past
travels and diet of a person. Figure 25.5 represents a hypothetical analysis of a
sample. In this case a conservative growth rate of 1 cm per month was used, and
therefore the 16 cm length represents the reconstruction of approximately 16
months prior to death or sample collection. In this figure, some key features could
be observed that provide information regarding habitat or diet change, as well as
timing of the events. An investigator would look at these data and features, and
immediately ask the following questions. Are the isotope values constant along
the length of the hair? If there are changes along the hair, do they equilibrate to
new values? Here the term “equilibrates” refers to the absence of change through
time (or length). What is the direction and rate of change?
This graph shows an equilibrium period with isotope values of ~10‰ that
corresponds to isotope region 1 (months 16 to 12 prior to sampling or death), fol-
lowed by a move or change to isotope region 2, with higher values. In isotope
region 2 the person spends enough time to reach a new equilibrium (at ~19‰).
22
20
18
2
16
Isotope values
14
12
10
8
1 1
6
4
2 3
0
–17 –16 –15 –14 –13 –12 –11 –10 –9 –8 –7 –6 –5 –4 –3 –2 –1 0
Months prior to death
Figure 25.5 Hypothetical isotopic data showing different features that can be found in a
sequential SIA of hair.
Then, after 5 to 6 months in isotope region 2, the person moved to a 3rd region as
seen in the lower isotope values approximately 7 to 8 months prior to sampling or
death, but did not stay in this region long enough to reach equilibrium. Finally
he/she returned to isotope region 1 approximately 4 months prior to sampling
or death.
In this hypothetical example we see a few key features. First, it is possible to
identify regions of equilibration, which are interpreted as lack of movement or a
constant diet and observable as relatively consistent measured isotope values for
sequential analyses of hair. The isotope values at equilibrium are used to define
areas or population of residency. Second, there may be periods of time where no
equilibrium was reached, such as isotope region 3. In this case, the actual isotope
value of the visited region is unknown, but it must be lower or higher than the
extreme value (in this example, lower than 4‰), thus defining a geographical
boundary for the area. Finally, the defined values for the isotope regions are used
in a mechanistic or statistical model to predict the geographical regions on an
isoscape. Nowadays, a probabilistic assignment can be done using a Bayesian
framework by incorporating the existing uncertainty in the isotope basemaps (for
example, δ18O of drinking water) and in the measured values of the hair sample
(Wunder, 2010).
A change in signal caused by a movement or change in diet is not instanta-
neous. Several factors affect the speed at which the isotope values in hair reflect
the new signal and reach equilibrium with changed inputs. Beard hair can show
the influence of a new diet within a day (Lehn et al., 2018). Scalp hair might take
up to a month to show the isotope values of a new location or diet (Hüelsemann
et al., 2009; Petzke and Lemke, 2009). However, deviations from the previous
equilibrated signal should occur in a short time (Lehn et al., 2018).
The rate at which a new signal is expressed in the isotope values of hair is not
constant (for example, the change from region 1 to 2 is slower than from 2 to 3 in
the example). Something to consider is the buffer capacity of the endogenous pro-
tein pool, which can slow down or accelerate the process of reaching equilibrium
(Hüelsemann et al., 2009; Lehn et al., 2018; Petzke and Lemke, 2009). This has
been modeled for δ13C values using tail hair from horses; Ayliffe et al. (2004) pro-
posed that the isotope values of hair represent a mixture of three different pools.
The fast pool (exogenous dietary input) contributes approximately 40% of the
signal and has a turnover rate of 0.5 days, while the slow pool (endogenous pro-
tein from slow metabolic tissues) contributes 44% of the signal and has a turnover
rate of 140 days. The slow pool is characterized by having an isotope value equal
or similar to the long‐term average of the animal, and it has been interpreted as
representing carbon molecules recycled primarily from tissues such as the skeletal
muscle with minor contributions from connective tissue, collagen, brain and heart
(Ayliffe et al., 2004). The remaining 16% corresponds to an intermediate
pool (likely from some more active tissues) with an intermediate turnover rate
(Ayliffe et al., 2004). Under this model, a dietary change away from the long‐term
average will be slower than a change that represents a return towards the
long‐term average. Thus, the equilibration to a new signal could take longer than
the return to a previously equilibrated signal. Whether we can equate human
scalp hair to horse tail hair and all other isotopes to δ13C values remains to be seen,
but similar principles could apply.
A few solved cases in which investigators used isotope values of hair in conjunction
with other tissues have been published (Cerling et al., 2016; Chesson et al., 2014;
Ehleringer and Matheson Jr, 2010; Meier‐Augenstein and Fraser, 2008; Rauch
et al., 2007; Remien et al., 2014). In these cases the use of SIA was crucial in
providing information on place of birth and past migration or movement events,
which helped lead to the identification of the decedent and in some cases the con-
viction of their murderers. We will describe one case (Ehleringer et al., 2015;
Remien et al., 2014).
In the year 2000, human remains (skull, hair) were found along with some fab-
rics in the region known as Saltair in the state of Utah, USA. These remains were
identified as belonging to a young woman in her early 20s. At the time, no more
information was obtained about her identity or cause of death, and the case
became a cold case called “Saltair Sally.” In 2009, Ehleringer and colleagues received
samples of hair and teeth from “Saltair Sally.” SIA of O in dental enamel and O
and H in hair were performed. For the hair, short segments were analysed from
the root to the distal end to reconstruct the last two years of the victim’s life (the
hair was approximately 23 cm long). In Figure 25.6 the arrow marks the place
where the remains were discovered. The sequential hair analysis suggested that
the victim had traveled several times in two years prior to death but always within
the Western US, particularly in what is known as the “Inter‐Mountain West”
region (see regions 1 to 4 in Figure 25.6). The δ18O values of dental enamel sug-
gested that the Inter‐Mountain West was the region of origin during childhood–
adolescence. Equally important was that neither the enamel nor the hair data
placed the victim in eastern USA. This information reduced the search area and
temporally characterized the movements of the victim, allowing investigators at
the Unified Police Department to refocus and concentrate their efforts. Finally, the
woman was identified as Nikole Bakoles.
Region 2
8
Region 3
6
0 5 10 15 20 25
Length (cm)
Region 1 Region 2*
Estimated primary body signal
12
10
δ18O
8
6
0 5 10 15 20 25
Time (months)
Kilometers
0 5 10 15 20 25
Time (months)
Figure 25.6 Isotope values measured and estimated equilibrium signal after Remien
et al. (2014). Maps represent the areas determined by the model. The arrow on the map
indicates where the remains were found.
several native populations living along the Solimoes River in Brazil. With increased
urbanization, the authors detected a transition towards lower δ15N values and
higher δ13C values as people abandoned their native customs with a high intake of
freshwater fish, and consumed more imported food, particularly chicken from
nearby cities. Another example arises from a small dataset from the Utah Study of
Fertility, Longevity, and Aging (FLAG, unpublished data). As part of the FLAG
study we were able to obtain six hair samples collected more than 70 years ago,
prior to the widespread use of synthetic fertilizers and widespread consumption of
corn‐fed animals. The hair isotope values for these six samples were ~2.3‰ higher
and ~1.6‰ lower than hair from modern children for δ15N and δ13C values, respec-
tively. Thus, it is necessary to keep in mind potential dietary or agricultural
changes when older, historical samples are analysed or compared with modern
reference datasets.
water sources due to high demand at certain times of the year. This is certainly an
area of active research currently due to the importance of characterizing how
much tap water isotope ratios at a given site vary over season or other timescales
(Kennedy et al., 2011).
25.11 Conclusions
Hair isotope analyses can reveal important information on the recent past of an
unidentified decedent. The combination of different isotopes, as well as the
analyses of multiple tissues (hair/nail plus teeth, bones) when available, makes
for a powerful tool to further develop the biological profile of a person (Cerling
et al., 2016; Chesson et al., 2014; Ehleringer et al., 2015; Meier‐Augenstein, 2010;
Meier‐Augenstein and Fraser, 2008; Rauch et al., 2007). The SIA of hair provides
a means of aiding in human provenancing, inferring region‐of‐origin, but is
equally important as an exclusionary tool.
Of the five light elements discussed in this chapter, stable isotope values of O
and H represent the primary basis for region‐of‐origin assignment and reconstruc-
tion of past travels, but with the help of the dietary isotopes (δ13C, δ15N and δ34S
values) more information regarding the person’s habits can be gained, for example,
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26.1 Introduction
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
411
dental tissues, along with their hair and fingernails, can provide information
about where they have lived, based on the principle that trace amounts of iso-
topes are influenced by consumed foodstuffs (Meier‐Augenstein, 2010), imbibed
water (Chenery et al., 2012), and water associated with bathing and hygiene (e.g.
Tipple et al., 2018; Mancuso and Ehleringer, 2018). Analysing stable isotopes in
bones or teeth can therefore be particularly useful when faced with remains with
otherwise no provenance, in terms of narrowing down a person’s geographical
location during life. This approach has been applied successfully to the investiga-
tion and identification of fallen US military service members from past wars and
conflict situations, as well as humanitarian efforts for identification of deceased
undocumented border crossers (UBCs) near the US–Mexican border (Bartelink
et al., 2018).
This chapter will provide the reader with an overview of stable isotope analysis
for human provenance and provide some insights for its potential application in
the country of Colombia. Overall, we provide background for researchers who are
interested in applying this approach as a potential new tool for casework and
humanitarian efforts alike.
We begin by briefly summarizing the application of stable isotope analysis (SIA)
to human identification, followed by current trends, providing considerations
aimed at assisting scholars interested in the application of the isotope approach.
Following this introduction to the utility of isotopic research, we address the
Colombian context, including insights about the missing, the relevance of
Colombian geology and geography to the applicability of stable isotope research,
and results from preliminary stable isotope research studies. Finally, we discuss
challenges and some research considerations for those interested in the Colombian
context specifically, as well as isotopic research on a continental or global scale.
Stable isotopes measured in different tissues of the body that form at different
time intervals (e.g. hair, nails, bone and teeth) can provide information about an
individual’s dietary history, region(s) of origin, and travel history (Bartelink et al.,
2018). Different isotopes have been used in the stable isotope approach, such as
often‐used light isotopes (isotopes of hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen and
sulfur) (e.g., Bartelink et al., 2014; Someda et al., 2016), and isotopes of heavy
elements or geo‐elements (strontium and lead) (e.g. Juarez, 2008; Keller et al.,
2016). Many researchers have employed a multiple‐isotope technique that uti-
lizes a combination of two or more of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, strontium and
lead isotopes (Rauch et al., 2007; Meier‐Augenstein and Fraser, 2008; Degryse
et al., 2012; Font et al., 2015; Kamenov and Curtis, 2017). Stable isotope analysis
is often able to identify one or more possible geographical regions where a sample
likely originated and, when additional isotopes are used, it assists in greatly
narrowing down the possible geographical regions (Ehleringer et al., 2010). Thus,
multi‐isotope techniques are better able to identify regions of origin. As an
example, the data obtained from strontium isotope ratios (87Sr/86Sr) in human
tissue can help to exclude or eliminate some of the areas suggested based only on
the oxygen isotope (δ18O) values from the same human tissue.
Light stable isotopes (isotopes of carbon, nitrogen, hydrogen and oxygen) and
isotopes of heavy elements (strontium and lead) have been used to associate
human remains (e.g. bones and teeth) with geographical regions of origin. One of
the first published cases that used the isotopic approach on the identification of
human remains was the “Adam” case in London in 2001 (Gentile et al., 2015).
Since then, many authors have utilized stable isotope systems to assist with human
identification. Bartelink et al. (2014) provide an example of the use of light iso-
topes to assist with identification. Using human skeletal remains recovered by the
Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command‐Central Identification Laboratory (JPAC‐
CIL, or CIL), Bartelink et al. (2014) tested whether the δ13C (carbon‐13) values of
those remains reflected a geographical origin within North America or instead
between North America and Asia; as a result, they were able to discriminate bet-
ween Americans and Asians using δ13C values for identification purposes.
Stable carbon isotopic composition of bioapatite reflects food consumption pat-
terns (Lee‐Thorp et al., 1989), which can vary between geographical regions due
to cultural dietary differences (Bartelink et al., 2014). Kamenov and Curtis (2017)
noted that using only δ13C values is not enough to clearly discriminate and distin-
guish between populations. Because the differences in δ13C are related to the
relative proportion of C3 versus C4 plants in the regional diet, some regions
exhibit differences, but others overlap. Kamenov and Curtis (2017) suggested that
δ13C data will be useful only for large‐scale geo‐referencing. Based on hair and
teeth data, they define three main large‐scale regions: Region 1 encompasses
Europe, Asia, Australia and northern and western Africa with a low δ13C overall;
Region 2 consists of the United States, with a moderate δ13C overall; and Region 3
is composed of Mexico, Central America, South America, and southern and east-
ern Africa with a high δ13C overall.
The abundance of the isotopes of hydrogen and oxygen (i.e. 2H and 18O) in
human tissues reflects both the water we drink, and the water contained within
fruits and vegetables we consume (Meier‐Augenstein and Fraser, 2008). For
example, the δ18O values in teeth are interpreted as reflecting the δ18O of drinking
water (Font et al., 2015). Therefore, drinking water δ18O values can be calculated
from δ18O values from carbonate in tooth enamel (Chenery et al., 2012). The
isotopic composition of human drinking water varies geographically, and this
water is mainly derived from precipitation water (Bartelink et al., 2014), which
also varies in its isotopic composition across the landscape. Thus, the oxygen
isotopic composition of human tissues varies geographically because the isotopic
composition of ingested water varies based on location (Bartelink et al., 2014).
Because δ2H and δ18O values in precipitation water varies across the globe,
the δ2H and δ18O values in a given area can be predicted using the global meteoric
water line (GMWL) (Bartelink et al., 2014). In addition, a worldwide meteoric
water isoscape is available and some isoscapes exist for tap water (US and South
Africa) (e.g. Bowen et al., 2007; West et al., 2014); isoscapes are “topographic
maps” showing the distribution of isotope ratios over a particular landscape (Keller
et al., 2016). Thus, forensic investigators can make predictions about place of
provenance or last geographical movement of an individual using these isoscapes.
The information from δ18O values is not truly unique to a region, meaning that
regions can overlap in terms of δ18O. However, if the local origin of an unknown
individual can be achieved by other means, then δ18O can be used for more
detailed geo‐referencing within that given region (Kamenov and Curtis, 2017).
Stable sulfur isotope ratios (δ34S) have been used as an indicator of marine
influence due to δ34S values of oceans being more enriched than atmospheric and
seawater δ34S values (Pye, 2004). Researchers have used this to differentiate
coastal from inland diets (Valenzuela et al., 2012). The δ34S values of consumer
tissues are related to geographical place, which is influenced by geogenic variables
(atmospheric deposition) and the isotopic composition of the bedrock (Valenzuela
et al., 2012). Sulfur isotope ratios have been used mainly in modern populations
for forensic investigations and diet reconstruction (e.g. Valenzuela et al., 2012;
Bender et al., 2014).
Degryse and colleagues (2012) noted that the basis of using trace strontium for
provenance is that the strontium isotopic composition of a human sample is iden-
tical (within analytical error) to the geological raw material or bedrock from
where the sample originated (i.e. where the individual lived). Thus, human tis-
sues can be directly tied to a geographical location via geology. Strontium
concentration and isotopic ratios in rock, water, soil, plants and animals depend
on the local geology (Degryse et al., 2012). Strontium in the geological bedrock
moves into soil and groundwater, and then into the food chain. Degryse and col-
leagues (2012) suggested that due to the differences between strontium isotopic
composition of plants and the bulk soil, the strontium isotopic ratio (87Sr/86Sr) for
comparison should use all biologically available strontium data. Additionally,
water ingested by all organisms in the food chain should also be considered.
Kamenov and Curtis (2017) noted that strontium isotopes in human teeth are not
simply controlled by the local water and local rock geology. Instead, the strontium
isotopes reflect multiple sources, including food items imported from different
regions.
Lead (Pb) isotopes in human bioapatite are controlled by two main sources:
natural (i.e. soil source) and anthropogenic (i.e. leaded gasoline) (Kamenov,
2008). Kamenov and Curtis (2017) suggest that there is a regional difference in
the lead (Pb) isotopic composition of modern teeth, due in part to the usage of
different lead ores in different regions. They also suggest that high‐precision
lead isotope data using multiple‐collector inductively coupled plasma mass
Researchers are able to obtain isotopic information from different human tissues
for human provenience including hair, nails, teeth and bone. Diet and geo‐loca-
tion influence the isotopic signature of these body tissues (Meier‐Augenstein,
2010) and the differences between turnover rates of tissues can provide differential
information on the origin and life history of an individual. For instance, hair pro-
vides information about diet and environmental exposure on timescales ranging
from a few days to a few years (Pye, 2004). Enamel (with the exception of the
third molar) is deposited relatively early in childhood and does not remodel chem-
ically (Burton, 2008), and therefore provides information for early childhood and
adolescence. Cortical bone material from long bone shafts is often preferred over
trabecular bone for chemical analysis, as it is least susceptible to environmental
exchange and diagenesis (Pye, 2004); this tissue can provide information for the
last 12 to 20 years of an individual’s life (Rauch et al., 2007). Pye (2004) mentions
that enamel is the material of choice for isotopic analysis in archaeological and
environmental reconstruction studies, and also in the context of forensic investi-
gations. This is under the premise that diagenesis of enamel is less likely to be an
issue in most cases (Pye, 2004).
W E
La Guajira
Atlantico
Magdalena
Cesar
Sucre
Bolivar
Cordoba Norde de Santander
Antioquia
Santander Arauca
Choco
Boyaca
Caldas Casanare
Risaralda
Cundinamarca
Vichada
Quindio Distrito Especial
Tolima
Valle del Cauca
Meta
Huila Guainia
Cauca
Guaviare
Narino
Amazonas
Figure 26.1 Political map of Colombia. Divisions are by department. Map credit:
D. Castellanos Gutiérrez.
Colombia can be divided geographically into two main regions: the Andean
c ordilleras and the eastern plains, which include savannas and the jungle of the
Amazon (Hermelin, 2016). Hermelin (2016) defines several physiographical
zones: the western zone, which includes the Pacific lowlands and the mountain
range known as the Baudo Serrania; the central zone including the western,
central, and eastern cordillera (mountain ranges); the northern zone, which
includes the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta mountain range and the Guajira
Peninsula; the eastern zone, which includes eastern savannas known as Llanos
Orientales; and finally, the southern zone comprising the Amazon rainforest.
This geographical variability, including the location of cities at different altitudes
(i.e. Bogotá is approximately 2500 m above sealevel) or proximity to an ocean
coast (i.e. Cartagena), may affect the spatial distribution of oxygen isotope ratios
(δ18O) of human tissues of Colombia’s inhabitants. It is known that the isotopic
composition of oxygen (δ18O) and hydrogen (δ2H) in precipitation water is affected
by temperature, humidity, continentality (distance from the sea) and altitude
(Bartelink et al., 2014). Rodriguez (2004) analysed rainfall samples from different
areas of Colombia and developed a meteoric line for the country, which coincides
with the global meteoric water line (GMWL). In addition, he found that the isotopic
composition of precipitation water changes with altitude, due to the correlation
between altitude and isotope content (Rodriguez, 2004).
The three main cordilleras (western, central and eastern) are part of the Andes
mountains of South America. Overall, the Cordillera Oriental is composed mainly
of sedimentary strata that range in geological age from Cambrian to Miocene, with
several massifs of metamorphic and igneous basement complexes that are partly or
totally pre‐Cambrian in age, a belt of metamorphosed early Palaeozoic rocks, and
some intrusions of post‐Jurassic igneous rocks (Singewald, 1949). The Cordillera
Central is composed of metamorphic and plutonic igneous rocks from the Tertiary
and Cretaceous and probably earlier times (Singewald, 1949). Finally, the Cordillera
Occidental is composed of sedimentary rocks in many places, and cross‐cutting
igneous bodies of both acidic and basic rocks, related to the Mesozoic era (Singewald,
1949). Some strontium isotope ratios (87Sr/86Sr) from Cretaceous intrusive and
volcanic rocks from the western and central cordilleras are reported in Kerr et al.
(1997). Due to the differences in rock type and rock age that constitute the three
different cordilleras, the different strontium isotope values from each cordillera
would be reflected in local water. Therefore, strontium isotope values in human
teeth of individuals who inhabit places located on the cordilleras would reflect
these local geological values. For instance, we would expect differences of strontium
isotope ratios in human tissues (87Sr/86Sr) between individuals living and raised in
Medellín (western cordillera) and individuals from Bogotá (central cordillera).
The geological diversity of the country could be a factor shaping the isotopic
composition of human tissues of the inhabitants of different regions of Colombia,
but in order to understand this diversity, data including individuals from different
locations are needed. Research that explores this is in a nascent stage, although
Colombia has a substantial human identification problem.
For more than 50 years, Colombia has experienced an internal armed conflict. The
multiple actors involved (illegal armed groups and government military forces)
have violated human rights and broken international humanitarian law. The result-
ing violence has caused thousands of deaths, forced disappearances of people, and
displaced communities (Sanabria and Osorio, 2015). The Unique Register of Victims
(Registro Unico de Victimas, RUV) reports 8.3 million victims of the armed conflict,
of whom 1.7 million are direct victims of forced disappearances, homicides, or are
otherwise known to be deceased as a direct result of the conflict. The National
Missing Persons Database (Red Nacional de Desaparecidos, SIRDEC) reports over
64,000 missing persons from 1995 to 2014 (Sanabria and Osorio, 2015).
Government databases estimate that more than 20,000 unidentified persons
have been buried in cemeteries. The rest of the thousands missing remain unac-
counted for. However, from 2005 to 2015, the National Prosecutor’s Office has
found 4649 graves containing 5978 bodies (skeletonized, advanced or partially
decomposed), and of those individuals, 2934 have been identified (Sanabria and
Osorio, 2015). This leaves approximately 3000 of those left to be identified, not
including individuals discovered since.
Colombia is currently undergoing a process of transitional justice. This is a result
of the latest Colombian peace process, which aims (among other goals) to search
for the missing people resulting from the armed conflict, and in case they are
deceased, return their remains to the families. Many Colombians are still waiting
to discover the fate of their relatives. Despite the efforts of searching for the
missing, Colombian authorities face an enormous humanitarian challenge to
respond to the needs of thousands of these families. This is due to the sheer num-
bers of missing people. Finding and identifying the missing will contribute to the
humanitarian goals of revealing the fate of many victims and the repatriation of
human remains to families.
DNA profiles of unidentified human remains and of relatives of the missing are
stored in the National Institute of Legal Medicine and Forensic Sciences database,
which contains about 19,000 profiles (Schwartz‐Marin et al., 2015). However,
DNA databases can only work when data from biological relatives of the missing
are input for comparison. Therefore, methods that can assist in narrowing down
identification possibilities are needed.
Different authors have investigated the applicability of stable isotope ratios from
dental enamel for human provenance in Colombia. For instance, Row (2013)
was the first to study the utility of strontium isotope analysis (87Sr/86Sr) for
Department n
Atlántico 2
Boyaca 1
Choco 2
Quindio 1
Cundinamarca 1
Caldas 1
Risaralda 1
Antioquia, outside of Medellín 21
Medellín 31
Total 61
Region N Sr/86Sr
87
City N δ18O
Bogotá 16 −7.38
Cartagena 8 −5.39
Neiva 8 −7.08
Despite the utility of the isotopic approach, some authors have noted some
constraints of isotope ratio analysis for human provenance. Pye (2004) mentions
several different factors that limit the use of this approach, such as: (1) restricted
availability of appropriate database information that can be utilized for
comparative purposes; (2) existing data are scattered across diverse scientific liter-
atures; and (3) different methodologies used for sample pre‐treatment and anal-
ysis can complicate interpretations. Another difficulty in the interpretation of data
from modern teeth and bones in forensic contexts is the globalization of food web
supplies and more frequent human travel. This is making strontium isotope ratios
(87Sr/86Sr) less variable in modern human populations (Keller et al., 2016;
Kamenov and Curtis, 2017), hindering its ability to discriminate between regions.
Several authors have mentioned this issue (e.g. Juarez, 2008; Keller et al., 2016),
but others claim that regional local foods can have an effect on 87Sr/86Sr ratios,
thus dietary and environmental signals can still be identified in human tissues
(Valenzuela et al., 2012). Pye (2004) suggests that more research is needed to fully
quantify the range of isotopic variation that exists within and between different
human populations.
In the case of Colombia specifically, initial studies on strontium and oxygen in
modern individuals have taken place (Row, 2013; Eck, 2017). Despite being very
promising, these studies can be considered preliminary as they did not include a
diverse enough sample such that the full applicability of the isotopic approach in
Colombia can be assessed. As a result, thus far isotopic analysis is somewhat pre-
cluded from being a tool for human identification in Colombia.
However, these initial studies have opened the door to future efforts which will
ideally determine whether isotopic signatures of modern Colombians are diverse
enough to be useful with making geographical predictions about a person’s loca-
tion during life. Current ongoing research aims to analyse the isotopic composi-
tion of carbon, oxygen, strontium and lead from a modern sample of donated
permanent teeth from different regions of Colombia. This will expand the diver-
sity of the current isotopic data for Colombia, as well as the isotope systems used
thus far, by incorporating data from carbon and lead stable isotopes.
Research efforts must address the applicability of the isotopic approach not only
within the country itself, but comparisons of Colombian data with current data
from different locations around the world. This would assist with understanding
whether Colombian isotopic data differ from those of other regions, while identi-
fying which isotopes can be most useful for identifying people of likely Colombian
origin. In addition, it is important to test whether the Colombian strontium
isotopic data demonstrate the decrease in variability that many authors have
noticed in other locations (e.g. Keller et al., 2016; Kamenov and Curtis, 2017), or
whether strontium isotope ratios in human tissues reflect the local ratio.
Finally, if future research demonstrates that isotopic data are diverse enough to
distinguish regions within Colombia, then the country’s forensic scientists and
judicial system would have to embrace adding them as a tool. As a new forensic
service for the different governmental institutions in charge of human identification
(the National Institute of Legal Medicine and Forensic Sciences and the National
Prosecutor’s Office), this endeavor would face several logistical challenges.
First, these institutions would need to build suitable labs or adapt current labs, in
addition to providing training for forensic personnel to conduct isotopic analysis.
A secondary option could be outsourcing some of the analysis using national or
international labs that already have IRMS technology for the different isotopes
(carbon, oxygen, strontium and lead). Either scenario would involve major buy‐
in for this new technique from institutional management and governmental
officials alike. We hope that this chapter and others to come will start a conversation
in Colombia about additional methods that should be added to the current
identification toolkit.
Acknowledgements
We dedicate this chapter to the forensic scientists in Colombia who work tirelessly
every day to provide resolution for families by identifying victims of the conflict.
We thank John Fredy Ramirez, curator of the Antioquia Skeletal Reference
Collection, which was used for the analyses discussed in this chapter. We also
thank Cesar Sanabria Medina, the dentists Gretel González Colmenares, Paola A.
Calle Osorio, Armando Roa Navarro and John Leottau, who collected donated
teeth, and thanks to the anonymous donors of the teeth being used by the first
author for his dissertation research. Finally, we thank the editors for inviting us to
contribute to this timely and important volume.
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4
27.1 Introduction
The US–Mexico border spans approximately 2000 miles. Each year, tens of thou-
sands of migrants cross the border, the majority of whom are fleeing violence,
seeking refuge and safety, or are in search of work, healthcare, educational
opportunity, or to reunite with family (Anderson, 2008; Spradley et al., 2008;
Holmes, 2013; DeLuca et al., 2010). Structural violence, organized crime, and
foreign intervention in Mexico and Central America has stimulated mass migra-
tions to the United States over the past seven decades (Chomsky, 2015; Scott and
Marshall, 1998; Pearce, 1982). An organization called Movimiento Migrante
Mesoamericano estimates that 72,000 to 120,000 migrants have gone missing
between 2006 and 2016 (https://movimientomigrantemesoamericano.org).
Additionally, the US Border Patrol reports that, since 2000, over 6000 deceased
migrants have been recovered along the southern border (Brian and Laczko,
2016). This number is most likely a gross underestimate of the actual number of
migrants that have lost their lives to the hazardous conditions of the US–Mexico
border, and only includes deaths recorded on the US side of the border. The alarm-
ing number of missing and deceased overwhelms local authorities who do not
have the time, personnel, or financial resources to support identification efforts
for the recovered deceased migrants. Officials in border counties are rarely trained
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
425
to deal with recovering and assessing human skeletal remains. Thus, forensic
anthropologists can provide valuable expertise for aiding the humanitarian crisis at
the border due to their training in search and recovery methods and their speciali-
zation in skeletal biology and human variation. Forensic anthropologists use tradi-
tional and novel techniques to construct biological profiles from decomposed and
skeletonized human remains, which is necessary for deceased migrants because
few carry legitimate identification with them on the journey to the US border. If
human remains have been exposed to the elements (e.g. animal scavengers, sun,
rain, etc.) for extended periods of time, the skeleton can become disarticulated and
scattered, which hinders identification (Sincerbox and DiGangi, 2017).
Methods for estimating age, sex and stature are well‐developed and produce
quantifiably accurate classifications if the necessary skeletal elements are present.
However, the primary methods used to estimate ancestry are craniometric
(Spradley et al., 2008) and dental morphological analyses (Edgar, 2013), both of
which are not currently capable of discerning between “Hispanics” of different
country origins. This is mainly due to “the term Hispanic [being] a social construct
with no precise genetic meaning” (Spradley et al., 2008: 21). Instead, the US
Census Bureau classifies all members of the Caribbean, Mexico, Central America
and South America (except Brazil) into one general category, “Hispanic” (Spradley
et al., 2008). Recent and promising attempts have been made by Edgar (2013) to
differentiate between New Mexican and South Florida Hispanics using specific
dental morphological traits that are common within each population. In some
cases, the skull and/or the appropriate teeth necessary for ancestry estimations
are not present, which prohibits either craniometric or dental morphological
analyses. For cases missing the essential skeletal elements required for ancestry
estimation, stable isotope analysis can help predict potential regions of origin
based on the geochemical signature of the bones and teeth. Stable isotopes are
incorporated into the hard and soft tissues of an individual during life from food,
water and the environment, and can be extracted after death to inform the analyst
about the diet and migration patterns of the decedent. Isotope results can be used
to rule out geographical regions that do not correspond to predictions based on
isotope signatures from skeletal material. Stable isotope data can be used to reduce
the time spent looking at missing person reports that may match the biological
profile but are not consistent with the isotopic information for an unidentified
individual.
Grupe, 2003; Bentley et al., 2004; Bentley and Knipper, 2005; Bol et al., 2007;
Kootker et al., 2016), Africa (Cox and Sealy, 1997; Sillen et al., 1998), Central
America (Price et al., 2000, 2015; Wright, 2005, 2012; Thornton, 2011; Knudson
and Buikstra, 2007; Bataille et al., 2012; Warner, 2016; Laffoon et al., 2017;
Warner et al., 2018), South America (Knudson et al., 2007, 2009), North America
(Price et al., 1994; Ezzo et al., 1997) and Asia (Regan, 2006). Isotopic values from
skeletal remains can be used to reconstruct aspects of diet, including the sources
of dietary macronutrients, as well as possible regions where an individual may
have acquired their food.
Isotope geolocation is based on comparing observed isotopic signatures of a
given individual or tissue with that of a model predicting the spatiotemporal var-
iations of isotope ratios on the landscape. These models, called isoscapes, can be
either empirical or process‐based, and aim to predict the spatial distribution of
isotope ratios in the substrate of interest (e.g. tooth, bones, soft tissues) (Bowen,
2010, 2013; West et al., 2006, 2010). Isoscapes attempt to model the natural
processes producing isotope variation over space by sampling a source, such as
soil, plants, rivers or local bedrock, to characterize the isotope baseline value for a
site or region. Using geostatistical methods, isotope values for untested sites can
be predicted or inferred using a variety of methods such as kriging interpolation
(Bowen, 2010). Interpolation should be employed cautiously for some isotopes,
like 87Sr/86Sr, because it may not consider the additional sources that contribute to
the bioavailability of an isotope, such as the atmosphere, climate, and distribution
of soil and bedrock (Bataille et al., 2012).
Low : 0.706257
Political Boundaries
N
0 175 350 700 1,050 1,400
Kilometers
Figure 27.1 Strontium model created by Bataille and adjusted by Kramer showing the
expected distribution of strontium isotopes for Mexico and Central America. Map created
in ArchMap 10.5.
animals; bioavailable Sr sources, such as water, soils and plants, must be consid-
ered when mapping large‐scale Sr variation (Bataille and Bowen, 2012). This
research employs a strontium isotope model created by Bataille (in prep.) shown
in Figure 27.1.
Bioavailable Sr substitutes for Ca within the hydroxyapatite [Ca10(PO4)6(OH)]
structure of bone and tooth enamel (Faure and Powell, 1972; Likins et al., 1960;
Price et al., 2015; Bentley and Knipper, 2005) and is used to infer region of origin
because it incorporates itself into the skeleton through the uptake of local water
and food sources (Comar et al., 1957; Faure and Powell, 1972; Beard and Johnson,
2000; Budd et al., 2004; Price et al., 2002). Using current knowledge of bone turn-
over rates and tooth mineralization, strontium can provide a record of migration
throughout life using different tissues. Teeth form during childhood and provide
useful estimators for childhood residency (Bentley, 2006; Faure and Powell, 1972;
Beard and Johnson, 2000; Price et al., 2002, 2015; Bentley and Knipper, 2005).
Bone turnover occurs throughout life and can be used to define more recent
strontium signatures of an individual – different bones have varying turnover
rates, meaning that thin rib cortical bone will show a more recent timeframe than
thick cortical bone from a femur (Hedges et al., 2007; Hill and Orth, 1998). Hair
and fingernails are unique because they incorporate strontium from bathing water
sources and do not accurately represent bioavailable strontium (Tipple, 2015).
Strontium isotope ratios characterize the underlying bedrock in geological
formations. Variation in geological formations can be visualized in the form of a
strontium isoscape, which shows the change in strontium ratios from one geolog-
ical formation to the next (West et al., 2010). Individuals can then be mapped
onto the isoscape based on their 87Sr/86Sr ratios derived from bones, teeth, hair
and nail. For example, an individual from a mountainous region should have a
significantly different strontium signature than a person living in a nearby valley.
A limitation of this method is the susceptibility of Sr to geological and anthropo-
genic processes that result in weathering, erosion, and mixing of heterogeneous
strontium signatures. Using 87Sr/86Sr to construct isoscapes relies heavily on the
underlying bedrock composition, geological processes, and contributions from the
lithosphere and hydrosphere to depict local bioavailability.
The use of 87Sr/86Sr ratios can provide estimates of probable regions of origin for
a person, as well as their more recent migrations (Bataille and Bowen, 2012).
Low : –12.19
Poltical Boundaries
N
0 125 250 500 750 1,000
Kilometers
Figure 27.2 Mean annual precipitation oxygen (δ18O) isoscape for Mexico and Central
America. Map created in ArchMap 10.5.
For a more in-depth explanation of the likelihood assignment model, see Wunder (2012).
1
nitrogen (δ15N) isotopes derived from feathers obtained from a known breeding
range (Wunder et al., 2005). Previous attempts to predict region of origin relied
on simple regression, regression trees, range matching, and assignment methods
using likelihoods or probabilities (Wunder and Norris, 2008: 550). When applied
to provenancing bird feathers, the assignment model provided the strongest
results when all three isotopes were used in a probability framework (Wunder,
2012). Therefore, the dual‐isotope approach for assigning unidentified deceased
migrants should provide stronger results than univariate attempts.
Previous techniques to provenance archaeological and forensic cases included
establishing local versus nonlocal ranges using faunal remains or local geology
(Price et al., 2002; Bentley et al., 2003; Hodell et al., 2004; Knudson et al., 2005,
2009; Knudson and Buikstra, 2007; Sosa et al., 2014), trimming datasets to
exclude foreign 87Sr/86Sr values (Wright, 2005), and testing for outliers (nonlo-
cals) using a variety of statistical techniques. These techniques promoted the use
of model‐testing for establishing provenance; however they lacked the process‐
based predictive modeling available in the Bataille et al. (2012) 87Sr/86Sr isoscape
models. Wunder (2010: 254–255) states that previous attempts to define
geographical location using isoscapes “(1) arbitrarily describe large geographic
ranges a priori and summarize isoscape values within each range, or (2) arbitrarily
determine a minimum magnitude that is on the order of the measurement
(analytical) error for measuring δ2H.” The former is too conservative, while the
latter tends not to be conservative enough. Wunder (2010: 255) suggests that
the modeling approach provides an alternative route “by combining a stochastic
component based on known, estimated, or hypothesized residual variance with a
calibrated isoscape.” Permission to use the assignment model was obtained from
Wunder during the SPATIAL short‐course held at the University of Utah in 2016.
For greater detail concerning the assignment model, refer to Wunder et al. (2005),
Wunder (2010) and Kramer (2018).
In a recent article, Laffoon and colleagues (2017) expand on the strontium
isoscape from Bataille et al. (2012) to provenance identified persons using δ18O
and 87Sr/86Sr variation for the circum‐Caribbean region. The results found in
Laffoon et al. (2017) demonstrate that the dual‐isotope method is a viable option
for provenancing studies because it was able to successfully define regions of
most likely origin that included the actual known origin for the three sampled
individuals. This research employs the same technique but applies the method to
unidentified migrants from Latin America.
27.3.1 Sample
The sample comes from the OpID skeletal remains housed at FACTS, recovered in
Brooks County near a Border Patrol checkpoint in Falfurrias, Texas, during three
field seasons (2013, 2014 and 2017). Two unidentified cases are used in the
Case number 87
Sr/86Sr 87
Sr/86Sr SE δ18Oc (VPDB) δ18Oc SE
27.4 Results
27.4.1 OpID‐0383
Case OpID‐0383 was recovered from Brooks County, Texas. A bandana with a
Mexico flag design was found associated with OpID‐0383. The maxillary second
premolar (tooth #13) of the individual was selected for sampling, which should
reflect childhood residency until the age of approximately 7.5 years old (AlQahtani
et al., 2010). The probability density output for the individual was produced after
running 87Sr/86Sr and δ18O values through the assignment model (Figure 27.3).
The maximum likelihood of origin for this individual was located between the
Panama Canal and the San Blas Mountains. Other high probabilities of origins
were found for regions in South Texas and Mexico. The remains of the individual
were identified in early 2018 as a male of Mexican origin, but who had lived in
the United States since the age of eight. In this case, the migrant is known to be
from Mexico, which does not correspond with the region with the highest proba-
bility of origin. The value is, however, consistent with an origin from the central
Mexican Mountains. It is important to note that the associated cultural material
did accurately reflect the correct country of origin.
Dual-Isotope Assignment
(87Sr/86Sr & δ18O)
OpID-0383
Probability
0 – 0.1
0.1 – 0.2
0.2 – 0.3
0.3 – 0.4
0.4 – 0.5
0.5 – 0.6
0.6 – 0.7
0.7 – 0.8
0.8 – 0.9
0.9 – 1
Political Boundaries
N
0 137.5275 550 825 1,100
Kilometers
Figure 27.3 Isotope assignment for OpID‐0383. The top map shows the prediction using
only δ18O isotopes. The center map shows the prediction using only 87Sr/86Sr isotopes.
The bottom map shows the dual‐isotope assignment using both isotopes. OpID‐0383 has
been identified as being of Mexican nationality. Sadly, the assignment model does not
work and plots them into the hilly region of Panama between the Panama Canal and the
San Blas Mountains. All images created in ArcMap 10.5 by author.
27.4.2 OpID‐0608
Case OpID‐0608 was recovered from Brooks County, Texas. Guatemalan currency
(quetzals) was found associated with the remains. The first maxillary premolar
(tooth #5) of the individual was selected for sampling, which should reflect
childhood residency until the age of approximately 7.5 years old (AlQahtani et al.,
2010). The probability density output for the individual was produced after
running 87Sr/86Sr and δ18O values through the assignment model (Figure 27.4).
Predicted regions of origin using only 87Sr/86Sr include the Sierra Madre Occidental
Mountain range in Mexico, the Sierra Madre Mountain range of Honduras and
Guatemala, the Cordillera Chontalena Mountain range in Nicaragua, and the
lowlands north of the Central Mountains in Costa Rica. Origin predictions using
only δ18O included regions from every country within Central America and
Mexico (Figure 27.4). When the dual‐isotope maximum likelihood assignment
model is used, the origin prediction for this individual is constrained to the Sierra
Madre Mountain range of Honduras and Guatemala (Figure 27.4). The remains of
the individual were identified in early 2018 as a male of Guatemalan origin. The
isotope prediction and the cultural material both accurately predicted the origin in
this case.
Dual-Isotope Assignment
(87Sr/86Sr & δ18O)
OpID-0608
Probability
0 – 0.1
0.1 – 0.2
0.2 – 0.3
0.3 – 0.4
0.4 – 0.5
0.5 – 0.6
0.6 – 0.7
0.7 – 0.8
0.8 – 0.9
0.9 – 1
Political Boundaries
N
0 137.5275 550 825 1,100
Kilometers
Figure 27.4 Isotope Assignment for OpID‐0608. The top map shows the prediction using
only δ18O isotopes. The center map shows the prediction using only 87Sr/86Sr isotopes.
The bottom map shows the dual‐isotope assignment using both isotopes. OpID‐0608 has
been identified as being of Guatemalan nationality and the assignment model strongly
plots the individual into the Sierra Madre Mountain range of Honduras and Guatemala,
meaning the model was successful at predicting region‐of‐origin. All images created in
ArcMap 10.5 by author.
interpolation. Currently, there are only two precipitation water stations that
record isotopic data for Mexico located in Chihuahua (northern Mexico) and
Veracruz (southeastern Mexico). In addition, only one precipitation station exists
for Central America located near San Salvador in El Salvador. If more stations
were placed in undersampled regions, the accuracy of the isotope assignment
model would increase dramatically.
It is important to note that the associated cultural material accurately predicted
region of origin for both cases – this is not always the case, but it illustrates the
importance of considering the context and associated materials found with the
remains. This research shows that isotope provenancing and associated cultural
material are additional lines of evidence that can be extremely useful for deciding
where to focus identification efforts. Future research along this trajectory will
sample more OpID cases for isotopic analysis to be run through the assignment
model for a variety of tissues including bone, teeth and hair. Currently, only three
cases with known regions of origin have been run through the model. Two of the
three produced accurate region‐of‐origin predictions. With more case sampling
and positive identification of those cases, the accuracy of the assignment model
can be better understood.2 The major take‐home message is that there is no single
method that can be relied upon for narrowing region‐of‐origin; instead, all
information must be considered and weighed by the analyst to decide whether an
unidentified case is a potential match for a missing person report. Isotope data and
associated cultural material are powerful pieces of evidence that can greatly
inform identification efforts.
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São Paulo, Brazil
28.1 Introduction
Eating is a daily activity for all individuals regardless of their society, country or
culture. It is a phenomenon that covers physiological issues as well as social,
political, economic and aesthetic aspects. Consequently, humans organize
themselves in complex relations to secure food and meet their nutritional needs.
However, the act of feeding has undergone dramatic changes over time. From
techniques that take advantage of manipulating nature, climate and soil, an
individual can grow and produce their own food, as a counterpart to what was
completely natural.
Human feeding habits are directly associated with one major characteristic of
humans – their enormous capacity for nutritional adaptation. Most adaptations
have developed over centuries or even millennia (Hocket and Haws, 2003), but
the recent phenomena of urbanization and industrialization have together
modified human lifestyles by an unprecedented degree. Profound changes in food
consumption have occurred along with globalization, and the expansion of trade
markets have shifted feeding patterns from locally produced food items toward
industrialized processed items, usually produced far from consumption sites.
These transformations result in modifying a way of life and production, with food
becoming a commodity.
Such access to an enormous variety of processed food commodities has been
referred to as the “supermarket era,” usually associated with nutrition transition
processes (Nardoto et al., 2006; Popkin, 2006; Piperata, 2007). Several studies
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
441
have suggested that changes in feeding patterns are associated with economic
changes; however, as these studies are based on large‐scale analyses that primarily
focus on data from urban areas, they tend to reflect the urban reality (Privat et al.,
2002; Al‐Bashaireh and Al‐Muheisen, 2011; Gragnani et al., 2014). On the other
hand, rural populations in non‐urban areas are usually neglected by studies with
a global focus; at the same time, these populations are heading to urban centers
and settling in poor and lower‐income settings, factors that contribute to nutrition
and food insecurity (Vianna et al., 2012; Rodrigues et al., 2016).
In addition to economic aspects, the nutrition transition is closely related to
cultural and demographic changes involving replacing traditional, locally‐
produced food or food picked directly from nature, usually rich in complex carbo-
hydrates and fiber, with industrialized products. This convergence is represented
by a transition from region‐specific dietary patterns towards the well‐known
contemporary Western‐style diet, usually high in animal products, vegetable oils
and refined carbohydrates (Phillips, 2006).
The Western‐style diet has transformed feeding habits and many modern
Western societies seem to be converging to a standard diet. Much research has
been done to understand the impact of this phenomenon in urban areas of the
Western world (Valenzuela et al., 2012). More recently, some studies in devel-
oping countries, such as in the immense and diverse Brazilian territory, have
demonstrated that this nutritional transition phenomenon is also encroaching on
rural areas where the subsistence economy is being replaced by the market
economy (Nardoto et al., 2006, 2011; Reinaldo et al., 2015; Rodrigues et al., 2016;
Silva et al., 2017).
These aforementioned studies demonstrate how nutrition transition processes
have been established in recent decades in the Brazilian rural–urban environ-
ments, as determined by carbon and nitrogen stable isotope ratios in fingernails of
inhabitants from both urban and rural settings, together with dimensions of
nutrition and food security as a proxy for their main diet patterns. These studies
using stable isotopes can contribute further information on human nutrition
studies, but the current challenge for data interpretation is to accurately track
human movements in and between geographical regions (Fraser et al., 2006;
Lehn et al., 2011; Mancuso and Ehleringer, 2018) and to apply this knowledge in
forensic anthropology studies.
Studies on food patterns inferred from carbon and nitrogen isotope measure-
ments in contemporary human populations are based on the well‐known differ-
ences between the δ13C values of C3 plants (the majority of cereals such as wheat
and rice as well as fruits, vegetables and pulses) and C4 plants (which comprise
mostly maize, sugar cane, and African grasses), and on the fact that δ15N values of
food items vary according to the source and the food’s position in the food chain.
These studies of contemporary Brazilian inhabitants reached the conclusions that,
as access to a market economy and urbanization rises, there has been a dramatic
shift from a diet based on C3 plants to one based on C4 plants. As a consequence,
there is a rise in δ13C values in human tissues since urban diets in Brazil are
primarily based on C4 sources having a strong C4 signal (Martinelli et al., 2011;
Coletta et al., 2012). Also, as access to a market economy and urbanization
increases, δ15N values decrease in human tissues due to a decrease in complexity
of the food chain when an urban‐like diet is chosen that has lower δ15N values
compared with a rural‐like diet. One outcome is the homogenization of feeding
habits and culture, changing the patterns of food consumption and production.
This homogenization, consequently, indicates standard consumption not only in
urban centers but also in rural centers. What may follow from this major change
in the production system and consumption could jeopardize the maintenance of
local life, but it could also turn out that the relationship between rural and urban
translates into different modes of relationships related to the market, as well as
the varied historical contexts and the accessibility that each group has over food.
Taking, therefore, the context that contemporary Brazilian populations are
experiencing dietary changes characteristic of nutrition transition, with an
increase in diet homogenization as locally‐produced food is replaced by processed
and ultra‐processed food, we report herein that despite the trend toward a “global
supermarket” diet, carbon and nitrogen isotopic compositions of Brazilian inhab-
itants can still hold dietary information related to both regional food sources and
dietary practices.
We used carbon and nitrogen stable isotope ratios of fingernails from about
4000 contemporary Brazilian inhabitants living in both rural and urban areas in
different geographical regions, from spatially distributed data that have already
been published in the aforementioned studies. We also used carbon and nitrogen
isotope ratios of plants and soil, respectively, to construct the source–consumer
isoscapes.
For this survey, authorization by the official Brazilian Human Ethics Committee
was previously submitted, approved, and received the registration number of
COET 053, Piracicaba, São Paulo, Brazil. About 4000 contemporary Brazilian
samples of fingernails only from adults were collected from voluntary participants
by giving them nail clippers to collect the outer edge portion of their fingernails.
Fingernail samples were then submitted to the procedure described by O’Connell
et al. (2001). Briefly, samples were rinsed twice in methanol and chloroform
(2,1 v/v). Samples were then dried overnight at 65°C, and were cut into between
one and four sections depending on the sample size to be weighed (1–2 mg).
The carbon and nitrogen stable isotope ratios were then determined in the
Isotope Ecology laboratory of CENA‐USP in Piracicaba, using a Thermo‐Quest‐
Finnigan Delta Plus isotope ratio mass spectrometer (Finnigan‐MAT, San Jose, CA,
USA) interfaced with an elemental analyser (model 1110; Carla Erba, Milan, Italy).
Stable isotope ratios were reported in δ notation, expressed in per mil (‰) and
presented as δ13C or δ15N: δ = [Rsample/Rstandard) – 1] × 1000, where Rsample and Rstandard
are the ratios 13C/12C or 15N/14N in the sample and in a standard, respectively. The
standard for carbon is VPDB, and for nitrogen it is atmospheric air. The analytical
precision calculated based on long‐term data was 0.2‰ for carbon and 0.4‰
for nitrogen.
Carbon and nitrogen stable isotope analysis (SIA), expressed as δ13C and δ15N
values, respectively, has been intensely used in diet‐related studies of modern and
ancestral humans, using bone, hair and nails as tissues. For these proteinaceous
tissues, carbon and nitrogen isotopic composition reflects basically the proteins in
the diet, while the isotopic composition of fats and carbohydrates consumed will
likely have limited effect on the isotopic composition of fingernails. The basis of
this analysis is simple: the carbon and nitrogen isotopic compositions of human
tissues are compared with the isotopic composition of the diet, considering
any isotopic fractionation that may occur between diet and tissues (Yoshinaga
et al., 1996).
Differences in stable carbon composition arise as a result of the photosynthesis
process altering the 13C/12C ratio differently in plants following the C3 photosyn-
thetic biochemical pathway (denoted C3 plants) than those following the C4 pho-
tosynthetic pathway (denoted C4 plants) (Farquhar et al., 1989). The δ13C value of
the atmospheric CO2 is approximately −8‰, whereas the δ13C value of C3 plants
varies approximately from −30 to −26‰. On the other hand, the δ13C value of C4
plants varies approximately from −14 to −11‰. In terms of human and animal
nutrition, important plants following the C4 pathway include maize, millet, most
African tropical forage grasses and sugarcane. Most other plants consumed in the
human diet follow the C3 pathway, including, for example, wheat, rice, beans,
soybeans and potatoes, as well as most fruits and vegetables.
While carbon isotopic composition is more indicative of the proportions of C4‐
and C3‐based foods present in human diets, the nitrogen stable isotope composi-
tion is more indicative of the trophic level of a consumer. This is because, at each
step of the food chain, there is a preferential loss of 14N atoms in relation to 15N
atoms; consequently, the δ15N values increase towards the top of the food chain.
In other words, consumers tend to have higher δ15N values than their diet; this
enrichment in 15N along the trophic chain is known as trophic fractionation. This
fractionation depends on numerous factors such as a diet’s protein quality and
quantity, habitat, consumer’s age and health, as well as the tissue considered,
being a result of the different turnover rates of each tissue (Newsome et al., 2010).
Accordingly, in human tissues, the δ15N values represent the trophic position and
the types of animal protein consumed (Huelsemann et al., 2009). For example,
vegetarians eating less animal protein had lower δ15N values than non‐vegetarians
eating more animal protein (Nardoto et al., 2006; Buchardt et al., 2007; Grolmusová
et al., 2014).
Previous SIA conducted in Brazil on food products and Brazilian fingernails and
hair have shown that the Brazilians have a particular carbon isotopic composition.
This is because, in Brazil, cattle are almost entirely fed with C4 African grasses,
mostly of the genus Brachiaria (Martinelli et al., 2011), and pigs and chickens are
fed rations composed mainly of maize and, to a lesser extent, soybean (Coletta
et al., 2012). Consequently, any beef, beef products and dairy products have δ13C
values characteristic of C4 plants. The δ13C value of pigs and chickens and any
product derived from them (e.g. sausages and eggs) will also resemble the mixture
of maize and soybean present in the diet of these animals. The same is true for
table sugar produced from sugarcane and any product in which sugar is a predom-
inant ingredient, such as carbonated soft drinks. These food products contrast
greatly with Brazilian staple foods (i.e. rice and beans) that are C3 plants and have
δ13C values characteristic of these plants. For example, the mean δ13C values of
different types of rice and beans in Brazil were equal to −28.2 and −26.5‰, respec-
tively (Nardoto et al., 2011). Cassava, which is also a staple food in different
regions of Brazil, has a δ13C value similar to wheat flour and, consequently, breads
made with them have a δ13C value of approximately −27‰ (Nardoto et al., 2011).
Based on the arguments presented above, it is to be expected that an increase
in the consumption of meat, dairy, cookies and soft drinks, coupled with a decrease
in the consumption of rice and beans, would result in increasing the δ13C by
increasing the ingestion of C4‐derived food. At the same time, this would result in
an increase in δ15N because the ingestion of animal protein would increase (trophic
fractionation).
There has been a rich body of literature within the last decade on SIA in both
contemporary human hair (Yoshinaga et al., 1996; Bol et al., 2007; Huelsemann
et al., 2009; Thompson et al., 2010; Valenzuela et al., 2012) and fingernails
(O’Connell et al., 2001; Lehn et al., 2011; Nardoto et al., 2006, 2011; Williams and
Katzenberg, 2012; Mancuso and Ehleringer 2018). Fingernails were chosen as a
sampling tissue first because it comprises a non‐invasive sampling method and
nail keratin reflects dietary intake over the last 4–6 months (O’Connell et al.,
2001), and second, there are some people in Brazil who avoid donating hair due
to their religious customs. Additionally, both tissues (hair and nail) are mainly
composed of keratin protein (Lehn et al., 2011; Meier‐Augenstein and Kemp,
2012; Williams and Katzenberg, 2012), and studies isotopically comparing both
tissues concluded that both δ13C and δ15N values of fingernails and hair are similar,
making both tissues comparable (O’Connell et al., 2001; Huelsemann et al., 2009).
the chicken consumed in these areas had been frozen and transported from outside
the Amazon to the region. As population density increases and less food is locally
produced, residents will consume more C4‐based food, with frozen chicken as their
main source of protein rather than freshwater fish.
Therefore Nardoto et al. (2011), by using C and N stable isotope ratios of finger-
nails and dietary intake data collected using food frequency questionnaires and
24‐h recall interviews, clearly documented the shift in dietary sources from
“native C3” to “supermarket based C4 foods” in peoples living along a rural‐to‐
urban continuum in the Brazilian Amazon region, showing the association
between urbanization and “the supermarket diet” where traditional low fat foods
(farinha, a flour ground from cassava, and freshwater fish) in the small villages
are replaced by higher fat food items (corn‐fed domestic animals such as chicken)
in more urbanized towns and especially cities.
W E
S
0°0'0"
10°0'0"S
–19.1
–25.3
30°0'0"S
Figure 28.1 Plant carbon isoscape for Brazil. The methodology as well as the dataset was
adapted from Powell et al. (2012).
As predictive variables, we used organic carbon and clay content from the soil
gridded global information – SoilGrid, available for download from soilgrid.org
(Hengl et al., 2017) – while we used precipitation and temperature gridded data
from WorldClim (Hijmans et al., 2005). Every soil δ15N value was standardized for
0–20 cm depth by calculating the average weighted by N content. The methodo-
logical process involved the following steps:
1. extraction of values from the predictive variable raster to the dataset, with a
test for co‐variable normalization;
2. application of a multiple linear regression model;
N
W E
S
0°0'0"
10°0'0"S
9.3
7.8
6.4
4.9
30°0'0"S
Figure 28.2 Soil nitrogen isoscape for Brazil. Every soil δ15N value was standardized
for 0–20 cm depth. We considered the global models used in previous studies where the
soil δ15N value is a function of climatic variables (Amundson et al., 2003) and soil
physico‐chemical characteristics, such as organic carbon and clay content
(Craine et al., 2015).
3. exclusion of target variable outliers from the dataset and application of final
model;
4. test for residual normality;
5. application of model equation by band math and interpolation of the residuals
using fitted semivariogram and ordinary kriging; and
6. application of the residual interpolation on the model result.
To test the model accuracy, we selected a random subset of 80% of the dataset
and calculated R2 from the comparison between both observed and modeled soil
δ15N values (R2 = 0.61; residual standard error = 1.64‰; p < 0.001).
W E
S
0°0'0"
10°0'0"S
–3.6 – –1.9
8.6
–1.8 – 0.3
0.3 – 4.5
4.6 – 9.6
2.4
9.7 – 14.6
30°0'0"S
strong differentiation was observed across regions within Brazil both in number
and production value. This structure supports the differences found in our regional
source–consumer isoscapes where the degree of variation was related to the dif-
ferences between urban and rural settings, but also among geographical regions,
with regional change being basically associated with agricultural and animal pro-
duction practices.
N
W E
S
0°0'0"
10°0'0"S
15.4
0.0 – 1.2
4.6
1.3 – 2.6
3.7 – 4.8
2.0 4.9 – 6.2
30°0'0"S
0.7
0 500 1,000
–0.5 km
diet changes. The δ13C and δ15N values of contemporary Brazilian human nails
can still provide information about the diet and thus about the geographical
provenance of the individual. Therefore, the application of source–consumer
isoscapes can provide a novel approach for provenancing unidentified human
remains in forensic contexts, with the potential to be used both in human
nutrition studies but also in tracking human movements in forensic anthropology
studies.
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Published
The Global Practice of Forensic Science
Douglas H. Ubelaker (Editor)
Forensic Chemistry: Fundamentals and Applications
Jay A. Siegel (Editor)
Forensic Microbiology
David O. Carter, Jeffrey K. Tomberlin, M. Eric Benbow and Jessica L. Metcalf
(Editors)
Forensic Anthropology: Theoretical Framework and Scientific Basis
Clifford Boyd and Donna Boyd (Editors)
The Future of Forensic Science
Daniel A. Martell (Editor)
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living
Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker (Editors)
Forthcoming
EDITED BY
Roberto C. Parra
Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner (OHCHR), United Nations; and
Bioarchaeology and Stable Isotope Research Laboratory, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tennessee, USA
Sara C. Zapico
Florida International University, International Forensic Research Institute, Miami, USA
Douglas H. Ubelaker
Smithsonian Institution, National Museum of Natural History, Washington, DC, USA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
vii
14.3 Morphological traits, 201
14.4 Global standardization, 204
References, 206
15 Sexual dimorphism in juvenile skeletons and its real problem, 211
Flavio Estrada Moreno
15.1 Introduction, 211
15.2 Is it possible to estimate the sex of subadults based on morphological
characteristics of the jaw and the ilium?, 212
15.3 From what age range is it possible to estimate sex in subadult skeletal
remains? Skeletal growth, bone maturation and sex steroids, 213
15.4 What is the degree of precision and reliability of the visual criteria used
to estimate sex in subadult skeletal remains? What criteria are
applicable to forensic contexts?, 215
15.5 Comments and discussion, 216
15.6 Conclusions, 216
References, 217
16 Dental aging methods and population variation, 219
Joe Adserias‐Garriga and Joel Tejada
16.1 Introduction, 219
16.2 Dental age estimation: its application in forensic science, 221
16.3 Tooth developmental changes, 221
16.4 Dental age estimation methods using tooth development
and eruption, 223
16.5 Post‐formation changes in dental tissues, 226
16.6 Methods of dental age estimation using tooth post‐formation changes, 227
16.7 Dental age estimation methods and their application in forensic
casework, 229
References, 230
17 Age assessment in unaccompanied minors: A review, 235
José Luis Prieto
17.1 Introduction, 235
17.2 Age assessment methods in unaccompanied minors, 236
17.3 Age definition: What does age mean?, 240
17.4 Choosing a suitable method, 241
17.5 Forensic age assessment medical methods, 242
17.5.1 Interview and medical history, 243
17.5.2 Physical examination, 243
17.5.3 Dental development, 244
17.5.4 Skeletal maturation, 247
17.6 Final estimation and report, 250
17.7 Conclusions, 251
References, 251
Section III Stable isotope forensics and the search for missing persons, 273
25.4.1 Carbon, 389
25.4.2 Nitrogen, 389
25.4.3 Sulfur, 390
25.4.4 Body water, 390
25.4.5 Oxygen, 391
25.4.6 Hydrogen, 392
25.4.7 Integrated signal, 392
25.5 Geographical and population patterns of δ13C, δ15N and δ34S
values, 393
25.5.1 From continents to cities, 395
25.5.2 From cities to individuals, 396
25.6 Geographical patterns of δ18O and δ2H values, 397
25.7 Individual deviations from expected patterns, 400
25.8 Travel history, 401
25.9 Solved forensic investigations, 403
25.10 Final considerations, 403
25.10.1 How fixed are the geographical patterns of δ13C, δ15N
and δ34S values?, 403
25.10.2 Seasonal stability of drinking water δ18O and δ2H values, 404
25.10.3 Bundling and analysing very long hair, 405
25.10.4 Fingernails vs. hair, 405
25.11 Conclusions, 405
References, 406
26 Applicability of stable isotope analysis to the Colombian human
identification crisis, 411
Daniel Castellanos Gutiérrez, Elizabeth A. DiGangi and Jonathan D. Bethard
26.1 Introduction, 411
26.2 Stable isotopes in human provenance, 412
26.3 Human tissues appropriate for isotope studies, 415
26.4 Colombian geography, 416
26.5 The Colombian conflict and the missing, 418
26.6 Stable isotopes and identification in Colombia: Initial research
efforts, 418
26.7 Final remarks, 420
Acknowledgements, 422
References, 422
27 Application of stable isotopes and geostatistics to infer region of geographical
origin for deceased undocumented Latin American migrants, 425
Robyn T. Kramer, Eric J. Bartelink, Nicholas P. Herrmann, Clement P. Bataille and
Kate Spradley
27.1 Introduction, 425
27.2 Stable isotopes, provenancing studies, and isoscapes, 426
27.2.1 Strontium and geological mapping, 427
32.7 Conclusion, 519
References, 520
33 Is DNA always the answer?, 521
Caroline Bennett
33.1 Introduction, 521
33.2 The magic of DNA, 522
33.3 DNA as truth, identity and relatedness, 523
33.4 Justice and healing, 525
33.5 Dealing with bodies, 527
33.6 The politics of identification, 529
33.7 Conclusion, 531
References, 532
Section VI Conclusions, 715
xxv
xxvii
Lisa G. Bailey, BA, is a forensic artist with the Federal Bureau of Investigation
Laboratory in Quantico, Virginia. She has worked on numerous cases involving
the facial approximation of unidentified remains, composite sketches of unknown
suspects, as well as age‐progressed images of fugitives and missing children. Ms
Bailey was an instructor on the FBI Forensic Facial Imaging Course and an Adjunct
Faculty Member at the FBI Academy. A veteran of the US Navy, she earned her
BA in Visual Art from the University of Maryland and worked as a graphic artist
at the Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics Laboratory before joining the
Bureau in 2001.
Eric J. Bartelink, PhD, D‐ABFA, has taught for 13 years at California State
University, Chico, where he is currently a full professor and co‐director of the
Human Identification Laboratory. He is the President of the American Board of
Forensic Anthropology and serves on the AAFS Board of Directors. His research
interests focus on the bioarchaeology of Native California, dietary reconstruction
using stable isotope analysis, and applications within forensic anthropology. He is
a coauthor of Essentials of Physical Anthropology, Introduction to Physical Anthropology,
and Forensic Anthropology: Current Methods and Practice, and has authored and co‐
authored numerous articles in scientific journals.
Clement P. Bataille, PhD, received his MSc in environmental engineering in
2008 from the Institut National Polytechniques de Toulouse (France). He received
his PhD in Geology in 2014 from the University of Utah. He spent two years in
Houston, Texas, working as a geoscientist before returning to academia and taking
up a post‐doctoral fellowship at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. He
joined the University of Ottawa as an assistant professor in Earth and Environmental
Sciences in the fall of 2017. His lab group, the SAIVE group (Spatio‐temporal
Analytics of Isotope Variations in the Environment), uses spatiotemporal isotope
variations to (1) develop geolocation tools in ecology and forensic sciences, (2)
investigate weathering processes in rivers, and (3) reconstruct paleoenvironments
in greenhouse periods.
Derek C. Benedix, PhD, ABFA, received his Bachelor of Arts degree in
anthropology from the University of California, Santa Cruz, and his Master of Arts
and Doctorate in physical/forensic anthropology from the University of Tennessee,
Knoxville. Derek is a board‐certified forensic anthropologist by the American
Board of Forensic Anthropology. From 2001 to 2015, Derek worked as a forensic
anthropologist in the Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command Central Identification
Laboratory in both Hawaii and Nebraska. Derek joined the International
Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in September 2015, and has performed
numerous short mission assignments as Forensic Specialist (Manila, Philippines
and Athens, Greece), Regional Forensic Advisor (Kathmandu, Nepal), and
Regional Forensic Manager for Asia and the Pacific (Jakarta, Indonesia).
Caroline Bennett, PhD, is a lecturer in cultural anthropology at Victoria
University of Wellington, New Zealand. Her research considers genocide, violence
and post‐conflict environments, with particular attention paid to mass graves and
the mass dead. Her current research considers mass graves from the Cambodian
genocide of 1975–1979. Prior to undertaking a PhD in social anthropology,
Caroline spent some time working as a forensic anthropologist. She has published
work on disaster victim identification and DNA analysis, justice after genocide,
and dealing with the dead following the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia.
Gregory E. Berg, PhD, earned his BA in anthropology from the University of
Arizona in 1993, his MA from the bioarchaeology program of Arizona State
University in 1999, and his PhD from the University of Tennessee in 2008. He is
currently a laboratory manager and forensic anthropologist at the DPAA Laboratory
in Hawaii where he works on the recovery and identification of missing US
service personnel. His research has concentrated on ancestry and sex determina-
tion, trauma analysis, aging techniques, human identification and eyewear, intra‐
and inter‐observer error studies, and isotope analysis – all of which are focused on
human identification. He is a diplomate of the American Board of Forensic
Anthropology.
Jonathan D. Bethard, PhD, D‐ABFA, is currently an Assistant Professor in the
Department of Anthropology at the University of South Florida. He received his
PhD in Anthropology from the University of Tennessee‐Knoxville in 2013. Dr
Bethard specializes in forensic anthropology and bioarchaeology and has worked
as a consultant in forensic anthropology for the International Criminal Investigative
Training Assistance Program (ICITAP) in Colombia and Algeria, as well the
International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in Tbilisi, Georgia. He is a Fellow
of the Anthropology Section of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences, a
Diplomate of the American Board of Forensic Anthropology, and a Lifetime
Member of the American Association of Physical Anthropologists.
Soren Blau, PhD, is the Senior Forensic Anthropologist at the Victorian Institute
of Forensic Medicine. She is an Adjunct Associate Professor in the Department of
Forensic Medicine at Monash University, Founding Fellow Faculty of Science, The
Royal College of Pathologists of Australasia, and recipient of a Churchill Fellowship
(2013). Soren is also currently the Chair of the Forensic Anthropology Specialists
Working Group and a member of the INTERPOL Disaster Victim Identification
Pathology and Anthropology Sub‐Working Group. In addition to publishing peer‐
reviewed journal articles and numerous book chapters, Soren co‐edited the
Handbook of Forensic Anthropology and Archaeology and co‐authored An Atlas of
Skeletal Trauma in Medico‐Legal Contexts. Soren undertakes domestic forensic
anthropology casework and has undertaken consultancies for the International
Criminal Court (ICC) and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC).
Soren has participated in the recovery and analysis of human remains from
archaeological and forensic contexts in numerous countries, and has delivered
training to forensic practitioners and related stakeholders in Australia and
overseas.
Rodrigo Bongiovanni is an undergraduate student at the Universidad de la
República, Montevideo, Uruguay. He has been working with the Uruguayan team
of Forensic Anthropology since 2009, and had worked on different historical
archaeology projects between 2008 and 2013.
Gabriel Bowen, PhD, is a Professor of Geology and Geophysics and member of
the Global Change and Sustainability Center at the University of Utah, where
he leads the Spatio‐temporal Isotope Analytics Lab (SPATIAL) and serves as
co‐director of the SIRFER stable isotope facility. His research focuses on the use of
spatially and temporally resolved geochemical data to study Earth systems
processes, ranging from coupled carbon and water cycle change in geological his-
tory to the movements of modern and near‐modern humans. In addition to
fundamental research, he has been active in developing cyberinformatics tools
and training programs supporting the use of large‐scale environmental geochem-
istry data across scientific disciplines, including the waterisotopes.org and IsoMAP.
org websites and the SPATIAL summer course (http://itce.utah.edu).
Desiré M. Brits, PhD, received her BSc Hons and MSc from the University of
Pretoria and her PhD from the University of the Witwatersrand, South Africa. She
is employed by the University of the Witwatersrand and teaches a number of
courses including morphological anatomy and forensic anthropology to under-
graduate and postgraduate students. Her current research interests include decom-
position and taphonomy in the interior of South Africa, and establishing
identification methods specific for South Africans, using medical image modal-
ities. She recently received a Thuthuka grant from the National Research
Foundation (NRF) South Africa and a grant from the American Academy of
Forensic Sciences (AAFS) Humanitarian and Human Rights Resource Center
(HHRRC) in support of her research. Dr Brits is the coordinator of the Human
Identification Unit (HIU) of the Human Variation and Identification Research Unit
(HVIRU) at the University of the Witwatersrand, and regularly consults on forensic
anthropology cases for the South African Police Service (SAPS) and Forensic
Pathology Services (FPS). Dr Brits is an associate member of the American
Academy of Forensic Sciences, a member of the International Academy of Legal
Medicine/Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe (FASE), and a lifetime
member of the Anatomical Society of Southern Africa, where she has served on
Council since 2012.
Jane E. Buikstra, PhD, D‐ABFA, is a regents’ Professor, and member of the
National Academy of Sciences. She is credited with forming the discipline of bio-
archaeology, which applies biological anthropological methods to the study of
archaeology. She was also the founding director of the Center for Bioarchaeological
Research at Arizona State University. The academic prestige of Dr Buikstra is rec-
ognized worldwide due to her important contribution to science. Dr Buikstra’s
international research encompasses bioarchaeology, palaeopathology, forensic
anthropology and palaeodemography. Among her current work is an investiga-
tion of the evolutionary history of ancient tuberculosis in the Americas based on
archaeologically recovered pathogen DNA. Dr Buikstra has recently published
Ortner’s Identification of Pathological Conditions in Human Skeletal Remains. She has
mentored more 55 PhD students, is the president of the Center for American
Archeology and has served as past president of the American Association of
Physical Anthropologists, the American Anthropological Association and the
Paleopathology Association. She is the inaugural editor‐in‐chief of the International
Journal of Paleopathology. She is a certified member by the American Board of
her and other scientific workgroups. She has been involved in training sessions in
forensic genetics for analysts from El Salvador, Bolivia, Peru, Vietnam, South
Africa and Chile.
Cristina Cattaneo, PhD, is a forensic pathologist and anthropologist, currently
Full Professor of Legal Medicine at the Faculty of Medicine of the Università degli
Studi di Milano (Italy) and Director of LABANOF, Laboratorio di Antropologia e
Odontologia Forense. She has been actively involved with the Italian Ministry of
Internal Affairs in the creation of a national database for unidentified human
remains and since 2014 has been the medico‐legal coordinator for the
Governmental Office of the Commissioner for Missing Persons for the identification
of dead migrants. She also coordinates the medico‐legal activities on victims of
maltreatment, torture and on unaccompanied minors in Milan, Italy. She is a
forensic expert for various courts in Italy and occasionally in Europe, President of
FASE (Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe), member of the Swiss DVI
(Disaster Victim Identification) team and Co‐Editor in Chief for the journal Forensic
Science International.
Thure E. Cerling, PhD, is a biogeochemist at the University of Utah. His work
primarily concerns the use of isotopes to study biological and geological processes
occurring near the Earth’s surface. He has done extensive fieldwork in North
America, Kenya and Pakistan, and other geological and biological studies in
Argentina, Australia, Western Europe and Antarctica. These studies include
cosmic‐ray‐produced isotopes to study geomorphology, chemistry of lakes and
lake sediments, stable isotope studies of diet and of soils, isotope forensics, and
studies of early hominin environments in Africa. He served for 9 years on the US
Nuclear Waste Technical Review Board. He is a member of the US National
Academy of Sciences.
Lesley A. Chesson is an Isotope Analyst employed with PAE and working at the
Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency (DPAA) in Hawaii. She received her BS in
Biology at Elon University and her MS in Biology at the University of Utah. She is
a member of the Forensic Isotope Ratio Mass Spectrometry (FIRMS) Network and
an invited member of its Steering Group. She currently serves on the Editorial
Board of the journal Forensic Chemistry. Lesley has used isotope forensic techniques
for more than 15 years to examine documents, drugs, explosives, feathers, foods,
microbes and water. She has published more than 60 journal articles and book
chapters. Her current focus is assisting in investigations of unidentified human
remains.
Angi M. Christensen, PhD, D‐ABFA, is a forensic anthropologist with the
Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) Laboratory and an Adjunct Professor in
the Forensic Science Program at George Mason University. She received her BA
in anthropology from the University of Washington, and her MA and PhD in
anthropology from the University of Tennessee, and is board‐certified by the
American Board of Forensic Anthropology (ABFA). She is a co‐author of the
Danilo De Angelis, DDS, PhD, is a dentist with a PhD in legal medicine, and
associate Professor in forensic medicine at the University of Milan. He has partic-
ipated in the medical forensic activities in Melilli, Sicily, on the victims of the 18
April 2015 shipwreck, on the identification of the victims of the two shipwrecks
that occurred near Lampedusa in October 2013, and before that on the identification
of the victims of the Linate air disaster (Milan, 2001). He is the forensic odontolo-
gist at LABANOF, University of Milan. He is Assistant Editor of Forensic Science
International and collaborates with ICRC.
Research Methods in Human Skeletal Biology (Academic Press, 2013); and co‐author
(with Susan Sincerbox) of Forensic Taphonomy and Ecology of North American
Scavengers (Academic Press, 2018). She is currently Assistant Professor of
Anthropology at Binghamton University in upstate New York. As a Diplomate of
the American Board of Forensic Anthropology, she works on forensic cases and
capacity‐building of international forensic science laboratories. Her scholarly
interests include developing population‐specific biological profile standards,
improving trauma analysis, and human rights.
James R. Ehleringer, PhD, is a distinguished professor in the School of Biological
Sciences at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. He joined the faculty in 1977
and is recognized as an expert in plant ecology. Jim founded the University’s
Global Change and Sustainability Center, which serves as the nexus for research,
teaching, and outreach for global change and sustainability activities. His research
focuses on ecological, environmental and forensic applications using naturally
occurring stable isotopes (nature’s natural recorders). He has advanced science by
training dozens of graduate students and postdocs during his career, and pub-
lishing over 500 scientific articles and books. For over 20 years, Jim and col-
leagues have offered IsoCamp, a summer training opportunity for graduate
students from across the United States and from around the world to learn about
stable isotope biogeochemistry and ecology through lectures and laboratory
experiences.
Theodora Eleftheriou is the Laboratory Coordinator at the Anthropological
Laboratory of the Committee on Missing Persons in Cyprus (CMP). She has been
working for the CMP since 2006, and her primary role is to manage and review
the scientific operations relating to the anthropological examination and
identification of missing individuals.
Sarah Ellingham, PhD, is a broadly skilled forensic practitioner and research
scientist with experience in the humanitarian forensic response to international
disasters and armed conflicts from a variety of contexts. Sarah is an accredited
forensic anthropologist by the UK Royal Anthropological Institute (RAI), certified
in Interpol body search and recovery by UK DVI, with her laboratory and analyt-
ical skills being recognized by the Royal Society of Chemistry. Sarah has deployed
as a DVI consultant to mass fatality incidents in Namibia, France and PNG. Since
joining the ICRC in 2016 she has deployed as Forensic Specialist for Iraq as well
as Forensic Coordinator for South‐East Asia, during which time she advised on
the humanitarian forensic response to the Marawi Crisis of 2017.
Iṡ tenç Engin, MSc, DLAF, has been the Coordinator of the Anthropological
Laboratory of the Committee on Missing Persons in Cyprus (CMP) since 2011.
She has contributed to the forensic anthropological analysis of skeletal remains of
missing people exhumed from single and mass graves, and assisted in establishing
biological profiles of the deceased, selecting DNA samples for analysis, and helping
in the identification process for over 500 missing person cases.
Ann D. Fasano, MA, received her BA in Biology from Boston University and her
MS in Forensic Anthropology from Boston University School of Medicine. In 1995
as a Special Agent with the FBI, she became the senior team leader over the
FBI ERT in Phoenix. In 2006 she became a Supervisory Special Agent in the FBI
Laboratory’s ERTU. She taught crime scene training to new agents, FBI academy,
and field ERT members. She was the program manager for operational matters.
Her crime scene experience includes processing homicides, mass shootings, the
recovery of human remains, and complex crime scenes. She has been deployed to
New York 9/11, Iraq, Uganda, Pakistan, and the Boston Marathon bombings. She
retired from the FBI in July 2018.
Ana Freire‐Aradas, PhD, obtained her BSc degree in pharmacy from the
University of Santiago de Compostela (Spain) in 2006. In the same year she started
her scientific research in the Forensic Genetics Unit, Institute of Forensic Sciences
at the same university; obtaining her MSc in molecular medicine in 2008 and her
PhD degree in 2013. After completing her PhD, she continued her research at the
same institution. During 2015–2017 she worked as a post‐doc researcher at the
Institute of Legal Medicine, University of Cologne (Germany). After that, she
returned to the Institute of Forensic Sciences, University of Santiago de Compostela,
where she is currently developing her research, mainly focused on the study of
epigenetic markers such as DNA methylation with forensic applications, such as
age estimation. Additional research interests include SNP analysis for inference
of biogeographical ancestry and externally visible characteristics; evaluation of
degraded DNA; and bioinformatic tools for assessment of DNA‐based prediction
models.
Timothy P. Gocha, PhD, is the Chief Forensic Anthropologist for the Clark
County Office of the Coroner/Medical Examiner in Las Vegas, NV, as well as an
Adjunct Assistant Professor of Anthropology at the University of Nevada, Las
Vegas. His research focuses on examining mineralized tissue histology for
improving age‐at‐death estimates, as well as interpreting skeletal health. From
2016–2017, Dr Gocha served as a post‐doctoral scholar with Operation
William Goodwin, PhD, studied for a BSc in biological sciences at the University
of Leicester. He followed this with a PhD at the University of Glasgow, looking at
gene expression in plants exposed to low temperatures. After this he spent eight
years at the Human Identification Centre at the University of Glasgow. During this
time he undertook casework, including human identification and paternity test-
ing, and also carried out research into improving the recovery of DNA from com-
promised samples. Since moving to the University of Central Lancashire in 2002,
Will has been involved with the delivery of undergraduate and postgraduate
teaching and the supervision of research degrees. In addition to his work at the
University, Will also acts as an advisor to the International Committee of the Red
Cross (ICRC), and is a member of their Forensic Advisory Board. He also acts as a
technical assessor, working for the United Kingdom Accreditation Service (UKAS),
assessing compliance of laboratories with ISO/IEC 17025.
Sarah Hall, MA, is currently a doctoral student at Arizona State University in the
School of Human Evolution and Social Change. Her research interests include
social identity in bioarchaeology, stable isotope applications for dietary reconstruc-
tion and migration studies, historical bioarchaeology, and forensic anthropology.
Agata Iadicicco is a Law graduate, and Vice Prefect and Deputy of the Office of
the Special Commissioner for Missing Persons in Italy.
she worked as part of the Special Unit for the Identification of Disappeared
Detainees of the Legal Medical Service, in the identification and determination of
cause and manner of death of victims of the Chilean military dictatorship, together
with a multidisciplinary team also composed of archaeologists, dentists and med-
ical doctors, plus a support team. From 2011, she has been Chief of the Special
Unit of Forensic Identification, in charge of a multidisciplinary team that carries
out tasks of search, recovery and analysis in cases of human rights violations
during the military dictatorship, as well as complex crimes and massive disasters.
Daniel Jiménez has been working in forensic anthropology for the last 12 years.
This work has led him to hundreds of cases related to the politic violence during
Guatemala’s Civil War (1960 to 1996), and more than a thousand bodies resulting
from war crimes against the civil population. Currently he works with medico‐
legal criminal investigators on the identification of deceased persons due to natural
disasters in Guatemala. He has been called to provide expert testimony in the
genocide trials against former president Efrain Rios Mott (2013 and 2016) and the
trial of Sepur Zarco in where two former military leaders were convicted of com-
mitting war crimes against the indigenous population.
Chelsey Juarez, PhD, is an Assistant Professor of Biological Anthropology at
California State University, Fresno. She holds a BA in Biological Anthropology
from University of California at Berkeley, and an MA and doctorate in Biological
Anthropology with a parenthetical notation in Latin American Latino Studies from
University of California at Santa Cruz. Dr Juarez is a practicing forensic anthropologist
at the Fresno State Osteological Investigations Laboratory, and has conducted case
work in multiple states. Her main area of research is provenience investigations
within the Latino diaspora through time. She uses isotopes from human bone, hair
and teeth to estimate region of origin, migratory behaviors and diet.
Alexandra R. Klales, PhD, is an Assistant Professor of Forensic Anthropology
and Director of the Forensic Anthropology Recovery Unit at Washburn University
in Topeka, Kansas, USA. She has a BA in Anthropology from the University of
Pittsburgh, a Master of Science in Forensic and Biological Anthropology from
Mercyhurst College, and a PhD in Anthropology from the University of Manitoba.
She is an associate member of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences and
currently conducts forensic anthropology casework in Kansas and Missouri. Her
research focuses on skeletal sexual dimorphism, specifically within the pelvis, and
methods for establishing the biological profile in forensic anthropology.
Robyn T. Kramer currently holds a MA in Anthropology from Texas State
University and is a PhD candidate at the University of Otago. Kramer’s background
is in forensic anthropology, stable isotope analysis, osteology and archaeology.
As a forensic anthropologist, she assisted the Butte County Sheriff’s Office with
the forensic recovery efforts for the deadly Camp Fire in 2018. Her research has
focused on applying isotope geolocation methods to predict region of origin and
migration histories for modern forensic cases that are temporarily housed in the
Operation Identification facility at Texas State University. Kramer’s future research
will apply similar isotope geolocation techniques to prehistoric and historical
populations in the Solomon Islands.
Evidence Response Team Unit, and has led teams at the 1998 US Embassy
bombing, the 1999 EgyptAir crash, the 2005 Thailand tsunami, the 2012 Aurora
Cinema shooting, the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing, the 2013 Asiana air crash,
the 2013 Washington Navy Yard shooting, the 2016 Orlando Pulse shooting, the
2016 Dallas Police murders, the 2017 Las Vegas Route 91 shooting, and the 2018
Thousand Oaks shooting. He earned a BS in Chemistry from the University of
Alabama Huntsville, and a MS in Forensic Anthropology from the Boston
University School of Medicine.
Commission (2009), and currently holds a Welcome Trust grant for her project
‘Human Rights, Human Remains: Forensic Humanitarianism and the Politics of
the Grave’ (2018–2022). The project investigates the history of forensic humani-
tarianism, the use of forensics to investigate atrocities in the context of Mexico’s
current war against organized crime, and the question of whether the dead have
human rights.
Gabriela Bielefeld Nardoto achieved a degree in Biological Sciences at the
University of Brasilia (1997), a Master’s in Ecology at the University of Brasilia
(2000), a doctorate in Applied Ecology (2005), and a three‐year post‐doc position
(2006–2008) at the University of São Paulo. Since 2010 she has had a permanent
position as a professor at the Ecology Department of the University of Brasilia. She
is a member of two postgraduate programs at the University of Brasilia. She has
extensive experience in the use of stable isotopes in both environmental and
forensic studies, publishing over 50 articles in internationally recognized journals
and some book chapters using this methodology.
Lara Olivieri is an archaeologist and forensic anthropologist; she took part as an
anthropologist in the forensic activities in Melilli, Sicily, on the victims involved in
the shipwreck of 18 April 2015; she worked at LABANOF with a fellowship of the
Isacchi Samaia Foundation.
Georgina Pacheco‐Revilla, MSc, is a forensic anthropologist and archeologist
with 8 years of experience in Spain and several Latin American countries; her pri-
mary professional interests are complex scenarios with multidisciplinary
approaches and traumas derived from organized‐crime homicides. She is a pro-
fessor of Forensic and Biological Anthropology at the Universidad de Costa Rica
and the Universidad Estatal a Distancia; founder of the Forensic Anthropology
Unit of the Costa Rican Judicial Investigation Bureau (OIJ); and she is currently
the only forensic anthropologist of the OIJ.
Diana Emilce Ramírez Páez is a professional in Psychology, specialist in Legal
Psychology, Human Rights and International Humanitarian Law, Government,
Management and Public Affairs, with studies in criminal and medico‐legal researc,
with an emphasis on identification of unidentified corpses and the search for
missing persons, and currently opting for the title of Master in Government and
Public Policy. She is a professional forensic specialist with extensive experience in
the design, implementation and administration of inter‐institutional information
systems at a national scale, related to information on victims of the crime of
enforced disappearance and other related criminal offences, including serious vio-
lations of human rights and IHL. She is an expert in psycho‐legal processes for the
integral attention of victims and relatives of deceased and disappeared persons.
Manuel Paredes López, MD, PhD, graduated in biological sciences and medi-
cine, with a PhD in Science of the Universidad Nacional de Colombia, and 25 years
databases (e.g. SPSmart); open‐access SNP data analysis tools (e.g. Snipper);
forensic age estimation using methylation analysis; MPS‐based sequencing and
issues around alignment, nomenclature and description of STR sequence
variation. He is a member of: EDNAP; VISAGE Consortium; and STRAND ISFG
Working Group.
Vittorio Piscitelli is a Law graduate, and Commissioner of the Government
Office for Missing Persons in Italy from 2014–2018.
José Luis Prieto, MD, DDS, PhD, earned the post of forensic doctor in 1988
and joined Madrid Complutense University in 1997 as an associate professor of
Legal and Forensic Medicine, mainly linking his activity to forensic anthropology
and odontology. He set up the first laboratory of the discipline within the Spanish
forensic system (Madrid Forensic Institute), which he headed from 1992 to 2008.
Additionally, he has actively participated in the development of scientific associa-
tions as the Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe (FASE) and the Spanish
Association of Forensic Anthropology and Odontology (AEAOF), and is also
member of the Anthropology Section of the American Academy of Forensic
Sciences (AAFS) and the Latin American Association of Forensic Anthropology
(ALAF). Since 2006, his professional activity has being linked with humanitarian
action, working as a forensic consultant with national and international organiza-
tions and institutions in a variety of contexts and scenarios around the world. He
is currently a member of the Forensic Advisory Board (FAB) of the International
Committee of the Red Cross and external expert of the Ombudsman Office in the
National Mechanism of Prevention of Torture. He also takes part in different
projects of the Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team (EAAF) and is involved in
cases related to the missing from the Spanish Civil War.
Robin Ramey is an archaeologist in Fairfax County, Virginia, USA. Robin received
a Bachelor of Arts in Archaeology as well as a certificate in Geographic Information
Systems (GIS) from the University of Mary Washington. She also earned a Master
of Arts in Anthropology and a graduate‐level GIS certificate from North Carolina
State University. Robin has worked at various historical sites throughout Virginia,
including Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello and George Washington’s boyhood
home, Ferry Farm. Currently, Robin works as an archaeologist for the Fairfax
County Park Authority. Robin’s research interests include the history and prehis-
tory of the mid‐Atlantic region, plantation archaeology, the archaeology of slavery,
and the utilization of GIS in the management and interpretation of cultural
resources.
Michael P. Richards, PhD, FSA, FRSC, is an archaeological scientist who
applies methods such as isotopic analysis to determine past human and animal
diets and adaptations. Before joining (returning to) Simon Fraser University,
Burnaby, Canada, he was a Professor at the Department of Human Evolution at
the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology (Leipzig, Germany) and
Regional Delegation for Bolivia, Ecuador and Peru. She has also worked as
Coordinator of the Legal Department at the ICRC’s Delegation in Colombia
(2012–2014) and as a legal adviser to the operations at the ICRC’s Delegation
in Afghanistan (2015–2016) and at the ICRC’s Sub‐delegation in Erbil, Iraq
(2016–2017). Ms Silva is an ICRC legal adviser with experience in providing oper-
ational legal advice on international humanitarian law (IHL), its implementation
as well as on the standards of international human rights law (IHRL) on the regula-
tion of the use of force and the protection of persons in other situations of violence.
Kate Spradley, PhD, is a Professor of Anthropology and Director of Operation
Identification at Texas State University, and a biological anthropologist. Her
current research trajectory focuses on human migration, death, and migrant
identification. She focuses on documenting migrant burials, understanding insti-
tutional barriers and decision‐making processes concerning migrant deaths, and
improving efforts towards identification through quantitative analyses. Her inter-
disciplinary research on migrant identification is an example of scholarship of
engagement, and involves partnerships and collaborations with various external
organizations and other scientists to address community needs.
John E.B. Stewart, PhD, earned a baccalaureate degree in Zoology from the
University of California at Berkeley, a Master of Arts degree in Biological Sciences
(Population Genetics) from North Texas State University, and a doctorate in
Molecular Biology from the University of North Texas. He is employed by the
Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Laboratory Division since 1996, and is trained
and qualified as a Forensic Examiner in mitochondrial DNA analysis. In 1999,
John initiated and developed the FBI’s National Missing Person DNA Database
Program, and was selected in 2015 as a Supervisory Forensic Examiner in the
FBI’s DNA Casework Unit. He is a former member and Chair of the Scientific
Working Group on DNA Analysis Methods (SWGDAM) Missing Person/Mass
Disaster subcommittee, and a former board member of the National DNA Index
System (NDIS) of the Combined DNA Index System (CODIS). He has testified in
over 40 State, Federal and international court proceedings as an expert in mito-
chondrial DNA analysis.
Maryna Steyn, PhD, is a biological anthropologist who qualified as a medical
doctor in 1983 (University of Pretoria) and then obtained a PhD from the
University of the Witwatersrand in 1994. As a specialist in human skeletal remains,
she consults to the South African Police Service and Forensic Pathologists on
decomposed and skeletonized human remains, and holds a level 1 accreditation
as forensic anthropologist from FASE (Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe).
In the past 25 years she has completed more than 400 forensic anthropological
case reports and has been involved in several high‐level investigations and repa-
triations. She played a pivotal role in establishing forensic anthropology as a sub-
discipline in South Africa, resulting not only in the training of many postgraduates,
but also in bringing case analysis into the formal stream of investigation. Maryna’s
research in this regard has played a major role in the setting of standards, which
brought much international attention, such that South Africa is regarded among
the leaders in this field internationally. She conducts research on human remains
from forensic contexts and archaeological sites, focusing on skeletal identification
and palaeopathology. In 2007, she received a diploma of appreciation from the
United Nations (Department of Peacekeeping Operations) for work done on two
aircraft accidents in Angola. She has published ±130 papers in scientific journals,
as well as several book chapters. She is co‐author of the book The Human Skeleton
in Forensic Medicine. Maryna is a member of the editorial board of Forensic Science
International and Associate Editor: Anthropology, Archaeology and Palaeontology
for the South African Journal of Science. She was the director of the Forensic
Anthropology Research Centre (FARC) at University of Pretoria until 2015 when
she joined Wits. She is currently the Head of School of Anatomical Sciences at the
University of the Witwatersrand, and Director of HVIRU (Human Variation and
Identification Research Unit). Maryna now serves her second term as President of
the Anatomical Society of Southern Africa, and serves on the boards of FASE and
the IACI (International Association for Craniofacial Identification).
Jill Stockwell, PhD, is a social anthropologist and an Advisor on Missing Persons
and their Families with the ICRC. She is the author of Reframing the Transitional
Justice Paradigm: Women’s Affective Memories in Post‐Dictatorial Argentina (2014) as
well as the founder of “Cultural Memory” – an online oral testimony project for
women who have experienced armed violence, human rights abuses or traumatic
displacement.
Joel Tejada, MA, is a forensic and cultural anthropologist. He graduated from
San Marcos University in Lima (2006) and from the Catholic University of Peru
(MA) in 2008. He works in the Office Searching for Missing Persons in the Ministry
of Justice and Human Rights in Lima, Peru, and he is a member of the Latin
American Association of Forensic Anthropology. His forensic experience includes
work with the Forensic Anthropology Team (EFE) of the Legal Medicine Institute
of the Public Ministry. With the Peruvian Team of Forensic Anthropology (EPAF)
(2011), he worked in Guatemala and the Democratic Republic of Congo. In 2012
he did an internship program in management of ante‐mortem/post‐mortem data
in the Unit of Forensic Services of the International Committee of the Red Cross
in Geneva.
Richard M. Thomas, PhD, D‐ABFA, is a forensic anthropologist at the FBI
Laboratory. He received his BA in Anthropology from Northwestern University,
and an MA and PhD in Biological Anthropology from Pennsylvania State
University. From 2003–2010, he worked in the mitochondrial DNA Unit conduct-
ing forensic anthropology casework and producing DNA sequence data for the
National Missing Persons DNA Database. Since 2010, he has worked in the Trace
who examines the health and biocultural effects of ancient imperialism, colo-
nialism and state decline in the Peruvian Andes. Her research foci include palaeo-
pathology, violence‐related trauma, dietary reconstruction and the study of
migration using isotope analyses, the use of the body and body parts in rituals,
and bioarchaeological perspectives on embodiment. She is the author of the book,
Violence, Ritual, and the Wari Empire: A Social Bioarchaeology of Imperialism in the
Ancient Andes (University Press of Florida). She has published in the American
Journal of Physical Anthropology, Current Anthropology, Cambridge Archaeological
Journal, Journal of Archaeological Research, Journal of Archaeological Science‐Reports,
Journal of Anthropological Archaeology, and Latin American Antiquity, among others.
She enjoys conducting interdisciplinary research and is a frequent collaborator
with scholars from Peru and around the world.
Viviana Uribe Tamblay is a defender and activist in human rights from Chile,
and is Administrative Manager of the Special Unit of Forensic Identification of the
Forensic Service of Chile. She has been a researcher and collaborator in publica-
tions on the serious violations of human rights in Chile (forced disappearance,
political execution and torture), including “Todas íbamos a ser reinas” (1990), a
study on women detainees who were pregnant and were arrested and disap-
peared in Chile and Argentina; “La gran mentira” (1994), the case of the lists of
the 119 in the psychological war of the Chilean dictatorship, 1973–1990; “Más
allá de las fronteras” (1996), a study on executed Chileans and disappeared
detainees from outside Chile; and “Páginas en Blanco” (2001), September 11 at La
Moneda. From 2010 to date, she is the President of the non‐governmental
organization CODEPU, Corporation for the Defense of People’s Rights.
Luciano O. Valenzuela, PhD, is an assistant researcher at the Consejo Nacional
de Investigaciones Científicas y Técnicas (CONICET) and Universidad Nacional del
Centro de la Provincia de Buenos Aires (UNCPBA) in Argentina, and a research
assistant professor at the University of Utah (USA). His research has focused on
the use of stable isotopes to study animal and human movement across land-
scapes. He has worked on animal migration and conservation of marine species.
Nowadays his research focuses on the use of stable isotopes for human prove-
nancing in South America. He is also interested in applying stable isotopes to
study the effects of dietary transitions on human health. Dr Valenzuela received a
Licenciatura degree in biological sciences from the University of Buenos Aires,
and a PhD in biology from the University of Utah.
María del Carmen Vega Dulanto, PhD, is an Adjunct Professor in the
Department of Humanities at the Pontifical Catholic University of Peru (PUCP)
and the Curator of Physical Anthropology at the National Museum of Archeology,
Anthropology, and History of Peru. She earned her PhD in Anthropology from the
University of Western Ontario (Canada), an MA in Forensic Anthropology and
Bioarchaeology (PUCP), and a BA in Archaeology (PUCP). Dr Vega has a long
experience in the analysis of human remains from archaeological and forensic
contexts. She was awarded a Western Humanitarian Award for her work with the
Peruvian Forensic Anthropology Team (EPAF), working to identify victims of
human rights abuses dating to the 1980‐1990s internal armed conflict in Peru.
She was also awarded a Vanier Fellowship in recognition of her academic achieve-
ment, her record of scholarship and her humanitarian work.
Claudia Vega Urueña, DDS, is currently working as a forensic odontologist for
the Search Unit for Persons Disappeared (UBPD) in Bogotá, Colombia. She has
five years of experience as an expert in forensic dentistry and human identification,
in the National Forensic Pathology Group of the National Institute of Legal
Medicine and Forensic Sciences, Bogotá. She is also a University professor of
forensic dentistry.
Albarita Vitale is a graduate in biology. She worked at LABANOF as a forensic
anthropologist, with a Postgraduate Grant from “Cariplo” (Young Researcher’s
Grant), for which she worked on the identification and anthropological examina-
tion of victims of the major disasters of the Mediterranean in Italy.
Jairo Vivas Díaz, MD, is currently the Director of the Search, Recovery and
Identification Department of the Search Unit for Persons Disappeared (UBPD) in
Bogotá, Colombia. He is a forensic pathologist and university professor. He worked
at the National Institute of Legal Medicine of Colombia for 19 years, seven of
them as coordinator in the National Forensic Pathology Group.
Carlos María Vullo, PhD, is a biochemist, graduating with his licentiate from
the National University of Córdoba, Argentina. He has obtained his PhD in
Chemical Sciences, also from the National University of Córdoba, Argentina. He
founded the Histocompatibility and Immunogenetics Laboratory at the University
Clinic Hospital in Córdoba, Argentina, where he was Director from 1982 to 2003.
He has also been Director of the Immunogenetics Laboratory (LIDMO, Córdoba,
Argentina), working on Immunogenetics for organ transplantations since 1985
until today. He has been involved in population genetics research of different
ethnic groups for the last 30 years. He became Director of the Forensic DNA
Laboratory for the Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team (EAAF) in 2005. He
has applied forensic genetics for human identification of victims of human right
violations in different Latin American countries such as Argentina, Uruguay,
Bolivia, El Salvador, Paraguay and Mexico. In addition, he has worked on similar
cases from South Africa, East Timor, Nigeria, Central African Republic, and
Vietnam among others. He has conducted training sessions in forensic genetics for
scientists from El Salvador, Bolivia, Peru, Thailand, Vietnam and Chile among
others. He has published more than 60 scientific papers and seven book chapters
concerning immunogenetics and forensic genetics for missing person identification.
Christiana Zenonos has studied History & Archaeology and Greek Literature
(MA) at the University of Crete. She has been working for the Committee on
Peter Maurer
President, International Committee of the Red Cross
Fragility, violence and conflict are a reality of our world today, in places like
Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq, Yemen, South Sudan, Lake Chad or in Central America.
In the conflicts in which the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC)
works we have seen how the dynamics of conflict have changed enormously in
recent decades. Today, conflicts are more urban, more protracted and the battle-
field has fragmented, with an increasing number of actors now fighting.
Additionally, concerning trends are converging which are leading to increased
fragility: violence, underdevelopment, injustice, exclusion and the impact of
climate change. And the result is devastating. Decades of fighting and insecurity
and ongoing violations of international humanitarian law are destroying basic
social infrastructure, as well as health, sanitation and water systems, and are stall-
ing education and economic development.
The upheaval and uncertainty of conflict is crippling, leaving physical injuries
and psychological scars. When I speak with people in conflicts around the world,
too many have unanswered questions about their loved ones who have gone
missing. There are parents searching for children, wives searching for husbands.
Others are grieving after a death, but still seeking information, or the return of
remains, and suffer ongoing trauma.
As the face of conflict changes, we need to understand how forensic science can
step up to these new challenges and strengthen the humanitarian sector’s action.
While the application of forensic science in the humanitarian and human rights
domains is not new, the past few decades have seen it rapidly catalyse, and greatly
support the response of organizations across the globe to communities affected by
war, violence and migration.
Across the humanitarian field there has been a growing trend toward speciali-
zation, and forensic science is notable in this regard. With transformative advances
in areas of forensic science, such as genetics, we can see opportunities for its
increased application across the globe.
This will not be without its challenges, with growing expectations and hopes
from society for what can be achieved. The need to balance these expectations
within the complex demands of operating in a conflict environment will be key to
ensuring that we can provide timely responses that will deliver for those who
need them most.
The new challenges before us require an adapted response. Today’s mass graves
are more often in urban settings, with large numbers of dead civilians trapped in
lvii
collapsed buildings and structures. As the forensic community has advanced its
understanding of recovery of the dead from mass graves over the past decades, it
must now work to respond to evolving landscapes and challenges. The need to
work across and within professions has never been clearer.
The ICRC hired its first forensic specialist in 2003, and today it is difficult to ima-
gine its humanitarian response without the integration of forensic science. Today
the ICRC has more than 70 forensic specialists located across the globe, working
as part of multidisciplinary teams to respond to humanitarian needs emanating
from conflict, migration and disasters. With experts in a diverse range of forensic
fields, including anthropology, pathology, odontology, and growingly genetics,
the ICRC is continuing to build its response to the needs on the ground.
There is little doubt that forensic science will continue to play an important role
in the humanitarian sphere for years to come. We have seen a growing interest
and engagement from the forensic community, with the emergence of forums,
academic research, and forensic centres dedicated to the understanding of how to
apply forensic science to the humanitarian sphere. Continued collaboration will
be key, if we are to put in place the structures and capacity to respond to the
evolving humanitarian consequences across the globe.
The ICRC calls on the forensic community to work together in achieving this
goal. Through emerging professional networks and forums, there is no reason
why this cannot be possible.
The ICRC’s new Institutional Strategy 2019–2022 reaffirms the organization’s
commitment and ambition to put affected people and communities at the centre.
We must listen more closely and understand their needs in order to design
responses using forensic science that bring the answers they need.
It is clear that a humanitarian response using forensic science will not be the
same in Iraq, for example, as it might be in Ukraine, South Sudan or Venezuela,
but we do know how critical it will be to people who every day await answers
about their missing loved ones, and to ensure that, in death, dignity is not lost.
Susan M. Ballou
President, American Association of Forensic Science
This book captures a large collection of topics that spark interest within the forensic
science community. Some of the topics – missing individuals, environmental
factors, DNA, kinship, legal disparities and the forensic process – trigger friendly
discussions in the hallway, at lunch, or at the bar. I confess, I have an optimistic
outlook on life so naturally I selected the word “friendly”. The word gives a vision
of synergetic relationships between experts in the different branches of science
working toward a common goal. This “friendly” environment exists, although
some of those “friendly” discussions turn into passionate arguments that continue
through a lifetime. These provocative attitudes and the truly friendly ones are
integral to the process of strengthening science. If everyone agreed on every point,
the impetus to explore alternatives would halt and our knowledge and growth
would stagnate.
Over the years, researchers and some forensic scientists have tested the bound-
aries of proffered methods, practices, and techniques. Dr Alexander Gettler, the
“father of forensic toxicology in America” is a perfect example. He was known for
developing new methods when a case required it and tweaking other methods to
address new demands. This type of ingenuity has generated an abundance of test
methods. Unfortunately, this has caused a quandary in our profession. With so
many methods and practices to choose from, how does an agency know which is
the most appropriate one? Laboratories tend to select methods that their analysts
are familiar with and that allows the use of existing instrumentation and space.
Once a method is chosen, analysts tend not to deviate from it, passing it to new
hires by demonstration or shorthand notes. Generally, though not always, the
required references to support the selected method are passed along as well. Most
analysts do not see an issue with this practice. Their reasoning might be that the
method has been used for over 100 years, it produces the expected results, and it
has not been challenged. Therefore, they might think, what is the issue? The issue
is that many of these methods have not undergone sufficient validation studies to
demonstrate fitness for purpose – that is, that the methods are appropriate for
testing a specific type evidentiary material and that the laboratory has confirmed
the performance of the instrumentation, reagents and consumables. In addition,
the laboratory must demonstrate that the selected method is reproducible and
repeatable and that it has undergone peer review.
Over the years the process of shoring‐up the selected methods and practices
was unclear, but it was evident standards would have to be created. In 1974, a
lix
Science (AAFS) President, Dr Victor Weedn, and the AAFS Board of Directors,
saw the opportunity to utilize the wealth of the Academy’s expertise and
knowledge within its 11 sections. AAFS sought and obtained a funding source
that would support the creation of the AAFS Standards Board to include the
Academy Standards Board (ASB) and multiple Consensus Bodies for the creations
of standards. The ASB works directly with the Organization of Scientific Area
Committees for Forensic Science (OSAC) that maintains a national registry of
forensic standards. There is also the International Organization for Standardization
(ISO) and the American National Standards Institute (ANSI). Once standards are
created, they are incorporated into other processes such as accreditation and
certification.
Regarding accreditation, in 2016 the Bureau of Justice Administration (BJA)
released a report entitled Publicly Funded Forensic Crime Laboratories: Quality
Assurance Practices, 2014. This document reported that between 2002 and 2014, the
percentage of 409 crime laboratories that had achieved accreditation rose from 70
to 88%. One reason for this increase was anticipation of the 2015 announcement
by the United States Department of Justice (USDOJ) that its laboratories, and
other laboratories seeking federal funding, would have to achieve accreditation.
Another reason was that state forensic science commissions had identified failures
by laboratories to maintain well‐functioning equipment and proper storage of
evidence. Revelations in the media of unacceptable or erroneous practices also
contributed to the increase in accreditation. The BJA report further stated that,
“Forensic crime labs develop quality assurance practices and implement them to
reduce errors in forensic techniques and analysts’ interpretation. These practices
also help improve consistency across practitioners. Practices such as obtaining
professional accreditation, testing the proficiency of analysts, and external
certification of analysts are regarded as benchmarks for measuring compliance to
industry‐established best practices.” This document can be found at: https://www.
bjs.gov/content/pub/pdf/pffclqap14.pdf.
Although the above information provides a strong argument for achieving
accreditation, management should understand that completing this activity is
only part of the quality assurance triangle. Once the triangle is applied, the whole
process should be externally reviewed to ensure it is not self‐serving. Meaning,
when laboratories check their own processes there is a chance that errors or
inadequacies are overlooked. An external review conducted by an agency unas-
sociated with the laboratory under evaluation may identify previously missed
issues. Labs should also review critical reports such as the 2009 NAS report and
the 2016 report from the United States President’s Council of Advisors on Science
and Technology (PCAST), entitled Forensic Science in Criminal Courts: Ensuring
Scientific Validity of Feature‐Comparison Methods. Although management may firmly
believe the best methods, processes, equipment and education are already in
place, a critical internal assessment is essential. This is the best way for forensic
science organizations to improve their professional standing and, more
importantly, fulfill their service to their communities and the larger society that
rely on them to produce reliable results.
The chapters in this book will provide insights on methods and procedures and
will inspire ways to tackle troubling issues. The book will also describe issues that
have not previously been discussed. When reading, I urge you to keep in mind
that published and validated standards are the essential building blocks of a reli-
able system of forensic science.
Oran Finegan
Head of Forensic Unit, International Committee of the Red Cross
Today the application of forensics in the humanitarian sphere is no longer a new
field of practice, but it is certainly one that is still evolving. Debate can continue as
to when this field emerged, but without doubt it is truly with us today in the day‐
to‐day engagement of various actors, both local and regional, and internationally
around the world. Certainly the field of humanitarian forensics has seen its role
catalysed over the past few decades through advancements in forensic science.
The past 15 years alone has seen seismic changes, both in terms of the science and
lessons learnt from its application. From the engagements in Latin America and
the Balkans, to the very different humanitarian reality we find ourselves in today,
we have seen great leaps in the fields of forensic genetics, forensic anthropology
and forensic archaeology, to name but a few.
There is also a growing awareness, interest, and engagement of local forensic
actors. We see calls for support on the rise, and the development of new centers
of expertise around the globe. The recent establishment of the International
Centre of Humanitarian Forensics in Gujarat, India, is one such example. The
days of large‐scale substitution by international actors seems to be increasingly a
thing of the past. Supporting local capacity and infrastructure, where feasible, is
proving to be the path most actors are now following.
We have also importantly seen the changing face of conflict itself, with today’s
battlefield a much more complex place, with protracted conflict, a proliferation of
actors, and a growing number of non‐state armed groups, decreasing access for
humanitarian actors, and criminality all seen as key components. In addition, we
see battles fought more and more in urban settings, with the knock‐on impact on
the civilian population, and the targeting of health infrastructure, which more
often than not includes forensics facilities and practitioners. Attacks on forensic
practitioners themselves are also an issue of concern. We also see growing levels
of armed violence and the targeting of women, with the growing phenomenon of
femicide.
These changes in the humanitarian environment will require the forensic
community to orientate its approach in order to respond to these changes. Failure
to do so will seriously impact on its ability to respond to the needs of today, never
mind the future. Understanding the advances in forensic science alone will not be
enough. The great differences we see globally in terms of the types of conflict and
disasters, and the growing migration crisis, will require the forensic community to
understand better this diverse range of environments. The challenges and situation
lxiii
on the ground, in contexts like Yemen, differ greatly from those of Iraq, Ukraine
or Mexico. While all these contexts would benefit from a robust engagement from
the field of forensic science, it would be naïve to think the approach could be the
same. We must be more cognizant of the need for a contextualized response, and
one that first and foremost includes a close engagement with the affected
population itself, to ensure that any planned programs have clearly in focus the
society itself, in terms of its own culture and needs. Working hand in hand with
communities on the ground should be at the heart of the humanitarian forensic
response.
The application of forensics in the humanitarian sphere sits at a pivotal moment
in its development – one that will define it for decades to come. There can be little
doubt a great deal has been learnt over the past couple of decades. However, while
great progress has been made, allowing for forensics to play a key role in the
identification of persons unaccounted for in conflict and bringing persons to
account for their acts, large parts of the world have been unable to benefit from
these advances. Awareness surrounding the role forensics can play in this domain
is certainly much greater, but this has also led to raised expectations, which often
cannot be met. There is a need for forensic practitioners, and the humanitarian
community as a whole, to be cognizant of this and ensure a responsible approach
so that expectations can be managed. While in theory a great deal more is possible
today than 30 years ago, the practical reality often does not match up. More than
ever the affected population, in situations of humanitarian crisis, expects answers,
whether they be in terms of an identification or justice. The forensic community
must keep this at the front of their thinking when engaging in programs and
activities.
All this said, what is it that today’s forensic practitioners can contribute in the
humanitarian sphere? One could suggest that, with growing advances in forensic
science, the door has opened to allow for the dead to no longer be silenced, and
for their last moments to be heard by all who want to listen, be it families, courts,
or society at large. Forensic practitioners are in a unique position, in so far that
they could be considered the modern‐day mediums for the dead. They hold the
key to help unlock the identity of the dead, and tell the story of their last moments,
and how they met their fate. Such a position bears great responsibility, as it is the
forensic practitioner who can be that voice for the families, the courtroom and
the historian, to name but a few.
For the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) the application of
forensics in the humanitarian sphere is a key component of many of its programs
today across the globe. It recognizes the important role that forensic science can
play in assisting states in fulfilling their obligations towards the dead under
International Humanitarian Law (IHL), and by playing a key role in providing
answers to families who have lost someone in times of conflict or disaster. The
ICRC focuses its efforts on supporting authorities and actors across the world to
develop their forensic capacity to ensure that states have the ability and means to
live up to their commitments towards the dead under IHL, and where possible
allow for the clarification of the fate of those who become unaccounted for in
situations of conflict, disasters and migration.
From its early beginnings to today, the application of forensic science in the
humanitarian sphere has grown globally. I firmly believe that we are entering a
new era in its application, and that the ongoing developments of fields such as
forensic genetics will only see a stronger role of forensics in this domain in the
coming decade. That said we must also remember that while in theory the poten-
tial role for forensics is clearer, we must also remember that many parts of the
world have not been fortunate enough to profit from these advances. States and
the wider international community must do more to recognize the gaps that exist
globally in this respect, and look to find ways to ensure that more practitioners
benefit from the advances in this field. The forensic community must raise its
voice to ensure this message is heard and acted upon.
The place of forensics in the humanitarian sphere is now very much a reality.
With over 70 staff positioned around the globe in 2019, the ICRC sees the benefits
that forensic science can bring to the lives of those affected by disasters and armed
conflict, and also by ensuring that those who lose their lives can be afforded the
dignity they deserve and are entitled to under IHL. I firmly believe that by working
together, all forensic actors engaged in the humanitarian and human rights sphere
can make a difference, and help in addressing the growing challenges being faced
in this domain. Together, as a community, we can make the coming decade one
where forensic science can play an even greater role in positively changing the
lives of those affected by conflict, disaster and migration.
The forensic sciences represent diverse, dynamic fields that seek to utilize the very
best techniques available to address legal issues. Fueled by advances in technology,
research and methodology, as well as new case applications, the forensic sciences
continue to evolve. Forensic scientists strive to improve their analyses and inter-
pretations of evidence and to remain cognizant of the latest advancements. This
series results from a collaborative effort between the American Academy of
Forensic Sciences (AAFS) and Wiley to publish a select number of books that
relate closely to the activities and Objectives of the AAFS. The book series reflects
the goals of the AAFS to encourage quality scholarship and publication in the
forensic sciences. Proposals for publication in the series are reviewed by a
committee established for that purpose by the AAFS and also reviewed by Wiley.
The AAFS was founded in 1948 and represents a multidisciplinary professional
organization that provides leadership to advance science and its application to the
legal system. The 11 sections of the AAFS consist of Criminalistics, Digital and
Multimedia Sciences, Engineering Sciences, General, Pathology/Biology,
Questioned Documents, Jurisprudence, Anthropology, Toxicology, Odontology,
and Psychiatry and Behavioral Science. There are over 7000 members of the
AAFS, originating from all 50 States of the United States and many countries
beyond. This series reflects global AAFS membership interest in new research,
scholarship, and publication in the forensic sciences.
Douglas H. Ubelaker
Senior Scientist
Smithsonian Institution
Washington, DC, USA
Series Editor
lxvii
Forensic science is the application of science to the criminal and civil laws that are
enforced by police agencies in a criminal justice system (Saferstein, 2018). This
general definition is sometimes misinterpreted, focusing on the application of
science to solve crimes. However, “criminal and civil laws” also refer to human
rights. The first right of a person is its identity. The name given by our parents and
our sociocultural environment establishes our identity and defines us for the rest
of our life. Can we lose our identity? Certainly yes, in this case, when the body of
a deceased person becomes an unidentified body, and there is no clue about the
identity of this person. If the identity is not discovered later on, the deceased
person loses all possibility of connectedness with their social and cultural environ-
ment, and consequently with their loved ones, which is called “social death of the
dead” (see Chapter 6, this volume). Thus, a broader definition of forensic science
includes the application of science to human identification, which is a practice
that “reunites human remains with the personhood in life” (Moon, 2017: 270),
and, as consequence, “the dead back into the social order,” re‐establishing identity
and kinship ties with loved ones (Moon, 2017; Gowland and Thompson, 2013;
Chapter 6, this volume). There are hundreds of thousands of situations that
require determination of the identity of a person worldwide. These scenarios
include mass disasters, armed conflicts and migrant crises, among others.
How do forensic scientists contribute to the determination of the identity of a
person? We use a scientific process called identification.1 Previously described sce-
narios deal with different situations that require the application of multidisci-
plinary and interdisciplinary approaches towards this goal. The identification of
human remains2 is a complex process, which requires integration of various
forensic approaches. We need to collect and systematize data, evaluate and verify
the data quality, centralize, organize, compare and analyze all information and
* The views expressed herein are those of the editor Roberto C. Parra and do not necessarily reflect the views of
the United Nations.
1
For a discussion regarding the difference and boundary between identity and identification, refer to Gowland
and Thompson (2013).
2
In general terms that includes, but is not limited to, recent cadavers, severely decomposed, skeletons, etc.
lxix
confirm any findings. One of the forensic science disciplines, forensic anthropology,
applies the knowledge, methods and techniques of human skeletal biology to this
forensic issue: determination of the biological identity through the creation of a
biological profile (sex, age, ancestry, height and pathological conditions) (e.g.
Boyd and Boyd, 2018; Christensen et al., 2014). This profile constitutes what is
called “post‐mortem data”, information retrieved from the skeleton. Forensic
odontology, the application of dental science to the identification of human
remains (Adserias‐Garriga et al., 2018), plays a key role not only in cases of
skeletal remains, but also with fleshed bodies; where it is not possible to deter-
mine the identity for some reason, dental post‐mortem data could help towards
this purpose. The science of DNA has evolved since the discovery of the double
helix configuration by Watson and Crick in 1953 based on Rosalind Franklin’s
previous studies (Watson and Crick, 1953). Later on, Sir Alec Jeffreys and col-
leagues (1985) applied this DNA knowledge to forensic science, developing “DNA
fingerprinting”. His findings were used for a while by the forensic science
community, although these techniques have advanced, and now DNA finger-
printing is based on the determination of the “short tandem repeats” (STRs) pro-
file. Based on the uniqueness (referred to databases) of this profile (except for
identical twins), it is possible to establish the identity of a person. The DNA profile
retrieved from unidentified human remains is also part of the “post‐mortem data”.
“Post‐mortem data” constitute half of the puzzle for the identification of
human remains. Certainly, these three above‐described forensic disciplines,
among others, can help towards this goal, but require the other half of the puzzle:
“ante‐mortem data”.
The “ante‐mortem data” are items of information concerning the individual
provided by the missing person’s family or loved ones and which could be used for
identification. Thus, comparison of ante‐mortem and post‐mortem data can lead
to a positive identification, presumptive identification or an exclusion (Adserias‐
Garriga et al., 2018), or as defined by the Asociación Latinoamericana de
Antropología Forense (ALAF): “identification, exclusion and inconclusive”
(ALAF, 2016).
“Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae” – “this is the place where dead
help the living”: this inscription, found in some morgues, points out the value of
forensic work to understand better the processes leading to the death as well as
the circumstances surrounding the death. In our context, the identification of
human remains, this sentence has to be considered in reverse. As described above,
the gathering of ante‐mortem information is as important as the recovery of post‐
mortem information. Towards this purpose, the families and relatives play a key
role, thus “the living help the dead”, and in reciprocity the symbolic social life of
the dead also contributes to the living. In the words of Jane Buikstra: “They
demand our attention. They demand action that forces the living to think about
what is proper and what is not and act accordingly” (Buikstra, 2017: 295). In this
way, we can talk about the interaction with the dead and the living.
As a result, forensic scientists not only have to interact with the dead – we also
have to interact with the living. This is not an easy task; we have to take into
consideration the grief of the families and relatives. They have lost their loved
ones or they do not know what has happened to them. They are looking for
answers and closure. Therefore, in the quest for ante‐mortem data, forensic scien-
tists have to be very careful in their approach to the families. Their cooperation is
imperative for the main goal of identification of human remains.
Additionally, as important as interacting with the families and relatives, it is
essential to collect ante‐mortem information from physicians, dentists and other
professionals. They will provide medical and dental records that can be crucial for
an identification. However, sometimes it is not possible and then they provide us
with another type of information that comes from their memories; for this,
anthropologists use their social and cultural knowledge to capture this type of
data as ante‐mortem information in a humanitarian context. Forensic anthropology
has then become an applied discipline that encompasses the holistic approach of
anthropology. Furthermore, the understanding of dissimilar social scenarios at a
cultural level, where conceptions about death, health, illness, the meaning of life
and identity may be different, is certainly of vital importance for achieving fruitful
forensic humanitarian actions. Anthropologists can contribute enormously in this
task of understanding the needs of a population affected by the violence, the
needs of the families of missing persons and their expectations.
Hence, both ante‐mortem and post‐mortem data are fundamental for the
identification of human remains. However, and as described above, different
forensic scenarios complicate the retrieval and quality of these data.
This is the focus of this book. Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action:3 Interacting
with the Dead and the Living reflects all aspects related to the forensic identification
of human remains, their posthumous dignity,4 agency,5 the legal foundation that
protects them6 and the impact on the living.
The term “humanitarian forensic science” was first coined by the International
Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) (Cordner and Tidball‐Binz, 2017; Tidball‐
Binz, 2013), defined as “the application of forensic science to humanitarian activ-
ities”. This definition is broader than the scope of this book. This book is focused
on one part of humanitarian activities: that related to the “management of the
dead” in mass disasters, armed conflicts, migration crises, and other situations in
order to identify human remains and understand the impact of such identifica-
tions on their families.
3
“Humanitarian action itself is defined by the ICRC as a range of activities that seek to alleviate human suffering
and protect the dignity of all victims of armed conflict and catastrophes, carried out in a neutral, impartial and
independent manner, free of charge and framed under International Humanitarian Law” (Cordner and Tidball-
Binz, 2017: 65).
4
As highlighted by Antoon De Baets (2009).
5
Laura Ahern (2001: 110) argued that agency is “the socioculturally mediated capacity to act”. For further
discussion about agency, see Janet Hoskins (2006), Tiffiny Tung (2014) and Jane Buikstra (2017).
6
As described in Chapter 2, and in Gaggioli (2018).
This book covers in the first section the legal, historical and social aspects of
missing persons and unidentified bodies, including chapters devoted to human
rights and International Humanitarian Law, and even an interesting approach
from bioarchaeology. Additionally, some chapters point out the importance of the
identification of human remains, theoretical fundamentals, humanitarian actions,
and the return of the human remains to their love ones.
The second section describes the recovery of basic information from missing
persons and unidentified bodies (ante‐mortem and post‐mortem data), including
approaches for the conceptualization, description and location of clandestine
deposit sites with human remains (particularly important in mass graves), as well
as new technologies applied to complex cases.
Following with this line of research, the third section is dedicated to one of the
current trends in forensic anthropology: the use of isotopes to determine the
geographical provenance of the unidentified body. As described in some chapters
of this section, this new technique has become a useful tool to track the “biohistory”7
of unidentified deceased persons. New scientific approaches of this nature open
the door to future scientific discussions.
DNA is a powerful tool for the identification of human remains, but with serious
limitations as well. Section IV describes its contribution towards this purpose, but
also presents its limitations, especially when we lack key ante‐ or post‐mortem
data, including cultural, social and religious cosmovision, even when the analysis
is based over particular population types where the population genetic structure
complicates the process. Additionally, one chapter explains current research
involving non‐STR markers, single nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs), providing
the phenotypic characteristics based solely on DNA of the human remains (hair,
eye and skin color as well as ancestry).
Section V describes the application of forensic science to a variety of scenarios
and the procedures leading to identification of human remains. These include
identification of the migrants along the US/Mexican border, migrants in Europe,
identification of remains from armed conflicts (Argentina, Cyprus, Colombia,
Chile, Peru and Uruguay) and other mass disaster scenarios (Guatemala), as well
as the approaches for identification in other countries or agencies (Australia, Costa
Rica, South Africa, USA).
Consequently, this book is intended as a reference for the legal, social, cultural,
scientific and multidisciplinary aspects of the management of the dead around the
world, mainly focused on the recovery and the identification of human remains,
providing at the same time “food for thought”. While the cases presented in this
book reveal successful identification of human remains, the variety of forensic
scenarios sometimes makes this identification really difficult; thus, there is always
room for improvement, considering the social, cultural and legal aspects. For
these reasons this book seeks to reach a broad audience: from students,
Concept used as described by Claire Moon (2017), and Duncan and Stojanowski (2017)
7
introducing them to forensic science and identification of human remains and the
theoretical foundations of humanitarian action, to forensic scientists, interested in
the aforementioned aspects of identification of human remains, complementing
their knowledge in their fields and at the same time increasing their knowledge in
this topic, hopefully leading to further developments and advances of these legal,
social, scientific and multidisciplinary aspects of humanitarian action and forensic
science.
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18, 123–131.
The editors wish to thank the chapter contributors and the American Academy of
Forensic Science for supporting this volume. Many thanks also to Jenny Cossham,
Emma Strickland, Lesley Jebaraj, Rajitha Selvarajan and Samantha Jones for their
greatly helpful edits and suggestions. We would also like to thank Rafael Valdez
Velazquez‐Lopez of the Pontificia Universidad Catolica del Peru, for his invaluable
support. We would also like to thank the anonymous scientific reviewers. All our
thanks to the President of the International Committee of the Red Cross, Peter
Maurer; the President of the American Association of Forensic Science, Susan
Ballou; and the Head of the ICRC Forensic Unit, Oran Finegan, for their forewords
to this volume.
lxxv
29.1 Introduction
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
459
AIM-SNP 1
AIM-SNP 2
AIM-SNP 3
AIM-SNP 4
Figure 29.1 Pie charts representing the four AIM‐SNP categories using example
opulations (A, B, C). The three colours indicate the different alleles. Graphic adapted
p
after Freire‐Aradas et al. (2019).
AIM‐SNPs are the most suitable markers for inferring BGO, since the detection
of population indicative alleles, whether fixed, specific or skewed in frequency,
provides the information necessary for estimating the BGO of a biological sample.
While it is true that a single SNP has little power by itself, the simultaneous
analysis of a sufficient number of AIM‐SNPs significantly increases the odds of
correctly identifying the population‐of‐origin of the donor of forensic samples.
At present, several sets of AIM‐SNPs covering 34–128 polymorphisms have been
developed, which are able to differentiate the major population groups (Kidd
et al., 2011; Kosoy et al., 2009; Paschou et al., 2007; Phillips et al., 2007).
When selecting AIMs for BGO inference, and in order to avoid biased predic-
tions, it is not only important to identify markers displaying strong divergence
among the target populations, but also to balance the divergence amongst the
main worldwide population groups. This issue is especially relevant when assess-
ing admixed individuals. Even if the major populations are genetically divided as
uniform clusters according to their underlying BGO, some other populations are
characterized by a heterogeneous genetic background. Owing to historical demo-
graphic events, individuals belonging to such population groups have experienced
a process of genetic admixture (Galanter et al., 2012). For instance, Central and
South American population groups generally display a tri‐ancestral pattern, where
the Native American (native continental population), African (from slave trading)
and European components (from European colonization) are stratified at multiple
proportions and combinations in a large proportion of American individuals.
Another example of genetic admixture is observed in some Eurasian populations,
especially those located in the middle of the continent. The absence of strong
physical barriers has reduced the extent of genetic differentiation, and this is
translated into a lower proportion of population‐specific polymorphisms in such
regions of the globe. While those Eurasian regions geographically located at the
extremes of the continent can be well differentiated (e.g. Europe versus Southeast
Asia: Phillips et al., 2013b), supporting the hypothesis that larger physical distances
are directly correlated with larger genetic distances, most allele frequencies from
intermediate regions are genetically overlapping (e.g. Middle East and North
Africa).
Once optimal AIM‐SNPs for BGO inference are selected, the use of proper
statistical tools able to handle the derived genotypes form an important part of the
analyses necessary to interpet the genotypes obtained. For such a purpose, three
main tools are usually applied: Bayes analysis (e.g. using the Snipper Forensic
Classifier or FROG‐kb); principal component analysis, and STRUCTURE (reviewed
in Phillips, 2015). Common to all of these statistical approaches is the fact that a
forensic sample’s marker profile is simultaneously compared with the same
markers in a set of pre‐defined reference populations, in order to assign the
population‐of‐origin of the unknown sample. Currently, most genotypes used as
reference data can be downloaded from two public databases: the CEPH panel
population database and the 1000 Genomes Project.
The HGDP‐CEPH panel (the CEPH human genome diversity panel) database is
composed of about 650,000 SNP genotypes from 1064 worldwide individuals
from Africa, Europe, North Africa, the Middle East, Central/South Asia, East Asia,
Oceania and native America (Cann et al., 2002). The 1000 Genomes Project
encompasses the whole genome sequencing of 2504 individuals from Africa,
Europe, East Asia, South Asia and admixed native Americans (including some
unadmixed Peruvians) (Auton et al., 2015). Both databases are complementary to
each other. Whereas the CEPH panel is more representative in terms of worldwide
population diversity, the 1000 Genomes Project contains the full range of markers
and higher numbers of samples per population. These databases have been previ-
ously explored by multiple studies, recording consistent biogeographical origins
for their sample sets (Li et al., 2008; Rosenberg et al., 2002), and therefore
becoming well‐established datasets for use as reference material for the aforemen-
tioned tools.
In summary; the intercontinental BGO of the donor of a biological sample can
be inferred using current markers and tools. To discover whether a higher level of
resolution could be achieved will be the next challenge to be explored: that is,
intra‐continental or within‐continent differentiation. For such an objective, tech-
nologies that simultaneously sequence hundreds of fragments in the genome will
be necessary (e.g. Next Generation Sequencing technologies), thereby detecting a
higher number of polymorphisms from a single PCR reaction amplifying forensic
material. Lastly, it is important to highlight that AIM markers provide details
about an individual’s BGO, that is, the intrinsic information underlying portions
of their genome. On this basis, most of their physical traits cannot be inferred
from such data. In order to obtain information about physical traits, additional
genetic markers able to directly predict externally visible characteristics are
necessary. These markers are described in the following section.
trait, in particular the X‐linked gene complex AR/EDA2R. This locus plus four
additional genes have been included in a preliminary forensic prediction test for
male pattern baldness inference (Marcińska et al., 2015).
Height is a characteristic with 80% heritability; however, in spite of multiple
studies studying extensive numbers of SNPs, only a minimal percentage of SNPs
have been identified to contribute to inheritance (Lango Allen et al., 2010). This
underlines the complexity of some physical traits, for which hundreds to
thousands of genes could be involved in their expression.
To some extent, facial morphological traits are also explained by complex
genetics, as indicated by a number of disorders that arise from inherited variants
in a limited number of genes important for early craniofacial development. As
mentioned at the beginning of this article, the ultimate goal of the forensic use of
phenotypic markers is to construct a portrait of the donor of a biological sample
found in a crime scene. The inference of facial morphological traits could there-
fore play a pivotal role. Although this area of human genetics still needs extensive
studies, some candidate genes associated with craniofacial morphology have been
reported (Liu et al., 2012). Using 24 SNPs located in these genes, plus markers
informative for biogeographical origin and sex, a preliminary prediction model
has been proposed (Claes et al., 2014). Nevertheless, a full understanding of the
complexity and extensive genetic interactions underlying facial morphology
remains a distance goal.
Certain human physical characteristics undergo alteration during a person’s
lifetime, including, hair colour, onset of male pattern baldness, and facial mor-
phology. Because of this, the estimation of individual age from a biological sample
can be informative by itself, but also for the likely expression of certain physical
appearance traits, where age‐dependent phenotypes are involved.
Like all higher mammals, humans experience phenotypic changes caused by the
process of ageing across a lifetime. Ageing is a biological and natural process char-
acterized by a progressive loss of physiological integrity, simultaneously coupled
to external physical changes. Physical traits such as hair greying, onset of bald-
ness, decline of muscular elasticity and collagen loss, both triggering wrinkles,
provide some degree of visually discernment of an individual’s stage of life.
Although forensic individual age estimation was initially approached by the
assessment of bones and teeth (Baccino and Schmitt, 2006), this was followed by
tests of biomolecules which experience gradual alterations during a lifespan.
Several major constraints existed for the development of these types of forensic
age estimation, including single‐tissue specificity of ageing patterns; high predic-
tive error rates; and technical limitations of the test’s sensitivity. More recently
there has been widespread recognition that the epigenetic patterns of cells undergo
Table 29.1 Summary of age prediction tests based on DNA methylation for blood samples
using a range of different CpG detection technologies. Updated from Freire‐Aradas
et al. (2019).
Many of the CpG sites included in Table 29.1 are located in overlapping genes
among the different proposed tests. Since independent studies, assessing
independent data, have arrived at similar outcomes, the high age‐predictive
power of certain human genes is evident. The most representative example is the
gene ELOVL2, which shows methylation levels that gradually increase during a
lifetime. ELOVL2 is the most widely used gene in tests of age‐correlated markers
in blood (Florath et al., 2014; Garagnani et al., 2012; Hannum et al., 2013;
Johansson et al., 2013), and consequently it is included in several forensic
prediction models listed in Table 29.1 (Aliferi et al., 2018; Bekaert et al., 2015;
Freire‐Aradas et al., 2016; Naue et al., 2017; Park et al., 2016; Zbieć‐Piekarska
et al., 2015; Zubakov et al., 2016).
A common characteristic of several tests listed in Table 29.1 is the reliance on
adult donors. Young individuals (below 18 years of age) are usually either not
included or not represented in sufficient numbers. Studies of methylation pat-
terns in the young are of relevance, not just for more complete forensic analyses,
but also in complex identification cases after mass disasters, or when assessing
individual legal age. It has been observed that at these young ages, DNA methyl-
ation levels for some genes undergo exponential changes that could be associated
with the development of the immunological system (Alisch et al., 2012). These
changes have been explored in detail in a recent publication, where a preliminary
age prediction model based on blood was extended to young subjects between the
ages of 2 to 18 years (Freire‐Aradas et al., 2018).
The main question that arises with regard to tissue source is whether an age
prediction test developed for a specific tissue, such as blood, can also be applied to
other commonly encountered tissue sources (e.g. saliva). Even if the original
test of Horvath was designed to be applied to multiple tissues, when decreasing
the number of CpGs analysed in the forensic age prediction tests, a lack of
Acknowledgements
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Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner (OHCHR), United Nations; and Bioarchaeology and
2
30.1 Introduction
* The views expressed herein are those of the editor Roberto C. Parra and do not necessarily reflect the views of
the United Nations.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
473
# Genetic
# Missing
profile
Persons
quality
Identification Universe
Positive Identification
Availability of relatives
Genetic Structure
and Kinship
Figure 30.1 Workflow in the process of DNA identification (Factors 1, 2 and 3).
of the forensic samples (as bones) a minimum of 12 A‐STR (Prinz et al., 2007;
Van Oorschot et al., 2010).
Likewise, there are international perspectives on how the identification process
should be carried out. We would like to mention two of these that impact directly
on the DNA identification results. One route is to consider the use of DNA testing
as a last step, after the use of anthropological or odontological methods (non‐
genetic tools); the other sees the identification process as being led by the DNA
analysis (DNA‐led). The first approach is low cost, but a poor non‐genetic
identification will adversely affect Factors 1 and 2, so it impacts directly on the
success of the positive identification; while the second approach does not guar-
antee accurate results at least for the Peruvian scenario. Therefore, a balance bet-
ween them could be recommended, in which the first criterion is improved by
sampling for DNA quality control in identified bodies by non‐genetic tools, like an
integration procedure between genetic and non‐genetic lines of evidence.
Likewise, in the case of the reference samples, these should include the relatives
of the missing person with the aim of avoiding stochastic matches in the database
as an effect of Factor 3, which produces false positives. This midpoint criterion or
integration approach has the advantage of having the lowest cost to process sam-
ples from all relatives of the missing person, rather than processing all human
remains. Furthermore, this integration approach reduces the missing data pro-
duced by wrong identifications or false positive matches.
In this context, this chapter aims to address with more emphasis the effects of
genetic structure and kinship (Factor 3) in the identification process of missing
persons in Peru (Andean region). Nevertheless, we consider it necessary to pro-
vide, as a preliminary point, some recommendations for Factors 1 and 2 to reduce
the effect of Factor 3. In this sense, we hope to provide to the reader a wider
strategic vision for using DNA technology in the context of Peruvian missing
persons.
I 1 2
II 3 4
(Donkervoort et al., 2008). For example, take the following family tree
(Figure 30.2). The code of the reference samples is R1‐3‐B1, meaning it is a
reference sample of Family 1, number 3 = son of missing persons and male sex
(odd number), and B = blood sample 1, the same for R1‐1‐B1 and R1‐4‐B1.
The same criteria are used to codify any type of relatedness. In the case of the
unidentified person UP1‐2, the meaning is unidentified persons of family 1,
the number 2 = mother and female sex (pair number). In the case of remains,
the code M0001‐FL1 indicates M = missing persons, body 1, and F = left femur
sample 1. This standardization helps to develop an algorithm for the automati-
zation of match results in the database, and to simplify the analysis when there
are more than one missing in a family tree, even more so in cases of similarity
of genetic profiles by genetic structure.
e. Use good quality DNA, avoiding organic purifications. It is a good option to have at
least one first line of DNA extraction and purification protocol with silica col-
umns and a second alternative protocol with magnetic beads for the fail results
in the first line. Both types of protocol have demonstrated differences depend-
ing on the type of samples used, but these systems have shown the best results
(Davis et al., 2012; Amory et al., 2012). To improve results, the automatization
of these systems is recommended.
f. Combine DNA markers (kits) for genetic profiles in degraded remains. The range of
options can be from a variety of commercial kits, with markers of up to 23 A‐
STR plus Y‐chromosome STR marker in the same kit detected by capillary
electrophoresis, to next‐generation sequencing (NGS) for a set of SNPS markers
or mitochondrial DNA in the same kit. The selection of each system will be a
function of the budget, case type, quantity and quality of DNA in the
samples.
g. Accurate genotypes using standardized thresholds. The maximum processing number
per case with partial profiles or below the threshold or no genetic profile must
be determined. In this context, the international recommendations of param-
eters of genetic profile include the limit of detection (LOD), limit of quantita-
tion (LOQ), stochastic limit, and radio peak height (PHR), among other
parameters. Under low copy number (LCN) conditions, the chances of drop‐
out and drop‐in increase and produce unreliable profiles (Putkonen et al.,
2010). Failure to take caution of the maximum amount of processing per case
can generate excessive reprocessing and imbalance of reagents in each part of
the process, which can prevent identification because of lack of resources.
h. DNA quantification ensures quality in genetic profiles and cost savings. It is advisable
to establish the quantity of human DNA, presence of inhibitors and degrada-
tion, with the aim of selecting samples that may be amplified by combinations
of kits under a criterion of repeatability in markers and samples. In this sense,
one allele is not considered if it does not have at least one confirmation in
markers and/or samples (Bright et al., 2012).
When the A‐STRs pass the established quality standards in the genetic profiles of
the remains and relative database, the reliability of a genetic similarity between
them will depend on the genetic structure of the population and their degree of
intra‐population kinship (Factor 3), which correlates directly with the effective
population number (Ne, associated with allele transmission at next generation) and
gene flow within populations (related to inbreeding) and between populations
(related to genetic distance as Fst or theta).
In order to assess the effect of individual genetic similarity in the random
matches, in the context of DNA identifications of missing persons in Peru, we
performed a simulation with the aim of comparing the effects of the level of sub-
structure in the random matches. We generated 1000 random genetic profiles
(1000 non‐related individuals) and simulated two levels of bottleneck for the loss
of 10% and 3% of total alleles at each A‐STR marker considered in the study.
Then, the random genetic profiles were compared by an algorithm generated in‐
house called ALIGEN (http://www.adnsoluciona.com). The results showed a high
probability of random matches (more than two matches) with 16% of unique
profiles for the loss of 10% of alleles, and in the case of the loss of 3% of alleles,
showed fewer random matches, with unique or two matches at 44% (Iannacone,
2009; Kracun et al., 2007; Biruš et al., 2003). So, the genetic structure must be
taken into consideration to decrease false positives at the time of matching with a
genetic database.
As a preventive action to reduce the risk of wrong identification by genetic sim-
ilarity, it is recommended that limits of the false positives and negatives (two
limits) are established. In this sense, the range between the two limits corresponds
to the inconclusive results, which is the limit of non‐overlapping curves for
positive and negative results. These limits should be considering for the acceptance
of a genetic profile: likelihood ratio (LR), a priori probability and posterior proba-
bility. For example, in the case of the LR, we can calculated the lower limit as v/
(1 − p) and the upper limit as v2/(1 − p), where v is the number of victims and p
is the expected posterior probability. For example, if we have a case with 10 victims
and a limit of posterior probability of 99.9%, the a priori LR lower limit is 10,000
and the upper limit is 100,000. Then, the results between this ranges should be
Table 30.1 Comparison of the combined STR commercial kits for fragments lower than
250 bp. The numbers are the expected success of these STR markers.
Globalfiler 12
24plex QS 16 10
Powerfusion 5C 14 14 10
Powerfusion 6C 15* 15* 11 11
Minifiler 18* 15* 16* 16* 6*
* The FGA alleles from 42.2 to 51.2 in the ladder are not considered.
Man Priority Priority All possible/ All possible/ Preference for both sides, Not related to each All possible/
preference man preference man but if not possible, the other/ father’s side preference
father’s side man
Score for 10 10 10 5 2 (plus 4 if there are all 1.5 1.5
man or the grandparents)
woman
Woman Priority Priority All possible/ man All possible/ man Preference for both sides, Prefer not related to All possible/
and woman and woman but if not possible, the each other/ man and
mother’s side mother’s side woman
AYACUCHO
APUR+CUSC
PUNO
AREQ+MOQ+TACN
ANCH+LIMNOR
JUNIN+CERPAS
HUAN+UCAY
LIBER+LAMBAY
PIURA+TUMBES
CAJAMARCA
AMAZO+SANMAR
0.001
we found the first older entry to Peru into the Andean region of Cajamarca (north
Peru). After that, the populations migrated to the east, near to the jungle, and
years later migrated to the west near to the coast. The north Peru populations
are more related to Ecuador.
Subsequently, a second migration took place as populations of western Brazil
entered the central region of Peru (Ucayali – jungle) and populated the mountains
in the direction of the coast in the middle of Peru. The last migration was for
populations with the same ancestor of the central Peru area (East of South
America) into the Puno region (south Peru) and populated the mountains in the
direction of the coast in the southern region. Figure 30.3 shows the tree delta‐mu
relationships of Peruvian populations and their geographical distribution.
The colors correspond to the respective genetic populations.
This evidence is also supported by the analysis of Y chromosome haplogroups in
relation to the most recent ancestor analysis, with SNP SA05 and Z19319 ancestry
of 13,433 and 9765 years respectively. In both SNPs the evidence is for an origin
from the southeast of Peru for one group in Peru. In the case of the second group,
their origin is from the northwest of Peru and it has a most recent ancestor with
the SNP SA04 from about 8034 years. So, the evidence is congruent that at least
two sources (east and west of South America) came together in Peru (Iannacone
et al., 2011; Jota et al., 2016).
Additionally, it has been evidenced in north Peruvian populations, such as the
Quechua‐Lamistas, where their genetic signature for mtDNA and Y chromosome
SNP is more related to populations in the north and south of Ecuador (Sandoval
et al., 2016).
Finally, in the case of DNA identification of missing persons and the genetic
structure of Peru, the majority are related to the southern genetic structure (green
area in Figure 30.3). Therefore, in this case, it would be more convenient to
analyse at least a database for central‐southern Peru because it has the same
common ancestor from the east of South America.
COL
ES
BAM
BRA
BA
NSA
PER
SAL
SUR
CHI
AF
MO
Figure 30.4 Tree UPGMA distance matrix of probability of intra‐ and interpopulation
comparison for Y‐STR among the population of Peru studied and other populations
published. PER = Peru, AF = Africa, BA = Basco, BAM = Argentina, BRA = Brazil,
COL = Colombia, CHI = China, ES = Spain, MO = Mongolia, NSA = Native Americans
South America, SAL = Salvador, SUR = Surinam.
population (mwmin), and the minimum matching probability between two popula-
tions (mbmin) (Brinkmann et al., 1999) and the distance proportions of upper
(mwmax/mbmin) and lower values (mwmin/mbmin) showed, in the case of
Y‐STR, that the Peruvian population (PER) was more likely to match with the
native South American Amerindian population, as we found in the tree of matches
(Figure 30.4).
In the case of mtDNA‐HV1, the match of the Peruvian population was closer to
the South American populations than North and Central America populations
(Figure 30.5). In the South American group, the Peruvian study population
(PERNEW) showed greater chance of match with the population of Mexico
(MEX). Chile (CHI) and Colombia (COL) were grouped together because they
have little chance of matching with other groups because of their small number of
haplotypes in the analysis. These results are consistent with the structure in the
South American population that we mentioned above (South America is one
group).
Historically, in Peru the Amerindian structure pre‐Inca and Inca remained
intact until the year 1521, the time of the first arrival of the Spanish in the Peruvian
region. The Spanish colonization, unlike the English colonization of North
America, had an involuntary factor (diseases) that reduced the Amerindian
population. Some estimates place the decline of the Amerindian population at
approximately 95% (15 million people). According to the genetic structure of
Peru, we expect high effective population numbers (Ne) and major variability
within populations rather than among populations (Seldin et al., 2007). This con-
text is different from other South American populations where the Ne and genetic
PERNEW
MEX
BRAZ
PEROLD
ARG
USANAT
PAN
CANDNAT
COS
CHI
COL
Figure 30.5 Tree UPGMA distance matrix of probability of intra‐ and interpopulation
comparison for mtDNA among the population of Peru studied and other native popula-
tions published for America. PERNEW = Peru this study, ARG = Argentina, BRAZ = Brazil,
CANDNAT = Canada, CHI = Chile, COL = Colombia, COS = Costa Rica, MEX = Mexico,
PAN = Panama, PEROLD = published for Peru, USANAT = Native American United States.
variability is higher among populations than within populations, as in the case for
the Colombian population of Antioquia, where the Amerindian content is higher
(90%) at the mitochondrial level, but the Y chromosome shows 94% European,
5% African and 1% Amerindian (Carvajal‐Carmona et al., 2000) or in the case of
Santiago de Chile, where the Amerindian content is less than 30% (Cifuentes
et al., 2004).
Also, consider the admixture component may vary in function in the population;
for example, in Peru one can find populations more isolated by the Andean geog-
raphy which have retained more ancient Amerindian structures. On the other
hand, there are urban populations where the Amerindian component is small.
This gradient of admixture has been observed, for example, in populations of
Mexico. The Amerindian component reaches between 29% to 49%, depending on
the population (Cerda‐Flores et al., 2002; Long et al., 1991). Some Mexican popu-
lations show about 77.5% of the Amerindian component (Martinez‐Marignac
et al., 2007). Identification of Peruvian missing persons can involve an Amerindian
content ranging from 70% to 100%. For this reason, the admixture in the genetic
structure (Factor 3) in the central‐south region of Peru increases the likelihood of
matches in the database and negatively affects the kinship pairwise analysis.
When the genetic similarity is high by alleles identity by descent (IBD) in the
genetic structure (Factor 3), the matches have a greater risk of false positives and
negatives. The false negatives are the most critical, since false positives can be
differentiated using non‐genetic data.
Although the process of DNA identification may take into consideration every-
thing mentioned in this chapter for the universe of the missing (Factor 1), the
presence of mutation and null alleles in the A‐STR is unavoidable. In the case of
null alleles, this differs from drop‐out, because in the best technical conditions it
remains null, unless we change the marker system (primers in different kit) for
the same locus. In the case of drop‐out, this may be improved with better technical
conditions such as quality of DNA, quantity of DNA, PCR conditions, and so on.
In conditions of genetic similarity, the presence of mutations and null alleles
increases the probability of false positive and negatives, as observed in the missing
population and their relatives in Peru. For example, a mutation in one step (+1
tandem or −1 tandem) produces a match in an individual’s presumed sibling, as it
fails only in two A‐STR markers, while the real results without mutation gives no
match as a brother because they fail on three markers. These mutations and null
alleles increase the presence of alleles identity by state (IBS), which are alleles that
do not have a common ancestor (not by inheritance).
It is for this reason that it is important to include in the search algorithms the
criteria of mutation and/or null alleles. In the case of mutations there are three
models: one‐step mutation (−1 tandem or −1 tandem), two‐step mutation (−2
tandem or +2 tandem), and a mixed mutation model which considers the first two
models and gives a differential weight; generally, it has a higher weight for one‐
step mutations (Martinez‐Marignac et al., 2007; Ricciardi and Slooten, 2014).
Then, the matches between the database of genetic profiles of missing persons and
relatives could be:
a. Full genetic profiles with some mutations and/or null alleles.
b. Full and partial genetic profiles where, in some cases, there are mutations and/
or null alleles.
For any of these circumstances, it is recommended to search using two criteria,
The number of sharing alleles for markers and probability of sharing alleles IBDs
in analysis of kinship pairwise is based on the probability of carrying alleles IBD
(K0 = zero IBD alleles, K1 = one IBD alleles, K2 = two IBD alleles). In the case of
the kinship pairwise analysis it is recommended to use two searching criteria such
as the relationship of father–son and brother–brother; this last criterion reduces
the false negatives but increases the possibility of false positives, which could be
checked using non‐genetic information.
With these considerations in the DNA identification of missing persons, we
developed an algorithm called ALIGEN, which was published with the aim that it
can be implemented by any laboratory (Iannacone, 2015). In this algorithm are
two simultaneous search criteria. The first is the search by number of matching
markers pairwise (alignment profiles), which includes the possibility of finding
cases of mutations that can be considered as exclusions. A second search criterion
uses the likelihood ratio (LR) of kinship with two possible options of relatedness.
In the case of partial genetic profiles or failing to share some A‐STR markers, the
algorithm calculates the LR of kinship with the aim of reducing false negatives.
In the case of many fragments, even more so in a substructure situation, the use
of a combination of different systems is recommended.
It is recommended, for an identification in substructure population, to consider
as a first line of analyses the implementation of a database of uni‐parental markers
as for mtDNA or Y‐STR. This allows the grouping of samples (a network of haplo-
types), which then allows for the individualization of the samples and reassocia-
tion of the fragments. Then, the second step is to implement a database of A‐STR
which allows the genetic association of individuals from the groups formed by
uniparental markers, and thus decrease false positives, hence avoiding incorrect
conclusions from random matches.”
Additionally, each fragment of a single set of remains has variability in the
amount of DNA. Those fragments with the most complete A‐STR of the same
individual help to reduce the sample universe to compare with in the database,
hence reducing the computational resource needed for the comparisons.
Finally, in order to simplify and speed up searches with A‐STR, it is recommended
to build a matrix of pairwise comparisons based on sharing alleles, wherein the dis-
tance is expressed by the amount of sharing haploid genetic profiles generated in
two diploid genetic profiles (as a simulated meiosis), in which each of these haplo-
types can be expressed as a numerical quantity. In that sense, the closest simulated
haplotypes, sharing more of these haplotypes, has higher weight. This approach
works well in relationships between parents to son and brothers where it has the
highest percentage incidence in the identification cases. Also, this approach has
been included in the algorithm ALIGEN with the aim of clarifying the complexity of
the genetic structure and aiding with the identification of missing persons in Peru.
We want to emphasize that each context has its own difficulties, it must be
tackled using a holistic approach to the problem that can help detect the best way
to adapt international standards to local contexts. For the Peruvian case, we iden-
tified that the degradation of the bodies and the disintegration of the DNA, the
factors of the genetic structure, the kinship reality (social and biological), the
sociocultural cosmovision (as observed by Bennett, Chapter 33) on the search
areas of missing persons, the expectations of the relatives and other loved ones,
are all sensitive dimensions that can exacerbate the humanitarian forensic work.
To face this problem, a strategy with a global vision of the entire line of evidence
collected, beyond the use of only one criterion (or only the use of one of them to
control another), will be needed, as well as a forensic response that is integrated
and rigorous.
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31.1 Introduction
The forensic identification of deceased persons is undertaken for legal and human-
itarian reasons in a myriad of contexts ranging from man‐made disasters, such as
plane crashes, to natural disasters and conflict between and within States.
In many instances, especially with complex cases and contexts, genetic data has
become one of the critical tools assisting with identification. Since it was first used
in the 1990s for the identification of human remains (Clayton et al., 1995;
Hagelberg et al., 1991; Jeffreys et al., 1992), improvements have been seen in the
techniques for recovering DNA from post‐mortem samples, generating highly
informative profiles, and evaluating the DNA data (Davoren et al., 2007; Edson
and McMahon, 2016; Parsons et al., 2019).
The focus of the chapter will be autosomal short tandem repeat DNA markers
(STRs), which are the mainstay of most laboratories around the world. The pro-
filing of single nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs) with the latest massive parallel
sequencing technology will be introduced.
Since the advent of DNA profiling, genetic markers have been applied to the
identification of biological material recovered from crime scenes and kinship test-
ing (Gill et al., 1985; Jeffreys et al., 1985). Variable number tandem repeats
(VNTRs) were the first DNA markers available to forensic genetics, and while
they were very powerful in some situations, their use was restricted by the
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
491
requirement for relatively large amounts of high molecular weight DNA, and
therefore their application in human remains identification was limited (Olaisen
et al., 1997).
To overcome these limitations, methods were developed that utilized the poly-
merase chain reaction (PCR) and targeted regions of the genome called short
tandem repeats (STRs). This facilitated the analysis of low quantities of DNA and
allowed DNA that was partially degraded to be analysed (Hagelberg et al., 1991;
Jeffreys et al., 1992). Development of fluorescent PCR labels along with slab and
then capillary electrophoresis (CE) marked a step change in the technology and
the widespread adoption of STR analysis.
The human genome has an abundance of loci that can be used for identification.
These include single nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs), short tandem repeats
(STRs), and insertion/deletions (INDELs). While SNPs and INDELs have potential
as marker systems in forensic genetics, especially when coupled with massive
parallel sequencing (MPS) technology, STRs have been and will continue to be,
for the foreseeable future, the genetic marker of choice for most forensic genetics.
Many national forensic providers are, to some degree, locked‐in to using STRs as
they have developed databases of DNA profiles (e.g. criminal DNA databases)
with, in some cases, millions of STR profiles.
The power of STR‐based DNA profiling is rooted in the multi‐allelic nature of
STR loci along with the ability to co‐analyse several loci in one tube (multiplex-
ing), especially when this is coupled with fluorescence‐based detection of the
amplified DNA fragments. Early multiplexes contained only a few loci; for
example, the quadraplex system, first used in the UK in 1994, amplified 4 STR loci
(Clayton et al., 1995). Gradually multiplexes have been developed that incorpo-
rate more and more loci, and several amplification kits that incorporate 20‐plus
STR loci are now commercially available (Table 31.1). Kits have incorporated
autosomal STRs, present on chromosomes 1–22, and a sex marker, the amelo-
genin locus. This is present on both the X and Y chromosomes; it contains a 6 bp
deletion on the X chromosome, thereby enabling DNA to be identified as origi-
nating from a male or female (Sullivan et al., 1993). Additional Y chromosome
markers have been added to more recently developed kits, to make the
identification of sex more robust.
As the human genome was decoded, thousands of autosomal STR loci were
identified. Selecting core STR loci, that is, the ones that should be analysed by all
laboratories, has been a priority of the forensic community; if results from differ-
ent laboratories are to be compared, then the same STR loci must be analysed.
Defining core loci has largely been driven by early adoption of some loci, and
more systematically through national institutions, such as the Federal Bureau of
Investigation (FBI) in the US, and international organizations, such as the
European Network of Forensic Science Institutes (ENFSI). In 1997, the FBI eval-
uated the data available for STR loci and selected 13 to make up the CODIS
(Combined DNA Index System) loci (Budowle et al., 1998). The original CODIS
ESSplex SE Plus
VeriFiler™Plus
NGM Detect™
ESSplex SE QS
Fusion system
NGM SElect™
GlobalFiler™
ESSplex Plus
Identifiler™
18D system
IDplex Plus
MiniFiler™
VeriFiler™
24plex QS
21 system
NGM™
1 CSF1POa
2 D5S818a
3 D7S820a
4 D13S317a
5 TPOXa,d
6 D3S1358a,c,e
7 D8S1179a,c,e
8 D16S539a
9 D18S51a,c,e
10 D21S11a,c,e
11 FGAa,c,e
12 THO1a,c,e
13 vWAa,c,e
14 D2S1338b
15 D19S433b
16 D1S1656b,d
17 D2S441b,d
(Continued)
ESSplex SE Plus
VeriFiler™Plus
NGM Detect™
ESSplex SE QS
Fusion system
NGM SElect™
GlobalFiler™
ESSplex Plus
Identifiler™
18D system
IDplex Plus
MiniFiler™
VeriFiler™
24plex QS
21 system
NGM™
18 D10S1248b,d
19 D12S391b,d
20 D22S1045b,d
21 SE33
22 D6S1043
23 Penta D
24 Penta E
Amelogenin
Sex‐specific
markers
Y‐indel
DYS391
DYS570(RM)
DYS576(RM)
Internal quality control
loci were CSF1PO, FGA, TH01, TPOX, vWA, D3S1358, D5S818, D7S820, D8S1179,
D13S317, D16S539, D18S51 and D21S11. In 2015, seven further CODIS loci were
added: D1S1656, D2S441, D2S1338, D10S1248, D12S391, D19S433 and
D22S1045 (Hares, 2015).
The European DNA Profiling (EDNAP) Group and ENFSI have also been active
in directing the development of STR multiplexes, with a primary aim of facili-
tating the exchange of data across borders. In 1999, the ENFSI defined the
European Standard Set (ESS) as vWA, TH01, FGA, D3S1358, D8S1179, D18S51
and D21S11; in 2009, the ESS was expanded by adding six loci, three of which
were characterized as mini‐STRs with a maximum amplicon size of 123 bp
(D10S1248, D22S1045, and D2S441), and three others: D12S391, D1S1656 and
TPOX (Gill et al., 2006). The recommendations of ENFSI were adopted by the
European Council. The International Police Organization (INTERPOL) has also
defined 7 STR loci as core to facilitate exchange of DNA profiles by members.
Commercial companies have sought to produce commercial kits allowing the
analysis of core loci. Two kits that have been widely used around the world are
PowerPlex 16 (Promega Corporation) (Krenke et al., 2002) and AmpFLSTR
Identifiler (Applied Biosystems) (Cotton et al., 2000), each of which include all of
the original 13 CODIS loci and amelogenin in a single PCR amplification. These
two kits have dominated the commercial market since their introduction in the
early 2000s and are still the primary systems used in several countries. However,
there is a general trend of moving to kits with additional loci (Table 31.1).
The identification of human remains typically relies on kinship testing rather than
direct comparisons of profiles (as is the case with most crime scene analysis).
Whilst the match probabilities achieved with the STR kits containing 15 loci or
more are typically extremely high when comparing full profiles, the same is not
always true in kinship testing. Therefore, for laboratories involved in kinship test-
ing it is desirable to have additional STR markers to utilize in complex cases. For
many years the commercial options have been limited, and common practice in
many laboratories was to use combinations of kits, for example, PowerPlex 16 and
Identifiler, which together provided 17 loci. Supplementary kits are now available
and utilized by many laboratories that undertake kinship testing, allowing tens
of additional loci to be analysed (Table 31.2).
To use DNA evidence for identification, both ante‐mortem and post‐mortem data
are required. Post‐mortem DNA data from deceased individuals can be from soft
tissue if decomposition is not advanced, or skeletal elements that can act as a
PowerPlex® CS7
Chr. STRs
26plex (NIST)
AGCU 21+1*
1 D1S1656
F13B
D1S1677
D1S1627
D1GATA113
2 D2S441
D2S1360
D2S1338
D2S1776
3 D3S1744
D3S3045
D3S1358
D3S4529
D3S3053
4 D4S2366
D4S2408
D4S2364
5 D5S2800
D5S2500
6 D6S474
D6S477
SE33 b
F13A01
D6S1017
7 D7S3048
D7S1517
8 D8S1132
D8S1115
LPL
PowerPlex® CS7
Chr. STRs
26plex (NIST)
AGCU 21+1*
9 D9S1122
D9S2157
Penta C
D9S925
10 D10S1248
D10S2325
D10S1435
11 D11S2368
D11S4463
12 D12S391
D12ATA63
13 D13S325
14 D14S1434
D14S608
15 D15S659
FESFPS
Penta E
16 D16S539
17 D17S1301
D17S1290
D17S974
18 D18S1364
D18S51
D18S535
D18S853
19 D19S253
D19S433
20 D20S482
D20S470
D20S1082
21 D21S2055
Penta D
D21S1270
22 D22GATA198B05
D22S1045
arbour for DNA for years post‐mortem. The collection of post‐mortem data
h
should be mirrored by the collection of ante‐mortem data; as with post‐mortem
data, the type of ante‐mortem data available/collected is context‐ and case‐specific
(Puerto et al., 2014). For DNA analysis there are two main sources of ante‐mor-
tem data. Ideally, a biological sample from the missing person(s) would be used;
this could be a blood sample, a hair sample that contained roots, or biological
material recovered from a personal artefact, such as a razor blade. This may be
viable in some contexts, but not possible in others.
The second option is to collect biological samples, either blood or buccal cells,
from biological relatives; this is dependent on suitable relatives being available.
The choice of relatives is somewhat limited when using autosomal DNA. Children
inherit 50% of each of their parents’ DNA and so have a 50% chance of having
any given piece of DNA in common through descent; this goes on with each gen-
eration, so, for example, grandchildren only have a 25% chance of inheriting a
given piece of DNA from a grandparent. Very quickly the chance of sharing DNA
by descent (IBD) (i.e. directly inherited) is not significantly different to sharing a
given piece of DNA by state (IBS) (i.e. coincidentally sharing the same allele), and
so the power of DNA analysis diminishes.
When the kinship testing suggests an individual cannot be excluded from a claimed
relationship due to allele sharing, the event can then be quantified to assess the
strength of the evidence by calculating the relationship index likelihood ratio (RI‐
LR) (Gjertson et al., 2007; Prinz et al., 2007). Some relationships can be calculated
manually, such as one parent and one child, or two parents and one child. However,
other, more complex pedigrees cannot be routinely assessed without computer soft-
ware (Brenner, 1997; Kling et al., 2014). The effect of using different relatives and
also increasing numbers of STR markers can be seen in Figures 31.1 and 31.2.
In cases that involve one or a few missing person(s), a range of relatives can be
used, and it may be possible to get sufficiently strong likelihoods of identity with
relatives such as siblings. However, in cases of large‐scale identifications, such as
following conflict or natural disasters, it is common to require multiple relatives
in order to get sufficiently high likelihood ratios (Goodwin and Peel, 2012;
National Institute of Justice, 2006).
STR loci have proven to be a powerful tool to assist in the identification of human
remains in multiple contexts. With the latest generation of multiplexes, both core
and supplementary, it is possible to produce extremely high likelihood ratios for
identity in many cases. However, there are some limitations, particularly with the
number of markers that can be analysed in a single reaction, and the length of the
DNA fragments that need to be present in the post‐mortem sample. In addition,
when analysing degraded DNA samples some information will typically be lost as
(a)
15
10
LogLR
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W
Relatives available for testing
(b)
20
15
LogLR
10
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W
Relatives available for testing
Figure 31.1 Boxplots comparing the typical log10 LRs of 23 relationship scenarios
c alculated using DNA.View’s simulation function. The groups of relatives labelled A to W
in the box plots are: A, 1 sibling; B, 3 grandparents; C, 1 parent + half sibling (opposite
side); D, 1 child; E, 1 parent; F, 2 grandparents (different sides) + 1 child; G, 1 parent +
aunt/uncle (opposite side); H, 2 siblings; I, spouse + 1 child; J, 1 parent + 1 sibling; K, 2
grandparents (same side) + 1 child; L, 4 grandparents; M, 3 siblings; N, 1 parent + 1 child;
O, 1 grandparent + 2 children; P, 2 children; Q, 1 parent, spouse + child; R, 2 grandpar-
ents (same side) + 2 children; S, 3 children; T, 1 parent + 2 children; U, spouse + 2
children; V, 2 parents; W, 1 parent, spouse + 2 children. The plot is based on the data
from (a) Identifiler® simulations; (b) Identifiler®plus e‐ESS loci simulations. The groups
of relatives recommended by ISFG are circled. These are: one parent and sibling (J);
children and spouse (I = 1 child, U = 2 children); one parent, spouse and children (Q = 1
child, W = 2 children); and two parents (V). Adapted from Goodwin and Peel (2012).
25
20
15
Log10 LR
10
0
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Figure 31.2 Boxplot comparing the distribution of simulated log10 likelihood ratios for ten
relationship scenarios: (1) one sibling; (2) one parent/child; (3) two siblings; (4) spouse
and child; (5) parent and sibling; (6) two children; (7) one parent and one child; (8)
three siblings; (9) spouse and two children; (10) two parents. The data are based on 100
simulations with DNA.View using data for the PowerPlex 21 loci in an Iraqi population.
Adapted from Farhan et al. (2016).
600
400
200
0
15 19 11
121.35 189.32 252.19
739 331 138
16 19 13
125.50 189.32 260.10
643 331 110
Figure 31.3 Panel from a GlobalFiler kit showing the effects of DNA degradation. Two
loci, CSF1PO and TPOX, have dropped out, reducing the amount of information recov-
ered from this sample.
some of the larger DNA fragments will fail to amplify as the STR alleles are up to
450 bp long (Figure 31.3). STR markers also have a relatively high mutation rate
(around 1 mutation every 300–400 meiotic divisions), which can complicate the
interpretation of kinship tests.
To overcome these limitations, shorter single nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs)
and/or insertion/deletion polymorphisms (INDELs) can be utilized; amplicons for
SNPs and INDELs can be considerably shorter (typically 100–200 bp) and have a
much lower mutation rate than STRs. SNP and INDEL multiplexes have been
developed that can be analysed using the same equipment base, including capil-
lary electrophoresis platforms, that are used for analysis of STRs (Pereira et al.,
2009; Sanchez et al., 2006). However, the assays that are analysed with capillary
electrophoresis are limited to around 50 markers.
Table 31.3 DNA markers included in three commercially available STR‐MPS kits. Data
from https://verogen.com, https://www.thermofisher.com, and Faith and Scheible (2016).
D1S1677 – – 151–191
D1S1656b,d 141–189 161–208 167–215
D2S441b,d 144–180 158–204 163–195
TPOXa,d 85–145 196–244 167–199
D2S1776 – – 163–195
D2S1338b 114–182 197–269 133–197
D3S4529 – – 167–195
D3S1358a,c,e 138–186 192–240 129–177
D4S2408 93–117 – 167–191
FGA a,c,e 150–306 176–268 137–299
D5S2800 – – 171–211
D5S818a 102–150 191–239 141–173
CSF1POa 85–129 185–229 143–183
D6S1043 163–227 – 163–227
D6S474 – – 158–186
Autosomal STRs
DYS393 – 294–256 –
DYS505 154–194 – –
DYS456 – 141–165 –
DYS570 162–214 157–217 –
DYS576 183–235 155–203 –
DYS522 294–334 – –
DYS458 – 171–199 –
DYS481 102–129 139–184 –
DYS19 261–345 168–294 –
DYS391 123–167 147–178 –
DYS635 214–306 155–179 –
DYS437 178–210 181–197 –
DYS439 199–239 204–224 –
DYS389I 231–275 258–294 –
Y‐STRs
DYS389II 255–299 – –
DYS438 144–169 202–242 –
DYS390 242–286 204–248 –
DYS643 115–215 150–210 –
DYS533 198–258 242–284 –
GATA-H4 151–203 231–251 –
DYS612 215–248 – –
DYS385 a 316–354 202–303 –
DYS385 b
DYS460 356–380 – –
DYS549 214–262 189–230 –
DYS392 346–358 143–164 –
DYS448 288–324 213–255 –
DYF387S1a 123–255 _ –
DYF387S1b
DXS10074 211–309 – –
DXS10103 161–185 – –
DXS10135 228–334 – –
X-STRs
DXS7132 176–208 – –
DXS7423 147–215 – –
DXS8378 430–462 – –
HPRTB 193–237 – –
(Continued)
94 ID‐SNPs 63–170 – –
SNPs
56 AI‐SNPs* 73–227 – –
22 PI‐SNPs* 67–200 – –
– – 10 amplicons –
(cover the
Mito
mitochondrial
control
regions)
*
Primer mix B includes the 56 AI‐SNPs and the 22 PI‐SNPs in addition to those markers in primer mix A.
a
CODIS (13 loci).
b
CODIS (20 loci).
c
ESS (7 loci).
d
ESS (13 loci).
e
INTERPOL (7 loci).
Table 31.4 Power of discrimination comparison for four loci by using STR‐CE systems,
MPS systems for variants in the repeat region, and for variants in both repeat and
flanking regions. This study was conducted to examine STR loci variations
for the Korean population (Kim et al., 2017).
Refute
hypothesis of Identification
Collection of
identity
ante-mortem
data
Generate Test
hypothesis of hypothesis of
identity identity
Collection of
Location Recovery post-mortem
data
DNA
Anthropology
Re-association Fingerprints
Odontology
Context information
Anthropology DNA Eye-witness testimony
Personal artifacts
Other relevant data
Figure 31.4 Schematic representation of the different stages in the identification process.
A hypothesis of identification can be generated from a wide variety of sources and then
tested using all the available data. Adapted from Goodwin (2017).
31.8 Conclusions
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The role of forensic genetics in all its applications – the investigation of sexual
offences and homicides, parentage testing and the identification of corpses – has
been recognized by the high level of certainty of its findings, taking into account
that it constitutes objective and reproducible scientific evidence, not dependent
on the expert’s opinion, subject to obsessive quality controls and consensual
methodological protocols, unified and standardized worldwide, in addition to its
possibility of measuring the level of uncertainty of genetic findings in probabilistic
terms.
But in the midst of all the judicial investigations benefiting from DNA analysis,
genetics is proving a major role in identifying victims of great violations of human
rights and international humanitarian law, constituting a special field of applica-
tion that provides particular demands and challenges, not only in terms of meth-
odological protocols, but also in its interaction with the victims and relatives of
missing persons.
This necessarily involves the forensic geneticist in a new role, in which he must
interact with other traditional disciplines specialized in the identification of human
remains, as well as with the communities of victims, who demand to know and
participate in the identification process and request that the geneticist is willing
to put science at the service and understanding of the community of victims.
The above implies a humanitarian attitude in which the victims are the axis and
the final objective of the scientific work, and the forensic expert, knowing the
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
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509
circumstances of the armed conflict that has violated their fundamental rights,
recognizes them as active subjects of the identification process and involves them
in decisions about the planning and development of the forensic process, both in
the search for their relatives, as well as in the identification and the dignified
handing‐over of the corpses, once their identity has been recovered.
This social function of forensics, added to the great impact that genetics has had
on the identification of corpses, has motivated recommendations from scientific
commissions and international organizations to encourage their use in countries
in conflict. In this sense, the United Nations Human Rights Commission, at its
annual Assembly in 2009, generated a recommendation to boost the creation of
this discipline and to promote its development as a key tool in the identification
of persons in the context of IHL (United Nations Human Right Council, 2010;
Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores y Culto and ICRC, 2009).
certainty to consider the body as identified, but often lacked quantifiable and
objective scientific evidence.
For many forensic groups in the world, the advent of forensic genetics at the
end of the 1980s meant a readjustment of their processes, partly because the new
technology made it possible to reach much higher levels of certainty than those
achieved with traditional forensic techniques, and also because it allowed differ-
ent body tissues or fluids to be made accessible to molecular analysis, usually with
highly informative results.
Discarding dactyloscopy in fully skeletonized corpses, genetic study is the only
way to provide quantitative evidence of identity. In principle, the findings of
anthropology and odontology are qualitative, and although they may eventually be
quantifiable (e.g. ante‐mortem and post‐mortem radiological coincidences between
odontological or osteological traits), in practice they are not presented as such; at
best, more value is given to non‐discrepancy than to the coincidence of traits.
Although Alec Jeffreys’s DNA fingerprinting (Jeffreys et al., 1985; Gill et al.,
1985) was initially applied to criminal and illegal immigration investigations, it
was evident from the 1990s that it could be a great tool for identifying human
remains in complex settings such as mass disasters (DVI) and missing persons in
armed conflicts (ICRC, 2009).
In spite of the benefits of DNA, genetic studies were viewed with some caution
by the forensic community because of their high cost, in addition to the long time
taken by the laboratory studies, taking into account that in a significant number
of cases they would be negative, in the sense of not being able to obtain any
results since not infrequently the DNA of cadaveric tissue was highly degraded.
The use of genetics in the process of identifying people in contexts of violations
of human rights and international humanitarian law was developed in the 1980s
in Latin America. In Argentina, a pioneer country, the movement of the
Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo was born, which undertook the search for chil-
dren, many born in captivity, of people who disappeared during the military
government between 1976–1983, and who were then taken over or, as they say
“appropriated,” by families linked to the government (Madariaga and Wulff, 2009)
Facing the great difficulty of recovering the remains of murdered parents, “the
Grandmothers” developed strategies to search for and follow up on the appropri-
ated children. Once located, the suspicious cases required an objective proof that
demonstrated the relationship of “grandparenthood.” This is, perhaps, one of the
best experiences of interaction between the victims’ society and genetic science.
Claiming science as a tool for justice, the Grandmothers found a group of scien-
tists such as Victor Penchaszadeh, Ana María Di Lonardo and Mary Claire King,
among others, (Penchaszadeh, 1992; Di Leonardo et al., 1984; King, 1991) who
developed the mathematical bases to construct the “Grandparenthood Index,”
which would allow them to assess the findings of shared polymorphisms between
grandmothers and grandchildren. At the time of writing, 128 grandchildren have
been recovered thanks to this society of victims and geneticists.
Many historians agree that the armed conflict in Colombia began in the late 1940s,
with 60 years of continuous confrontation in which nearly 300,000 people have
died, the majority of them (83%) civilians, mainly in the last 25 years, associated
with the emergence of the paramilitary phenomenon and the support of drug
trafficking money to all actors in the conflict (Duncan, 2015; Ronderos, 2018).
Today, after the historical La Havana Peace Agreement signed by the Colombian
government and the FARC‐EP (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia)
(Acuerdo Final, 2016), the acts of war have decreased remarkably. Nevertheless,
Colombia is experiencing a resurgence of the violent phenomena derived from
war, involving dissident guerrilla and paramilitary groups clearly associated with
drug trafficking and with a totally delinquent profile. Alongside this problem,
there is the persistence of old guerrilla groups that have not reached peace
agreements and continue to fight, such as the ELN (National Liberation Army).
The characteristics of the Colombian armed conflict are directly reflected in the
complexity of forensic identification work. Many actors were linked to the conflict
(guerrillas, paramilitaries, narco‐traffickers, narco‐paramilitaries, narco‐guer-
rillas, etc.), presenting diverse modus operandi that are reflected in patterns of
injuries recognizable in their victims. On the other hand, the universes of victims
cannot be defined with certainty, so it is not easy to delimit the number of disap-
peared associated with a particular event or a defined geographical region, or even
a specific period of the conflict (Acuerdo Final, 2016).
At present, the National Center of Historical Memory (CNMH) has set at 82,998
the number of cases of forced disappearances in Colombia throughout the history
of the armed conflict (Centro Nacional de Memoria Histórica, 2016, 2018), a figure
that constitutes a forensic challenge for the coming decades. The difficulty in estab-
lishing the size of the universes of victims for specific war events also makes it diffi-
cult to estimate reference populations for the assessment of genetic coincidences.
An additional component of the conflict is that most of the victims come from
geographical areas of humid jungles and tropical plains, with soils of accelerated
organic degradation and high acidity – environmental conditions that facilitate
tissue and DNA degradation, even of calcified tissues, due to high temperatures
and humidity of greater than 70%.
Furthermore, for the state forensic genetics laboratories in Colombia (to date
five), the age of the cases generates several challenges: obtaining DNA from bone
samples degraded in to a high degree, from people who have been missing for 20 to
40 years. During this period the relatives of direct reference have in many cases
died, and there are no informative pedigrees for the genetic study of kinship; in fact,
the number of relatives per victim in the Bank of Genetic Profiles of Disappeared
Persons of Colombia (BPGD) does not even exceed the index of 1.3 (Paredes, 2016).
Finally, an additional effect produced by such prolonged periods of burial is that
it makes it more difficult to detect injuries that report the cause of death and thus
identify the body. In most cases, the necropsy of skeletal remains does not provide
much information on the circumstances of death.
The complexity of the Colombian scenarios of identification of human remains
associated with the armed conflict has shown that the only way to achieve a high
level of quality and efficiency is through interdisciplinarity. In forensic teams,
genetics begins to be understood as the main axis of the process, since anatomical
information has been lost or there are not enough ante‐mortem references for
comparison (Salado Puerto et al., 2014).
that is, when the degradation or fragmentation is such that parameters like
age, height or sex of a skeleton and the minimal number of individuals (MNI),
among others, cannot be established. In the Colombian cases, this situation is
very common.
In these scenarios, genetics may become the only useful information to
resolve the identity of a body or a group of bodies; even so, in the most difficult
scenarios it is not appropriate to assume the genetic findings out of context.
3. Participating in the forensic approach for complex cases, together with the
team of forensic experts: the geneticist must know the case in its context, its
history and circumstances as far as accessible information exists, so that they
can contribute to the planning of laboratory work. This allows us to be alert to
unexpected or incoherent findings, to detect errors in the labeling of samples
between anthropology and genetics laboratories, and to provide the team with
greater clarity about the findings of a complex case (Salado Puerto et al., 2014).
4. Conducting the sampling of bone pieces that offer greater possibilities of results,
evaluating their external appearance either on an individualized body by the
anthropologist or, even more so, for mixed and fragmented bodies, where
there is no reliable estimate of minimum number of individuals. The presence
of the geneticist at this point not only helps with selection of the most suitable
pieces for DNA analysis, but also gives better control of the traceability of the
submitted pieces and the coherence of the findings obtained afterwards. In this
regard, the geneticist can propose and define with forensics the coding system
of the samples so that they can be easily interpreted in the forensic team.
5. When, due to its magnitude, a case has involved more than one laboratory or
institution in the past, or because the case deserves revision or additional work,
the geneticist must elaborate and unify the databases of genetic profiles that
have been carried out in all the laboratories that know the case.
6. Establishing a protocol for the administration of the bank of genetic profiles of
missing persons, and ensuring that the identification team understands it and
works in accordance with it. It is very important that the administrator estab-
lishes a workflow for the management of matches detected in the gene bank
and defines the steps to follow once the finding is documented.
7. Ideally, in a complex case with a high number of victims, a lead analyst from
the genetics laboratory should be assigned, and he/she must act as a direct
contact with the forensic team and perform the integration of genetic findings
with the non‐genetic data obtained by the other members of the team.
8. It is paramount to involve geneticists in the planning of mass sampling of
relatives of missing persons associated with a complex case. In this regard, the
following considerations should be taken into account:
• In the Colombian case, it is very difficult and risky for family members to
visit a lab for samples to be taken. The Attorney General’s Office has con-
ducted many mass sampling sessions of relatives of the disappeared persons,
where unfortunately the geneticist is not always present to control the
So far, we have exposed the need to integrate genetics into the identification
study, and further, we highlight the role of genetics as the integrating axis of inter-
disciplinary forensic work in extreme scenarios where non‐genetic information is
scarce and the genetic findings can be key for decision‐making. Even under these
extreme conditions, or even having valuable information for or against identity,
many authorities consider the genetic finding as the only reliable analysis
alternative in the identification of human remains. This overvaluation of DNA can
generate errors in both the exclusionary result and the positive identification.
because there are several possible sources of error that must be discarded
before accepting the result; once ruled out, the incompatibility of kinship is
unquestionable.
The error consists of assuming the genetic result of non‐relative as definitive,
without taking into account the context of the facts or the coherence of the non‐
genetic forensic findings as a whole: the circumstances of the disappearance, the
biological profile, the height, sex and apparent age of the skeleton, the garments
with which it was found, and so on. In the integral vision, context analysis should
call the attention of the forensic team to a genetic result that is not coherent
with the other findings and force them to think about possible errors made in the
process to obtain genetic profiles (Salado Puerto et al., 2014).
The first scenario to consider is the one where the family reference used for the
comparison turns out not to be a real biological relative of the disappeared person.
If this situation is not taken into account, the investigator may conclude that the
remains are not those of the disappeared person and re‐categorize the body as
unidentified, when it actually may correspond to the person sought.
The error could have been generated in the forensic interview, when the sam-
ples were taken from the relatives of the disappeared person, possibly because the
relatives were not sufficiently interrogated to corroborate that the socially accepted
kinship is a biological relationship. Perhaps biological kinship was not clarified,
and cultural or social kinship or foster kinship was assumed, for example, when a
person could have been raised in a family that is not their own but is assumed
socially as a member of it. If the interviewer does not ask the direct question clar-
ifying the possibility of error by including non‐biological social relatives in the
genetic study, the comparison between the bone remains and the relative will
generate false exclusions. It is necessary to structure model questions in the inter-
views so that they are obligatorily applied with an assurance that it is a biological
kinship.
On the other hand, there remains the possibility that the relationship is not
really known and is therefore assumed to be true. Faced with this possibility, if the
relative available for the study is the father of the disappeared person, it is also
advisable to take a sample from a member of the victim’s maternal lineage, when-
ever possible. A compatible maternity and a paternal exclusion can be found.
This presupposes on the part of the geneticist, or the official carrying out the
interrogation, an ethical attitude towards the possibility of knowing confidential
information about the family. In this respect, an expert report can be generated
only including the persons who were informative for the identification, without
including the profiles of the incompatible relative, or equally, not to report unex-
pected findings, for which this possibility must be included in the informed con-
sent and consciously accepted by the relatives.
The second scenario may be that of a false negative because the sent sample was
not the correct one. The subject speaks of the capacity of the work team to control
and guarantee the authenticity of the samples sent from the anthropology
laboratory to the genetics laboratory. It implies the need to develop not only an
efficient, clear labeling system, known by all the operators and assumed as unique
for all, but also to implement good practices aimed at guaranteeing the traceability
of the sample during all the steps of the process from its collection.
Some good practices to prevent these situations can be:
• Training assistants in charge of handling, packing, labeling and sending bone
samples, in a written protocol, of the process of attention to the user.
• Supervising daily all the processes under the charge of the assistants or
auxiliaries.
• Keeping a photographic record of the sampled pieces and the fragments obtained
from them.
• Labeling directly the bone fragment that is sent to the laboratory.
• Clarifying concretely the request to the laboratory, specifying the sense of the
study, the usefulness, the particular comparison that is required, with whom
the comparison should be made, and so on
• Applying the same good practices inside the genetics laboratory, since the con-
fusion of bone fragments can also occur there. In this regard, it is important to
handle one sample at a time and use identifiers fixed to the fragment as far as
possible during the process.
• During the reception of the case and its samples, verifying the identity codes
with which the pieces were sent and make delivery in custody, checking the
codes for a second time when delivering the pieces for pulverization to the
assistant or to the expert who will carry out the laboratory analysis.
• Keeping a systematic record of the entry and exit of the bone biobank in the
genetics laboratory.
• A detected match must have reasonable management. That is, starting from the
idea that any match must be verified since it does not constitute a definitive
identification in itself, the gene bank administrator must implement a matching
management protocol that includes verifying whether the match is consistent
with the information available from the detected body and the matching family.
This function can be performed by a parallel team of forensic experts who have
authorized access to existing non‐genetic databases of missing persons.
Table 32.1 shows a guide chart to determine whether the finding is consistent.
32.7 Conclusion
All the aspects discussed here can be summarized in two final actions: the need for
interdisciplinary forensic work, and the need for differential and humanitarian
forensic work. It is to consider the contribution that each forensic science can
make to the identity of a body and, at the same time, to consider that all the work
of the forensic team is directed to the victims as its main addressee, and that the
victims demand more and more (and rightly) to be participants in the process of
search and identification and to know the voice of the forensic experts, the
scientific tools that will be used in the process, and to receive the knowledge in
accessible language.
To be rigorous is also to be ethical, and to be ethical is also to be able, as scien-
tists, to recognize the rights of victims and, even more, those where the forensic
scientist can intervene or affect. A humanitarian attitude is an ethical attitude to
which the scientist can relate. Perhaps one of the best opportunities to work for
the rights of victims is through the exercise of science.
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33.1 Introduction
The use of DNA analysis in the identification of human remains continues to grow
in frequency and popularity. Its ability to produce positive identification of
fragmented, damaged, and large numbers of anonymous remains is remarkable,
and in many instances it may be the only means by which body parts can be
re‐associated and/or positive identification of skeletal remains achieved, particu-
larly in post‐disaster or complex post‐conflict scenarios. However, its use resides
within a forensic approach to the identification of human remains, which comes
with a range of normative and positivistic assumptions as to the basis of knowledge
and foundation of identity, as well as appropriate treatment of the dead. For a
number of cultures and in differing circumstances, however, this approach may
not be the most appropriate means to identify human remains; for some it can
conflict with cultural understandings of treatment of the dead, while for others
the very basis of identity is produced in non‐biological ways. Even where cultur-
ally appropriate, the use of DNA analysis may not always be appropriate, necessary,
or possible. And yet it retains a mystical, almost mythological status as a provider
of identity and an imagined necessary tool in the treatment of human remains
when mass death occurs.
In this chapter I explore some of the assumptions underlying the use of DNA
analysis in the identification of human remains, and consider cases where its use
may undermine or conflict with cultural and/or religious norms or cause tensions
in the communities within which it occurs. This is not to undermine the fact that
very often DNA analysis is the best, if not the only means of providing a positive
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
521
Since its first forensic use in 1987 (Roewer, 2013), rapid technological advances
have increased the success rate and accessibility of DNA profiling techniques
across the globe. It has changed from being a rarely used and highly expensive
technology only accessible within the realm of institutions, to one that is now
(in the form of ancestral DNA profiling kits) part of the everyday consumer life-
style of some people. The lay public, however, remains largely ignorant about the
technology of DNA analysis – not only its methods, but also its limitations. Its
ability to provide evidence from minute fragments of biological matter in a way
that cannot be understood by most ordinary people imbues it with a kind of mag-
ical aura, and it has become increasingly mythologized as a panacea for any
forensic matter, including identification of the dead. As Lynch et al. (2008: 257)
noted, there is an “awe and anxiety about the perceived power of DNA analysis,”
which leads to it being given “extraordinary credibility” for all matters forensic
and biological. Through this, and its location within science, producing
identification via DNA analysis appears an almost mystical art, one that produces
unquestionable fact in the form of identity.
DNA attracts a high level of media attention because of its relation to crime,
disaster and conflict. While some authors contest the so‐called “CSI” effect (Lynch
et al., 2008), fictional crime shows like CSI regularly present the technology as the
ultimate evidence of perpetration, while simultaneously conveying a picture of
simplicity and immediate success for all identification efforts because of their fic-
tional temporality and technology.1 Meanwhile, high‐profile mass identifications
of human remains, such as ongoing efforts across the Balkans (Parsons et al.,
2019), successful identifications of 100‐year old remains from First World War
battle site Fromelles (Bhattacharya, 2014), and ongoing efforts to identify remains
from 9/11 (Pager, 2018), have brought its use in humanitarian efforts to the
attention of the media and thus the wider public. These combined factors have led
to a perception that DNA is a readily available, always successful technological
tool without limitation, and it appears that DNA can be extracted from any
biological material to provide an identification of any, once living, human.
Of course, this is not the case. DNA analysis requires expertise – technical
and logistical – it is expensive, and it is not always possible. Even in ideal
1
It is not only fictional shows that simplify technologies and scientific knowledge: scholars often miscommunicate
their own research to the media and the public, exaggerating findings, simplifying methods, or not discussing
implications and interpretations, in attempts to get media coverage, or in a belief that the lay public cannot under-
stand its full complexity (Schroeder, 2010; Sturloni, 2012).
circumstances, only certain bones consistently yield sufficient DNA for analysis
(Miloš et al., 2007), while disaster and conflict often results in fragmented, com-
mingled and degraded remains from which it is difficult, if not impossible, to
extract data (Zietkiewicz et al., 2012). There must be a comparative sample from
living biological relatives, or from already identified deceased whose data is stored
somewhere it can be taken from – something not always possible after humani-
tarian crises when a disaster might kill whole families or a conflict causes their
dispersal around the globe. There must be money and expertise to either process
the material in country, or logistics and arrangements to have it done overseas.
There must be political will to undertake the lengthy and time‐consuming process
of identification, as well as the funding to do so – most projects rely on interna-
tional funding from a variety of sources, which comes with its own potential
restrictions. Even if all these factors are in place, it may not yield results: as of
2018, over 1000 individuals from 9/11 remain unidentified (Pager, 2018), despite
world‐leading expertise, unlimited funding, and political will all being in place.
2
As far back as 1934, Ruth Benedict wrote about the myth of family, showing how it is a culturally constructed
idea that is situated in relation to changing social, political and religious norms.
of the ways in which new kinship systems do not necessarily adhere to biological
relatedness, and where identification by DNA analysis might therefore be neither
appropriate, nor possible.
Secondly, when disaster or conflict occurs, families are split and reconstituted in
new configurations, especially when mass migration occurs. Children may travel
alone, or with caregivers to whom they are not biologically related, families may
be split across the globe, and contact may be lost between biological relatives.3
Attempts to identify the dead using DNA analysis in cases such as these might not
only be impossible, but could arguably add to the suffering of people who have
already undergone significant upheaval as forms of knowledge that undermine
local systems, or ones that highlight individual familial circumstances.
As biology has been increasingly normalized as the provider of identity, so too has
the exhumation and individual identification of human remains become increas-
ingly positioned as a key mode of providing justice and healing following conflict
or disaster. The underlying assumption is that where mass death has occurred,
without exposure and, often, identification, of the dead, individuals, communities
and whole nations will suffer ongoing trauma and will not be able to heal. The
international framework of transitional justice, which is increasingly applied to
post‐conflict environments, asserts that individuals and communities need justice
to move into peaceful and democratic futures, something partially achieved by
acknowledgement of past violence, and related reparation mechanisms. Where
mass death has occurred, forensic humanitarian investigations are often posi-
tioned as central to this. London, Parker and Aronson (2013: 1178), for example,
asserted that following a disaster, forensic identification of the remains is necessary
to ensure the welfare and human rights of those who survive, while Fowler and
Thompson (2015: 119), argued that identification of the dead using DNA analysis
can be a tool towards truth and reconciliation, by offering a means by which states
can own up to past abuses through bringing the dead back into the state recogni-
tion (see also Wagner, 2008).
In many instances, this may be the case. However, to suggest that this is universal
risks ignoring the multiple and sometimes conflicting understandings of justice,
healing and suffering that exist across the globe. Although international frame-
works exist, these are based in Western, Judeo‐Christian models of justice, truth
and healing (Bennett, 2018b). The concepts of justice and healing are, however,
culturally specific and may involve various factors, of which individual
3
The recent separation of migrant children from their parents at the US border highlighted this issue – when DNA
was suggested as a means to re-unite children with their parents, human-rights groups objected for several rea-
sons; partly because many of the migrant families were not biologically related to each other, but also because
there were concerns of the potential access to the information afterwards (Weise et al., 2018).
identification may, or may not, be relevant. In Cambodia, for example, justice for
the genocide of the 1970s is determined partly through the international hybrid
court – the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC) – but also
through Buddhism, which frames and directs the everyday lives of many Khmer.
Buddhism, specifically the ontological reality of karma and reincarnation, ensures
that many Khmer Rouge cadre will suffer terribly in subsequent lives (Hinton,
2009; Bennett, 2018b), and that the majority of the Cambodia population can
find some way of making sense of the violence of the past. Uncovering the hun-
dreds of thousands of corpses that remain in mass graves across the country, or
individually identifying them, is not a priority; care for them is managed through
annual rituals and ongoing relationships (Guillou, 2012).
Even when recovery of bodies and identification is considered an important
aspect of justice and healing, forensic approaches, including DNA analysis, might
not be the main mode of enabling either of these. Following the conflicts in Timor
Leste throughout the latter part of the twentieth century, when thousands went
missing (Kinsella and Blau, 2013), some human remains were identified by fam-
ilies pouring blood over bones, with a belief that if it was the corpse of their
relative, the blood would be absorbed (Komar, in Rosenblatt, 2015: 23).4 In
Vietnam, psychics are regularly consulted to determine the location of human
remains from the Vietnam War (Schlecker and Endres, 2011). Craig Etcheson
(2005), who worked in Cambodia shortly after the fall of the Khmer Rouge,
reported that in one area local officials allowed family members to take one skull
each from a mass grave as symbolic of their missing loved ones. The exact biological
identity of the remains was unimportant. In his book on the politics of mass grave
investigation, Adam Rosenblatt writes of families in Guatemala who, despite DNA
analysis showing they were not related, took unclaimed remains because none
should be left unmourned, thus undermining the DNA analysis project, but
successfully caring for the dead in socially and culturally appropriate ways
(Rosenblatt, 2015: 23).
Related to notions of justice is often an idea of healing. Fowler and Thompson
(2015), for example, suggested that as well as justice, DNA analysis can help to
bring healing by helping bring closure to families who have lost loved ones.
However, healing, like justice, is culturally situated. The concept of closure, for
example, rests on an assumption that there is a linear relationship between life
and death and between the living and the dead, something which physical death
ends. However, in many cultures, death is a process (see Dernbach, 2005), and
interactions between the living and the dead continue for years after physical
death, with the dead intervening in the lives of the living and influencing social
action. In Cambodia, for example, the dead often visit the living in their dreams
and demand certain care and attention (Bennett, 2018a). Following the Khmer
4
While this shows a potential overlapping of forensic and local methodologies, its use and success remains in the
local, rather than forensic, cosmology.
Rouge regime, sometimes these dreams contained the locale of the dead’s corpo-
real remains. In cultures where Hinduism or Buddhism are central to the wider
cosmology, there is no end‐point to life and death, because life is an ongoing cycle
of death and rebirth in which both perpetrators and victims exist. Even in the
Western world, the moment of death is fluid – in the medical arena, for example,
someone can be declared brain dead, while the rest of their body remains alive at
the cellular level.
Even where the relationship between life and death is consistent with this
discourse, identification by DNA analysis might not provide the assumed closure
that Fowler and Thompson suggest. As Jay Aronson (2012) discovered in his
research in post‐apartheid South Africa, DNA analysis provided a biological
identification for recovered remains of black political activists from the 1980s, but
did not provide the familial or wider social identification that are also necessary
aspects of humanitarian efforts. It cannot, he therefore concluded, give closure to
those who survive; rather it offers one opportunity towards closure, which can
only be fully achieved through a combination of biological, social and political
identification. Likewise, Rosenblatt (2015: 22) described how, in Bosnia‐
Herzegovina, no identification is complete until the family has accepted it;
identification here has a double nature, both scientific and social.
Treatment of the dead is always bound up in political projects, and after humani-
tarian crises this is even more the case. Although as a scientific technique and a
humanitarian intervention, identification of the dead using DNA analysis is pre-
sented as apolitical, it does not occur in a sociopolitical vacuum. As Aronson
(2012: 296) pointed out, it is attached to political endeavors including commem-
oration and memorialization, evidence, denial, and the claiming of various iden-
tities. After humanitarian crises it can be part of the toolkit used by governments
to (re)assert control over a population that has suffered loss and chaos as a result
of whatever befell it. This population includes the dead as well as the living.
Uncovering and identifying the dead not only brings them back into familial and
public space, but also into the political arena (“the embrace of the state” as Sarah
Wagner (2008) calls in it her ethnography on DNA identification in the Balkans).
By returning the dead to the care of the state, they are also rendered subject to
state policies, which enables their use in political projects. In Victor Toom’s (2012)
article on the forensic genetic practices in The Netherlands, he argues that the use
of forensic profiling, including DNA analysis, transforms bodies from private into
public bodies, where science and law act on the bodies to create certain kinds of
belonging, identity and exclusion. Although he refers to the bodies of living crim-
inals, we can extend this to the remains of those who died as a result of humani-
tarian crises, conflict, or disaster. Whether they be the dead of conflict – such as
those identified and buried in the annual remembrance ceremony at Potočari
cemetery in Bosnia‐Herzegovina or returned US soldiers from the Second World
War – or of disaster – such as those who died in the World Trade Center – human-
itarian identification projects have both the potential to give back the dead to their
kin and provide their use for political endeavours.
While positioned in relation to human rights, uncovering the dead (and often
identifying them too) is presented as “for the greater good.” However, because
there is always a political dimension to identification of the mass dead, politics
directs who can and will be acknowledged and identified. Only certain dead are
uncovered, and only certain remains identified. Identification efforts privilege one
kind of dead over another – the victim over the perpetrator; the rich over the poor
(Wagner, 2008);6 the fair‐skinned over the darker‐skinned (Rosenblatt, 2015).7
There can be tensions when identifications of remains contradict these orders.
Rosenblatt details the identification of Taliban remains in Afghanistan, creating an
6
In her ethnography on DNA identification, Sarah Wagner (2008) detailed the differing use of DNA analysis
within the US: unlimited in time and funding for those who died during 9/11, limited and late to begin for those
who died during Hurricane Katrina.
7
Rosenblatt (2015: 29) comments on mass grave investigation: “for a group of professionals scientifically and eth-
ically committed to deconstructing racial ideologies, one large-scale pattern stands out: the effort and expense
spent on the identification of relatively light-skinned bodies in countries considered part of (or on the doorstep of)
the West, compared with the effort and expense put into identifying dark-skinned bodies in non-Western
countries.”
ethical question when we consider that identification efforts are usually under-
taken for “victims” and the Taliban are usually presented as the perpetrators.
Following 9/11, the remains of the perpetrators were identified along with those
of the victims. This was necessary for the investigation, but also for the rights of
all who died: if it is a human right to be identified, as some contend (Interpol
(2009), for example, states that identification of human remains is a “basic human
right”), then this applies to perpetrators as well as victims. This is not always an
easy story to sell, however, particularly when the identification efforts rely on an
essentialist narrative of guilt and innocence to begin with.8
Identification of human remains in humanitarian projects depends on the kind
of crisis encountered – disasters draw differing responses and outcomes than con-
flicts and human rights abuses. Following a disaster, the main priority is to regain
control of a population and environment that has been subject to some kind of
catastrophic event, be it natural (hurricane, tsunami, and so on), or of human
origin (terrorist attack, for example). In such an environment, international teams
from multiple nations often descend to assist with identification efforts. The result-
ing environment is one of multiple teams, each with their own ways of working
and own instructions, competing over the identification efforts. Following the
Asian tsunami of 2004, for example, over 30 international teams worked on iden-
tifying the dead, resulting in missing bodies and serious delays in identification
(Beauthier et al., 2009).
The post‐conflict or human rights abuses environment is a different scenario.
Control of the dead may be vital in this instance, but the urgency to identify and
repatriate remains is not the same because it often occurs well after the event. The
drive in this instance is often about political positioning – uncovering past abuses,
distancing current governments from previous ones, providing justice in what-
ever form that might take. It is still often characterized, however, by different
agencies each working in their own specific way on particular projects. Exhumation
of graves and identification of the dead from Franco’s regime in Spain, for example,
relies on volunteers and non‐governmental organizations (Bervenage and Colaert,
2014), which makes it difficult to conduct consistent and ongoing identification
efforts. Since the fall of Saddam Hussein’s Ba’athist regime in Iraq, meanwhile,
training on the investigation of mass graves, including the use of DNA analysis,
has been conducted at differing times by Inforce, the International Committee of
the Red Cross (ICRC), and the International Commission on Missing Persons
(ICMP). While there is some crossover in personnel (both the staff providing the
training and those undergoing it) and procedure for these agencies, each has their
own agenda and funding requirements that direct their work.
8
There is also the potential for this seemingly benevolent act to work the opposite way, to obfuscate ongoing
political violence even when they enact care of the dead. The display of human remains in Rwanda is an example
of this, as are ongoing identification efforts in Iraq.
33.7 Conclusion
9
To give an example of the temporality, the location and identification of human remains from the conflicts across
the Balkans in the 1990s, led by the International Commission on Missing Persons, is arguably one of the most
successful identification projects following conflict globally, and is a pioneer in the processing of DNA for mass
identification. The use of DNA by ICMP began in 2000, and is ongoing to date. So far they have identified approx-
imately 28,000 people from across the Balkans, and although this is a phenomenal achievement, around 12,000
individuals remain unidentified (to read more about ICMP’s DNA project, see Parsons et al., 2019).
The use of DNA can contradict understandings of identity, kinship, and appro-
priate treatment of the dead.
Western science continues to “scientize the soul” (Hacking, 1995, quoted in
Kwon, 2015: 218) – reducing identity to the molecular level, and disregarding the
sociocultural frameworks within which identity and knowledge is created and
shared. As we increasingly reduce human identity to a molecular level, we reduce
and dismiss the multifaceted reality of identity and belonging, and different ways
of knowing. At the same time, we see an increasing push towards standardized
modes of dealing with humanitarian crises, in which international discourses
around responsible governance, justice, recovery, and healing become increas-
ingly influential. This reflects an assumption that there is a universal response to
mass death, and therefore universal and standard ways to deal with it (Summerfield,
1999). However, there is no empirical basis to this: instead the opposite is true.
Around the world we see multiple ways of dealing with mass death, disaster,
conflict and recovery. While the dead must always be managed, uncovering and
individually identifying their physical remains is only one way of doing this, and
in many parts of the world, it is not a priority. Even when it is, Western modes of
enabling this (such as DNA analysis) are not necessarily the primary means of
achieving identification.
In the discussions above I do not mean to dismiss the great technological
advances that have revolutionized humanitarian efforts related to mass death
and disaster, of which DNA analysis is an important technique. Nor do I want to
suggest that even where differing cultural and cosmological understandings of
knowledge exist, are they always in exclusion to the scientific method. In the
globalized world in which we now live, systems of knowledge interact with and
influence each other in multiple ways, and never exist in isolation. It is also
important to acknowledge that there are many successful DNA identification pro-
jects, which do indeed offer care and consolation to the living and, perhaps, to
the dead. But even these exist within a political realm of management of the dead
and are not without tension. What I have aimed to do in this chapter is raise some
of the assumptions and potential conflicts that exist in relation to identification
using DNA analysis, and by doing so, ask for a consideration of the implications
of the increasing normalization of international modes of dealing with death and
disaster, and the genetic essentialism that identification using DNA analysis can
engender.
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34.1 Introduction
Global, national, and local discussions of immigration reform tend to overlook the
treatment of the dead. Within the United States, there are no federal laws govern-
ing unidentified human remains; rather, investigation and identification efforts
are left to locator state governments. California, Arizona and New Mexico have
coroner and medical examiner systems that provide investigation and identification
efforts for migrants that die along the US/Mexico border. In Arizona and Texas,
the death toll has been so high that local jurisdictions continue to be overwhelmed.
While Arizona has no state laws regarding unidentified deaths, all deaths in the
state are afforded proper investigation by appropriate medico‐legal authorities,
including autopsy and DNA sampling of presumed migrants. Furthermore, the
investigation into migrant deaths is largely centralized in Arizona with some
migrant deaths investigated by the Maricopa County Office of the Medical
Examiner (Fleischman et al., 2017), although the vast majority of unidentified
migrant remains in Arizona are under the care of the Pima County Office of the
Medical Examiner (PCOME) (Spradley et al., 2016). Additionally, the PCOME, as
a governmental agency, keeps track of the final disposition of the burials and
associated case information, ensuring that each deceased migrant has the poten-
tial to be identified and repatriated to their family (Anderson and Spradley, 2016).
Instead of a traditional medical examiner or coroner system, the majority of
Texas operates under a Justice of the Peace (JP) system. Of the 254 counties in
Texas, only 14 counties have medical examiners, typically in large metropolitan
areas far from the US/Mexico border. Within South Texas, only one county has a
medical examiner, while two counties utilize a contracted, board‐certified forensic
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
537
34.2 Background
Baylor University led by Dr Lori Baker and assigned the case number 0387. Shortly
thereafter, on 5 June, the remains were transferred to FACTS, as part of OpID, for
identification efforts and curation pending identification.
The skeletal analyses for case 0387 were completed and the report finalized in
March 2014. The skeletal findings were entered as an unidentified person into the
NamUs database, and, as required by state law in Texas, a DNA sample was sub-
mitted to the University of North Texas Center for Human Identification (UNTCHI)
for genetic analysis and eventual uploading of the DNA profile to CODIS, the
Combined DNA Index System. CODIS is administered by the Federal Bureau of
Investigation (FBI), and contains multiple DNA databases including databases
containing DNA profiles from missing persons and from families of missing per-
sons, in addition to DNA from unidentified human remains (UNT Center for
Human Identification Forensic Services Unit, 2011). CODIS works to generate
genetic associations, but DNA samples from families must be taken in the presence
of US law enforcement, making it difficult for undocumented families and fam-
ilies residing outside the United States.
In July 2014, the first author was searching the NamUs database for all missing
persons reports of individuals last known alive in Brooks County. NamUs is a
database sponsored by the federal government containing information from
missing persons reports and information from unidentified human remains, and
is publicly searchable. Inputting information into NamUs is voluntary for law
enforcement and medico‐legal agencies. At the time there were only eight missing
persons reports for Brooks County, despite 129 bodies of presumed migrants
being found in 2012 alone, but luckily Elmer’s was one of them. A note was
found within the missing persons report that indicated Elmer had injured his
knee and had a brown plaid shirt tied around it when he was last seen alive.
At the time, student volunteers with OpID had just washed a brown plaid shirt
belonging to case 0387, establishing an identification hypothesis that 0387 might
be Elmer. The ante‐mortem and post‐mortem information was reviewed and
found to be consistent. The first author reached out to Colibrí and the EAAF on
22 July 2014 and discovered that the EAAF had already taken DNA samples from
family members.
Unfortunately, because the DNA samples obtained by the EAAF originated
outside the US and were not collected in the presence of law enforcement, they
were not eligible to be uploaded into the CODIS where they could be compared
with the DNA sample from 0387 submitted by OpID to UNTCHI. After consulta-
tion with the EAAF, OpID sent an additional bone sample to an internationally
accredited private forensic genetics laboratory for comparison with the Barahona
family DNA samples. The EAAF incurred all costs associated with the DNA
comparison. Weeks later, in August 2014, a genetic association report indicated a
strong genetic association. Ante‐mortem information collected by the EAAF was
compared with the post‐mortem information from OpID, and it was concluded
that Elmer Barahona and case 0387 were one in the same. In September 2014, an
identification report detailing all aspects of the case was prepared by the EAAF,
OpID, Colibrí and Baylor University. Because Justices of the Peace have jurisdic-
tional authority over the remains, the identification report was submitted to the
appropriate Brooks County JP who legally approved the identification in April
2015. Elmer was released to a funeral home for repatriation on 8 June 2015. To
complete repatriation, however, the name on the death certificate had to be
changed from unidentified to reflect Elmer’s identity. Unfortunately, this was a
newer process for the funeral home, the JP, Consular officials, and the Department
of Vital Statistics, which led to significant delay in amending Elmer’s death certif-
icate. On 1 May 2017, Elmer was finally repatriated and returned to his family in
El Salvador, more than two years after his identification, and nearly five years
after he had gone missing.
Zaira saw a pair of Nike sneakers, black with blue soles, which looked just like
the ones she had purchased for Christian prior to his journey home. A few days
later, the remainder of the personal effects had been photographed and a necklace
that read “Christian” was uploaded to the casefile in NamUs. When Zaira saw the
necklace, she knew Case 0383 must be her brother (Augenstein, 2018). She and
her family submitted DNA samples in August 2017 and a one‐to‐one comparison
was requested from the University of North Texas Center for Human Identification.
In January 2018, FACTS received a genetic association reported from UNTCHI
indicating a strong genetic association between Case 0383 and Christian’s family
members. Further, circumstantial information regarding the disappearance of
Christian, the discovery of Case 0383, personal effects, and anthropological
findings were all consistent, bolstering the genetic association.
In February 2018, OpID prepared an identification report comparing all
circumstantial information regarding the disappearance of Christian, the discovery
of Case 0383, and noting all personal effects and anthropological findings were
consistent with Christian, bolstering the genetic association. A Petition for Change
of Identification Status was signed by the appropriate Justice of the Peace in
March 2018, thereby approving the identification of Case 0383 as Christian
Gonzalez.
Once the family was notified of the genetic association they were given little
information on the next steps of how to go about claiming the remains of their
brother. In March 2018, Zaira contacted NamUs asking how to proceed with
claiming the remains of her brother. A regional administrator with NamUs put her
in contact with FACTS, and the first author explained the process of repatriation
and what steps needed to be taken. On 2 April 2018, Christian was repatriated to
his family in Central Texas. Christian was born in Mexico, and was 8 years old
when he came to Texas, eventually graduating from a local high school where he
played soccer and ran cross‐country (Augenstein, 2018). He was deported to
Mexico at the age of 22, one month before the Deferred Action for Childhood
Arrivals (DACA) program went into effect. Having grown up primarily in Texas,
Christian felt he had no real connections to Mexico and so he decided to make the
difficult journey home to his family in Texas (Augenstein, 2018).
Name of the decedent has been changed to protect their privacy, and the privacy of their family members.
2
South Texas and seeing it listed as the burial location for several presumed
migrants. In January 2016, the FBC was given a tour of the cemetery by a medico‐
legal death investigator from Cameron County who helped secure access from the
private land‐owners. Although Tres Norias had been in use as a private family and
community cemetery since the 1800s, it was not until 2005 that it began being
used as a burial ground for migrants. At the time of the FBC tour, the investigator
pointed out 30 burials, five of which had plastic burial markers labeled as uniden-
tified, and the rest had no markers but were large, unmarked depressions, which
reportedly corresponded to the burial locations of unidentified human remains.
As per FBC protocol, the GPS coordinates of all burial locations were recorded,
and each was assigned an individualizing number for location tracking purposes
and entered into a GIS database. The investigator indicated that the remains of all
presumed migrants were double‐bagged, being buried inside two body bags, with
associated information regarding time and location of discovery and any potential
identification, placed within and on the outside of the body bags. Members of the
FBC were told that if a body bag had a name on it, it represented an individual
who had been identified, and that burial should not be disturbed. At the time,
aside from the five marked unidentified burials, no other burial markers existed
for any of the presumed migrants buried in Tres Norias – identified or unidenti-
fied. Furthermore, no map existed of the cemetery; thus while burial locations
were evident from the soil depressions, it was impossible to tell whether a depres-
sion represented an identified or unidentified migrant.
Two years after locating and surveying the Tres Norias cemetery, OpID led
exhumation efforts with assistance from other members of the FBC, as well as
volunteers from the University of Indianapolis and the University of Nevada Las
Vegas. Due to the size of the cemetery (over 6000 m2), the short amount of time
in the field (9 days on site), and the compact nature of the soil, a backhoe was
utilized to clear much of the topsoil layers in the cemetery where unidentified
individuals were thought to be buried. While each of the 30 locations identified
by the investigator yielded a burial with remains, additional burials were found
during the exhumation process – in the end, a total of 74 burials were exposed, 38
of which were deemed to be forensically significant. Some of the 74 burials were
clearly pauper burials, having names of decedents marked on their body bags, and
were evidently interred without a coffin or a permanent grave marker due to lack
of financial means. Other burials with names could represent a migrant who had
been identified by local authorities. Among the burials with names marked on the
body bag was one found by the Operation Identification team with the name
Hugo Escobar Rodriguez on it. Information associated with each burial regarding
potential identification, as well as burial location, was recorded in both list and
map form and provided to the county for future reference.
The list of names was also provided to the Missing Migrant Program (MMP), a
division of United States Customs and Border Protection. The mission of the MMP
is to help locate and identify missing migrants along the southern US border. As
federal agents tasked with helping save lives and identify the dead, the MMP has
access to USCBP databases, including detention and deportation databases that
are unavailable to OpID. The MMP was asked to investigate the names of the
individuals in the cemetery to make sure they were properly identified. During
investigations by OpID and the FBC in other South Texas counties, it was learned
that in some instances funeral homes had been used for identification services,
resulting in non‐legal identifications (circumstantial identifications, sometimes
without a preponderance of evidence and not approved by appropriate jurisdic-
tional authorities). With the help of the MMP, OpID could help ensure this was
not the case for any of the migrants in the Tres Norias cemetery.
In the case of Hugo Escobar Rodriguez, the MMP reported that he had been
previously detained by USCBP and therefore had fingerprints on file. When he
was found deceased, it was through a fingerprint comparison that his remains
were identified. The MMP also discovered, however, that there was an open
missing‐persons report for Hugo through the Mexican Consulate. Although Hugo
had been identified, his family had not been notified. Hugo died near the Texas/
Mexico border in Brownsville, Texas, less than a month after he had been deported
to Mexico. After receiving the information regarding his identification from the
MMP the identification was again verified through the local, contract forensic
pathologist, and finally, one year after his death and identification, Hugo’s family
was notified of his death.
34.4 Discussion
References
Anderson, B.E. and Spradley, M.K. (2016) The role of the anthropologist in the identification of
migrant remains in the American Southwest. Academic Forensic Pathology, 6, 432–438.
Augenstein, S. (2018) ‘I’m my brother’s keeper’: NamUs helps Texas family find missing man.
Forensic Magazine. https://www.forensicmag.com/news/2018/01/im‐my‐brothers‐keeper‐
namus‐helps‐texas‐family‐find‐missing‐man (accessed 18 March 2019).
Baker, L. (2014) Reuniting Families Project [Online]. Baylor University (accessed 26 February
2019).
Callamard, A. (2017) Statement by Ms. Agnes Callamard, special rapporteur on extrajudicial,
summary or arbitrary executions to the seventy‐second session of the General Assembly
United Nations.
Fleischman, J.M., Kendell, A., Eggers, C. and Fulginiti, L.C. (2017) Undocumented border
crosser deaths in Arizona: Expanding intrastate collaborative efforts in identification. Journal
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Frey, J. (2015) Graves of Shame: New evidence indicates wrongdoing in the handling of
migrant remains in Brooks County. Observer, 6 July. https://www.typeinvestigations.org/
investigation/2015/07/06/graves‐shame/
Gocha, T.P., Spradley, M.K. and Strand, R. (2018) Bodies in limbo: Issues in identification ADN
repatriation of migrant remains in South Texas. In: Sociopolitics of Migrant Deaths and Repatriation
(eds. K.E. Latham and A. O’Daniel). Springer, pp. 143–156.
35.1 Introduction
From 1976 to 1983, the military dictatorship that took power in Argentina brought
enforced disappearance and death to thousands of people in the country. The
bodies of a large number of victims during this period were buried either legally
in public cemeteries or illegally on military or police premises. They were usually
buried in the ground in primary (individual or mass) graves, and less often in
secondary burial sites, which involved the intermingling of remains, posing a
huge challenge for the correct re‐association and identification of a large number
of victims.
In 1984, the Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team (EAAF) undertook the
task of searching for and exhuming the victims’ bodies in order to carry out
anthropological analyses with a view to identifying and restoring the remains to
their families. There were several reasons why it was deemed necessary to create
a forensic team specialized in applying forensic anthropology to the investigation
of human rights violations or crimes against humanity, instead of resorting to the
local forensic institutions engaged in investigating common crimes. Among them,
it is worth mentioning the crime context itself, which consisted of the clandestine
detention, kidnapping and execution of victims, usually by state or para‐state
institutions, followed by the hiding of their bodies.
The logical consequence was civil society’s lack of confidence in official institu-
tions (the police, the armed forces) due to their involvement with and participa-
tion in these criminal activities. In addition, official forensic physicians had no
experience in the exhumation and analysis of human remains that were
either skeletonized or in an advanced state of decomposition; moreover, their
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
549
independence from the state apparatus was questioned due to their performance
as staff members of official forensic bodies during the dictatorship period.
Therefore, it was necessary that local non‐governmental organizations develop
methodological strategies involving the use of archaeological survey techniques to
find burial sites outside the usual areas, in order to ensure the independence and
credibility of the investigations conducted.
From the beginning, the strategy to approaching such cases was both compre-
hensive and multidisciplinary, consisting of a preliminary investigation into the
case, the exhumation of the remains and their analysis, and the comparison of
ante‐mortem (AM) and post‐mortem (PM) data for identification purposes.
The forensic genetic techniques currently used were not yet available at the time,
so identifications were made by comparing anthropological, medical, dental and
fingerprint data.
The first time forensic genetics was used by EAAF for the identification of vic-
tims’ remains was on three bodies found in sector 134 of the Avellaneda cemetery,
Buenos Aires province, in 1992. In 1999, forensic genetics was applied once again
to identify a series of victims from the so‐called “Fátima massacre” in the province
of Buenos Aires.
By 2003, EAAF had incorporated forensic genetics into the identification pro-
cess on a systematic basis. It is worth noting that, based on the investigations
conducted by the team since 1984, it was possible to determine that some exhumed
burials were “open” cases with no identity hypothesis, while others were “closed”
cases, that is, with an identity hypothesis. From 2003 to 2008, forensic genetics
was applied to the identification of the latter group, which involved simple, non‐
commingled cases for which there was a previous identity hypothesis available,
derived from the previous investigation conducted.
In 2008, as a result of the Latin American Initiative for the Identification of the
Disappeared (LIID) project conducted by the EAAF,1 it was possible to make a
quantitative leap in the use of forensic genetics in identification processes. This
project consisted of taking reference samples from victims’ relatives at a broad,
national scale, as well as sampling thousands of bone remains exhumed since
1984, conducting genetic analysis, and making a systematic, complete comparison.
At present, EAAF is a multidisciplinary team made up of more than 60 members
specializing in forensic anthropology, archaeology, architecture, physics, genetics
and pathology. It has its own forensic genetics lab (EAAF‐FGL) in the city of
Córdoba, Argentina. At the point of writing, more than 700 victims of enforced dis-
appearance under the last military dictatorship in Argentina have been identified
(in addition to more than a hundred cases of documentary identifications made by
matching fingerprints, as the remains were physically unrecoverable), while thou-
sands of commingled remains have been subject to intra‐skeletal re‐association.
This chapter is intended to show the methodological and conceptual changes
undergone by EAAF’s identification process throughout its history.
Latin American Initiative for the Identification of the “Disappeared” (LIID): https://eaaf.typepad.com/iniciativa_en/.
1
As almost 30 years had passed since the enforced disappearances had taken place,
several circumstances were particularly relevant to the results of the identification
of the disappeared:
1. Few remains could be recovered because victims had been buried in clandes-
tine burial sites, many bodies had been thrown into the sea in so‐called “death
flights,” and a large number of bodies had been taken to common ossuaries in
cemeteries, with remains of people unrelated to enforced disappearances.
2. A countless number of victims’ bodies had been exhumed and reburied in 1984
by the forensic‐medical system at the national level, without applying any
scientific method, causing further commingling, deterioration and destruction.
3. The DNA from many bone remains was partially degraded, and some bodies
were burnt or charred, yielding incomplete genetic profiles or no profiles at all.
4. There were few relatives still alive to obtain from them both ante‐mortem data
and biological reference samples for genetic comparison purposes.
5. The high number of victims of enforced disappearance had an impact on the
probabilistic values of identification within the Bayesian inference context
(Budowle et al., 2011).
To date, EAAF’s genetic databank includes the genetic profiles of more than
2700 bone remains and 10,000 reference samples from the victims’ family
members.
Although the post‐mortem interval (the time elapsed since death) in the case of
the remains recovered was relatively consistent, as enforced disappearances in
Argentina took place over a ten year period (1974–1975 and 1976–1983), the soil
type, pH, temperature and humidity in the different burial sites had effects on the
preservation of the remains, and consequently on the genetic results. Humid and
acid soils had an adverse impact on the preservation of the remains and DNA,
as opposed to burials in dry, calcareous soils (Alaeddini et al., 2010).
The type of bone elements also had an impact on the genetic results. Figure 35.1
shows the bone elements more likely to yield successful genetic results (teeth,
femur, tibia and the petrous part of the temporal bone), while it has been observed
that the long bones of the upper limbs (ulna, radius, humerus) yielded worse
results than those of the lower limbs, as their content of cortical bone is less
significant.
DNA extraction methods have had a notable influence on genetic results. EAAF‐
FGL has continuously striven to improve its methodology to extract the highest‐
quality DNA from bones; therefore, DNA extraction protocols and the amount of
bone processed (between 0.1 and 2 g) have changed over the years. The chemistry
of bone DNA extraction changed from the organic method (phenol chloroform)
through the manual silica mini‐columns to silica maxi‐columns (Davoren et al.,
2007). Currently, a silica‐based DNA extraction automated platform is used,
processing 1–2 g of bone with full demineralization, yielding 80% of reportable
%
100
90
80
70
60
50
40
30
20
10
0
Tooth Femur Tibia Temporal Vertebra Fibula Pelvis Humerus Radius Ulna
bone
(petrous)
Figure 35.1 Differential successful typing rate (aSTR) for different bone elements.
genetic profiles from bone samples to build post‐mortem databases (Amory et al.,
2012). Just as happened with DNA extraction methods, quantification methods
have also evolved over time, thus enabling not only the quantification of DNA, but
the evaluation of degradation and the detection of PCR inhibitors.
The family members’ AM reference samples collected in FTA (Flinders
Technology Associates) cards have also been a challenge faced by the EAAF since
the beginning. The ante‐mortem reference samples database improved signifi-
cantly thanks to the mass campaign launched within the framework of LIID in
2008, with the participation of civil society, the mass media, artists, politicians,
sportspeople and others. However, despite this effort, there are few first‐
generation family members still alive per disappeared person, due to the time
that has passed since the events and to the demographic features inherent in this
kind of population, for which reason the ante‐mortem reference database is still
relatively poor.
To build a high‐quality biological reference database for identification purposes,
some major requirements should be met: (a) have complete representation of the
victims by collecting biological reference samples from family members (both
parents); (b) include several first‐generation family members (parents, siblings
and/or children); and (c) construct a correct and detailed kinship chart, mainly of
second‐ and third‐generation family members. Taking into account the above
considerations, the biological reference samples database in Argentina is remark-
ably deficient. Figure 35.2 shows that the reference samples are very limited for
Fathers/Mothers
Number of AM reference samples: 10,000 15% 15%
representing 5,700 missing persons (75% ♂ offspring
and 25% ♀)
carrying out genetic comparisons for the victims of enforced disappearances from
the last military dictatorship. The reference/victim relationship shows an average
of less than 2 family members per victim, while 40% of donors are victims’ siblings.
This has led to the need to exhume first‐generation deceased family members, at
first only in cases with a strong identity hypothesis, but recently this has become
a common practice with a view to improving the family representation of hundreds
of victims of enforced disappearance with poor pedigrees.
STR (short tandem repeat) markers in autosomal chromosomes (aSTRs) are
the most commonly used in genetic profile databases for human identification.
In the last years, the commercial kits used at EAAF‐FGL to build AM and PM
databases for aSTR typing have increased the number of genetic markers from
15 to more than 20.2 In addition to these commercial kits, it was also necessary
to develop and validate “in‐house” kits at EAAF‐FGL, as well as to type short
amplicon nuclear markers like SNPs (single nucleotide polymorphisms) and
Indels (Insertion/deletions) (Catelli et al., 2008; Romanini et al., 2012). As a
consequence, there was a need to establish population frequencies for these
markers in Argentina or in identification projects undertaken in other countries
for statistical calculations. The incorporation of new DNA quantification methods
and improved amplification kits for degraded samples has enabled us to enhance
the aSTR genotyping and the use of complementary typing kits, and increase our
identification capabilities through the use of genetics at EAAF‐FGL. Figure 35.1
shows the percentage of typing success of 186 different bone samples, by using
automated DNA extraction, real‐time PCR quantification and aSTR genotyping
with any of the following commercial kits: Identifiler Plus, GlobalFiler or
PowerPlex Fusion.
Y‐STRs and mNA markers as well as SNPs and Indels are used at EAAF‐FGL as
additional markers in specific situations (Catelli et al., 2008, 2009; Romanini
et al., 2012), such as in cases with poor AM references, with second‐ or third‐
generation relatives or in degraded samples. Because of its high number of copies,
mtDNA analysis has been particularly useful in severely degraded or burnt
2
IdentifilerTM and GlobalFiler™ PCR Amplification Kit, Thermo Fisher Scientific: https://www.thermofisher.com/
us/en/home.html; Powerplex16® System and PowerPlex® Fusion 6C System, Promega Corporation: https://
worldwide.promega.com/.
s amples, although this might require the analysis of multiple fragments (up to 16
for HVR1 and HVR2) of small size (120 bp or 250 bp), thus increasing costs and
demanding more time. EAAF‐FGL has analysed with a high degree of success
(85%) about 400 PM samples covering the HV1 and HV2 regions and about
750 AM samples from family members. Although the match between lineage
markers can be useful for the identification of human remains, the need to estab-
lish population frequencies is fundamental (Vullo et al., 2010, 2011) and should
be used with caution in cases involving several biologically related victims.
N
800
700
600
500
DNA LIID
400
300
200
100
2018 Nov
1984
1986
1988
1990
1992
1994
1996
1998
2000
2002
2004
2006
2008
2010
2012
2014
2016
Figure 35.3 Cumulative identifications achieved by EAAF in Argentina from 1984
to 2018.
35.4 Conclusions
The search for and identification of the remains of missing persons on a large scale
with which EAAF has been concerned for more than 30 years has undergone a
methodological evolution thanks to the incorporation of new technologies, among
integrate, centralize and reconcile information is one of the main challenges. The
identification of the remains of victims of enforced disappearance on a large scale
involves the design of new mechanisms and imposes methodological and struc-
tural changes at the organizational level. One last recommendation drawn from
experience is that no technique is infallible – only by integrating all the information
available in a case can the reliability of the identification process be guaranteed.
References
Alaeddini, R., Walsh, S.J. and Abbas, A. (2010) Forensic implications of genetic analyses from
degraded DNA – A review. Forensic Science International: Genetics, 4 (3), 148–157. doi:10.1016/
j.fsigen.2009.09.007
Amory, S., Huel, R., Bilić, A., et al. (2012) Automatable full demineralization DNA extraction
procedure from degraded skeletal remains. Forensic Science International: Genetics, 6, 398–406.
Budowle, B., Ge, J., Chakraborty, R. and Gill‐King, H. (2011) Use of prior odds for missing
persons identifications. Investigative Genetics, 2, 15.
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grave of Argentina by using STR, miniSTR, and mtDNA analysis. Forensic Science International:
Genetics, Supplement Series, 1 (1), 408–410. doi:10.1016/j.fsigss.2007.10.212
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observed in an Argentine population database sample. Forensic Science International: Genetics,
Supplement Series. doi:10.1016/j.fsigss.2009.09.016
Davoren, J., Vanek, D., Konjhodzić, R., et al. (2007) Highly effective DNA extraction method for
nuclear short tandem repeat testing of skeletal remains from mass graves. Croat Med J, 48 (4),
478–485.
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development of a set of international standards. Forensic Science International, 278, 221–227.
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skeletal remains. Forensic Science International: Genetics, 6 (4), 469–476. doi:0.1016/
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Salado Puerto, M. and Tuller, H. (2017) Large‐scale forensic investigations into the missing:
Challenges and considerations. Forensic Science International, 279, 219–228. doi:10.1016/
j.forsciint.2017.08.025
Tidball‐Binz, M., Penchaszadeh, V., Vullo, C., et al. (2013) A good practice guide for the use of
forensic genetics applied to Human Rights and International Humanitarian Law investigations.
Forensic Science International, Genetics Supplement Series, 4 (1). doi:10.1016/j.fsigss.2013.10.109
Vullo, C., Borosky, A., Catelli, M., et al. (2011) Population data for 38 autosomal insertion/dele-
tion (InDels) and 50 SNPS polymorphisms in Argentinean population. Forensic Science
International, Genetics Supplemental Series, 3 (1), e419–e420. doi:10.1016/j.fsigss.2011.09.071
Vullo, C., Borosky, A., Romanini, C., et al. (2010) Frequency data for 12 mini STR loci in Argentina.
Forensic Science International: Genetics, 4 (3), 79–81. doi:10.1016/j.fsigen.2009.06.006
36.1 Introduction
1
First Conference of the Management and Identification of Unidentified Decedents, with an Emphasis on Dead
Migrants: the Experience of European Countries. ICRC/ Università degli Studi di Milano/ LABANOF/ Croce Rossa
Italiana, Milan, Italy, 22–23 November 2013.
2
Second Conference on the Management and Identification of Unidentified Decedents, with an Emphasis on
Dead Migrants: the Experience of European Mediterranean Countries. ICRC/ Spanish Red Cross/ Centro para la
Cooperación en le Mediterráneo, Barcelona, Spain, 29–30 October 2015.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
559
Table 36.1 The number of migrants dying worldwide in the attempt to cross borders or
sea, the number of migrants dying during the crossing of Mediterranean Sea,
and the percentage of the number of victims registered in the Mediterranean compared
with the total, for last five years.
remain missing at sea or die without identity and are buried in foreign cemeteries
far away from their original country – with the world remaining inert.
The humanitarian consequences of this problem are serious especially for sur-
vivors, who are affected by many social, civil and administrative repercussions.
This is due to the fact that there are so many intrinsic issues to be tackled, such as
financial resources requested for the recovery and transport of bodies, storage,
autopsy, laboratory analyses, the absence of databases in the region that contain
all the information of the different shipwrecks, and recovering ante‐mortem
information. On the other hand, it is to be stressed that up to a while ago, southern
European countries have been constantly engaged in the emergency of living
migrants (Piscitelli et al., 2016). So even if the identification of unknown victims
in mass disasters is a standard procedure and forensic experts are trained for this
situation, the victims of these tragedies have not been treated, until now, as they
should (Cattaneo et al., 2015).
This chapter summarizes how Italy is trying to tackle the problem of dead
migrants, and how this attempt has been extremely useful in presenting some of
the challenges under different perspectives.
Over 360,000 migrants arrived in Europe in 2016 by sea, many fleeing from
armed conflict, torture and abuse. One in ten die in the crossing. In the past 25
years at least 34,000 men, women and children have died during their journeys
(Laczko et al., 2017; UNITED 2018), 18,000 only in the past three years (Table 36.1),
but this is clearly only the tip of the iceberg. We are indeed witnessing one of the
greatest humanitarian tragedies of recent times.
Although 65% of these bodies remain unidentified and victims are buried name-
less in cemeteries across the south of Europe (Brian and Laczko, 2016), very few
efforts have been made to identify them, in contrast to what usually happens in
mass disasters. Yet identification of the dead is a universal value for all cultures and
DNA databases have increased the number of identifications, but are still not
the solution to the entire problem.
Since the late 1990s the University of Milan has promoted a specific protocol for
unknown cadavers and human remains that arrive at the morgue: all post‐mor-
tem (PM) data of an unknown corpse have to be recorded by filling in a specific
form during the autopsy, and a complete biological profile has to be defined by
collecting biological samples for the estimation of sex, age and race for poorly pre-
served bodies. The Institute of Legal Medicine in Milan started a collaboration
with a national television program entitled “Chi l’Ha Visto” (Raitre) and some
voluntary agencies (such as Penelope) that deal with missing persons, and more-
over a section of the LABANOF (Forensic Anthropology and Odontology
Laboratory) website was created containing a short description of unknown dece-
dents arriving at the Milan morgue (http://www.labanof.unimi.it/Cadaveri%20
senza%20nome.htm). These initiatives were begun in order to make available the
information about unidentified cadavers for relatives who were looking for their
missing loved ones.
Over the years the need for a national database for unidentified bodies, in order
to cross‐match them with missing persons, has become urgent, especially for indi-
viduals recovered and examined in cities different from their residences. Indeed,
in this situation it is very difficult to reach a positive identification, even if a person
was already reported as missing by relatives at one police station.
In Italy a greater awareness concerning the problem of unknown cadavers
increased from 2007. The first survey on the problems related to searches for
missing persons was performed on 21 June 2007 by the Italian Government, and
later, in 2008, the first census of unknown cadavers and missing persons was con-
cluded. The delegate Commissioner for Missing Persons of the Italian Government
(UCPS – Ufficio Commissario straordinario per le Persone Scomparse) was instated
for the first time in Italy on 31 July 2007 following a point of order, with the
specific mandate of monitoring data of missing persons and the consequent
identification of unidentified decedents, also through the comparison of national
data on missing persons (ante‐mortem or AM data) with data on unidentified
bodies (PM data) present in the national Database “Interforze” in addition to
information at a more local level. The Office also keeps and updates the national
register of missing persons, coordinates public initiatives for the search of the
missing, supervises the work of the different institutions (police, local authorities,
humanitarian associations, academia) that work at this problem and collaborates
with them through Memoranda of Understanding (hereafter MoUs), maintaining
a relationship with the relatives of missing persons, and reports the results to the
President of the Council of Ministers.
In order to look for useful identification strategies for unknown persons, a col-
laboration between the Commissioner for Missing Persons and the University of
Milan, in particular LABANOF, was established in the same year. An incoming law
“Progetto di Legge n. 144 A.C. 1828” was enacted by Parliament on 6 March 2007.
It established the creation of the Ri.Sc. system (Ricerca Scomparsi) – a database for
police forces that organizes the information relating to missing persons and uniden-
tified bodies, compares the data and verifies matches in order to obtain a list of
suspects of identity (Cappella et al., 2011). A partnership between the Department
of Public Safety of the Interior Ministry had begun, with the initial aim of testing
and improving the PM forms of the Ri.Sc. system that are used in cases of unknown
cadavers. Later, in 2014, an experimental project to create a procedure that pro-
moted the identification proces, involving some districts in Lombardy (Milano,
Lodi, Monza, Busto Arsizio and Pavia), was launched. On 6 March 2015 a MoU
was edited that established a collaboration between the Commissioner for Missing
Persons, the Lombardy region, the Prefecture of Milan, the Italian Republic
Procures, the University of Milan, the District of Milan and the ANCI of Lombardy,
and described a proposal of operative actions that the agencies working at this
problem have to follow (Protocollo di Intesa 6 Marzo 2015).
The phenomenon of missing persons has increased in the past few years, owing
to migration movements not only in Italy but also in other European countries, as
was highlighted in the recent Congress on missing persons held in October 2014
during the Italian Presidential Semester of the European Union.
PM DATA AM DATA
(Cadaver or human remains) (Missing Person)
MATCH
POSITIVE IDENTIFICATION
interviews the “Missing Person Form” supplied by ICRC for the victims of mass
disasters (ICRC, 2006) was used. The interviewers collected all information about
missing persons, including photographs and video material, personal items (such
as combs) and DNA samples, if the interviewee was biologically related to the
missing person (preferably parent or child). Finally, the interviewee who con-
sented could see the PM photographs in an attempt to recognize the face or
personal belongings of the victim.
To date, AM data of 79 missing persons were collected, relating to 56 missing in
the shipwreck of 3 October and 23 in that of 11 October. Among the subjects
declared disappeared on 3 October, 35 were positively identified (i.e. 62.5%),
while 8 have a strong match (however, they are pending and as a result still
unidentified). The AM data collected for the 11 October shipwreck did not corre-
spond with the PM data of the 23 victims that were recovered in Italy – none of
the missing that were being looked for were in Italy.
The 35 positive identifications were achieved with the help of different ID
methods (genetics, odontology and anthropology) or a combination of them. The
procedure to collect AM data that was tested for the October 2013 shipwrecks can
be considered successful.
36.3 Conclusion
The tragedies that occurred in recent years highlight the necessity for European
countries to take an interest in the problem of unidentified migrants and their
identification; this task is important not only for the dignity of the dead, but also
for the judicial and social repercussions for living relatives. Italy, which is involved
in the problem of clandestine disembarkations because of the proximity of
Lampedusa and Sicily to Africa, is one of the first European countries that has
started to work towards the identification of dead migrants.
In particular, the partnership between the Commissioner for Missing Persons
and the University of Milan has enabled the identification of at least 35 persons
declared missing in the shipwreck of 3 October 2013. To increase these identifica-
tions, however, the victims’ relatives have to give AM data, which are indispens-
able in achieving a positive match.
The creation of a database that contains all the information about shipwrecks,
missing persons and unidentified bodies is an important starting point that can
allow the creation of a link between the different agencies working on this problem
(also from different countries), making it easier to locate the cadavers for the rel-
atives who are looking for their loved ones.
Shipwrecks are particular disasters for which new protocols of action are indis-
pensable. It is also necessary that the data (both PM and AM) are treated by
forensic specialists in an attempt not to lose important information.
There are many issues that need to be solved. A few examples or proposals are
listed below.
1. Within every country, at least at a regional level, post‐mortem databases must
be created. All data must be conveyed into a single container. Such data should
not only be genetic but also anthropological and medico‐legal in general. In a
country such as Italy, this may be difficult since autopsies may be performed in
a different fashion depending on who performs them and why they are being
performed – if autopsies are performed at all.
2. This data must be shared among countries, or there should be a higher unit to
which all post‐mortem data are conveyed in order to compare it with incoming
ante‐mortem data.
3. The Italian experiments have proven that ante‐mortem data is possible to
obtain. There are several ways of doing this: in the countries of origin, in the
countries of transition, and in those of destination. In each of these cases the
collection can be done in a different manner depending on the situation: by the
State, by agreements with large NGOs (e.g. ICRC, such as in the case of Melilli)
or by academia, as in the case of Lampedusa.
4. Ideally, the same higher unit should be able to compare AM and PM data.
However, for many reasons this may not be possible; therefore solutions need
to be found in order to have those countries who have access to PM data gain
access to AM data also, and vice versa.
5. Data protection issues need to be solved. In many cases it is called for that data
should not enter law enforcement databases, and therefore privacy and protec-
tion are of paramount importance. However, these problems should be solved
with an open‐minded perspective in order not to hinder identification. Data‐
sharing policies may be different between governments and NGOs. Regardless,
Acknowledgements
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remains in the EU: An unknown issue. International Journal of Legal Medicine, 113 (3),
N1–N3.
Cattaneo, C., Tidball Binz, M., Penados, L., et al. (2015) The forgotten tragedy of unidentified
dead in the Mediterranean. Forensic Science International, 250, e1–e2.
37.1 Introduction
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
571
The FBI’s Evidence Response Team Unit (ERTU) was established in 1991 to oversee
the FBI’s crime scene and human remains recovery operations throughout the
United States. ERTU performs various managerial oversight functions and pro-
vides training, equipment, funding, forensic expertise and resources to the 56 FBI
field office Evidence Response Teams (ERTs). These highly specialized teams con-
duct searches, process crime scenes, recover human remains, and perform other
evidence recovery operations in support of federal, state, local, tribal and interna-
tional investigations. Each ERT member must complete a standard 80‐hour course
where they learn to locate, document, collect, and preserve physical evidence in
accordance with current FBI Laboratory standards and procedures.
Through investigative means and lawful authority (e.g. consent or warrants),
ERTs can search for suspected human remains deposition or burial sites. Search
techniques often include line searches (involving visual assessments for remains
or other clues such as vegetation or soil disturbances), cadaver canines, aerial
photography, metal detectors, and soil probes (Figure 37.1). In some cases, more
specialized approaches may be used, including drones, alternate light sources
(ALS), or thermal imaging. Once human remains are located and the scene
identified, the appropriate medico‐legal authority is notified, and the site is secured
and protected in preparation for documentation and recovery.
The ERT method for scene processing includes both standardized procedures for
scene operations, as well as standard team positions and responsibilities. This
method is consistently applied at any scene regardless of its size or the nature of
the evidence. The standard team positions are: Team Leader, Photographer,
Sketcher, Evidence Recorder, and Evidence Recovery Personnel. Depending on
the nature of the scene, other specialists may also comprise the team such as
Bomb Technicians, Anthropologists, or Hazardous Materials (Hazmat) Specialists.
Figure 37.1 FBI ERT conducting a visual and metal detector search for human remains
and associated evidence.
The ERT method incorporates a standardized 12‐step process that is utilized by all
ERT personnel during evidence recovery operations, which ensures uniformity
among the teams and a seamless integration of team members from different FBI
field offices for major operations. This process enables ERTs to process scenes in a
systematic, logical, comprehensive, safe and effective manner for all scene types,
including those involving hazardous materials, dangerous crime scene searches,
or human remains recoveries (Table 37.1).
In addition to the required 80‐hour Basic Crime Scene Course, ERT members
may also attend several advanced trainings to maintain and enhance their
knowledge and skills related to human remains recoveries. One of these advanced
training opportunities is held at the University of Tennessee Anthropological
Research Facility in Knoxville, Tennessee, and includes learning to locate, exca-
vate, and document human remains from clandestine graves, as well as locating
and documenting surface scattered skeletal remains (Figure 37.2). University and
guest lecturers include pathologists, anthropologists, entomologists, botanists and
odontologists who instruct ERT members in the proper procedures for processing
scenes that involve human remains. A practical exercise during the course gives
ERT members direct hands‐on experience in the location, excavation and map-
ping of real human remains. Additional advanced training is also provided by FBI
Laboratory Forensic Anthropologists and Visual Information Specialists in the
recovery and documentation of surface scattered and buried skeletal remains
using the 12‐step ERT process.
One of the strengths of the ERT program is the continuous support of the FBI
Laboratory examiners and experts who are available to provide expert guidance
and technical support. These experts provide technical input regarding
anthropology, firearms, photography, scene documentation, trace evidence, haz-
ardous materials, footwear impressions, DNA, and many other forensic fields.
Many ERTs also have members who have been specially trained to utilize digital
surveying equipment (Total Stations) to produce diagrams and document evi-
dence recovery operations (Figure 37.3). These regionally located Total Station
Teams can assist in providing accurate measurements over large distances with
geospatial reference points. This approach is especially useful for documenting
burials, scattered human remains, commingled remains, wreckage from vehicles,
or debris from post‐blast scenes. The Laboratory may also utilize laser scanning
and spherical photography to document large‐scale or complex scenes involving
post‐blast damage, shooting trajectories, and multiple locations.
Following the recovery of human skeletal remains, and in accordance with any
requirements of the local medico‐legal authority, the remains may be submitted
to the FBI Laboratory for forensic analysis. When ERTs locate and recover skeletal
remains, they are not required to submit them to the FBI Laboratory, and many
FBI field offices have working relationships with local forensic anthropologists or
laboratories to whom they may submit their skeletal evidence. In some cases, FBI
offices may send cases to the FBI Laboratory even when local resources are
Figure 37.2 FBI ERT members receiving human remains recovery training at the
University of Tennessee’s Anthropological Research Facility in Knoxville, TN.
Figure 37.3 FBI ERT using a Total Station to document scattered skeletal remains.
available, often because other evidence recovered in the case (latent prints, DNA,
or firearms, for example) will also be examined at the FBI Laboratory and work-
flow is therefore streamlined. All FBI Laboratory analyses are provided free of
charge, regardless of whether the contributor is FBI or non‐FBI.
Ca
Ca
0.00 keV 1.28 keV 2.56 keV 3.84 keV 5.12 keV 6.40 keV 7.68 keV 8.96 keV 10.24 keV
Figure 37.4 XRF spectrum of a suspected bone fragment submitted to the FBI Laboratory.
The “P” line indicates where the phosphorus peak would appear (in addition to the
calcium peak) for a sample consisting of skeletal tissue; its absence indicates that this
material is non‐skeletal in origin (in this case, a likely sea‐shell fragment).
the elemental composition of the material, which can aid in concluding whether
the material is skeletal or non‐skeletal in origin (Christensen et al., 2012; Ubelaker
et al., 2002) (Figure 37.4).
The human or nonhuman origin of skeletal remains can often be quickly deter-
mined by visual examination. In cases of small bone fragments, the origin may be
clarified using bone histomorphology, with humans presenting osteonal bone
microstructure, and many nonhuman animals presenting plexiform bone micro-
structure (Mulhern and Ubelaker, 2012). In order to assist in visual and histomor-
phological assessments, the FBI Laboratory maintains a Non‐Human Skeletal
Collection, with each specimen also having associated bone histology slides, which
can be used for comparative purposes in casework (Figure 37.5).
Most cases received for forensic anthropological analysis by the FBI Laboratory
are human skeletal remains. While some cases involve remains that have already
been identified (often submitted for skeletal trauma analysis), many are uniden-
tified remains that are submitted for assistance with identification. Anthropological
analyses to facilitate identification include estimation of the biological profile
(sex, age, ancestry and stature), recognition of skeletal features that may further
narrow the search for possible missing persons, comparison of skeletal remains
with known ante‐mortem records, and assessment of facial and cranial features to
facilitate facial approximation. All analyses are performed in accordance with FBI
Figure 37.5 Selected crania from the FBI Laboratory’s Non‐Human Skeletal Collection
(left), and a histological sample of a sheep from the collection (right). (Left photograph
courtesy of Kevin Brown, FBI Laboratory.)
Figure 37.6 A CT scan of this skull revealed a supernumerary tooth located within the
palate (right); dental and skeletal anomalies such as this can be used to support a
personal identification if suitable ante‐mortem records are located for comparison.
Figure 37.7 CT scan of a bearded dragon (“Mel”) from the FBI Laboratory’s Non‐Human
Skeletal Collection; in addition to documenting the skeleton as a forensic reference, the
scan also revealed several skeletal anomalies possibly related to a metabolic bone
disorder.(Specimen courtesy of Suzie Webb.)
Figure 37.8 Comparison of ante‐mortem (left) and post‐mortem (right) CT scans; the
configuration of the frontal sinus along with several other shared features supports a
correct identification.
In 2000, the FBI Laboratory developed the National Missing Person DNA Database
(NMPDD) program for the identification of missing and unidentified persons
(Stewart et al., 2011). The DNA Casework Unit at the FBI Laboratory assists with
the identification of unidentified human remains (UHR) by processing samples
from anthropologists that have not been identified by osteological and dental
examination methods. DNA is extracted from skeletal samples by cleaning and
neutralizing potential DNA contaminants and inhibitors from taphonomic
processes by mechanical and chemical methods. A few grams of skeletal material
are powdered by a freezer mill impactor that is housed in a cryogenic bath that
embrittles the sample and prevents thermal degradation of the DNA (Figure 37.9).
The pulverized sample is immersed into buffered aqueous solutions that decalcify
and inhibit DNA degradation (Lorielle et al., 2007). A succession of liquid handling
steps, washes, and concentration steps produces an isolated and concentrated
DNA product. The DNA is quantitated and diluted to obtain the optimal DNA
concentration for amplification.
DNA typing strategies are based on the sex of the UHR. The sex of the UHR can
be determined by gross morphology (i.e. anthropologically) or by amelogenin
results from DNA analysis. Most UHR are typed for nuclear DNA autosomal short
tandem repeats (STRs) and maternally inherited mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA)
profiles. Male UHR may also be typed for Y chromosome short tandem repeats
(Y‐STRs) to determine paternal DNA markers. The UHR DNA profile can be
Figure 37.9 A freezer mill vial set (cylinder, end plugs and impactor) with resulting
powdered bone.
directly compared with the DNA profile of a known sample that was obtained
from the missing individual or from close biological relatives. Biological relatives
will require kinship analysis to determine the strength of proposed familial rela-
tionships between the DNA profiles of the biological relatives of missing persons
and the UHR. The FBI uses the KIn CALc program, developed at the California
Department of Justice, to estimate statistical support (Steven P. Myers, California
Department of Justice). UHR that are not processed in parallel with reference
samples, are only partial UHR, and/or have been excluded as the individual of
interest, have their DNA profiles placed into the NMPDD within the Combined
DNA Index System (CODIS).
The FBI administers the NMPDD as part of the National DNA Index System
(NDIS). The NMPDD compares DNA records stored in the Missing Person, Relatives
of Missing Person, and Unidentified Human Remains Indexes of NDIS. At NDIS,
the UHR index is also compared against the Convicted Offender Index, which
includes detainees and arrestees. There have been numerous CODIS associations
between the UHR Index and the Convicted Offender Index. The FBI processes and
enters missing person‐related DNA profiles into CODIS at no cost to the submit-
ting agencies. It should be noted that the DNA information is released only to
criminal justice agencies for UHR identification purposes and for comparison with
DNA profiles related to the disappearance of individuals indexed in the missing
person database. The DNA profiles obtained from the Family Reference Samples
are only searched against the DNA profiles from UHR stored at NDIS. Once the
samples have been genetically typed, the DNA profiles are entered into the CODIS
software for uploading into the Local and/or State DNA Index System (LDIS and
SDIS, respectively). DNA profiles in SDIS are searched at the state level. DNA
profiles that meet the minimum requirements of the NDIS are searched nationally
(www.fbi.gov).
Sufficient DNA data from both the UHR and the relatives of the missing person
are needed to produce a statistically significant database association involving
DNA profiles in a missing person case. In order to maximize the potential for such
associations, as much genetic information as possible is requested and obtained in
a missing person case investigation. Genetic information in the form of genetic
profiles from multiple relatives, especially first‐degree relatives such as a parent,
child and siblings, are requested. In some investigations, first‐degree relatives are
not available or willing to donate samples; in these instances, second‐degree rela-
tives (aunts, uncles, half‐siblings, and grandparents) or third‐degree relatives
(great‐grandchildren, great‐grandparents, and first cousins) would be considered.
Additionally, if offspring of the missing person are collected, attempts should be
made to collect the offspring’s other parent. All family members must be willing
to submit their sample voluntarily for testing and complete the Consent and
Information Form (FD‐935), which is available by contacting the FBI Laboratory’s
DNA Casework Unit. The FBI Laboratory will determine which samples are
analysed and stored on the database to provide a robust pedigree tree.
Figure 37.10 A pedigree of a missing male with both parents. The circles represent
females, the squares represent males. The square with the question mark represents the
missing male without known genetic information. The small blue circle in the mother
notes that her maternally inherited mitochondrial DNA profile is known, while the small
yellow triangle notes the father’s paternally inherited Y‐STR DNA profile is known. The
small red squares for the mother and the father denotes that the STR DNA profile is
known for each.
Figure 37.11 Resin skull replica being printed on a 3D printer; this replica will be used to
sculpt the facial approximation in place of the real skull.
Figure 37.12 Completed facial approximation, consisting of clay sculpture over resin skull
replica; the use of one neutral shade keeps the viewer focused on features that are
directly supported by the skeletal evidence.
Figure 37.13 Positioning of the prosthetic eye within the orbit of the skull; from the
anterior view, the eye is positioned superior and lateral to the center of the orbit;
from the lateral view, the corneal apex is positioned 16 mm anterior to the lateral
orbital margin.
eyelids, and clay is added to fill in the orbit and secure the eye in place. The sur-
rounding soft tissues may be filled in at this point, and the epicanthic fold sculpted
(which may be hooded, round, or almond‐shaped). Eyebrows will generally
follow the shape of the eye orbit, beginning just under the edge of the bone
towards the center of the face, and arching slightly superiorly and laterally.
The nose is sculpted next, as the surrounding tissue will be merged into the
tissue of the outer eye area and brow line. The width of the nasal aperture is about
three‐fifths of the overall width of the nose (Gerasimov, 1968, 1971), and the
superior aspects of the nasal alae generally correspond with the medial projections
of the nasal conchae (Rynn et al., 2010) (Figure 37.14). The projection of the nose
is determined by the anterior nasal spine, the bony projection at the base of the
nasal aperture (Figure 37.15). A nasal spine that points downward would indicate
a downward‐turned nose, an upward spine would result in an upturned nose,
and a straight nasal spine would indicate a straight nose (Angel, 1978). The profile
of the nose approximately mirrors the shape of the nasal aperture, with
consideration for any asymmetry of the nasal bones (Prokopec and Ubelaker,
2002). It is not uncommon in forensic cases for the anterior nasal spine and
portions of the nasal bones to be damaged or absent due to taphonomic processes.
In these cases, an average nose is sculpted that is in harmony with the overall
proportions of the face.
Figure 37.14 Determination of nose width based on nasal aperture width; the nasal
aperture is approximately three‐fifths of the total width of the nose.
Figure 37.15 Relationship of the projection of the anterior nasal spine to nose direction.
Lips are more subjective features to depict since there are no skeletal features
that indicate their thickness and shape. Generally, age and ancestry are considered;
for example, the lips of an older European male would be depicted as thin, while
those of a 20‐year‐old African female will be fuller. The parting line of the lips is
typically slightly above the bottom of the upper teeth (Angel, 1978), and the space
between the first and second molar can be used as a guide in determining the
width of the mouth (Gerasimov, 1968, 1971). The mouth is usually displayed
closed in a facial approximation, but the lips may be parted or slightly smiling if
there are any features of the anterior teeth that may facilitate recognition and
identification such as crooked teeth, gaps, or dental restorations. The shape and
fullness of the cheeks are suggested by the structure of the zygomatic bones and
the upper portion of the maxilla (Figure 37.16).
Hair is sculpted in a simple style, appropriate for the age and sex of the individual.
For men, this is usually a short generic haircut; for women, a soft hairstyle away
from the face. This allows the viewer to focus on the features and proportions
of the face, rather than portraying an intricate hairstyle that could mislead or
dissuade an association with the missing individual.
Facial approximations typically take about 30–40 hours of working time, usually
over several days to several weeks. Once sculpted, the facial approximation
is reviewed along with the original skull by both the artist and anthropologist,
and is only considered final when approved by both. The entire process, including
Figure 37.16 Skull and donor subject with broad, thick zygomatic bones and a flattened,
slightly convex upper maxilla which corresponds to full, robust cheeks (top); skull and
donor subject with thin zygomatic bones and convex upper maxilla which corresponds to
flattened cheeks and “double” nasolabial fold that deepens with age (bottom).
scanning and printing of the replica and photography of the final sculpture, typi-
cally takes about 90 days. The standard practice is to provide high‐resolution
images of the sculpture to the contributor for media distribution and inclusion in
databases of unidentified remains such as NaMUS (n.d.) or the Doe Network
(n.d.). The actual clay sculpture can also be provided upon request.
For cases involving remains that continue to be unidentified after forensic exam-
inations have been completed, the FBI Laboratory compiles and formats investi-
gative information and forensic examination results in an effort to assist
contributors with creating or updating nationwide database records. This
information can be forwarded, with contributor permission, to FBI Laboratory
partners who administer these databases, including: (1) the FBI National Crime
Information Center (NCIC), which manages a database utilized by law enforce-
ment entities of both missing persons and unidentified remains cases (NCIC, n.d.);
(2) the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System (NaMUS), which
supports medical examiner and coroner agencies in the identification of human
remains, and includes a public interface to assist with case investigation (NaMUS,
n.d.); and (3) the FBI Violent Criminal Apprehension Program (ViCAP), which
serves as the national repository for violent crime information and enables law
enforcement agencies to collect, collate, enter and analyse their own violent crime
information on a local level, and facilitates the identification of similar cases on a
regional, state and national basis (ViCAP, n.d.). In addition, internal and external
case records are tracked, and if an identification occurs in one system, this
information is sent to other database administrators to allow the purging of records
or to assist further criminal investigation.
37.7 Conclusion
The FBI Laboratory has a number of resources that can be used to help identify
human skeletal remains. These resources are available to all law enforcement
agencies and medico‐legal offices, regardless of whether or not a crime is sus-
pected, from the ERTs that search for and document the collection of remains to
the laboratory personnel who exploit the remains scientifically, artistically and
investigatively. These resources are all located within a single laboratory employ-
ing standard operation procedures, which helps to streamline evidence processing
and facilitates communication between investigators and analysts. This multidis-
ciplinary and collaborative approach has resulted in the identification of numerous
human skeletal remains by the FBI Laboratory.
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38.1 Introduction
Australia is a large continent with a total land area of 7.6 million km2, but with a
relatively small population of 24.7 million people1 (Worldometers, 2018).
Indigenous Australians are the original inhabitants of the continent, with British
colonization, sometimes referred to as invasion (Reynolds, 2006), occurring in
1788. This was followed by the establishment of a penal colony for British crimi-
nals, and there was accompanying settlement of the land mainly by Europeans.
Despite controversy about killings and massacres of indigenous people that
occurred at the time of colonization and subsequently (Harris, 2003; Reynolds,
2001; Foster et al., 2001), compared with other countries with violent pasts, there
has been relatively little forensic investigation into such atrocities (cf. Smith et al.,
2017). However, forensic human identification is practiced in a range of contexts
in Australia, including long‐term missing persons, war dead, following disasters,
and individuals of historic interest.
As of October 2018.
1
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
593
who have been missing for more than three months (Australian Federal Police,
2018). Searches for missing persons vary depending upon the individual case.
As with any police investigation, each case is assessed and prioritized according to
circumstances. It has been shown in Australia, for example, that initial reports of
missing white, healthy, and financially stable males are given a low priority
(Warrington, 2012) compared with a celebrity or someone of high social standing
such as a politician (Bartelink, 2018).
While police receive reports about missing persons, those who receive uniden-
tified human remains are government forensic science and medicine service pro-
viders, which in Australia are either located under Departments of Justice or
Departments of Health. The actual number of unidentified human remains in
each state and territory is unknown (e.g. Hartman et al., 2015) predominantly
because of the different levels of investigation and recording of unidentified
remains within coronial jurisdictions (Carrington, 2006). There are regular media
reports of human remains being found in different locations across Australia
(Paul, 2012; ABC, 2009, 2012, 2014, 2017). Some states report managing over
200 cases of unidentified human remains per year (Gulson et al., 1997), with
more than 500 nationally (Ward, 2017).
In many cases, the missing persons investigation initially involves attempts to
locate the physical body where death is suspected. Ideally the search stage of the
investigation involves a forensic archaeologist and/or anthropologist. There are
currently no permanently employed forensic archaeologists (as opposed to
forensic anthropologists) in Australia. However, practitioners with relevant
forensic archaeological skills are employed as either forensic anthropologists or
consultants on an ad hoc basis to assist in cases of locating long‐term missing
persons (Blau and Sterenberg, 2015a).
involvement, which includes the First and Second World Wars, the Korean War
and the Vietnam War. The UWC‐A includes a forensic anthropologist (Contact,
2017) and has undertaken work including the investigation of those individuals
from the 60,000 who lost their lives during the First World War and still have no
known grave. Specific projects have included investigations undertaken in
Belgium where 140 Australian soldiers remain unrecovered. Work has focused on
the possible grave site of 86 Australian soldiers killed at the Battle of Messines
(Australian Army, 2018b).
The Australian Government liaised with the Commonwealth War Grave
Commission (CWGC) to undertake investigations in Fromelles, France. The Battle
of Fromelles (19–20 July 1916) has been described as one of the worst days in
Australia’s military history, with over 5500 Australian soldiers killed, wounded or
taken prisoner (Wessling, 2018). Many who were killed remain unaccounted for.
Work undertaken between 2007 and 2014 aimed to investigate surface anomalies
believed to contain the remains of Australian and British soldiers (Loe et al.,
2014). One pit contained the remains of 250 individuals. Of the 144 individuals
who have to date been identified (Cox et al., 2016), 20 were Australian (Australian
Army, 2016a).
The UWC‐A has also undertaken projects in relation to the Pacific region and
Papua–New Guinea (where over 2000 Australian servicemen remain unac-
counted for); the Korean War (1950–1953), where 42 Australian servicemen
remain unaccounted for; and the Vietnam War (1955–1975), where six positive
identifications have been achieved. There are now no Australian servicemen
missing in Vietnam (Australian Army, 2018a). While the focus of the UWC‐A is
on unaccounted Australians, they have also assisted the Papua–New Guinea
Defence Force in identifying soldiers from that nation who were killed in
Bougainville during the unrest in 1997 (Australian Army, 2016b).
cases of large‐scale disasters which typically result in the deaths of tens to hun-
dreds of thousands of people (De Boer et al., 2018). Consequently, the need to
appropriately manage large numbers of dead bodies is vital in order to ensure any
future possibility of identification. Based on recommendations provided by the
International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) (Cordner et al., 2016), Australia
is also involved in delivering training in dead body management to potential first‐
responders in countries across the Asia‐Pacific region.
Miguel de Cervantes was the author of Don Quixote, which was published in 1616.
2
3
The technique involving the neonatal heel prick is named after Robert Guthrie, an American bacteriologist and
physician who devised the test in 1962.
protocols and guidelines to standardize practice, unlike in other parts of the world
such as the UK (Black and MacKinnon, 2014; MacKinnon and Harrison, 2016),
Europe (FASE, 2018), USA (Reichs, 1998) and Latin America (Groen et al., 2015),
there is currently no accreditation process for practicing Australian forensic
anthropologists.
All deceased persons reported to the Coroner (which is less than 15% of deaths
per year in Australia: Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2017) are required to be for-
mally identified.4 The majority of these identifications take place by visual means
supported by circumstantial information. It is well recognized that visual
identification has a high risk of being inaccurate if not supported by scientific or
circumstantial evidence (Caplova et al., 2017, 2018). In cases where visual
identification is not possible, the coronial system in Australia requires that an
individual be scientifically identified. This may be achieved using fingerprints,
DNA, dental records or medical records, for example, prostheses with serial num-
bers (Simpson et al., 2007; Wilson et al., 2011; Blessing and Lin, 2017), or ante‐
mortem radiology. While the condition and preservation of the human remains
will inevitably influence the decision about which method is used, other factors
also come into play, such as legal requirements about obtaining and storing fin-
gerprint and DNA samples (see above).
In some Australian forensic service providers, such as the Victorian Institute of
Forensic Medicine (VIFM), post‐mortem computed tomography (PMCT) is used
as a triage tool to assist in deciding how best to undertaken identification. When
visual identification is not possible (whether as a result of trauma and/or decom-
position), a team of specialists is responsible for establishing the most appropriate
means of identification. Typically this involves reviewing PMCT scans to deter-
mine the presence of, for example, dental restorations, surgical intervention or
other potential identifying features. If such post‐mortem evidence is present, then
the identification team (made up of forensic anthropologists and odontologists)
liaise with police to locate relevant ante‐mortem records. Alternatively, the
identification team advises on the appropriateness of either fingerprints or DNA
for a scientific identification. In some cases, for example, if the individual is eden-
tulous, has no fingerprint record, and no children, no living siblings or surviving
parents, the validity of circumstantial identification is assessed. Circumstantial
identification requires a statement from the police officer who attended the death
scene which contains details that support the identification hypothesis. Such
details may, for example, include the fact that the deceased was located at a
4
This is in contrast to all non-reportable deaths, which do not require formal identification before burial/
cremation.
residential address that was inhabited by the person whose identity is in question.
There may also be items located at the death scene in the name of the deceased,
such as medication, driver’s license, bank cards, and so on. A report summarizing
these circumstances is submitted to the Coroner, who is ultimately responsible for
confirming identification.
38.6 Research
The field of forensic human identification has recognized the need for population‐
specific methods. For this reason there has been an increase in research being
undertaken to develop Australian population‐specific standards, including for
dental (Bassed et al., 2011; Flood et al., 2013; Karkhanis et al., 2013; Blenkin and
Taylor, 2012) and skeletal records (Lottering et al., 2013, 2016; Franklin and
Flavel, 2014, 2015), age, and estimation of sex (Franklin et al., 2011, 2012;
Johnstone‐Belford et al., 2018; DeSilva et al., 2014). In addition, Australian
researchers are also improving the evidence base to better understand and inter-
pret important aspects of forensic human identification, such as skeletal trauma
(Rowbotham et al., 2017, 2018), as well as evaluating the impact of different for-
mats in the presentation of skeletal trauma evidence in court (Blau et al., 2018).
Not unique to Australia, however, is the divide between the nature of the
research questions being pursued at universities and questions arising from
practitioners involved in casework. For example, despite the small number of
employment opportunities for forensic anthropologists in Australia, the subject of
forensic anthropology remains a popular field of study at universities. Consequently,
there is a requirement for student research projects, many of which are generated
with limited direct practical relevance to the discipline of forensic anthropology.
Such gaps highlight the importance of interaction between academics and forensic
practitioners. The National Institute of Forensic Science (NIFS) has developed a
research and innovation roadmap to attempt to address such issues (Australian
New Zealand Policing Advisory, 2018).
Given Australia’s colonial history and the sensitivity associated with the
treatment of indigenous human remains (Scarre, 2012), access to skeletal collec-
tions in Australia for research purposes is limited (Donlon, 1994). While some
universities with body donation programs have started to develop skeletal collec-
tions (Hinchcliffe, 2015), and the Australian Facility for Taphonomic Research
(AFTER), which opened in 2016, has ethical approval to retain the skeletons of all
its donors for future analysis, the relatively recent commencement of these pro-
grams means the numbers in the collections are relatively small. Consequently,
there is a rising trend in research being undertaken in aspects of human
identification using imaging such as post‐mortem computed tomography (PMCT)
(Christensen et al., 2018; Dedouit et al., 2014; Franklin et al., 2016; Uldin, 2017)
rather than the physical skeletal collections.
38.7 Conclusion
Acknowledgements
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During the inter‐communal fighting of 1963–64 and the events of 1974 in Cyprus,
2002 people went missing. Several inter‐communal meetings were held immedi-
ately after the events to address the issue of missing persons and the affected
families. Between 1975 and 1979 the UN General Assembly implemented three
resolutions calling for the creation of an investigatory body and, as a result of
these efforts, the Committee on Missing Persons in Cyprus (CMP) was established
in 1981 under the auspices of the United Nations and by agreement between the
Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot communities (United Nations General
Assembly, 1981; Committee on Missing Persons in Cyprus (CMP), n.d.‐a).
The CMP is a tripartite body; the Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot commu-
nities are each represented by a Member appointed respectively by their leaders,
and a Third Member is selected by the International Committee of the Red Cross
(ICRC) and appointed by the Secretary‐General of the United Nations. The CMP
decisions are taken by consensus among the three Members, who have one or
two assistants also actively involved in the operations. The Committee, in accor-
dance with its terms of reference and its humanitarian mandate, does not attempt
1
The views expressed in this text are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of the
Committee on Missing Persons in Cyprus (CMP). Names of commercial manufacturers/products are provided for
reference purposes, and inclusion does not imply endorsement of the manufacturer or its products by the CMP or
the authors.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
609
to establish the cause of death or attribute responsibility for the death of missing
persons, but seeks to alleviate the suffering of the affected families and to allow
closure (CMP, n.d.‐b).
After its establishment, the CMP focused on investigations and negotiations to
agree on a common official list of the missing. In the mid 1990s the official list was
established, including 492 Turkish Cypriot and 1510 Greek Cypriot missing per-
sons. In 1997 the leaders of the two communities agreed “to provide each other
immediately and simultaneously all information already at their disposal on the
location of the graves of Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot Missing Persons”
(CMP, n.d.‐a, para. 2). The Agreement also recognized the right of the families to
be informed about the fate of their loved ones and to perform a proper burial.
However, due to the lack of political will between the two communities, no formal
CMP meetings were held from 1998 to 2004. Later, in August 2004, the leaders of
both communities committed themselves to implement the 1997 Agreement and
reactivate the CMP. The CMP Members agreed to consider how to expand the
Committee’s scope of activity and reconfirmed their commitment to resolve the
issue of the missing. The efforts resulted in the launching of the project known as
the “Project on the Exhumation, Identification and Return of Remains of Missing
Persons” (or the CMP Project).
By achieving the Project’s objectives, the CMP not only aspires to heal the
wounds of the recent past, but also to contribute to the reconciliation between the
two communities. This is also encouraged through the active participation of over
80 local scientists from both communities in all the phases of the Project.
In 2004 experts from the UK‐based Inforce Foundation performed some surveys
on the island, but the CMP Project officially started its archaeological phase in
2005, under the supervision of the Inforce Foundation. Between January and
August 2006 the exhumations were mostly conducted by a small group of local
scientists. In August 2006 the CMP Anthropological Laboratory (CAL), located
within the United Nations Protected Area in Nicosia, was structurally completed
and the first forensic laboratory activities were initiated. The Argentine Forensic
Anthropology Team (EAAF) was recommended to the CMP by the ICRC to set up
the whole process. So, from August 2006 to April 2008, the EAAF trained and
supervised the bi‐communal team of Cypriot scientists (which were later referred
to as the Bi‐Communal Forensic Team) in all aspects of their operations. In October
2008 the CMP Project reached full local autonomy, with the EAAF acting until
today as the scientific consultants to the CMP (CMP, n.d.‐c).
In order to manage the investigations, the cases of missing persons have been
categorized according to the area and the time of disappearance, and the main
written sources of information are the personal files, the group files and the
geographical area files. Other written sources are the official lists of missing per-
sons and the ante‐mortem data that were collected mainly from the relatives of
the missing during the late 1990s/early 2000s, and part of them have been recently
reviewed and updated. Additional information for the investigation of missing
persons’ cases is also obtained from articles, written simultaneously to the events
or later, as well as other bibliographies.
Further to the desktop research based on the analysis of the available written
information, the investigative teams are responsible for obtaining, through their
field activity, new information from witnesses or informants. This information
may result in the location of a burial place, or it can be combined with what is
already known to strengthen a hypothesis, or add new information for the case.
To assist in this effort, the CMP regularly organizes public campaigns to raise
Figure 39.1 View of a mass grave, after all the remains have been exposed.
Operating Procedures (Field SOPs) of the Committee, which are regularly reviewed
and adjusted accordingly.
By October 2018, 1233 sites were excavated by the BCFT, 377 of which were
found to contain human remains (CMP, 2018). A variety of types of site locations
are encountered, and on many occasions they represent a single site. The types can
be divided into open areas and obstructed areas (Dupras et al., 2012). Open areas
include open fields, house or church yards, orchards, cemeteries, mountain tops
and slopes. Obstructed areas involve wells, kilns, streambeds, wooded areas, and
areas where there have been building developments (buildings, roads, paved areas).
There are various types of depositions that the BCFT has come across over the
years in sites relevant to the CMP project. While the most common type is the
clandestine burial – single or multiple – surface deposits, deposits in pre‐existing
natural or artificial features like streambeds, wells and kilns are also present.
Furthermore, the burials recovered are divided into four main types: primary,
secondary, disturbed, and shallow burials.
Although many burial sites (122 out of 377) revealed articulated skeletons,
in most of the cases (254 cases) either few skeletal elements were present, or the
remains were recovered disarticulated, commingled and fragmented. These
cases correspond to surface scatters of human remains, disturbed burials – due
to natural, environmental causes or human activity – or secondary burials
(Figure 39.1).
Once a possible burial place is indicated by the investigation team, the reconnais-
sance of the search area is organized in order to determine the search and recovery
methods that will be used during the archaeological phase. Prior to the excavation
of any site, the Health and Safety Coordinator inspects the site and prepares the
Health and Safety Plan.
The primary function of the CAL is to receive the exhumed remains and non‐
biological material, and perform scientific analysis in such a manner that
identification of individuals is achieved. At present, two bi‐communal teams,
comprising six anthropologists each, carry out the forensic anthropological anal-
ysis under the coordination and supervision of one Greek Cypriot and one Turkish
Cypriot Laboratory Coordinator.
The analysis relates to the recording of evidence, determination of the origin of
remains (human or nonhuman) and forensic significance (remains from 58 sites
received at the CAL were proven of an archaeological context, or irrelevant to
the CMP Project), assessment of the biological profile and individualizing charac-
teristics, and recording and interpretation of peri‐mortem injuries. To maximize
scientific integrity of the analysis, the anthropologists are not a priori exposed to
information related to hypothesis of identity, or any information that could lead
to bias. Given, though, that a correct analysis approach can emerge from the
review and integration of some preliminary information relating to the cases
(Puerto et al., 2014), CAL anthropologists receive and review information on any
known facts related to the burials, including the expected number of individuals
within a case, that derives from investigative information and archaeological
search.
To ensure consistency and professionalism in the scientific operations, a
systematic analysis is followed through the adoption of standardized forms and
protocols on methodological procedures (CAL SOPs). The methodological proce-
dures include, but are not limited to, recording the remains as they were located
and prior to any sorting, assigning a unique coding system that facilitates trace-
ability of remains, and analysing in steps (referred to as initial, intermediate and
final analysis). To verify that the conclusions of analysts are supported by the
evidence documentation, all scientific analyses are also subject to an internal
peer‐review process. All information related to analysis documentation and iden-
tifications is centralized into a digital information management system.
Until October 2018, 902 individuals recovered from 173 different sites were iden-
tified. Out of these 173 sites, 88 sites corresponded to either disturbed mass burials
or deposition sites (remains scattered across the ground surface). The extent of
complexity of each case varies and correlates with the context of commingling,
such as in disturbed primary graves versus secondary burials, and with the number
of victims involved (Puerto et al., 2014; Konigsberg and Adams, 2014). Clearly,
the effective resolution of commingling is vital for the overall identification pro-
cess, since individual identifications must be performed and remains should be
returned as complete as possible to their respective families.
In contrast to the straightforward analysis that can be performed on remains
recovered as intact skeletons, commingling occurring in disturbed mass burials
requires the employment of different methodological approaches (Ubelaker,
2014). At the CAL, after a thorough inventory of the remains, sorting techniques
CAL anthropologists nominate bone samples for DNA analysis, while protocols on
selection criteria, sample taking and sample documentation ensure consistency
and confidence in the sampling process.
The first determining factor in sampling is the completeness of remains and
their preservation (Boyer, 2012). Since sampling is a destructive process, areas on
bones that may be used for identification or for re‐association purposes are not
sampled (when possible). Additionally, when the sample is the only representa-
tion of an individual, the likelihood of a successful DNA profile (and that a part of
the bone is retained by the CAL for a handover to the family) is assessed. In com-
mingled cases, the sampling strategy takes into consideration the context of
commingling (open vs closed), the estimated number of individuals in the
skeletal assemblage, and investigative information relating to the expected number
of individuals within the case. On that account, an extensive sampling strategy
may be required. Best samples (in terms of preservation and success rates) and
samples representing the calculated number of individuals are prioritized, and a
re‐sampling strategy is developed after the first genetic results are obtained. The
extent of the re‐sampling depends on the failure of the tested bones, the increase
in the MNI (through DNA testing) and on whether the expected individuals
within a case are represented. However, the aim of the sampling is to maximize
individual identifications and not to perform genetic analysis on every bone.
Therefore, anthropological assessments, to the extent possible, have an important
role in the overall analysis and sample nomination process.
The CMP Genetic Unit consists of a bi‐communal team of geneticists who have
equal responsibilities in managing the genetic phase. The laboratory‐based work
of the skeletal elements is performed by externally contracted DNA laboratories,
while the DNA profiling of family reference samples (FRS) is carried out by two
local DNA laboratories. The data obtained is centralized at the CMP Genetic Unit,
where the geneticists interpret and confirm the results.
Detailed pedigrees were created for each missing person, documenting the
biological relationships between the relatives and the missing person. The DNA
samples from both Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot relatives were collected,
amplified using the PowerPlex® 16 (PP16) (Promega Corp., Madison, WI, USA)
STR system, and the profiles were stored in the Family Reference Sample Database
(FRSD). The FRSs were collected with a written consent clearly stating that the
DNA sample submitted will only be used for identification purposes.
The most preferred FRS to facilitate identifications of missing persons are first‐
degree relatives – parents, children and full siblings. However, when only distant
relatives are available, increasing the number of FRSs collected renders a greater
chance of a positive identification (Ge et al., 2011). The FRSD comprises auto-
somal STR profiles as well as mtDNA sequences from maternal relatives and
Y‐chromosome STR profiles from paternal relatives of the missing. The CMP Genetic
Unit also maintains a post‐mortem database where every DNA profile obtained
from the skeletal elements is stored, as well as an elimination database with the
DNA profiles of the CMP staff and individuals who are in contact with the remains.
Prior to genetic analysis, the presumptive identity hypotheses received by the
CMP investigators are checked to ensure that each missing person is represented
with informative FRSs in the FRSD. In cases where additional FRSs are needed,
the family pedigrees are reviewed, and when possible, DNA profiles are obtained
from living relatives or deceased family members who are exhumed to receive a
bone sample, with permission granted by the family and the local authorities.
obtain at least 12 STR loci, while a set of 16 STR loci is preferable (Prinz et al.,
2007). Any reportable STR profile obtained from the remains is first compared with
the post‐mortem database to determine which elements group together and origi-
nate from the same individual. The post‐mortem comparisons assist in the sorting
of commingling, cross‐checking of morphological associations, and the establish-
ment of the number of individuals represented in a commingled assemblage.
For kinship analysis, the most complete STR profile in each group is then
selected and uploaded to specialized genetic software for comparison with the
FRSD (Puerto et al., 2014). A match between DNA profiles, either through direct
post‐mortem comparisons or kinship comparisons, is statistically evaluated by
calculating a likelihood ratio (LR) using population‐specific allele frequencies
(Prinz et al., 2007). For CMP, a posterior probability greater than 99.95% serves
as a threshold for accepting a match. The posterior probability of a match is
calculated by multiplying the LR with prior odds (Budowle et al., 2011).
Once a match exceeds the acceptable statistical threshold, the external labora-
tory submits a report to the CMP Genetic Unit. The geneticists review the DNA
results together with the case information and confirm the consistency of the
results by issuing a “consistency report”.
When the threshold for identification is not reached, additional FRSs or addi-
tional genetic markers or lineage markers (Y‐STR and mtDNA) are used (when
possible) in order to increase the statistical significance or refute the possibility of
relatedness. Y‐STRs and mtDNA sequences can also be used to exclude improb-
able pedigree relationships, reduce possible candidates and direct further investi-
gations (Ge et al., 2011; Alvarez‐Cubero et al., 2012). Composite profiles may also
be generated using reportable data obtained from the same skeletal element to
provide more genetic data in the statistical evaluation of the match.
For the CMP, the DNA analysis does not serve as the only basis for the
identification, but complements a multidisciplinary approach to achieve identifi-
cations of human remains.
For the cases investigated by the CMP, the ante‐mortem database is built solely
on information deriving from an interview of a relative of each victim without
any medical or dental records. Consequently, the identification of remains cannot
be established through direct matching of post‐mortem and ante‐mortem medical
and dental radiographs.
Conclusions on identifications cannot be based on investigative information
related to victims’ presumptive identities and possible burial sites, or circumstantial
evidence, if strong scientific evidence cannot support such information. In some
cases, investigative information related to the circumstance of disappearance may
derive from primary witness information, and therefore it provides substantial
information on hypothesis of identity for the persons found within the graves.
Largely, though, investigative information is confined to the “place last seen,” and
it may not link specific persons to specific burials. The biological profile may pro-
vide hints of potential identities, detect false identities, and distinguish individuals
when kin relations are involved (Cabo, 2012). However, the process becomes
challenging when shared biological characteristics (e.g. age, sex, stature) of victims
are involved.
Considering the limitations entailed in the identification process of skeletonized
remains, it is imperative for the CMP to base identifications on highly discriminant
scientific means, such as DNA matching and statistical thresholds, and eventually
to incorporate matched post‐mortem information with ante‐mortem data. Even
though, for the CMP, DNA analysis is the most reliable tool for identifications,
there are limitations to a DNA‐led identification approach. These limitations are
more pronounced when dealing with mass burials where entire families are
involved. Kinship analysis cannot be used to distinguish between siblings when
there are no descendants, and the estimation of the biological profile of the
remains becomes crucial for attributing biological differences between relatives
(e.g. different sex, age, stature or individualizing characteristics) and thus
facilitates their identification.
In the absence of evidence that can be considered as “unique” to a victim,
positive identification of remains may be precluded. This scenario is often encoun-
tered in cases where the remains are highly fragmented and degraded, and neither
anthropological nor genetic evidence can be used for identification. When
scientific data is limited, strong investigative information is critical for determining
further steps towards the resolution of a case. In the same way, any scientific data
can clarify the circumstances of disappearance, and consequently, investigative
information is revised after new identifications are established.
Identification of victims from post‐conflict contexts involves several challenges,
such as the post‐mortem interval of the remains, disturbance of the graves and
commingling of remains, a high number of victims present, as well as limited
ante‐mortem information (Fowler and Thompson, 2015). Given the complexities,
identifications can be best achieved through the comprehensive consideration
and comparison of all available information that derives from the investigative,
archaeological, anthropological and genetic data (Puerto et al., 2014).
Once remains are positively identified, the CMP notifies the families of the
identification of their loved ones. Both the Greek‐Cypriot and Turkish‐Cypriot
Member Offices on the Committee have a team of psychologists responsible to
provide the families with psychosocial support and assistance in the process of
handover and burial of the remains. The CMP psychologists initiate the first
contact with the relatives of the identified, and according to the wishes of the
family, arrange for a meeting (referred to as family viewing) between the relatives
and the forensic team involved in the recovery, analysis and identification pro-
cess. During a family viewing, which is held at a specially designed area at the
CAL, the scientists present to the attending family members the information per-
taining to the exhumation, analysis and identification of the remains. In this way,
relatives are given the opportunity to raise any questions relating to the
identification process, to view the remains, and to determine the steps for the
handover of the remains. When cases are considered closed (known number of
individuals), the skeletal elements and the material evidence that could not be
attributed to specific individuals are explained and presented to the groups of
family members of the identified persons. These remains and artefacts are returned
in accordance with the wishes of the involved families.
In open‐commingled cases (the number of individuals represented within the
grave is unknown), the identification of remains may prove to be extremely chal-
lenging and analyses may carry on for an extended time. Therefore, the CMP
informs the relatives of any positive identification, the challenges and undergoing
analyses, as well as the possibility of later receiving additional remains. In this
way, it is for the families to decide whether they want to receive the identified
remains, or to be notified of any future identified skeletal elements.
After a family has decided on the handover of the remains, the CAL releases the
identified remains to the respective CMP Member’s Office. The remains are
released under a chain of custody form, together with a forensic archaeological
report and a report on the identification of the remains.
The identification of the remains of a missing individual does not only address
legal issues relating to the establishment of death, but also allows the living to
know with certainty the fate of their loved ones and to perform a proper burial
with funerary rituals and customs. The return of remains of missing persons may
bring closure to long‐suffering families – a closure that is not about forgetting but
remembering and honouring the dead.
39.15 Conclusion
With continuous support from the European Union and other international and
local donations, the CMP has made significant progress in the Project’s objectives.
Up to October 2018, 1233 excavations and exhumations were conducted across
the island and the remains of 902 persons were identified and handed over to
their relatives. However, more than 1000 individuals remain on the missing per-
sons list, with their fate still unknown (CMP, 2018).
With each passing year, finding evidence that could shed light on the fate of the
missing Cypriots becomes harder. Grave sites are increasingly hard to find, and
lengthy and costly excavations are carried out, but many times without recov-
eries. The types of burial sites that the CMP encounter not only require extensive
search methods and excavations, but they add to the time and cost of the anthro-
pological and genetic analyses. Highly commingled and degraded bones result in
limitations to identifications, and in some cases, identified individuals are repre-
sented by a few bones. Considering the challenges and limitations relating to the
remains of missing persons, the employment of a multidisciplinary approach that
assesses and incorporates information deriving from all the phases of the Project
is crucial for the resolution of the cases.
The CMP recognizes the need to expedite the Project and provide answers to
the relatives of the missing persons, acknowledging that close relatives may no
longer be alive to receive the remains. To improve the efficiency of the Project and
to ensure that the needs of the families are met, the CMP is now looking into new
strategies and methodologies. These efforts include collecting new information,
increasing the coordination between the different phases of the Project, using
new technologies for searching possible burial locations, and conducting family
needs assessments.
The CMP is one of the few active bi‐communal committees in Cyprus that has
been successfully operating for more than a decade, despite the absence of a
political settlement in the island. Through CMP’s operations, hundreds of families
have been able to alleviate their pain deriving from the uncertainty over the fate
of their loved ones. The recognition of the CMP as a model of a local‐capacity built
humanitarian organization also led to the formation of a successful partnership
with the ICRC and EAAF. Since 2012, the experience gained has been shared with
scientists and stakeholders from neighbouring regions that are affected by conflict
and violent disappearances, and the CMP is supporting the ICRC in building
forensic capacity in the Middle East (CMP, n.d.‐c).
The bi‐communal nature and the humanitarian scope of the CMP not only sup-
ports families in the healing process, but it is hoped that it will also contribute to
the peace‐building and reconciliation process on the island.
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank the CMP Members, Mrs Gülden Plümer Küçük,
Mr Nestoras Nestoros and Mr Paul‐Henri Arni, their assistants, and the scientists
of the Bi‐communal Forensic Team for their dedication and hard work.
References
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Chichester: Wiley‐Blackwell, pp. 462–470.
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40.1 Introduction
Forensic anthropology has been a powerful tool in the search for and identification
of missing persons in Guatemala. From the mass graves of massacres that occurred
during the Civil War, to current crimes of common violence, forensic anthropology
has had an important role in the search for justice within the legal system. The
role is equally important when natural disasters take place and many lives are
lost. The rigor of forensic investigations has been of great help in the search for
and identification of victims of several natural disasters over the years.
This chapter describes the role of forensic anthropology within medico‐legal
investigations and how those processes have been used in identifying the victims
of the recent and biggest natural disaster that occurred in Guatemala: the eruption
of Volcán de Fuego, which saw the destruction of two towns situated near the
volcano.
Forensic anthropologists use their knowledge to aid in the identification of
bodies in different states of preservation: highly decomposed, burnt, dismem-
bered, and other peri‐mortem or taphonomic states. At the time of writing, the
excavation and analysis of victims of the eruption was still in progress; many
persons are missing and many human remains still are not identified. However,
the humanitarian disaster caused by the eruption is a paradigmatic example of
body identification, which is the main subject, although the chapter will also dis-
cuss taphonomic states of bones related to high‐temperature exposure, dead body
management, interinstitutional work, and crisis and disaster protocols.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
625
Guatemala is one of the most violent countries of Central America, with over
53001 murders every year. That violence can be traced back to the Civil War that
took place between the years 1960 to 1996, which left at least 200,000 dead and
over 40,000 missing persons. That violence has become set within Guatemala’s
social structure (Jimenez, 2011).
The civil war saw countless examples of the kind of violence of which humans
are capable. The Truth Commission (CEH) (Truth Commission, 2006) recorded
the massacres attributed to the National Army of Guatemala in its campaign of
violence against the civilian population. It is only natural to find correlations bet-
ween the type of violence during the civil war and Guatemala’s current violence.
The current work of the National Institute of Forensic Science of Guatemala
(INACIF) involves the investigation of criminal activity that includes dismember-
ment of bodies, burning, torture and other violence – all of which can be directly
related to the modus operandi of the death squads during the war.
As a result of gang activity and related drug trafficking, authorities find bodies
that are dismembered and burned, buried in advanced states of decomposition, or
post‐mortem defleshed bodies during criminal rituals. The Guatemalan geography
also plays an important role in how the dead bodies are disposed of. Many dead
bodies are recovered in ravines, even near the biggest cities, with post‐mortem
degradation from the activities of street dogs or prey birds.
Guatemala’s forensic experts are overwhelmed by the demand for criminal
investigations. The forensic pathology carried out by the INACIF faces the delicate
task of identifying bodies in advanced states of decomposition. To accomplish
this the pathologists seeks aid from other forensic disciplines such as genetics,
odontology, fingerprint analysis (when the remains are suitable) and forensic
anthropology.
The more or less common path to dealing with a non‐identified body, or XX as
they are called by the Guatemalan authorities, is the following:
1. Any death suspected of being the result of a crime is investigated by the
Ministerio Público or prosecutor’s office (MP), including the crime scene, the
transportation of all evidence and the body or bodies. In some cases the human
remains are found and collected by the police or firefighters when the MP does
not have enough personnel, or the deaths result from natural disaster or mass
accident.
2. All the evidence collected at the crime scene is delivered to the INACIF for
forensic analysis. Dead bodies or human segments are delivered to the morgue
for cause‐of‐death and identification purposes.
1
National Institute of Forensic Science of Guatemala (INACIF) statistics from 2017, www.inacif.gob.gt.
Every forensic investigation involving human corpses or remains starts with the
medico‐legal evaluation, even if the remains are skeletons or highly decomposed
bodies. The pathologist starts the identification process by sending the remains for
forensic anthropological analysis.
Although this article deals with the forensic anthropological identification, it is
important to describe briefly the entire scope of the analysis carried out by the
anthropologists at the INACIF.
In a typical forensic anthropology analysis, there are a series of questions that
need to be asked. Are the remains human? How many individuals are? What is
the sex, age at death, height, race or ancestry? It is important to establish that the
age estimation and stature is given in a range, as the physical analysis never gives
an exact age or stature estimation. There are methods to establish the age range
for newborns, children, young adults and adults (including elders). The sex is
determined by the morphology of the skull and pelvic region, although there are
morphometric methods to establish sex when the skeletal remnants are eroded or
the skull and pelvis are absent.
Individualizing traits such as ante‐mortem fractures (bone reconstruction,
deformities due trauma and osteosynthesis materials), osteopathologies that may
be evident in life (osteoarthritis, bone infections due to trauma or infectious
diseases, osteoporosis, etc.), and peri‐mortem trauma divided into the following
categories:
1. Ballistic trauma: high‐velocity trauma caused by the impact of one or more
projectiles propelled by deflagration of gases.
When the only characteristics that match are the sex, age, stature and ancestry,
other approaches may be used in order to avoid using DNA due to the cost of the
test. The location of disappearance and location of discovery, clothing, personal
artefacts (such as rings, collars, watches, earrings, etc.) and the general circum-
stances of the case can be enough for the expert team (medical examiners and
forensic anthropologists) to make a qualified identification of the victim. If there
is any doubt or confusion with the information, the last resort is to use genetic
matching (DNA).
But what happens when the bones do not have DNA to be recovered within the
cells? What if the victims are from an event more than one or two months ago,
and the geneticists cannot find useful DNA within the bones?
On Sunday 3 June 2018, Volcán de Fuego (“volcano of fire”) erupted and sent
lava and pyroclastic flows into the villages of El Rodeo and San Miguel Los Lotes,
located in the department of Escuintla, 44 km south of Guatemala City. The Volcán
de Fuego eruption was the second strongest in the recorded history of Guatemala.
The largest took place on 24 October 1902 in the highlands of Guatemala, when
the Santa María volcano erupted in an event that endured for 19 days (Aragon,
2014), leaving more than 5000 dead and many more who died later from the
subsequent malaria outbreak. The authorities did not record bodies, leaving
several villages under ground and declared as massive graveyards.
Perhaps the Volcán de Fuego eruption was not as strong as the Santa María
eruption, and the dead and missing not counted in thousands, but this time efforts
to recover the bodies are being carried out so that the survivors may be buried by
their loved ones with dignity and their cultural rituals.
It is hard to assess how many people were affected by the Volcán de Fuego’s
eruption: how many died or are missing, how many people lived in those villages,
since the poor and outdated census figure estimations are inaccurate. But we can
share some figures: at least 187 people have been identified by October 20182 out
of 332 missing persons.3
One may think that the identification process of the bodies related to the
eruption follows the typical path mentioned before. In order to illustrate why the
Volcán de Fuego eruption is a paradigmatic event within forensic science, we need
2
INACIF, www.inacif.gob.gt.
3
Prensa Libre, 4 July 2018, www.prensalibre.com.https://www.prensalibre.com/guatemala/comunitario/erupcion‐
volcan‐de‐fuego‐conred‐cifra‐en‐332‐el‐numero‐de‐desaparecidos‐por‐erupcion‐volcanica
This is an estimated figure in the field; we (the forensic team) noticed that the population census was outdated,
so we believe that there are more people missing.
to understand the events that follow the eruptions and how the bodies were
managed by the authorities and volunteers at the site.
The National Disaster Management Agency (CONRED), which is the institution
responsible for the first response to any natural disaster, including the management
of the wounded and deceased, has its own protocols to deal with bodies, based on
international manuals like the International Committee of the Red Cross’
Management of Dead Bodies: A Field Manual for First Responders, and others. CONRED
also have very complete protocols for the rainy and hurricane seasons which
shows how to prevent the disasters, and how to act during and after events.
Information about procedures in the case of volcanic eruptions, and how to deal
with the bodies after the disaster,4 is more limited, however. There is little direction
on how to manage dead bodies from a volcanic eruption,5 or the effects of pyro-
clastic flow, high‐temperature lahars of sand and other minerals, and lava on
bodies. In fact, no one in Guatemala was prepared for the task and the implica-
tions of that unpreparedness – not even the forensic teams.
One of the most important issues was the lack of experts on the ground, that is
to say, during the first 72 hours, which is the time the CONRED protocols
established as the window to recover living victims.6 Many firefighters and volun-
teers did remarkable work saving hundreds of lives. The real problem started
when those 72 hours ended. The authorities only expected to find dead people,
which they did. The problem was in their inadequate recovery techniques because
the remains showed substantial recovery damage.
The very first day after the eruption, on 4 June, the rescue teams recovered
over 50 dead bodies and the figure increased over the following days.7 At first the
main contribution of the forensic anthropology team was to conduct the ante‐
mortem interviews and to create the ante‐mortem database for identifying bodies
with expected severe burns on the skin and flesh. Many of those 50–60 dead
bodies were identified by the pathologist using the ante‐mortem interviews, from
personal artefacts, and many of the bodies had recognizable features, like the face,
scars, and so on.
Though not all the corpses were in the same condition, some of those early
recoveries were more exposed to the pyroclastic flow, which made the soft tissue
very unstable and falling from the bones. Two things contributed to the poor pres-
ervation of the bodies: first, the sui generis nature of the natural disaster (at least
for the Guatemalan experience) because many firefighters have never seen bodies
affected by that kind of extreme and rapid heat from the pyroclastic flow; and
4
Rainy and Hurricane Season 2018 Protocol (CONRED), www.conred.gob.gt
5
In this article I will only talk about the management of dead bodies and only in reference to the events that took
place during and after the Volcán de Fuego eruption. The prevention and management of natural and humanitarian
disaster it is a broader subject that is impossible to address here.
6
Rainy and Hurricane Season 2018 Protocol (CONRED), www.conred.gob.gt
7
This data was obtained during the event by the author.
second, related to the previous lack of suitable containers for the transportation of
human remains in those conditions.
Thus, more or less skeletonized bodies started to enter the provisional morgue
created by the INACIF in the nearby town of Escuintla.8 The next natural step was
to estimate sex and age, with other elements like clothing or personal artefacts as
discriminating elements, to perform DNA analysis of the bones, and then compare
them with referential samples taken from the potential families that survived the
disaster during the interviews. This model worked just fine in the identification of
bodies recovered the first week after the eruption. There was no major problem
with commingling of bones, and the genetic profile was good enough to associate
mixed bones and to obtain positive identifications.9
After the first week (and maybe several bodies from that very first week) the
bone samples did not contain any DNA useful for obtaining a profile for human
identification. Retests were performed, and in some cases the result was positive;
however, in many more the result was negative, which left the challenge of how
to identify those corpses.
In order to answer that question, first it is important to describe what I call the
cooked bones: a characteristic of heat exposure that presented in the majority of the
318 corpses and body segments10 registered to the provisional morgue of INACIF
Escuintla.
The cooked bones presented a brownish coloration that is considered one of the
first stages of fire (Shipman et al., 1984); however, blackening was found on a
small quantity of bones, especially those of the first bodies recovered the day after
the eruption, suggesting that a small portion of the victims’ bones were in direct
contact with the pyroclastic flow.
The majority of bones presented a brownish coloration, noticeable dehydration,
and brittle condition with white edges. Luigi Capasso analysed the necessary tem-
peratures to reach those characteristics by studying the bones of Herculaneum
victims of the volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 ad. I found a very similar
macroscopic stage of the bones of the victims from the Volcán de Fuego eruption
from the second week, to those described by Capasso of Mount Vesuvius from
almost 2000 years ago (Capasso, 2000).
Despite communication with people in charge of the excavation on the disaster
site not being ideal, the forensic team were able to find out that most of the bodies
8
The bodies were taken to a provisional morgue (old school building); social pressure and the lack of state morgues
were the main reasons for working in such unsuitable facilities.
9
INACIF is an autonomous State institution in charge of almost all forensic investigations in Guatemala with legal
confidentiality. For this reason, in this article we cannot quote how many bodies were identified by fingerprints,
DNA, odontology or anthropology; that information is not available while the investigation is still in progress. The
information used to write this article was taken with ethnographic techniques by the author and his own partici-
pation during the events of the Volcán de Fuego eruption.
10
The difference of 131 between the number of identified persons and the number of corpses and body segments
did not mean that that is the number of unidentified bodies; many of the 131 are body segments or loose bones,
and even bones of pets and cattle from the village affected. See INACIF web page, www.inacif.gob.gt
were found in the houses, and the houses were buried in hot sand that came after
the pyroclastic flow. This is consistent with the dehydration condition presented
in the bones, due a high‐temperature cooking process over a considerable amount
of time. These conditions in the bones was the main reason the genetic laboratory
could not find useful DNA to compare profiles between the human remains and
the reference samples of potential families.
The only way to accomplish the majority of identifications was a comparison
between ante‐mortem data and the post‐mortem profile. Thus many interviews
had to be redone or more exhaustively expanded in every detail that could be
useful: any individualizing feature that could match with the findings in bones,
like pre‐mortem fractures, dental treatment (even if there was no written record),
personal artefacts (we found credit cards, cell phones, and even how much money
one person had on the day of the disaster because he was on his way to do some
transaction).
The recovery site was key to excluding or including possible victims. As I stated
earlier, we found that many people were trapped inside their houses, and under-
standing the distribution of the villages (rural villages with farms and improvised
houses, with no accurate maps or developed urbanization) was very helpful in
narrowing down the search for missing persons and comparing their ante‐mor-
tem data with the post‐mortem profiles obtained in the provisional morgue. It is
important to highlight the strong desire of the survivors to find their loved ones.
In many cases, they were the ones who dug in the ashes, sand and rocks to find
the remains inside the houses.
The comparison between ante‐mortem versus post‐mortem data was the key to
identifying at least 60% of the 187 persons returned to their families and now
buried with dignity and cultural rituals in proper graveyards. The role of forensic
anthropology was and still is fundamental to building the information for the
identification of humans who lost their lives in a natural disaster.
40.5 Conclusions
of human remains. Sometimes the limited resources, like the high cost of DNA
testing, represents the biggest obstacle to positive identification of bodies in
advanced states of decomposition, burned or skeletonized. However, when
the resources are not the problem, but the taphonomic state of the bones,
the comparison of ante‐mortem data collected from detailed interviews, archaeo-
logical context and circumstantial elements like personal artefacts, against the
post‐mortem profile obtained during physical examinations by the forensic
anthropologist, can be enough to obtain strong and reliable identifications.
That was the case for the humanitarian disaster that took place after the eruption
of Volcán de Fuego on 3 June 2018. The experience and scientific techniques of
INACIF’s forensic anthropologists has been an effective tool for answering
survivor demands and burying their loved ones in a proper and legal cemetery.
There is still much to do in regard to the scientific investigation involving the
relation of the eruption, taphonomic presentation of skeletal elements, genetic
profiles in cooked bones, and analysis of commingled bones.
Acknowledgements
The author wishes to thank the INACIF for the information, and special thanks to
Kelly Kamnikar of Michigan State University and Sara Maher, Adjunct Research
Fellow at Monash University, for their insights and contributions with the
development of this chapter.
References
Aragon, M. (2014) Cuando el día se volvió noche: la erupción del volcán Santa María de 1902. Digital
Magazine Estudios. Escuela de Historia, Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala, Guatemala.
Capasso, L. (2000) Herculaneum victims of the volcanic eruption of Vesuvius in 79 AD.
The Lancet, 356, 1344–1346.
Jiménez, D. (2011) Contexto histórico y desarrollo de la antropología forense en Guatemala 1954–2011.
Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala, Guatemala.
Shipman, P., Foster, G. and Schoeninger, M. (1984) Burned bones and teeth: an experimental
study of color, morphology, crystal structure and shrinkage. Journal of Archaeological Science,
11, 307–325.
Thompson, T., Jiménez, D., Bedoya, S. and Pleitel, A. (2018) Forensic anthropology:
Whose rules are we playing by? Contextualizing the role of forensic protocols in human
rights investigations. In: War Crimes Trials and Investigations (eds. J. Waterlow and
J. Schuhmacher). St. Antony’s Series. Oxford: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 59–80.
Truth Commission (2006) Spanish version: Memoria del Silencio. Comisión para el esclarecimiento
histórico en Guatemala (2nd edn.). Guatemala: F&G Editores.
41.1 Introduction
The internal armed conflict that occurred in Peru between 1980 and 2000 had
serious humanitarian, cultural, social and economic consequences due to the
armed actions of terrorist groups, such as the Peruvian Communist Party–Shining
Path (PCP‐SL, from 1980) and the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement
(MRTA, from 1983), as well as the counter‐terrorist response of the Peruvian state
through its Armed Forces, Police, and Self‐Defense Committees (CAD). Bonilla
(1994) argued that the violence of these armed interventions reached the entirety
of Peruvian society, and that such violence generated a cycle of incalculable chaos.
The final report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission stated that tens of
thousands of people were victims of this armed conflict, and that the majority
of the victims lived in rural areas (CVR, 2003).
The CVR Final Report tells various stories of cruel and degrading treatment suf-
fered by people who survived violence; the report also shows how the bodies of
thousands of people were treated at the time of death or before disappearing,
* The views expressed herein are those of the editor Roberto C. Parra and do not necessarily reflect the views of the
United Nations.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
635
including bodies that were deposited in individual and collective burial sites,
thrown into rivers, or incinerated in facilities built specifically for these purposes.
Certainly, the forensic investigations in which we have participated have managed
to shed light on such deathly events, confirming the stories reported by survivors.
Other published studies have reported similar forensic findings (Baraybar and
Mora, 2014).
The CVR Final Report (2003) indicated a total of 8555 missing persons and
4644 burial sites in ten different regions of Peru, with predominance in the
Ayacucho region. According to Baraybar and Mora (2014), in 2007, the Peruvian
Team of Forensic Anthropology (EPAF) recalculated the scope for missing persons
based on available lists and got a much higher number: 13,721. In 2011, the
Peruvian government acknowledged to the Organization of American States
(OAS) the existence of 15,731 missing persons (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 2011),
based on information provided by the Institute of Legal Medicine and Forensic
Sciences of Peru. In April 2018, the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights
(MINJUSDH) announced that at least 20,329 disappearances occurred during the
1980–2000 period of violence, of which more than 13,000 remain unaccounted
for. This number establishes Peru as one of the countries in Latin America with
the highest number of missing persons as a result of violence, only after Colombia,
Mexico, Guatemala and Argentina. It is highly likely that thousands of these
missing persons died and their bodies were deposited in the 6400 clandestine
burial sites that have been reported (COMISEDH, 2012).
This chapter aims to describe the development of the field of forensic sciences
in Peru (particularly in anthropology and archaeology) and its contribution to
judicial proceedings and the current humanitarian forensic action after the
recovery and identification of the remains of thousands of missing people. To
address this issue, we have organized this chapter into three sections: (1) the
development of forensic investigations and the search for missing persons in Peru;
(2) the complexity and limitations of the Peruvian case and the expectations of
the relatives; and (3) future challenges.
The first news about people reported as missing began to be known in 1983, and
increased substantially in following years (Defensoría del Pueblo, 2000).
According to the CVR Final Report (2003), disappearances and deaths were
reported in 1983 in Lucanamarca and Uchuraccay, two rural communities in the
Ayacucho region. In 1984, clandestine burials were discovered in Accomarca,
Soras, and Pucayacu – also in Ayacucho – with more than 40 buried bodies in
total (CVR, 2003).
In 1993, the finding of clandestine burials in the vicinity of Lima, the “La
Cantuta” case,1 warned of the need for forensic science guidelines to conduct
criminal investigations of such findings. Moreover, Peru was still under the dicta-
torship regime that perpetrated those crimes; this situation made it difficult to
pursue forensic interventions. In response, Amnesty International tried to get
the help of the Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team (EAAF) for the recovery
of the bodies, due to the vast experience accumulated by this team of experts,
and, the Congressional Commission of Enquiry of the “La Cantuta” case obtained
the advice of Jose Pablo Baraybar. Back then, the Peruvian government recog-
nized that the field of forensic science in Peru was not yet prepared to meet the
international guidelines developed for this type of case, and as a result, Peruvian
authorities emphasized the need to strengthen the technical capabilities of the
Institute of Legal Medicine and Forensic Sciences of the Public Ministry (IML) to
deal with this type of case.2
During the mid‐1990s, there was a growing and strong social pressure for
judicial investigations of the cases around the finding of clandestine graves and
the increase in the number of missing‐persons reports. Inadequate recovery of
human remains initially performed by police officers, medical examiners, or even
civilians made difficult the proper documentation and identification of the
recovered remains and evidence needed for judicial investigations.
According to Baraybar and Mora (2014), in 1997 a “Technical Group” was cre-
ated within the National Coordinator for Human Rights (Grupo Técnico de la
Coordinadora Nacional de Derechos Humanos), which later (2001) became the
Peruvian Team of Forensic Anthropology (Equipo Peruano de Antropología
Forense – EPAF). The activities of this technical group were aimed at dealing with
cases related to missing persons and human rights violations that were constantly
being reported, using the current international guidelines developed for forensic
investigations. This same technical group, promoted by Jose Pablo Baraybar, was
invited to participate in the forensic missions of the International Criminal Tribunal
for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) to facilitate acquiring forensic training.
At the beginning of the 2000s, the news reports related to clandestine burial
finds continued, this time in the towns of Pampas‐Tayacaja and Churcampa
(Huancavelica). The Office of the Public Defender followed up on such cases and
began receiving the advice of EPAF for the adequate documentation of this type
of case. In fact, official recommendations were made by the Office of the Public
Ombudsman to highlight that there were clear differences between those cases
linked to common criminality – and the application of conventional criminalistics
1
On 18 July 1992, members of the paramilitary group known as “Grupo Colina” kidnapped and murdered nine
students and one professor from the Universidad Nacional Enrique Guzmán y Valle, commonly known as “La
Cantuta”; their clandestine burials were found in the districts of Cieneguilla and Huachipa.
2
UN Principles on the Effective Prevention and Investigation of Extra-legal, Arbitrary and Summary Executions (1989), and
its companion document, the UN Manual on the Effective Prevention and Investigation of Extra-Legal, Arbitrary and
Summary Executions (1991), which became known, through popular usage, as the Minnesota Protocol.
Directive No. 011-2001-MP-FN by the Public Prosecutor’s Office, approved on 8 September 2001.
3
with support from the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights, Civilian Society, and
the International Committee of the Red Cross, has identified and returned to their
families the remains of around 2578 victims.4 However, despite innumerable
efforts, several hundred bodies are still preserved in EFE facilities waiting for
future strategies for the management of these unidentified human remains and a
humanitarian forensic action.
In June 2016, with the enactment of Law No. 30470, the “Law for the Search
of Missing Persons in the 1980–2000 period of violence,” a new governmental
institution joined the search for missing persons: the General Office of Search for
Missing Persons (DGBPD), under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Justice and
Human Rights. Since 2017, this office has been carrying out research on the fate
of missing and deceased persons in the context of reparation processes for family
members, who constitute the focus of attention within the framework of a human-
itarian approach. As a result, the Peruvian search for missing persons has the
challenge of simultaneously addressing the search for missing persons from two
different perspectives –the judicial approach and the humanitarian
approach – which will have to be articulated in a way that facilitates providing the
necessary answers to family members who still wait to know where their loved
ones are and what happened to them. The actions that are carried out in both
approaches require the same expertise and professionals for the development of
their processes, for which the articulation of such approaches strengthens the
search actions in favor of the victims.
The Peruvian reality for the search for missing persons presents at least three
different dimensions of complexity, based on the needs of family members and
the information potentially available about each particular case. These dimen-
sions of complexity are defined as follows:
1. Dimension I. Missing persons: Relatives have no information about the final fate
of their missing relative.
2. Dimension II. Deceased persons and missing bodies: Relatives know that their family
member died, but they do not know the place where the body was deposited,
or they know that the bodies were destroyed (thrown into rivers, cremated,
mutilated, etc.).
3. Dimension III. Deceased persons without legalization of death: Relatives know that
their family member died, participated in the funeral, and know the location of
the burial, but the legalization of the death was never carried out due to reasons
related to the context of violence surrounding the event (see Table 41.1).
4
Around 90% of the identified remains are cases typified as Dimension III, and in some cases as Dimension II,
according to the classification proposed in the next section of this chapter.
Dimension I Domingo Ayarza Military Base, known as “Los • Five years of forensic investigation involving the collection of
Cabitos”, Huamanga, Ayacucho. testimonies and the analysis of historical documents and
Located in the capital of the Ayacucho region. The archives, using procedures from social anthropology and
CVR’s Final Report (2003) concludes that “… archaeology; in addition, use of anthropological protocols for
members of the Peruvian Army installed in this the analysis of bodies and associated evidence, genetic data,
Military Base ordered, allowed and/or committed and other non‐genetic procedures.
human rights violations against the local and • 17 hectares were investigated using forensic–archaeological
regional population detained in these facilities protocols, which accounted for 27,470 m3 of removed soil
between 1983 and 1984; they carried out arbitrary and 3031 excavation units.
detentions, tortures, granted selective freedom, • 300 kg of forensic evidence was recovered, including
disappeared (using crematoria) and extrajudicially fragmented human remains and ammunition, among other
executed at least 136 people.” items of forensic interest.
• 58 clandestine graves were discovered; 22 of them were
intact and the rest were intentionally altered in order to
eliminate evidence.
• Six crematoria were registered. They contained abundant
charred and calcined materials, including non‐organic
materials (glass, metal, etc.) with thermal impact due to high
temperatures.
• The remains of at least 109 individuals were found; 53 of
them were complete skeletonized bodies.
• By 2018, 12 bodies were identified through the integration
of genetic (DNA) and non‐genetic evidence. The 12 bodies
were returned to their families.
(Continued)
Dimension III The death of Luis Morales Ortega, the Solier • Eight skeletonized bodies were recovered from individual
family, and Leonor Zamora. sites in the Ayacucho General Cemetery between 2008
The CVR concluded that a member of the Peruvian and 2009.
Army Intelligence Service was responsible for several • The bodies were analysed and identified by non‐genetic
human rights violations between July and December comparative methods.
of 1991. His pseudonym was “Agent Carrion” and • It was possible to confirm the identity and establish the
his personal diary discovered in 1996 was key to manner of their deaths: a single execution pattern (more
reconstructing the selective and arbitrary executions than two shots in the back of the head).
of the journalist Luis Morales Ortega, the Solier • The eight bodies were returned to their families, this time
family, Huamanga’s former mayor Leonor Zamora, along with death certificates and other documents, to
and other individuals as well. reestablish their individual and social identity.
Since the beginning of the 2000s, it was understood that the work processes for
the forensic documentation of cases related to human rights violations and the
search for missing persons had to be adjusted to the particular complexity of the
Peruvian reality, but also to the context of recommendations and best practices
based on experiences across the world (Doretti and Fondebrider, 2001; Fondebrider,
2002). As stated before, the “Manual for the investigation in the case of discovery
of graves with human remains in Peru” outlined the minimum requirements and
guidelines for this type of action. Although the adaptation process was gradual,
substantial changes were observed in the medium term. For example, after 2002,
when a clandestine grave was found in Peru, most prosecutors requested the
presence of qualified professionals to deal with the case. These new decisions
made it possible to improve the case documentation and data collection by forensic
specialists who had been trained to implement recommendations and minimum
international standards to deal with this type of case. These standards included:
(1) the need to study the case before recovering the evidence; (2) the need to
have a record of evidence recovery; and (3) the need for laboratory work for the
analysis of the evidence (Fondebrider, 2002). This is a model of scientific docu-
mentation that has been formulated on the basis of more than 30 years of forensic
operations, starting in Latin America and then spreading around the world (Doretti
and Fondebrider, 2001; Steadman and Haglund, 2005).
Following this “Latin American model,” in Peru the human remains and their
associated objects recovered to date are related to a specific context of regional
and local violence. In the Peruvian context, social anthropologists have been
fundamental to reconstructing such violent events through in‐depth studies
within Amazonian or Andean communities, and avoiding applying foreign pro-
tocols and standards that turn out to be inadequate for each addressed context
(Baraybar, 2008; Baraybar and Blackwell, 2014,). For example, the collection of
ante‐mortem (AM) information is highly sensitive in the Peruvian context; it is
therefore necessary to understand and differentiate both the Andean and
Amazonian worldviews to properly carry out this process. This is particularly
the case considering that the categories and conceptualization of health and
disease may be different from a non‐specialized researcher with an etic5 perspec-
tive. In Peru, social anthropologists have demonstrated an important scientific
role by applying their own methodological approaches to data collection using
an emic6 approach in the context of forensic sciences (Baraybar, 2008)
(Figure 41.1).
5
The etic perspective defines and describes social behavior focusing primarily on the logic of the observing actor.
The structure that exists beyond the minds of the actors is prioritized.
6
An emic perspective ensures that there is a context of interaction in which the observer and the informant meet
and carry out a discussion on a particular topic.
the evidence, not all cases have informants who can offer ante‐mortem data for
the bodies. Consequently, this is one of the main reasons why it is not always
possible to achieve identification of all the bodies recovered from a certain clan-
destine burial site. In addition, even when we have ante‐mortem information, the
data collected are not always sufficient due to contradictions found in the reports
provided by the informants (Vega and Mora, 2008). For example, there may be six
bodies in a burial site, but there is only information about three individuals who
presumably could be buried in that place. The other three bodies that will be
recovered do not have family members who can offer us any reference, despite
the thorough research conducted by social anthropologists.
The Curgos‐Huamachuco case (La Libertad) was preliminarily investigated by
EPAF, and a total of six skeletonized human bodies were recovered. However,
both EPAF and later EFE agreed in their final reports to establish the identification
of two individuals. To this day, the other four bodies recovered have not been
identified, since there are no informants or family members who can provide data
on these people buried in the same place.
Another well‐known forensic case in Peru is that called “Molinos,” in the Junin
region. In this case, it was possible to recover 60 human bodies from a multiple
burial. The bodies showed important post‐mortem information: regenerated
fractures with surgical treatment (osteosynthesis) as well as dental work, extrac-
tions, and prosthesis, among other characteristics. In spite of such individualizing
findings, to date only seven of the 60 bodies – or 11.66% – have been identified.
Reasons for this include, once again, a lack of informants who could provide
information about the individualizing characteristics of their relatives and/or pro-
vide biological information (e.g. DNA). Additionally, along with the absence of
family members that complicated the identification process, many of the buried
people – if not all – belonged to the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement
(MRTA). A similar situation applies to people retained and disappeared in cases
including: Cabitos (Ayacucho), Pichari (Cusco), Chapiorco (Apurimac), and
Pucayacu (Ayacucho), since the detainees were transferred to other places outside
their locality, or even outside of the region, and consequently their relatives lost
their trace completely.
A long list of hundreds of bodies has run the same fate in Peru, and they are still
deposited in the warehouses of forensic laboratories. During forensic investiga-
tions, when it is not possible to identify skeletonized human remains by AM/PM
methods, they are sent for complementary DNA analyses to look for more matches
or lines of evidences. These DNA results are then evaluated in context following
the process shown in Figure 41.2. However, although we could use DNA as an
exclusive support for identification, this is not always possible due to several
reasons: (1) resources are not always available to use this technology; (2) skeleton-
ized bodies are biologically degraded, and DNA is not available or there is not
enough of it to extract genetic profiles; (3) there are no biologically‐related family
members; or (4) there are several deceased relatives who were buried in the same
Unidentified
Maches
Genetic Forensic Database
Other elements of
support for Unusual traits like dental treatments, dental aesthetic Procedures in charge of forensic
modifications, personal objects, identification documents;
identification eyewitness testimonies, Information from the event. anthropologists and forensic
and congenital conditions. archaeologists.
INTEGRATION OF DIVERSE LINES OF EVIDENCES FOR FORENSIC CONTEXTS Identificacion Committee with all of
forensic specialist
FORENSIC DATABASE
Figure 41.2 Flowchart of the process of identification of human remains that is currently
practiced in Peru. Adapted from ICRC recommendations (2009: 22).
Throughout this chapter we have reviewed the complexity of the forensic sce-
nario of the search for disappeared persons in Peru. The decomposition of human
remains – still buried in thousands of mass graves in Peru – constitutes one of the
main risk factors for their disappearance, and this risk increases rapidly. Although
a traditional approach would require an extensive forensic investigation prior to
the recovery of any evidence (Fondebrider, 2002), the current reality of the
Peruvian scenario may require emergency actions to mitigate the problem of
human remains degradation and organic bone decomposition, and enable their
humanitarian rescue. In this regard, Luis Fondebrider (2002) has emphasized that
it may be possible not always to follow a strict order of investigation, and the
phases of forensic work can overlap. This means that, in the Peruvian case, we
may choose to start with forensic recovery, in order to stop bone decomposition
in the acidic soils, and then continue the work through documentary investiga-
tion of the cases and proper reconstruction of disappearance contexts. For
example, when human remains are discovered accidentally, the recovery phase
initiates the investigation, and the historical investigation phase can continue
throughout the entire investigation process, finishing with restitution of the
remains to families. Otherwise, it could take months, or perhaps years, to elabo-
rate and enrich databases of ante‐mortem information or historical information,
while human remains keep degrading in the places where they were deposited,
increasing the risk of skeletons disappearing due to anthropogenic factors, and
decreasing the possibility of identifying them and returning them to their rela-
tives. Moreover, this scenario precipitates the social death of the unidentified
deceased persons (see Chapter 6).
The humanitarian search for missing persons in Peru must consider that the
current number of missing persons and the total number of burial sites constitute
a humanitarian crisis that needs to be addressed urgently to prevent the disinte-
gration of bodies and the loss of information due to the death of the relatives who
initiated the search, mainly elderly men and women who still hold hopes to find
their relatives, or at least to know what happened to them. One emblematic
example of this situation is Mrs Angelica Mendoza de Ascarza, popularly known
by the nickname “Mama Angelica,” who died on 27 August 2017. Mama Angelica
became a symbol for the mothers searching for their missing children, and died
still waiting for news about her son Arquímedes. Like Mama Angelica, several
dozen men and women have died waiting for news. Both emergency situations,
concerning the bodies and the relatives, are challenges that must be faced
today and constitute a primary concern for forensic sciences and humanitarian
action in Peru.
For family members, there is a humanitarian path that helps to preserve the
bio‐historical memory of people who are waiting for news about their missing
relatives; this path consists of campaigns of preliminary forensic data collection,
which involve the centralization and systematization of ante‐mortem data and
genetic records as a tool for identification and as a mitigation measure against the
death of elder relatives. On the other hand, regarding the bodies of deceased per-
sons who are still buried in clandestine graves, there might be additional options
involving the recovery and/or humanitarian rescue of such bodies; they could be
moved to specific cemeteries or specially constructed facilities in neighboring
towns, within the framework of a clear forensic strategy of documentation, anal-
ysis and conservation that must be added to any public commemoration policy.
The assessment of information related to the context of disappearance and the
possible location where the body was deposited should be included as part of a
preliminary response to the families, which, according to the progress of the
investigation, could confirm whether or not there is a body to return. This option
could constitute a challenge at two levels: first, it would involve communication
with the family to prepare it for the different outcomes that may result from the
investigation; and second, it would imply that the search for missing persons does
not start with the presumption of finding a body in a skeletonized state, but with
confirming the existence of the deceased person in a burial place instead. This
confirmation would be based on the forensic evaluation of the context as well as
the finding of human skeletal remains, and it could provide an answer to the
family about the last days of the disappeared person in a landscape that requires
dignification. Aldo Bolaños (2016) has introduced the concept of landscape of
dignification in the context of the search for missing persons; it refers to the idea
that this search is situated in a symbolic and geographical space composed of
scenarios of memory and commemoration of the events lived there. These
landscapes of dignification require, first, a search landscape where abandoned
clandestine graves still keep the memories of the deceased deposited there. These
Acknowledgements
We wish to thank the colleagues of the specialized forensic team of the Institute
of Legal Medicine and Forensic Sciences of Peru, and colleagues of the Peruvian
forensic anthropology team, who for years have been working in favour of the
victims of violence in Peru.
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Comisedh – Comision de Derechos Humanos (2012) Los muertos de Ayacucho. Violencia y sitios de
entierro clandestinos. Proyecto Construyendo democracia: aportes de los defensores de derechos humanos
al ejercicio de los derechos de la verdad y la justicia. Lima.
42.1 Introduction
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
653
Roberto Gomensoro Josman was arrested and disappeared during the last military
regime in 1973 in Uruguay (Işcan et al., 2005).
In March 1973, a private individual located a corpse in Lake Rincón del Bonete
in Paso de los Toros (Tacuarembó). It was in an advanced state of decomposition
and tied with barbed wire. The forensic examiner determined that he was an
adult male, 1.75 meters tall, and that due to the advanced state of decomposition
he could not obtain fingerprints or determine the cause of death. The body was
buried in Tacuarembó Cemetery (Işcan et al., 2005). In 2002, the skull and jaw
were sent to the forensic anthropologist of the Judicial Branch for analysis and
identification. With four photos – three provided by the family and one from the
Internet – the cranium–photo superposition method was performed. The skull
was manipulated manually until the approximate position of the individual in the
photo was found. After the skull was in the correct position, it was zoomed using
the camera until the size of the skull was adapted to that of the photo (Işcan et al.,
2005). According to the authors, this method showed excellent results when the
match between the skull and the skull–photo overlap was carried out.
The judge considered that this test was not sufficient and ordered a genetic pro-
file on the remains to be compared with samples from the relatives of Roberto
Gomensoro Josman, a procedure that confirmed the hypothesis of identity (Işcan
et al., 2005).
In the second half of the 1970s, in the context of the civil–military dictatorship
(1973–1985), several NN (“no name” – unidentified) bodies appeared on the
shores of Uruguay. At that time, the official explanation given by the authorities
was that those bodies were of Asian sailors who would probably have died in a
confrontation aboard a fishing boat.
In 1995 the book El Vuelo by Horacio Verbitsky was published in Argentina,
where the Argentine Lieutenant Commander, Adolfo Scilingo, revealed the secrets
of the so‐called “death flights,” during which the political detainees of the
Argentine dictatorship were drugged and then thrown into the sea. On the basis
of this new information, suspicions grew in Uruguay that the bodies recovered
from the sea corresponded to disappeared detainees, which triggered an investi-
gation initiated by the Servicio de Paz y Justicia – SERPAJ (an NGO for the pro-
motion, education and defence of human rights). One of the cases investigated
was that of a body that appeared mutilated and tied on the shores of La Esmeralda
resort in the Department of Rocha, on 24 April 1976. Originally assigned to the
alleged clash between Asian sailors, the body was buried in the cemetery in the
town of Castillos.
In September 2000, the body was exhumed from the cemetery of Castillos. The
study of the remains was commissioned by SERPAJ to an anthropologist, who
identified them as belonging to Olivar Sena, a fisherman who disappeared on
2 December 1974 in the town of Punta del Diablo (La Red 21, 2000a). Through
journalistic records and statements of the researcher himself, it was disclosed that
the identification was made by computer‐assisted digital video overlay (DVS)
(cranium–photo overlay), with a “99.99% certainty” according to the author of
the study. At the same time, the dentist who treated Olivar Sena during his life-
time reached the same conclusions about the identification of the remains (La Red
21, 2000b).
Once Olivar Sena’s family was informed, the news was given to the general
public on 13 December 2000 at a press conference held by SERPAJ. It was the first
disappeared Uruguayan to be located, while confirming that the “death flights”
had also taken place in Uruguay, thus opening up a new scenario in the search
for the truth about the fate of disappeared citizens. Although this news was
interpreted by the protagonists as a final point in the case, the truth is that a pro-
cess was just beginning that was going to end with very different conclusions to
those proclaimed to the whole country in the first instance.
The “Comisión para la Paz,” set up by the then‐President of the Republic,
Dr Jorge Batlle, began to carry out its own investigations since the case was in line
with its tasks. Within this framework, the Ministerio del Interior was entrusted
with a series of reports, since during the identification process carried out by an
anthropologist of the Forensic Medical Institute, the two fingerprint tests carried
out by the forensic police and the National Naval Prefecture were not taken into
account. The report was finally submitted on 21 December 2000, in which the
unquestionable conclusion was reached that the remains did not belong to Olivar
Sena (La Red 21, 2001).
With this report and the exclusion carried out through the study of fingerprints,
the “Comisión para la Paz” offered the possibility of carrying out DNA studies in
different laboratories to definitively clear up doubts. These studies were then
entrusted to the Forensic Police of the Ministerio del Interior, to the Laboratory of
Forensic Biology of the Department of Forensic Medicine of the University of
Helsinki (Finland), and to the National Institute of Toxicology of Madrid (Spain).
The three independent studies excluded the possibility that the remains belonged
to Olivar Sena (Secretaría de Derechos Humanos para el Pasado Reciente –
SDDHHPR, 2015).
Years later, on 16 November 2004, the anthropologist in charge of the study
gave statements on Radio CX 36 about the case and its identification, claiming
that he continues to affirm that the remains are from Olivar Sena (CX 36 Radio
Centenario, 2004). In other words, for the investigator (still the only anthropologist
at the Technical Forensic Institute), neither the study of DNA nor the exclusion
through the study of fingerprints are considered reliable in the identification
process.
Olivar Sena then suffered then a sort of “second disappearance” that continues
to this day, and the remains recovered in April 1976 in La Esmeralda remained
unidentified until 2012 when the Equipo Argentino en Antropología Forense
(EAAF) was able to identify them as those of Luis Guillermo Vegas Ceballos
(Presidencia de la República, 2012).
María Claudia García Irureta‐Goyena was kidnapped with her husband, Marcelo
Ariel Gelman Schubaroff, on 24 August 1976 during the last Argentine military
dictatorship. After passing through the Clandestine Detention Center “Automotores
Orletti,” she was transferred to Montevideo in 1976, pregnant with her daughter
María Macarena Gelman García (Madres y Familiares de Detenidos Desaparecidos,
2004). The remains of Marcelo Gelman were found and identified by the EAAF in
1989 in a 200 litre drum, filled with lime and sand; María Claudia García is still
missing (SDDHHPR, 2007).
In 2005, in the Vichadero Cemetery (Department of Rivera), bone remains
were found that could belong to disappeared persons, according to the study car-
ried out by the Forensic Medical Institute, since they were found in a mass grave
with several of the remains described as “NN”. Most of them were damaged and
inside a bag. A skull was selected and analysed through a comparison between
both the skull found and a photo of María Claudia; according to the Institute
anthropologist, the skull was more than 90% likely to belong to this person
(Montevideo Portal, 2009).
According to the anthropologist, the method of cranio‐photographic compari-
sons by computer is especially based on the fact that nature does not produce
anything exactly the same, so that with a forensic interest, it is a proven fact
that there are no two identical craniums; all are basically different, either in their
morphology, dimensions, and especially in their proportions (Solla, 2018: 30).
Macarena Gelman told Clarin newspaper it was not clear what the degree of reli-
ability of the procedure used might be, or the protocol and context in which the
remains were analysed; pertinent verification instances are missing, such as
genetic tests that must be performed (Diario Clarin, 2008). DNA studies were car-
ried out in genetic laboratories in Córdoba, Argentina and Granada, Spain. Both
results were negative and the hypothesis that both samples belong to the same
maternal line is rejected (Diario Ámbito, 2009).
Macarena Gelman described as irresponsible the content of a report by the
anthropologist, brought to justice regarding the identification of bone remains
found in a cemetery in the town of Vichadero, which he maintained coincide 90%
with those of his missing mother (La Red 21, 2008).
DNA extraction again. As the results were delayed, the mother decided to talk to
the doctor in the case, who told her that the remains found were not Jonathan’s,
but would belong to a pre‐teenager. When the new DNA results finally arrived,
this time from a French laboratory, they were negative again (Diario Vecinos de la
Costa, 1998).
In 1994, the skeleton was exhumed, responding to a judge’s request. Since
there were no dental records or X‐rays or any other preliminary information,
apparently the only route was to make a facial reproduction of the child in order
to corroborate or reject his identity. Despite this, the parents questioned his study
and relied on the DNA results (Solla, 2018).
The common denominator in the cases described above is the use of techniques
that are not adequate, precise or reliable to identify the remains. Some of them
are not close yet because the results are not convincing, mostly because of the
malpractice that we mentioned before. The principal method used in these cases
is the skull photo superimposition; this technique is misunderstand by many
forensic investigators since they consider that it is an excellent method for identi-
fying people, but it is useful to exclude people (Aulsebrook et al., 1995; Stephan,
2003; Fenton et al., 2008; Gordon and Steyn, 2012, 2016).
For instance, the method of skull photo superimposition for positive identification
is highly criticized at the academic level, as many researchers use it as the only
method for identification (Gordon and Steyn, 2012, 2016). Other researchers
mention that it is a method that can be used for the exclusion of possible individ-
uals, while at the same time they clarify that it cannot be used as the only resource
without using other methods to achieve a positive identification (Aulsebrook
et al., 1995; Fenton et al., 2008; Gordon and Steyn, 2016). Following this line, if
two skulls with similar physical characteristics are found, identification by cra-
nium–photo overlap can have bad results (Austin‐Smith and Maples, 1994). In
addition, SWGANTH (2010a) say that tissue‐depth measurements are not stan-
dardized and in most cases are averaged from many individuals. Additionally,
there is error inherent in the collection of these measurements. The degree of
individual variation combined with measurement error may result in consider-
able differences between actual tissue depths and those depicted in facial
approximations.
42.7 Recommendations
methods and techniques for the recovery and identification of disappeared per-
sons (e.g. ALAF; ICRC), in order to ensure and enforce these standards when
receiving reports and accepting or rejecting lines of evidence presented. These
protocols guide the methods and procedures reviewed and standardized by the
scientific community, and establish accepted techniques (determining their preci-
sion, reliability and range of known error), so that they lead to a positive
identification (DNA, RX, odontology). Following this line, the expert reports must
contain and explain the standards of procedures, samples and materials used,
among other requirements.
Essential inputs for the investigation process include the ante‐mortem
information of the disappeared detainees, as well as the genetic bank of reference
samples of relatives of disappeared detainees. The protocols adopted should then
establish which bodies and/or institutions are responsible, their functions and
scope, who has access to them, as well as the rules for the protection of personal
data, human remains and genetic samples. For ante‐mortem information, the
type of database, the institution that collects it, who has access to it, and its secu-
rity should be established. For genetic samples, the collection, labeling, transport,
analysis and storage of the sample must be protocolized.
We highly recommend that anthropologists and archaeologists should be incor-
porated into the judiciary, public ministry, scientific police, and so on. Moreover,
experts involved in identification processes must have specific training and
experience in the forensic area. Training should be encouraged and demanded,
therefore, degrees should be awarded by accredited universities for this reason
and accreditation should be mandatory.
In summary, in Uruguay efforts should be made to improve the identification
process and the application of international protocols through the active partici-
pation in training and updating processes with reference institutions such as ALAF
and EAAF. The aim is also to involve judges and prosecutors in the process so that
they are aware of and apply these protocols, and ensure an identification process
in accordance with international requirements and the good practices of forensic
anthropology.
References
Asociación Latinoamericana de Antropología Forense (ALAF) (2016) Guía Latinoamericana de
Buenas Prácticas para la aplicación en Antropología Forense. Grupo H y A, Colombia.
Aulsebrook, W., Işcan, M., Slabbert, J. and Becker, P. (1995) Superimposition and reconstruc-
tion in forensic facial identification: A survey. Forensic Sciences International, 75, 101–120.
Austin‐Smith, D. and Maples, W. (1994) The reliability of skull/photograph superimposition
in individual identification. Journal of Forensics Sciences, 39 (2), 446–455.
Burns, K. (2008) Manual de Antropología Forense. Barcelona: Bellaterra.
CX 36 Radio Centenario (2004) Entrevista al Dr. Horacio Solla. http://www.radio36.com.uy/
entrevistas/2004/11/161104_solla.htm
Diario Ámbito (2009) Restos hallados en 2005 no son de nuera de Juan Gelman. http://www.
ambito.com/479080‐restos‐hallados‐en‐2005‐no‐son‐de‐nuera‐de‐juan‐gelman
43.1 Introduction
In this chapter, we discuss two cases that exemplify an increasing problem in the
small Central American country of Costa Rica: the discovery of unidentified
remains, sometimes buried in clandestine graves. For many years, an anthropo-
logical consultant was contracted by the forensic services only occasionally, when
a particular case required the expertise. The same applied to the uncommon
discovery of a clandestine burial: a call would be made to an archaeological expert
or to the National Museum, and an archaeologist or anthropologist, who other-
wise spent their time teaching or working on prehistoric archaeology, would
attend to the case. In recent years, however, the need for a part‐time, and soon
after full‐time forensic anthropologist became apparent. This shift reflects not
only an increasing awareness of the utility of anthropological expertise in the
recovery and analysis of skeletal remains, but also a greater need for it.
Compared with other regions in the world, Latin America has the notorious
title of being the most murderous (Luhnow, 2018; The Economist, 2018). Despite
having only about 8% of the world’s population, the region accounts for over a
third of all homicides globally (Igarapé Institute, n.d.). Cities such as San Pedro
Sula in Honduras, Caracas in Venezuela, and San Salvador, vie amongst each
other as the deadliest cities in the world.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
663
The Cold War, and even into the 1990s, saw Latin America suffer terribly from
military governments and civil armed conflicts, resulting in hundreds of thou-
sands of deaths and disappearances. While South American countries such as
Peru, Argentina, Chile, Paraguay and Uruguay have taken effective steps to face
and overcome their violent past, today showing relatively low levels of homicidal
violence, Central American countries such as Honduras, El Salvador and
Guatemala (the so‐called Northern Triangle) continue to experience extremely
high levels of lethal violence, albeit in different forms.
The organized armed rebel groups of the 1970s and 1980s are now local and
transnational urban gangs or maras, such as Mara Salvatrucha (MS‐13) and the
Eighteenth Street Gang (calle 18 or M‐18) (Council on Foreign Relations, 2018). In
some countries, the state response to such threats is the use of military and para-
military force in cities, in so‐called “mano dura” (“iron fist”) policies.
In contrast to its Northern Triangle neighbors, Costa Rica has enjoyed peaceful,
civil, democratic governance for almost 80 years. Nevertheless, the homicide rate
has increased steadily since 2013 (see Figure 43.1), as has human and drug traf-
ficking. Costa Rica’s highest recorded homicide rate was in 2017, at 12.1 per
100,000 inhabitants (Clavel, 2017), and this trend appears to continue through
2018 (for comparative purposes, the 2017 rate for the United States of America
was less than half, at 5.3). Many attribute this rise in crime to the infiltration of
organized criminal groups from Colombia and Mexico, which coordinate drug
trafficking (e.g. Dursun‐Özkanca, 2017; Sada, 2015).
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Figure 43.1 Homicide rates in Costa Rica, 2000–2018. Data: Estadísticas Policiales
OIJ (2018).
During the first half of the twentieth century, international migration out of
Central American nations mainly occurred intra‐regionally. Since the early
twentieth century, economic hardship, lack of access to land, organized armed
violence, and the impact of natural disasters have influenced the departure of
many people from the Northern Triangle countries. Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua
and Costa Rica became major recipients of refugees in the region, mostly in camps
or settlements along their borders (Pederzini et al., 2015: 6).
The Northern Triangle violence motivates mass migration generally to the
north, as is demonstrated by the migrant caravan of thousands that left Honduras
for the US in October 2018 (Lind, 2018). Despite fleeing violence at home, the
new, precarious circumstances of migrants reveal distinct situations of vulnera-
bility to crime. While many from northern Central America migrate north, a
steady stream of migration is also occurring from further south, principally
Venezuela and Colombia, through Panama, before reaching Costa Rica (Bronstein,
2016; Muggah et al., 2018).
There has also been historical migration, mostly economic, southward into
Costa Rica from Nicaragua. According to the latest data published by the United
Nations, Costa Rica has 414,214 immigrants, which represents 8.44% of the total
population (United Nations, 2017). Immigrants in Costa Rica come mainly from
Nicaragua (85%), with Colombia (5%) a distant second (United Nations, 2013).
These numbers, however, do not include undocumented migrants, of which there
are many.
Economic and political crisis in Nicaragua since April 2018 has triggered mass
migration out of the country, with people both fleeing violence and looking for
work in Costa Rica. Reportedly, 24,000 Nicaraguans are seeking asylum in Costa
Rica. Though many are crossing official border points, the number of undocu-
mented crossings is much greater (Semple, 2018). The increase of violent crime
in conjunction with human trafficking and mass immigration or transitory
migration of non‐nationals create increasing numbers of victims. Those who die
in Costa Rica (or elsewhere outside their native countries) are much more difficult
to identify.
Although published forensic case reports tend to focus on success stories, this
chapter highlights the growing phenomena of clandestine burials and the uniden-
tified dead in Costa Rica. Forensic policies are in place to enable the positive
identification of anonymous victims, yet typical aids such as identification cards
and victim family DNA are often absent. In many of these cases, there is no
hypothesis of victim identity to test (i.e. no reported missing person cases match-
ing the post‐mortem biological profile), thus a targeted search for ante‐mortem
medical and dental records cannot be made. The unidentified dead are thus buried
in public cemetery plots. Measures are taken to exhume bodies in case critical
Figure 43.2 Top view of the clandestine grave with skeletonized human remains. (Photo
by G. Pacheco‐Revilla, with permission.)
The individual was found at a depth of 90 cm, clothed and completely skeleton-
ized, in a flexed position, resting on its right side with the right arm flexed towards
the chest, with a closed plastic zip tie looped around the wrist; the left arm was
stretched towards the lower back, also with a closed disposable plastic zip tie at the
wrist (see Figure 43.2). A third cut plastic zip tie was found on the lower back.
A piece of fabric was found between the maxilla and mandible –presumably a gag
(Figure 43.3). Clothing included a shirt, boxer shorts, a pair of jeans, a pair of
white socks, one tennis shoe (right), a necklace and a watch. No identification
documents were found.
Empty lime bags were found underneath the remains and lime was also found
in soil samples taken from the grave, as analysed by the Forensic Biology
Laboratory, OIJ. Lime is often used in clandestine burials in Costa Rica (Pacheco‐
Revilla, personal communication, Congram, 2008: 795) and other countries, as it
is a commonly held belief that lime may enhance the speed of decay and hence
reduce likelihood of detecting a body by minimizing the odor and destroying
evidence (Forbes, 2008: 211; Schotsman et al., 2014: 141).
Collection and recovery of the remains was done following archaeological
methods set forth by international protocols and standards (Cheetham and
Hanson, 2009: 141; Christensen et al., 2014: 149–178; Asociación Latinoamericana
de Antropología Forense, 2016: 32–41).
According to the Costa Rican forensic service’s Guide for Recovery, Transport, Entry
and Exit of Corpses of the Medical Examiner’s Office (Guía de levantamiento, traslado,
ingreso y egreso de cadáveres a la Morgue Judicial) (Organismo de Investigación
Judicial, 2016), when a body enters the morgue, it must be marked with a full
name (except when it is an “unknown”), provenance, and submitted with a Death
Figure 43.3 Top view showing clothing and fabric found between the maxilla and
mandible. The arrow points north. (Photo by G. Pacheco‐Revilla, with permission.)
surface of the bones (soil staining) (Pokines and Baker, 2014: 73; Dupras and
Schultz, 2014: 315) were taken into account.
Climate (in many of its facets) is also a defining variable. The post‐mortem
interval estimate considered the climate, which has high temperatures (25–30°C)
along with a high relative humidity level (81–91%), which encourages faster
decomposition (Instituto Meteorológico Nacional, 2012).
The anthropological analysis of the biological profile showed that the morpho-
logical and metric traits were indicative of a male (Klales et al., 2012: 104). The
morphological characteristics also indicated that the individual was an adult,
between 35 and 45 years old (Langley‐Shirley and Jantz, 2010: 571; Brooks and
Suchey, 1990: 227; Hartnett, 2010: 1145).
The individual presented fractures in the malars and left zygomatic bone, and
an ante‐mortem fracture of the nasal bone, which obscured estimation of ancestry.
Nevertheless, a morphoscopic analysis of other traits, such as a short and broad
cranial vault (Asian/American Indian), rectangular orbits (African), shovel‐shaped
incisors (Asian/American Indian), slight coronal depression (African) and a nasal
opening flared at the base (Asian/American Indian), indicated an “admixed”
ancestry (Christensen et al., 2014: 149–178).
There are no population‐specific formulae to estimate height for this particular
region (Central America). The forensic odontologist’s report (J.M. Fernández,
2015, unpublished results) described the presence of typical dental handiwork
known to be done in Nicaragua (see below). No specific stature formulae exist for
that country. The closest population‐specific stature formulae are those for the
Mexican population (Menéndez et al., 2011: 11). Therefore, forensic stature was
estimated using the maximum femur length (45.2 cm), based on the Trotter and
Gleser equation (1952, modified by Trotter and Gleser 1958 [1977]: 463) for the
male Mexican population. The resulting mean stature value was 169 ± 2.99 cm.
An ante‐mortem fracture in the left nasal bone evidenced bone remodeling
(Figure 43.4). No peri‐mortem trauma was found, and hence it was not possible
to determine a cause and manner of death.
The forensic odontologist’s report (2015) noted a removable partial denture in
the left maxilla as an important item for possible identification (Figure 43.5). It
replaced the upper left central incisor and the prosthesis was made of chrome
cobalt – common Nicaraguan handiwork and seldom produced by Costa Rican
dentists. It also described periodontal disease in the upper and lower teeth.
The medical examiner’s final report established the cause of death as unknown.
However, given the circumstances in which the individual was found, the manner
of death was determined as a homicide from the medico‐legal point of view.
DNA samples were taken from the right femur, and sent to the Biochemistry
Section of the Forensic Genetic Unit (OIJ), in order to obtain the needed genetic
markers to be included in the Combined DNA Index System (CODIS) database,
for future comparison. CODIS enables international, state and local forensic
laboratories to exchange and compare DNA profiles to identify missing and
Figure 43.4 Frontal view of ante‐mortem fracture in the left nasal bone with bone
remodeling. (Photo by G. Pacheco‐Revilla, printed with permission.)
Figure 43.5 Inferior view of the removable partial denture in the left maxilla. (Photo by
G. Pacheco‐Revilla, with permission.)
No dental ante‐mortem data was collected and no genetic match was found for
the DNA samples. Several months passed and no one claimed the remains. Bodies
not claimed are buried by the judicial authorities in a public cemetery. Prior to
discharge of the body from the morgue, all the administrative procedures are
completed and case information is reviewed and verified. Remains of unidentified
bodies are buried in an individual grave at a public cemetery in the country’s
capital, San Jose, duly labeled and barcoded, so that the remains can be relocated
and exhumed if information relevant to identification is found in the future.
Figure 43.6 View of the site prior to collecting the remains. (Photo by OIJ.)
Figure 43.7 Top view of some of the remains found at the site. (Photo by OIJ.)
were almost complete; no hand or foot phalanges were collected, but the sand
around the remains had not been sieved. The only trauma observed was blunt
force trauma to the skull and teeth. Other cases of individuals recovered from
rivers tend to show a series of fractures throughout the ribs, skull and long bones,
which were not present in this particular case.
A post‐mortem interval was estimated between six months to a year, based on
previous cases in the area, exposure on the surface, bone bleaching and absence
of soft tissue (Bass, 2006: 181; Pokines, 2014: 201; Dupras and Schultz, 2014: 315;
Pacheco‐Revilla, 2017, unpublished forensic anthropology report).
The forensic anthropological analysis concluded that the remains belonged to a
juvenile. The missing bones included the proximal unfused epiphysis of the right
humerus, and the unfused distal epiphyses of both radii and ulnae.
Morphological and metric analysis of skeletal traits indicated a male (Klales
et al., 2012: 104). Epiphyseal fusion of long bones provided a reliable age range
for the remains. The fusion of the ossification centers of the epiphysis of the
humerus, the radii, and ulnae had not yet ossified (ossification starts at 16–21 years
of age in males), and the proximal and distal epiphyses of the femura had fused
(16–20 years of age in males), providing an age estimate of between 16 and 20
years (Buikstra and Ubelaker, 1994: 39–46; Scheuer and Black, 2000: 374–395;
Cunningham et al., 2016: 385–472).
Figure 43.8 Left lateral view of the skull, showing a perimortem semilunar–concentric
fracture in the left parietal bone near the parietal protrusion. (Photo by G. Pacheco‐
Revilla, with permission.)
For ancestry estimation, certain bones (e.g. nasal bone, zygomatic, the maxilla,
the palatine, the mandible) adopt adult morphology and size in puberty (Scheuer
and Black, 2000: 36–170; Cunningham et al., 2016: 43–176). In this case, the
skull was completely ossified, which allowed the analysis of morphological traits
(e.g. a long and narrow face, a narrow nasal aperture), suggesting Caucasian
(white or Hispanic) ancestry (Hefner, 2009: 985).
As both femurs showed epiphyseal fusion, stature was estimated using the
maximum femur length (45.2 cm), based on Trotter and Gleser’s equation (1952,
modified by Trotter and Gleser 1958 [1977]: 463) for the (American) male
Caucasian population. The resulting mean stature value was 158 ± 3.27 cm.
A pathological condition, porotic hyperostosis, was discovered in the frontal
bone, both parietal bones and the occipital bone. Studies have confirmed that
porotic hyperostosis is caused by iron deficiency, anemia and/or malnutrition
(Ortner, 2003: 383).
The anthropological analysis revealed a semilunar–concentric fracture in the
left parietal bone near the parietal protrusion, measuring 3 cm in diameter
(Figure 43.8). The fracture affected the external table of the bone, showing a light
depression as plastic deformation. There was no evidence of osteogenic reaction,
nor taphonomic alteration, indicating peri‐mortem trauma (Sauer, 1998: 321;
Symes et al., 2012). The trauma was characteristic of blunt force trauma
(SWGANTH, 2011, on trauma analysis) as having been produced by relatively low
velocity impact over a relatively large blunt surface or object (Passalacqua and
Figure 43.9 Frontal view of alveolar bones and broken teeth showing they were not
caused by a single impact. (Photo by G. Pacheco‐Revilla, with permission.)
Fenton, 2012: 400; Symes et al., 2012: 340). The weapon used had a circular
surface, leaving a negative impression on the bone.
Fractures of the alveolar bones and broken teeth were analysed by the forensic
odontologist (unpublished forensic odontology report, J.M. Fernández, 2017). The
report indicated the presence of fractures in the maxilla and left mandible, with
peri‐mortem loss of the left upper central incisor, which is associated with a frac-
ture of the left hemi maxilla. A longitudinal fracture of the crown of the left upper
lateral incisor continued in the alveolar bone extending to the vicinity of the ante-
rior nasal spine. Fractures of the first upper left premolar, the left lower lateral
incisor and left lower central incisor all extended to the alveolar bone, as well. The
report concluded that the lesions were peri‐mortem, as the bevels of the fractures
are sharp, the dentin had no different pigmentation and there was no sign suggest-
ing healing (Figure 43.9). The fractures were not caused by a single impact, but
rather several blunt force impacts which produced multiple broken teeth.
Nevertheless, these traumas did not allow the medical examiner to establish the
cause of death. Therefore, the medico‐legal report stated an unknown cause of
death and an undetermined manner of death. After the report was delivered to
the corresponding authorities, criminal analysts were asked to carry out an inves-
tigation on reported missing persons during 2016 in the area, guided by the
provided biological profile characteristics.
The investigation determined only one person with the characteristics that
matched the profile was reported as missing (Palma, personal communication).
However, family members of this possible match supplied DNA samples that were
negative for the subject case study, as they corresponded with other skeletal
remains also found in Siquirres, province of Limón, in February 2017, which were
linked to a drug dispute case under investigation at the time. Today, the remains
of the subject case rest in an individual grave of a public cemetery in the country’s
capital, labeled and barcoded to facilitate future identification.
43.4 Conclusions
The two cases discussed here are reflective of rising levels of homicidal violence
and increasing numbers of victims who cannot be identified in Costa Rica. We
present them to emphasize a growing and frustrating social and scientific problem
in the country.
Standard forensic procedures work towards matching unidentified victim DNA
with that of families, but the essential element of victim family DNA seems to be
increasingly absent, resulting in a lack of positive identifications. It is possible,
perhaps even probable, that many of these victims are not, in fact, Costa Ricans.
The undocumented migrant population and those involved in criminal activity
related to drug trafficking are far less likely to be reported as missing by family
members. These people have an immediate interest in not being registered and
monitored by the State. One of the consequences of this anonymity, however, is
that if a person dies, the chance that they will be positively identified for repatri-
ation to the family is extremely low. Even following forensic analysis, unidentified
bodies are tracked and registered in marked cemetery plots in the hope that
information that will aid positive identification will be submitted to the medico‐
legal authorities. In the last 15 years, however, approximately five such cases have
been identified.
Currently, standard forensic identification procedures include pathological,
radiological, odontological, biochemical (DNA) and, if remains are discovered in
clandestine graves and soft tissue is partially or wholly decomposed, anthropolog-
ical examinations. These all contribute information towards the identity of vic-
tims. However, it is becoming increasingly clear that alternative methods may be
required to test the theory that some or even many of these victims are non‐
nationals. If these victims are non‐nationals, we must ask where they come from,
and from this, how governments may share data to work towards the identification
and repatriation of victims.
If, however, these victims are Costa Rican nationals, we must ask what more
may be done to reach out to families, so that they may facilitate identification.
This volume focuses heavily on one particular new method: stable isotope anal-
ysis, which might provide some answers to these questions in Costa Rica, although
currently the Forensic Science Laboratories in Costa Rica do not have the equip-
ment or capacity for this.
Thus, it remains to be seen how new mechanisms and methods may be incor-
porated to work toward the identification of these victims. Despite relatively low
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44.1 Introduction
South Africa is located at the southernmost tip of the African continent and is
about five times the size of the UK (MyLifeElsewhere, 2018). The country is
divided into nine provinces: the Northern Cape, Western Cape, Eastern Cape,
Free State, Gauteng, KwaZulu‐Natal, Limpopo, Mpumalanga and North West
(Statistics South Africa, 2012). Of these, the Gauteng province, which includes
Johannesburg, has the highest population and is also the economic heartland of
the country. Based on the mid‐year population estimates for 2018, South Africa
has a population of approximately 57.73 million people with just over half of the
population being female (~51%) (Statistics South Africa, 2018a). Four major
population groups are identified in South Africa – Black African, Coloured, Indian/
Asian and White – with Black South Africans making up the overwhelming
majority (80.9%) of the population (Statistics South Africa, 2018a). Almost a
quarter of the population (14.7 million people) live in the Gauteng province
(Statistics South Africa, 2018a), which is by far the smallest of the nine provinces
(18,178 km2) consisting of a mere 1.4% of the land area of the entire country
(Statistics South Africa, 2012).
South Africa is a middle‐income (developing) country (Barros and Gupta, 2017)
and home to a plethora of African migrants and refugees seeking employment,
education and or social, political or religious freedom (Maharaj, 2002; Crush
and Williams, 2002; Landau and Jacobsen, 2004; Tati, 2008; Bloch, 2010).
Unfortunately, many of these migrants and refugees are undocumented and
illegally in the country, as the legal processes are often expensive, fraught with
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
681
corruption and drag out for years (Maharaj, 2002; Landau and Jacobsen, 2004;
Tati, 2008; Bloch, 2010). Migrants are considered undocumented when they enter
the country without documentation or with fraudulent documents, or when they
overstay their permits (Crush and Williams, 2002; Maharaj, 2002). Unsuccessful
asylum‐seekers that remain in the country are also classified as undocumented
(Bloch, 2010). The exact number of undocumented migrants is unfortunately not
known, but figures as high as 12 million have been unfoundedly suggested, with
more reasonable estimates suggesting around 5 million (Tati, 2008). There are a
number of reasons for this high number of migrants. South Africa is a prime des-
tination for immigrants and refugees from all over the African continent, seeking
employment, education and freedom (Maharaj, 2002; Crush and Williams, 2002;
Landau and Jacobsen, 2004; Tati, 2008; Bloch, 2010). As South Africa has an
emerging economy, which puts it ahead of its neighbouring countries (Maharaj
2002; Tati, 2008), it potentially offers employment opportunities. Migrant labour
has always formed an integral part of South African mining and agricultural his-
tory, and are often described in relation to apartheid (Maharaj, 2002; Tati, 2008).
Prior to 1963, undocumented migrants from Botswana, Lesotho and Swaziland
were allowed to cross South African borders freely to work and live in the country
(Crush and Williams, 2001, 2002); however they were not allowed to apply for
citizenship (Maharaj, 2002). The perceived economic opportunities in South
Africa, relative to the poverty and political instability of many other African coun-
tries, contribute to South Africa being a destination of choice. Other factors con-
tributing to the high number of undocumented migrants include the long, porous
borders, which act as “revolving doors” that are frequently crossed both legally
and unlawfully (Maharaj, 2002; Tati 2008; Bloch, 2010). Whereas in other regions
of the world it may be easier to recognize individuals as migrants (e.g. as they
arrive in boats across the Mediterranean), this is not the case at all in South Africa,
and these migrants and undocumented individuals easily blend in to the local
communities.
Many South Africans are of the opinion that the large number of undocu-
mented migrants places significant strains on the country’s resources, which inev-
itably leads to an increase in crime and violence (Crush and Williams, 2001, 2002;
Maharaj, 2002; Tati, 2008), as also evidenced in recent xenophobic attacks.
However, evidence to suggest the opposite is present. Migrants have been found
to be of good health (Maharaj, 2002) and are often better educated and have
more skills compared with South Africans (Landau and Jacobsen, 2004). They are
frequently self‐employed, and as such they actually contribute to the country’s
economy (Maharaj, 2002; Landau and Jacobsen, 2004). Police station reports,
specifically from Johannesburg, have also indicated that migrants are victims of
crime rather than the culprits (Landau and Jacobsen, 2004).
Unfortunately, crime and violence are rampant in South Africa, with over
1,662,815 serious crimes registered between April 2017 and March 2018 (South
African Police Service, 2018). Of these crimes, contact crimes had the highest
incidence (601 366; 36.2%) (South African Police Service, 2018). Contact crimes
are crimes where victims themselves are targets and include sexual offences,
assault and murder. A total of 20 336 murders were reported between April 2017
and March 2018, with 4 233 in the Gauteng province alone (South African Police
Service, 2018). This equates to approximately 56 people murdered per day (Africa
Check, 2018). A total of 156,243 common assaults and 167,352 assault with the
intent to cause grievous bodily harm cases were also registered during this time
(South African Police Service, 2018), which roughly translates to 428 and 458
victims of assault per day, respectively (Africa Check, 2018). Sadly, many crimes
are not reported to the police, especially in areas with limited resources and areas
where people do not trust the police (Bhorat et al., 2017).
Recent statistics recorded a total of 456,612 deaths in 2016, of which 405,370
(88.8%) deaths were due to natural causes and a total of 51,242 (11.2%) were
non‐natural deaths (Statistics South Africa, 2018b). The most common cause of
natural deaths was tuberculosis (29,513; 6.5%) while assault (7568; 14.8%) and
transport accidents (6425; 12.5%) were the main known causes of non‐natural
deaths (Statistics South Africa, 2018b). In Gauteng the total number of non‐
natural deaths amounted to 10,770 for 2016 (Statistics South Africa, 2018b). By
law, a medico‐legal investigation, as stipulated by the Inquest Act (Act No 58 of
1959) and the National Health Act (Act 61 of 2003), are required for all non‐
natural deaths. This is conducted by the Forensic Pathology Services (FPS).
The combination of high levels of crime, poor documentation of South African
citizens, large numbers of undocumented individuals, vast open fields and the
fragmented nature of the South African societies all contribute to the fact that the
country is experiencing massive problems with identification of deceased individ-
uals. Especially in cases where bodies are partly or fully decomposed, there is, in
the first instance, no way to easily decide whether the individual was a South
African or not, in addition to the complexities of establishing a personal identity.
This obviously creates massive legal, humanitarian and moral issues. In this
chapter we will elucidate these problems in more detail, and describe attempts
that are being made in the greater Johannesburg area to address these issues.
within some of the larger provinces the service is further divided into clusters.
These clusters divide the province into jurisdictions within which the service can
be delivered. In Gauteng there are two designated clusters, dividing the province
into the Northern Cluster and the Southern Cluster. There are two medico‐legal
facilities within the Northern Cluster and eight within the Southern Cluster. The
Southern Cluster serves Johannesburg and the greater region surrounding it. Of
the facilities within the Southern Cluster, two are M6 laboratories, which are rec-
ognized as being able to facilitate up to 3000 medico‐legal post‐mortem examina-
tions a year. Additional to that are a further two M5 facilities, which are able to
and often do process up to 2500 post‐mortem examinations a year. This illustrates
the demand placed on these facilities annually. In the last three financial years, an
average of 12,305 non‐natural deaths were processed by the Southern Cluster,
compared with 3484 cases processed in the Northern Cluster (Prof. J. Vellema,
personal communication, 2018).
Non‐natural deaths are those deaths where, as stipulated by the Regulations
regarding the rendering of the Forensic Pathology Service (FPS), there has been
the application of force or chemical influence, together with any complications
thereof; a death which may normally be considered to be natural, but in the
opinion of a medical practitioner there has been an act of omission or commission
which may be criminal in nature; a death which is sudden and unexpected or
unexplained; and lastly, deaths following any medical procedure as noted by the
Health Professions Amendment Act (29 of 2007).
Within recent years, there has been a growing concern as to the increase in the
number of unidentified decedents within the service. Removal of individuals from
the medico‐legal laboratory requires positive identification of an individual by
family members or next of kin. In the period 2016–2017, 769 unidentified per-
sons were admitted to the facilities within Gauteng (Prof. J. Vellema, personal
communication, 2018). Data assessment has shown that the situation with
unidentified persons in Gauteng has improved, since in 2012/2013, 1603 uniden-
tified individuals were noted. These individuals, who remain unidentified or are
identified but are unclaimed, are interred by the state. In 2016/2017 the number
of unidentified persons comprised of about 5% of the total population processed
by the FPS within Gauteng (Prof. J. Vellema, personal communication, 2018). The
accumulation of large numbers of unidentified persons creates an environmental
and occupational hazard within the FPS. Further effects within the South African
Police Service (SAPS) include an increased burden placed on the investigating
officers and degradation of forensic tissue samples, both of which hinder the final-
ization of court cases and act as a barrier to the functions of the judicial system.
Furthermore, there is an impact on Provincial and Governmental legislation,
together with skewing of the national statistics. Lastly and most importantly, there
is a profound humanitarian impact, resulting in a loss of dignity, security, support
and financial stability.
This reality was also contemplated by the International Committee of the Red
Cross (ICRC), who hypothesized that the increase in unidentified and/or
unclaimed persons within the forensic realm is secondary to an increase in labour
migration to South Africa from bordering countries. This notion was communi-
cated to the service, and out of a dual concern and awareness, an identification
unit was established in 2015 as a pilot project. The aim of the project was to aid
the SAPS and FPS in the identification of the unknown within a deceased forensic
population. Legislatively, in South Africa identification is the mandate of the
SAPS; however, the FPS assists the police through collection of evidence. The
project was formalized through a collaborative process between the FPS, ICRC
and SAPS. A standard operating procedure was established, which included the
utilization of both an ante‐mortem and post‐mortem data collection system and
systematic examination of the deceased. The documents used are based on the
Interpol collection form; however, these forms were painstakingly adapted to the
South African environment. These adaptations make allowance for the increased
workload and limited resources within the South African forensic realm, by con-
centrating on the minimal essential features that may allow for positive
identification. The project is based within the Johannesburg Medicolegal labora-
tory within the Southern Cluster. It focuses on a multidisciplinary approach, uti-
lizing forensic photography, radiology, odontology, dactylography, DNA analysis
and forensic anthropology in order to achieve a comprehensive database for sub-
mission to the SAPS. This process occurs after the performance of the post‐mor-
tem examination of an individual and allows for proper photographic
documentation and collection of information which then populates the post‐mor-
tem forms. The process has ensured that the identification process within the
Johannesburg facility equates to any other process the world over, launching the
service into the next generation of identification. Prior to 2006, identification
relied on a system that was not based on new scientific advances and did not uti-
lize standardized uniform processes.
An individual is admitted into the identification process seven days after
admission to the facility, if they still remain unidentified. This time period allows
the family or next‐of‐kin time to identify the individual, bearing in mind that
families may have to travel to Johannesburg from rural regions within the country.
To date, for the 2016/2017 period, 100 unidentified persons have been processed
by the unit. Of these cases, 30 were identified through dactylography and one
through both visual identification and dactylography. It is important to note that
in South Africa fingerprint identification is achieved through the comparison of
prints with the Interpol‐based Disaster Victim Identification system, which is
licensed for use by the SAPS, and a similar identification system licensed to the
Department of Home Affairs. This has not changed much through the years, but
what has improved is the organized submission of fingerprints, together with
other supporting information, which aids identification.
Although small strides have been made in identification, these steps are
recognized as ground‐breaking within the FPS. It is hoped that in the near
future an identification unit can be established throughout all provinces across
the country, so that all stakeholders may benefit from the project – from
governmental entities right through to the very families who grieve for their
loved ones.
Remains that are severely burnt, badly decomposed and/or skeletonized that
are received at the FPS are referred to the Human Variation and Identification
Research Unit (HVIRU) at the University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg.
This forms part of a collaboration between the two organizations in order to form
a holistic approach to the identification process. The information obtained from
the forensic anthropological analysis is then incorporated into the data collection
system described above.
Further research is being done by the Department of Forensic Medicine and
Pathology at the University of the Witwatersrand together with the FPS and ICRC,
examining the feasibility of dental isotopic utilization in unidentified persons. It is
hypothesized that regional variation in ground geology alters dental isotopic
deposition during gestation and childhood (Hillson, 1997). Assessment of these
87
Sr/86Sr strontium isotopes in individuals may provide evidence as to the region
of origin, or at least suggest that the individual may not have been a local resident.
Other research is ongoing, which is assessing the statistics regarding unidentified
persons at the Johannesburg facility.
The Human Variation and Identification Research Unit (HVIRU) in the School of
Anatomical Sciences, Faculty of Health Sciences, University of the Witwatersrand,
was established in 2016. It works in close collaboration with the FPS located in
Johannesburg, and assists with forensic anthropological analyses of all decom-
posed and skeletonized cases from the Southern Cluster mortuaries in the Gauteng
province, which is the most populated region in the country. Recently (March
2018) a formal collaboration between the human identification unit of the HVIRU
and the Victim Identification Centre (VIC) of the SAPS was established. Through
this collaboration the human identification unit of the HVIRU also assists with
forensic anthropological analyses of cases from a few other provinces such as the
Free State, Eastern Cape and Northern Cape, which lack their own forensic
anthropological services.
The mandate of the human identification unit of the HVIRU is to establish a
biological profile including estimates of age‐at‐death, sex, ancestry and stature,
which can be used by the SAPS in conjunction with information provided by the
FPS to make a positive identification. Trauma analyses are also frequently
requested, even when the identity of the decedent is known.
From February 2016 to June 2018 the human identification unit of the HVIRU
received 81 cases, of which 63 case reports have been completed. An additional
26 cases are awaiting transfer to the human identification unit of the HVIRU at
the FPS Johannesburg. Of the completed cases, one represented non‐human
remains, most likely that of a dog, while another case consisted of a set of com-
mingled remains representing at least 11 individuals exhibiting various forms of
taphonomy. Three cases were submitted to the human identification unit of the
HVIRU solely for trauma analysis, and another case required an estimate of age
only. Some descriptions of the remaining 57 cases completed follow below.
The majority of the cases were males (n = 38), with 16 females and three indi-
viduals of unknown sex. Of the cases where sex could not be determined, two
were juveniles while the third included only vertebral elements for analysis.
Remains represented mostly Black individuals (n = 26), followed by two Coloured
and two White individuals. The ancestry of 14 individuals was unknown. Due to
a great deal of overlap in morphology between Black and Coloured, and Coloured
and White individuals, 12 individuals were described as either Black or Coloured
and one individual as either White or Coloured.
The skeletal remains received for analysis represent individuals of all age groups.
The youngest individual assessed was estimated to be 3 ± 1 year of age, although
the overwhelming majority of the cases are represented by adults, with a greater
number of middle‐aged to older individuals. The large number of older individ-
uals may suggest that they could have been homeless individuals dying of natural
causes, but this is difficult to ascertain.
The majority of the cases analysed showed signs of trauma (n = 45), which
mainly comprised ante‐mortem trauma. Ante‐mortem trauma was mostly noted
as healed cranial and various rib fractures. Peri‐mortem trauma included blunt
force trauma (n = 10), ballistic trauma (n = 5) as well as sharp force trauma (n = 2).
Of interest are three cases with multiple gunshot wounds (Figures 44.1 and 44.2).
In two of these cases the minimum number of gunshots were estimated to be 8 and
11 gunshots respectively and attests to the violent nature of South African society.
Just over half of all the cases analysed exhibited signs of pathology (n = 32).
These were mostly associated with degenerative skeletal pathology, such as osteo-
phytes and osteoarthritic changes, but pathology such as diffuse idiopathic skeletal
hyperostosis (DISH), ankylosing spondylitis, enamel hypoplasia, possible tubercu-
losis and periostitis were also recorded. Various surgical interventions were also
described. A total of 79.3% (n = 46) of the cases had teeth available for analysis,
but only two cases had dental procedures. This is due to the limited access many
South Africans have to dental services, and contributes to the problems with
personal identification as dental records are rare.
A number of cases had no signs of taphonomic changes (n = 39). Cases with
taphonomic alterations included mainly burning (n = 10), scavenger activity (n = 3),
soil staining (n = 3) and root etching (n = 2). Signs of erosion and delamination
were also reported.
Figure 44.2 Multiple gunshots to the scapula and associated ribs. (Source: N. Bacci.)
25
20
15
10
5
0
k
/A
am
in
er
ar
or
in
av
ar
ra
r
th
N
Fa
m
/p
r/ d
do
ky
gr
O
a/
nd
In
ve
Ba
re
la
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/ ri
la
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er
a
ri a
pe
Sh
at
st
O
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In
Figure 44.3 Locations where remains were discovered (n = 61).
As illustrated in Figure 44.3, the majority of the cases were found in open veldts
(field) or parks (n = 21), while the location of discovery was not reported or
unknown for 12 of the cases. Cases were often found on farms (n = 5) and in
industrial areas or mines (n = 4), and rarely indoors (n = 2). Other areas of
discovery included a tree and a bus stop terminal, with one case found being
carried by a “witch‐doctor” (Steyn and Brits, 2019).
To date, five skeletal cases have been positively identified. Four of these identi-
fications were made through DNA confirmation and one case through the use of
secondary identifiers including clothing and facial reconstruction. There are also
three more cases that will hopefully be identified: one case is awaiting DNA
analysis and two others facial approximation.
Almost all cases investigated at the human identification unit of the HVIRU had
dentition present; however, only two cases presented with dental procedures.
Dental records are therefore often of little use for positive identification, as most
South Africans and migrants cannot afford dental care and as such have no dental
records (L’Abbé and Steyn, 2012; Krüger et al., 2018). There are also no central
DNA databases or information on comparative DNA that can be used, and there-
fore the traditional primary identifiers are often of limited use.
Despite the numerous obstacles faced by the South African forensic community,
there has been an awareness and drive towards better collaboration between
stakeholders and the implementation of education of the police and other parties,
facilitating awareness of the importance of standardization of processes. Better
success rates when it comes to identification are imperative, so as to empower
services and in so doing boosting the criminal and justice systems.
Identification of the dead is a basic human right for the families of the deceased
and is ensconced in the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949 (Section III
Missing and dead persons: Article 32). Despite the difficulties, the various practi-
tioners on the ground are making every attempt to contribute, and now need
governmental structures to add adequate support and funding. Agreements for
closer collaboration between various bodies are imperative, and the time for silos
and separation between divisions and functional units are long gone and over-
shadowed by the crises faced. Although the identification process from skeletal
remains is strewn with difficulties, a few success stories keep law enforcement
officials, pathologists and forensic anthropologists motivated. Our current efforts
are bearing fruit, but need to be expanded to become routine in all centers, and in
so doing ultimately benefit the criminal and justice systems and provide grieving
families with respite and resolution.
Acknowledgements
References
Africa Check (2018) Factsheet: South Africa’s Crime Statistics for 2017/18. https://africacheck.
org/factsheets/factsheet‐south‐africas‐crime‐statistics‐for‐2017‐18/ (accessed 4 October 2018).
Barros, C.P. and Gupta, R. (2017) Development, poverty and inequality: A spatial analysis of
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Bloch, A. (2010) The right to rights? Undocumented migrants from Zimbabwe living in South
Africa. Sociology, 44, 233–250.
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45.1 Introduction
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
693
Before the forensic national institution was created in the 1980s, the first offices
of human identification were formed in the Office of Forensic Service in Medellín,
Antioquia. The first documentation files of unidentified corpses were created
there. Identifications were based on observation of the unidentified body by the
relatives via photographs and clothing.
In 1984 the first Missing Persons and Unidentified Bodies or NNS Information
Center was formed in Medellín. This Information Center had more detailed
documentation on unidentified corpses, for example: photographs, post‐mortem
dactiloscopy, morphological description, and description of distinctive marks and
clothing, in order to guide the relatives of the missing person. Also, written press
and local radio were used to spread the information. At that time, data verification
was very time‐consuming because it was done manually and it was not possible
to cross‐check with available information in different entities or cities in the
country (Comisión de Búsqueda de Personas Desaparecidas, 2010).
In 1991, judicial police officials and relatives, with the support of the Argentinian
Team of Forensic Anthropology (Equipo Argentino de Antropología Forense,
EAAF), created the first ante‐mortem data sheet, which provided morphochro-
matic information of the missing person. This was useful for identification, but at
that time, it was still difficult to cross‐check information.
Once the sole system of Legal Medicine and Forensic Science was established,
the identification office was founded in Bogotá, with unidentified corpse
mandatory documentation protocols and files for recognition by the relatives.
Between 1991 and 1993 five other identification offices were implemented in the
country (Comisión de Búsqueda de Personas Desaparecidas, 2010).
In 1993, the Congress of the Republic enacted Law 38, through which the dac-
tyloscopy system was unified and the dental chart was adopted for identification
purposes. In its most important aspects, this law points out that in all dentist
offices in Colombia (public as well as private), it is mandatory to perform a written
dental registry (dental chart) (Senado de la Republica de Colombia, 1993).
Likewise, and for human identification, dactyloscopy must be unified according to
the system used by the National Civil Registry, based on the decadactylar registry.
The physical and dental characteristics of deceased unidentified people, as well as
the description of the clothing used, would be noted in a special record that was
sent to the corresponding office of the INMLCF.
In 1994, based on Article 6 of the aforementioned Law 38, the national network
for the identification of unidentified corpses within the INMLCF was created. This
centralized the information files of unidentified corpses and established connec-
tions between the different offices on a national level. Formats were created to
collect unidentified corpse and missing persons information. Although it was
guidance for the search for people reported as victims of forced disappearance,
and allows the following of cases by entities and relatives of the missing persons;
this enables the referential cross‐checking that is defined in this decree as “analysis
process and task set aimed to correlate data included in the RND or the ones avail-
able in other information sources, that allow to guide or reference the identification
of a corpse, the search for a missing person or the investigation of a case.”
For referential cross‐checking, you must have the missing person’s basic data
(name, last name, identity document number, gender, age, height, distinctive
marks, among others) that result from the legal medical autopsy, different activ-
ities performed by the different entities for a forced disappearance, and other
information considered necessary. The regulation also specifies which are the
intervening entities in the RND and the profiles to access the platforms of
information. Finally, the decree indicates that mechanisms can be created to allow
the community in general access to the information, one of which has been the
creation of the RND’s platform of “Public Consultation” (Comisión de Búsqueda
de Personas Desaparecidas, 2010).
That same year, through Law 971 of 2005, the “Mechanism of Urgent Search”
was regulated and implemented to prevent the crime of forced disappearance.
Its purpose is that the judicial authorities immediately perform all the necessary
proceedings for the location of a citizen that has been reported missing without
considering the time of disappearance, constituting an effective mechanism to
prevent the perpetration of the crime of forced disappearance (Congreso de
Colombia, 2005).
Currently the National Registry of Missing Persons (RND) is a system of refer-
ential information in a network, formed by the following subsystems:
1. PUBLIC CONSULTATION: Allows the community to know general statistical
data.
2. LIFE: “Location of statistical forensic information” (Localización de Información
Forense Estadística).
3. HOPE: “Let’s make it mandatory to be able to find them” (Hagamos obligatorio
poder encontrarlos): allows the faces of the people reported as missing to be
visible.
4. SIRDEC: Information System of the Missing Persons and Corpses Network
(Sistema de Información Red de Desaparecidos y Cadáveres).
5. SICOMAIN: Information System Internet Massive Consultation (Sistema de
Información Consulta Masiva Internet).
6. SINEI: National System of Indirect Statistics (Sistema Nacional de Estadística
Indirecta).
The Missing Persons Search Commission has fostered the National Registry of
Missing Persons, the Urgent Search Mechanism (through the adoption of statutory
Law 971 of 2005), and the launch of the Missing Persons National Search Plan
(Plan Nacional de Búsqueda de Personas Desaparecidas, PNBPD).
1
Municipality Olaya Herrera, located in the Colombian Pacific, is a place where two rivers converge, with approx-
imately 26,572 inhabitants, the great majority of the inhabitants of the Nariño coast being Afro-descendants. There
are also two indigenous ethnic groups and a growing population of people with combined European and indige-
nous descent.
The main advantage of this model of forensic approach for identification pur-
poses is that it guarantees a complete post‐mortem study that complies with
accepted standards, without the need to transfer the bodies to large cities, which
is essential for the inhabitants of the regions, not only in the processes for obtain-
ing ante‐mortem information from their missing relatives, but also because it
facilitates their active participation in the process of recovery and forensic
identification.
Since then, this model of forensic approach has been implemented in different
cemeteries in regions of the country with contexts similar to those of the Olaya
Herrera municipality.
One of the episodes with the greatest social and political impact during the
Colombian armed conflict was the seizure and re‐seizure of the Palace of Justice.
These events occurred on November 6 and 7, 1985, when the guerrilla group
Movimiento 19 de Abril took the said facility, located in the center of Bogotá DC,
capital of Colombia, with demands for the President related to an inconclusive
peace process. The army seized the building using heavy weapons. The episode
lasted about 28 hours, including the use of explosives and a building fire, with
99 fatal victims, including magistrates of the different courts, judicial officials,
guerrillas, employees of the palace, agents of the national police, among others,
and an as‐yet unconfirmed number of missing persons.
The bodies of several victims were reduced by fire and it was only possible to
recover their carbonized and calcined remains, The technical identification of the
victims was impossible at that point, taking into account the state of the bodies
and the non‐existence of the forensic disciplines or technological resources that
we currently have. Several bodies were, therefore, unidentified, and were buried
in a collective grave where they remained for several years. Other victims did not
appear. The relatives of the latter began a constant search for them during all
these years, going to different institutions, including the Inter‐American Court of
Human Rights, which, in a ruling in November 2014, established the existence of
11 missing persons from the events of the Palace of Justice and required the
Colombian State to develop all the necessary search tasks for the location of
the victims.
In this context, a new forensic approach to the case was initiated with the
objective of carrying out, in a scientific and technical manner, the process of iden-
tifying the victims of the crime and providing evidence for the judicial investiga-
tion that is still ongoing. This process focuses on a model of interdisciplinary and
inter‐institutional work with the use of new technology that had not been
previously available, as it is a cold case. This model is constructed according to
In November 2016, the Final Agreement was signed for the termination of the
conflict that lasted more than five decades, and the construction of a stable and
lasting peace between the national government and the illegal group called the
Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, People’s Army – FARC‐EP. The
agreement established the creation of the Integral System of Truth, Justice,
Reparation and Non‐Repetition. This system is based on the principle of recogni-
tion of victims as citizens with rights. In addition, there must be full disclosure
about what happened and the acknowledgement of responsibility on the part of
all those who participated directly or indirectly in the conflict and were involved
in any way in violations of human rights and violations of international humani-
tarian law (IHL). The system also orders that “… the damage caused should be
repaired and restored whenever possible” (Oficina del Alto Comisionado para la
Paz, 2016). The search for and identification of people reported missing in the
context of the armed conflict is one of the main measures of comprehensive rep-
aration to the victims. Within the peace agreement, a system has been created
consisting of five mechanisms:
1. Commission for the Clarification of Truth, Coexistence and Non‐Repetition (CEV).
2. Special unit for the search for people considered missing in the context and
because of the armed conflict (UBPD).
3. Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP).
4. Comprehensive reparation measures for the construction of peace.
5. No repetition guarantees.
The Special Unit to search for people considered missing in the context and
because of the armed conflict – UBPD – is of a humanitarian and extrajudicial
nature, and its purpose is to direct, coordinate and contribute to the implementa-
tion of humanitarian actions of search and identification of all persons reported
missing during the armed conflict (UBPD, 2018).
With the implementation of the peace process and the creation of the UBPD,
new forensic challenges begin in terms of human identification in Colombia,
since the search and identification of missing persons will begin in a context
that is characterized by a humanitarian and extrajudicial nature, with a
differential focus and with the permanent and active participation of the victim’s
relatives.
References
Centro Nacional de Memoria Histórica (CNMH) (2018) http://www.centrodememoriahistorica.
gov.co/noticias/noticias‐cmh/en‐colombia‐82‐998‐personas‐fueron‐desaparecidas‐
forzadamente (accessed 15 December 2018).
Colombia Plural (2018) Informe: “resultados de la implementación de las medidas inmediatas
humanitarias y la situación actual de los cementerios municipales”. https://colombiaplural.
com/wp‐content/uploads/2018/03/05MAR2018‐InformeMedidasInmeditas‐final.pdf
(accessed 15 December 2018).
Comisión de Búsqueda de Personas Desaparecidas (2010) Informe instrumentos de lucha contra la
desaparición forzada. Bogotá: Alvi Impresores.
Congreso de Colombia (2005) Por medio de la cual se reglamenta el mecanismo de búsqueda
urgente y se dictan otras disposiciones. https://colombia.justia.com/nacionales/leyes/ley‐971‐
de‐2005/gdoc/ (accessed 15 December 2018).
Congreso de la República (2000) Por medio de la cual se tipifica el genocidio, la desaparición
forzada, el desplazamiento forzado y la tortura; y se dictan otras disposiciones. https://www.
redjurista.com/Documents/ley_589_de_2000_congreso_de_la_republica.aspx#/, (accessed
15 December 2018).
Fiscalía General de la Nación (2018) https://www.fiscalia.gov.co/colombia/wp‐content/uploads/
Reporte‐estadistico‐GRUBE‐2018‐oct‐31.pdf (accessed 15 December 2018).
Oficina del Alto Comisionado para la Paz (2016) Acuerdo final para la terminación del conflicto
y la construcción de una paz estable y duradera. http://www.altocomisionadoparalapaz.gov.
co/procesosyconversaciones/Documentos%20compartidos/24‐11‐2016NuevoAcuerdoFinal.
pdf (accessed 15 December 2018).
Presidencia de la República (2005) Decreto Reglamentario 4218 por el cual se reglamenta el
artículo 9° de la Ley 589 de 2000. http://www.suin‐juriscol.gov.co/viewDocument.asp?id=
1543806 (accessed 15 December 2018).
Registraduría Nacional del Estado Civil (2010) Registraduría Nacional del Estado civil suscribe
convenio con el ministerio del interior y medicina legal para identificar a 35.000 N.N.s.
https://wsr.registraduria.gov.co/Registraduria‐Nacional‐del‐Estado,2682.html (accessed 15
December 2018).
Registraduría Nacional del Estado Civil (2011) Registraduría logró identificar a 9.969 N.Ns gra-
cias al convenio con el ministerio del interior y medicina legal. https://wsr.registraduria.gov.
co/Registraduria‐logro‐identificar‐a.html (accessed 15 December 2018).
Senado de la Republica de Colombia (1993) Carta dental y dactiloscopia para fines de identifi-
cación. http://www.secretariasenado.gov.co/senado/basedoc/ley_0038_1993.html (accessed
15 December 2018).
Unidad de Búsqueda de Personas Dadas por Desaparecidas (UBPD) (2018) Decreto 589 de 2017
por el cual se organiza la Unidad de Búsqueda de personas dadas por desaparecidas en el
contexto y en razón del conflicto armado. https://www.ubpdbusquedadesaparecidos.co/p/
documentos.html (accessed 15 December 2018).
The first morgue in Santiago, according to the document History of the Legal Medical
Institute of the Ministry of Health,1 was inaugurated in 1898 on Teatinos Street,
next to the Public Prison. Soon it was clear that professionalization was needed
both in legal medicine and the spaces in which it was exercised, and so in 1915
the Servicio Médico Legal (SML), initially called Instituto Médico Legal, was for-
mally created through Law Decree No. 1851.
Dr Carlos Ybar de la Sierra, Professor in medicine, was commissioned by the
government of the time to implement this decree, managing to get the State to
transfer land in the La Paz Avenue sector for the construction that would house
the Institute, and which would not only take charge of autopsies, but also the
evaluation of the people who committed crimes and who suffered mental pathol-
ogies. This establishment was inaugurated in October 1926, 11 years after its
creation, according to Law Decree No. 646. Committed and trusted in the nature
of the forensic sciences, it was able to: “…unify the teaching, assistance, expert
work and research in the specialty. But in 1928 and for political reasons he was
abruptly separated from his positions as professor and director; he died in 1930…”.2
At the end of the nineteenth century, the procedures used in an autopsy
included the photographic record of the deceased. The autopsy was ordered
1
http://www.bibliotecaminsal.cl/wp/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/Historia-Servicio-M%C3%A9dico-Legal-y-
Morgue.pdf. Subsecretaría de Salud Pública, División de Planificación Sanitaria, Biblioteca de Salud Dr. Bogoslav
Juricic T. Subsecretaría de Salud Pública”.
2
Speech delivered by Dr Luis Ciocca at the inauguration of the itinerant Museum of the SML on 1 July 2013.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
703
Figure 46.1 Statistics Unit of Servicio Médico Legal, autopsy report of 1898.
by the judges on duty, and finally the bodies were handed over to their families:
“… in a wheelbarrow, inside an urn, to the General Cemetery on Avenida La Paz,
a route that was specially designed in the urban layout of the city of Santiago for
this purpose …”. “The procedures in the autopsies referred to a protocol that
established that the data of the deceased should be recorded in a book…
information of the expert who performed the autopsy; the day and time of recep-
tion of each body; the date the order was received to perform the expertise; the
day it was made; the place where the corpse was deposited; the assigned number
and the day of the same …”.3
The autopsy data were recorded through books of the time,4 which demon-
strate that the professionals of the time faced complex cases, such as those who
died with severe traumas, and analysis of bones, as reflected in the Report of
Dr Amunátegui Solar, professor of legal medicine, on 4 November 1898
(Figure 46.1).
The mission of the Legal Medical Institute,5 from its origins, was to serve justice
and contribute to the teaching of legal medicine. This task was slowly extended
throughout the country, in hospital mortuaries and in annexes to local
3
Ibid.
4
Subsecretaría de Salud Pública, División de Planificación Sanitaria, Biblioteca de Salud Dr. Bogoslav Juricic T.
www.bibliotecaminsal.cl/2016. Between 1893 and 1923, documents and books such as: Libros Copiadores de
Autopsia, Libros de Datos Biográficos, Libros de Control de Autopsias, and Libros de Informes de Autopsias.
5
Law Decree No. 646, 17/10/ 1925.
On 11 September 1973, with the coup d’état in Chile by the armed forces, encour-
aged by the Chilean oligarchy and supported by the United States, systematic vio-
lations of human rights began as a State policy. The role of the Servicio Médico
Legal (SML) suffered, as did all the institutions in force in the country, a dramatic
change. The headquarters of Avenida La Paz became the place where corpses of
murdered persons were deposited as a product of the violence unleashed by the
armed forces and Carabineros of Chile in the capital; the headquarters operated
under the intervention of a military delegation while Dr Alfredo Vargas Baeza was
director (1959–1977).
As indicated, in 1973 the SML had its main headquarters in Santiago and had
very few offices throughout Chile. On average, there were approximately 9 deaths
per day, which was approximately 291 people per month. After the coup, the
number increased, with close to 30 daily arrivals, or more than 440 per month,6
which generated a complex situation from the point of view of the logistics of the
deceased and the officials, who were overpowered by the overwhelming work, in
addition to the situation of cross‐sectional violence throughout the country.
Dozens of corpses that came mostly from the public road were distributed in the
corridors and offices of the SML, and the most common visible cause of death was
gunshot wounds, generating situations of sanitary risk.
In the same way, the process of identification of the deceased was slowed down,
among other things by the situation that existed in all the other institutions of the
State, such as the Identification Cabinet (current National Civil Registry and
Identification Service) that in many cases did not send, or did so late, the results
of the comparisons, when the deceased had already been transferred to the
General Cemetery, leaving the dead as NN (without identification).
A method dictated by the circumstances was cooordinated between the Civil
Registry, depository of the fingerprints of people with identity cards, the General
Ejecuciones en Chile septiembre–diciembre 1973. El circuito burocrático de la muerte. Pascale Bonnefoy y John
6
Figure 46.2 From 11 September to 31 December 1973, more than 1630 corpses were
admitted to the SML, of which 890 corresponded to deaths in the context of the violence
prevailing in the city.
Cemetery, and the Prosecutor’s Offices or Courts from which the deceased were
sent. The burial of the victims in the city of Santiago and its surroundings, with or
without identification, was carried out preferably in the common patios of the
General Cemetery without consulting or informing the families, generally not
intentionally, but due to the chaos at the time.
During the months following 11 September 1973, with the country taken over
by the armed forces and thousands of arrests and murders, the professionals, tech-
nicians and administrative staff of the SML did everything possible to properly
record the autopsies. However, the majority contained, due to the enormous
workload, only essential data such as dates, sex, approximate age and the main
cause of death (Figure 46.2).
From the same day, 11 September 1973 in the afternoon, there began the search
for family members who had not arrived home, to scheduled appointments, to
work places. The pilgrimage of hundreds of women, men, boys and girls request-
ing information about their loved ones was done in front of hospitals, police
stations, police checkpoints, public spaces authorized as detention and torture
centers (regional stadiums, prisons, educational institutes, etc.), and they even
Figure 46.3 Relatives review lists of deceased at the morgue, 1973. Photograph: Marcelo
Montecino.
arrived at the SML. At the entrance, lists were installed with the names of the
persons identified, who never managed to respond to the large number of rela-
tives and friends of the persons sought. Occasionally, SML officials recognizing
shot victims gave information to family members who could enter and recognize
the deceased in situ. At that time, for obvious reasons, there were no agencies
to watch over the victims or their families, nor did the SML have a special office
to answer their questions, but rather the need to quickly clear identities and
dispose of the corpses were the priorities of the Service (Figure 46.3).
An example of how it worked in the prevailing chaos is the case of Enrique
Ropert Contreras, a 19‐year‐old university student and son of the secretary of the
late President of the Republic, Salvador Allende Gossens. Enrique Ropert arrived
with his mother, on 11 September 1973, to the Intendencia of Santiago, where he
was arrested along with other young people by Carabineros of Chile (uniformed
police). His mother was able to escape and enter the Palace of La Moneda, but the
young man was transferred to a police station, on a death route that is still
unknown. He was shot to death under Bulnes Bridge on 19 September 1973,
together with a group of people. His remains entered the SML the next day, at
10:50 hrs, according to what is recorded in the autopsy protocol sheet. An official
of the Service warned the family, who were able to rescue his body and bury him.
The rest of the murdered were mostly buried as NN in Patio 29 of the General
Cemetery, mostly as detainees who have disappeared until now, among them
Domingo Blanco Tarrés, head of the presidential guard GAP.
Between September 1973 and April 1974 inclusive, innumerable summary
executions, illegal detentions and disappearances took place, within the frame-
work of a violent strategy that sought to terrorize and paralyse the population that
supported the Popular Unity government, throughout the country. Enclosures
such as the National Stadium in Santiago and others were used to hold people
linked to the government of President Salvador Allende in custody, as well as
militants of leftist political parties, members of popular organizations or simple
supporters. Often there was no official recognition of the arrests, which kept the
families in an anxious uncertainty about the fate of their loved ones.
This context highlights the work of relatives of victims of the dictatorship, who
from the day of the coup did not waver from reporting the crimes that were
occurring in the country, showing a clear moral and political resistance to the
crimes that took place. In October 1973, the Committee for Cooperation for Peace
(Comité Pro Paz) was created to provide social support and some kind of legal
defence for the people who were persecuted, especially in the War Councils and
the courts, in retaliation against their constant denunciation of the disappearances
and other crimes committed by the dictatorship. Many members of the Committee
were threatened, persecuted, and some imprisoned by the agents of repression. In
1975, the Committee was closed and the Catholic Church created the Vicaría de
la Solidaridad with the same objective as the Committee for Peace.
Other organizations that defended human rights begin to emerge in the interior
of the country. In 1975 the Foundation of Social Assistance of the Christian
Churches (FASIC), the Chilean Commission of Human Rights (1978), and the
Committee for the Promotion and Defense of the Rights of the People (CODEPU)
in 1980, were created.
All these institutions emerged as a support base for families who incessantly
searched for their missing loved ones, or sought justice in the criminal acts that
had been committed. Family members and human rights organizations created
during that period constituted the main source of memory protection, so that dur-
ing the years of the transition to democracy, in some cases, they could obtain
truth, justice and reparation for the damage caused.
A milestone in the organization of the families of the detainees was the publi-
cation in June 1975 of the news of the death of 119 people, who were missing in
Chile, in alleged clashes in Argentina. The source of the information was made up
of two magazines with a single published number, which demonstrated an obvious
move on the part of the Chilean dictatorship to hide its responsibility for the arrest
and disappearance of said victims. This fact is the basis for the founding of the
Asociación de Familiares de Detenidos Desaparecidos (AFDD), under the umbrella
of the Vicaría de la Solidaridad, and that in the future would gather and mobilize
thousands of relatives of disappeared victims, in the national and international
denunciation of the systematic violations of human rights, as well as the demand
for truth and justice. Shortly after, in 1976, the Asociación de Familiares de
Ejecutados Políticos (AFEP) was created, which brings together the families of vic-
tims whose deaths were at least recognized by the State, and which in conjunction
with the AFDD up to today, has developed the important task of denouncing and
seeking full justice.
In 1976, after the closure of the official detention centers recognized by the
dictatorship, it became clear that the fate of hundreds of detainees remained
uncertain and unknown. The case of the identification, in that same year, of a
female body found at La Ballena Beach, Los Molles, in the Valparaíso region, car-
ried out by Dr Luis Ciocca through the comparison of dental records, as Marta
Ugarte, detained for her militancy in the Communist Party, made it clear that one
of the forms of disappearance for the bodies of the victims of human rights viola-
tions consisted of throwing them into the sea.
The intelligence unit in charge of most of the detentions and disappearances
ordered by the dictatorship was, between 1973 and 1976, the Dirección de
Inteligencia Nacional (DINA). This unit extended its actions abroad, unsuccess-
fully moving against Bernardo Leighton and his wife in Italy, assassinating General
Carlos Prats and his wife in Argentina, former Foreign Minister Orlando Letelier
and his secretary, and the American citizen Ronnie Moffit in Washington, US. This
last action meant that the United States withdrew its support for the Chilean dic-
tatorship, and forced the military government to finish with the DINA and retreat
to its general in command. A new organization, the CNI, was created, which mod-
ified its procedures. The arrests ended with false clashes where all the dead turned
out to be members of the left, or failed explosive attacks, where these militants
suffered the same fate. And those who were detained never reappeared.
Undoubtedly, the change of strategy of the dictatorship in relation to the final
destination of the victims was marked by the finding, in December 1978, of the
mortal remains of 15 disappeared prisoners in the Hornos of Lonquén, an aban-
doned lime mine on the outskirts of the city of Santiago. The finding repelled
nationally and internationally, and a judicial investigation was initiated. The
evidence was entered into the SML, who analysed it and recorded it in detail,
managing to identify one of the victims by dental comparison. As of that moment,
the Army ordered an operation called “Retiro de Televisores,” consisting of the
removal of human remains from the places of burial, in order to hide them or
throw them into the sea, as has been subsequently recognized. The forensic
consequence of the military operation “Retiro de Televisores” is that a large part
of the findings associated with human rights violations are made up of small bone
fragments, which makes the forensic process and identification more complex.
The SML, like most public agencies, was under the control and direction of
military personnel until March 1990. During those years, the work of its profes-
sionals was, at least, closely monitored. On many occasions the completion of the
autopsies of the victims was attended by armed personnel in the room, who
sought to ensure that doctors did not issue judgments that cast doubt on the
official versions of the truth.7 The exhaustive review of the expert documents
made in those years reveals that, despite the threat and control, many doctors
managed to express in their reports the true state of the victims, evidencing
the tortures that they had been subjected to before they died, the presence of
substances to sedate them, and inconsistencies between the official versions and
the reality.
7
Dr Myriam Gallo, personal communication.
8
Elías Padilla and Isabel Reveco (2004) V Chilean Congress of Anthropology. College of Anthropologists of Chile
A. G, San Felipe, 2004. Memoirs of the Forensic Anthropology Group and its Contribution to the Field of Human Rights in
Chile. https://www.aacademica.org/v.congreso.chileno.de.antropologia/146.p.
legal medical expertise to determine the cause and manner of death in many of
these cases, with enormous material difficulties, technical deficiencies, and
without an institutional framework to support their efforts.
In April 1991, the Rettig Commission was created, a situation of democratic
openness began, and parts of the hidden truth began to come to light. The inves-
tigations of the commissioners focused on the history of deaths of the Legal
Medical Service, achieving with it the approximate number of people killed by
bullets, and tortures that had entered the institution from the day of the military
coup. However, even when the reports of the National Commission of Truth and
Reconciliation and of the National Commission of Reparation and Reconciliation
established in a forceful way the systematic violation of human rights exercised by
the dictatorship, it meant little for the relatives of thousands of victims when the
State committed itself to justice “as far as possible,” refusing to pursue the prose-
cution of the crimes and the search for the disappeared.
The efforts to identify the victims determined the need to work directly with
family members, applying the Anthropomorphic File as a basic instrument that
included data relevant to the process. In the SML, the Identification and Museum
Unit was created in 1994 and operated until 2002, working with a close link to the
relatives of victims of repression, victims’ associations, courts, police, and so on.
In 1991, the exhumation was ordered of 108 tombs in Patio 29 of the General
Cemetery that corresponded to 126 remains of people who died in the months of
September to December of 1973 in Santiago, and who had remained buried until
that date identified only as NN.
The analysis of the exhumed bodies was carried out in the SML, which already
had among its archives more than 170 anthropomorphic files that had been
provided by the Vicaría de la Solidaridad. The expert techniques used were those
of anthropology, dentistry and legal medicine in order to determine the cause
of death and identity. In the mid‐1990s the cranial facial overlap technique
was added.
Between 1992 and 2002, 96 expert reports of positive identification were deliv-
ered to the courts. Genetic science was only emerging at the time. The University
of Glasgow (United Kingdom) advised the SML on the use of genetics in human
identification, questioning some identifications. The same was done by national
experts external to the institution. From 2001, in order to strengthen the
identification area of the Legal Medical Institute, the mitochondrial DNA Unit was
created,9 combining professionals and technicians. Furthermore a new bank of
biological samples of relatives of the maternal line of disappeared detainees was
set up. In addition, we worked on improving the anthropomorphic files of the
victims. The Unit for the Identification of Disappeared Detainees and the mito-
chondrial DNA Unit, between the years 2001 and 2005, carried out expert actions
It should be noted that mitochondrial DNA analyses reported advantages considering that the available evidence
9
was old, highly fragmented and contaminated. However, the discriminatory power of such analyses is less.
aimed at identifying the skeletal remains that remained in legal medical custody.
In March 2005, in the face of a disagreement arising in the genetic analysis
requested by one of the families on the human remains delivered in the 1990s,
the exhumation was ordered by the court for the taking of samples and genetic
analysis of all the skeletal remains returned to the families in the Patio 29 case.
The analyses were done by the Servicio Médico Legal.10 The results were
devastating. More than half of the victims had no genetic correspondence to
the families who had received them as their loved ones.
The profound, complex and painful questioning on the part of the relatives of
the disappeared due to the reported errors marks the end of a stage in the
identification process carried out up to that moment, which evaluated the ante-
cedents from anthropology, associated evidence, dentistry and the medical report.
Change was demanded to consider advances in technology and science, especially
genetics, so that it becomes the identity determination matrix.
Since 2007, different panels of international experts have assumed that any
identification must be through the genetic route. The Servicio Médico Legal, at
the time of making the identifications questioned, did not have scientific,
professional or budgetary standards. In the 1990s there was no specialization as a
forensic medical doctor or physical anthropologist; genetics was not widely used
and its scope was limited. Chile did not apply validated forensic protocols, and the
infrastructure and budget were deficient. Nor was it projected that later the
advance of science would make it possible to make identifications with greater
scientific certainty. The crisis contributed to the modernization of the SML, espe-
cially after Law No. 20.06511 was enacted, introducing the concepts of High Public
Management,12 professionalization of the activity according to professional profile,
audit of procedures and continuous training. And without a doubt, it also
evidenced the deep need to maintain a transparent, continuous, respectful and
considerate relationship with the families of the victims and the groups that rep-
resent them, who are the ones who have mobilized throughout the years in the
search for the truth and justice.
the courts in the proceedings that are decreed in judicial proceedings in which
violations of Human Rights are investigated, especially in the work of identifying
human remains associated with these cases, with the aim of developing coordi-
nated actions and in collaboration with organizations, institutions and groups of
public and private nature, related to the field of human rights in Chile.”13
The role of science in identification is cardinal, and its use must be made with
consideration of the factors that give special recognition to family members and
their needs, understanding that they are the final recipients of the identification
process and that the results will strongly influence their grieving process.
The institutional communication policy implemented by the Legal Medical
Service seeks to provide comprehensive care to the families of the victims and to
the victims of human rights violations, and is based on five aspects: commitment,
conscience, collaboration, credibility and trust.
Regarding the process of identification by genetic analysis, it can result in estab-
lishing the identity of a person, when there is genetic coincidence between the
family group and the bone remains or, failing that, their exclusion is determined.
All this depends on the quality of the bone samples in custody and the database of
blood samples of the relatives of disappeared and executed prisoners, for
comparison. However, the existence of bone samples of the victims and blood
samples of their relatives does not allow us to foresee a priori a successful result.
Since 2007, the SML has adopted a set of principles regarding work with the
families of the victims and the determination of identities, which considers:
1. Comprehensive institutional commitment, explicitly documented, with work
strategies with family members, involving all levels that contact, receive, guide
and assist families.
2. Awareness of managers, professionals and officials of all levels of the need to
design, implement, evaluate and permanently improve, within a framework
of verifiable quality criteria, the policies of attention to relatives of victims of
violations of human rights.
3. Collaboration, with shared responsibilities, between the different actors –
judicial, forensic and humanitarian institutions – after common purposes.
4. Credibility, working with the highest internationally accepted standards, trans-
mitting the solidity of forensic actions that are developed at the intersectoral
and interdisciplinary level.
5. Confidence, through sustained coordination with family members and Groups,
to whom complete information on progress, difficulties, insufficiencies and,
especially, corrective actions is given regarding problems.
To date, the identification (by genetic analysis) of 170 people has been achieved.14
13
Exempt Resolution No. 3148, Approves Human Rights Program, in the Legal Medical Service, dated
27 April 2007.
14
Official Results of the Special Forensic Identification Unit, which has continued since 2011 in the Human Rights
Program of the SML.
46.6 Comments
In our country, the reality of the human rights violations under the dictatorship is
an unresolved issue. While the State of Chile remains in the position of wanting
to turn the page, denying the right to relatives or the surviving victims themselves
in pursuit of justice, truth and memory, we will continue living as a society in a
state of denial with respect to these facts and their claims, because it is a permanent
reality to which we cannot turn our backs.
At the end of 2016, the SML managed to identify Mr Jorge Roberto Sáez
Vicencio, who disappeared on 19 October 1973. According to official information,
he was 23 years old, working as a gardener, and had no political affiliation. That
day, after 4:00 pm, he was arrested along with Jorge Antonio Aránguiz González
(16 years old) at the intersection of Ramón Cruz with Rodrigo de Araya, in Ñuñoa,
and taken to the 13th Commissariat of that commune, from where we lost their
trail. In 1991, after the exhumation of a tomb on Patio 29 in the General Cemetery,
the remains found were transferred to SML, where anthropological and odonto-
logical studies were carried out to establish possible coincidences with disappeared
victims. With the advance of technology and the possibility of carrying out genetic
tests, it became possible for him to be identified. When he disappeared, Jorge
Roberto Sáez had a partner, Isabel, and a daughter named Paulina. Isabel was
pregnant with Jorge, who was born after his father died. They were not legally
recognized as his children.
On 22 February 2017, Jorge Sáez Jr. wrote to the UEIF after great news:
“Hello, Mrs. Marisol, how are you? Jorge talks … son of Jorge Sáez.
I want to share with you and also with your colleague Marisol Fuentes (biochemistry)
my joy. At last I am my father’s son … Thank you for identify him and so I could prove
me and my sister, that we were his children.
Thank you very much to all the SML team on my behalf and my sister Paulina.
A giant hug. I’m very happy … A hug.”
The attempts of the SML, after the crisis occurred with the serious errors of
Patio 29, has led us to work throughout the year 2017, together with other State
agencies, on what was called Patio Working Table 29, which has allowed us to
correct the previous mistakes in identification. This type of joint effort with the
different institutions of the State seeks to respond better to the demands that exist
today in the standards of law and, certainly, the relatives of the victims, for without
them nothing would be possible.
47.1 Introduction
* The views expressed herein are those of the editor Roberto C. Parra and do not necessarily reflect the views of
the United Nations.
Forensic Science and Humanitarian Action: Interacting with the Dead and the Living, First Edition.
Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
717
47.2 History
Chapters in this volume relate not only the importance of following interna-
tional laws but local practices as well. Forensic scientists working in countries
other than their own must be aware of cultural, religious and community
attitudes and beliefs that relate to the work performed (see Chapter 8 and
Chapter 33).
The maturity of the rapidly developing field of humanitarian action reflects the
many regional applications registered to date. Chapters of this volume document
the detailed, ongoing work of forensic science in many countries around the
globe. Past applications and examples are registered in the published record. The
scientific literature contains detailed presentations of applications of humani-
tarian action in Argentina (Chapter 35; Doretti and Snow, 2009; Olmo et al.,
2009), Australia (Chapter 38; Blau, 2018, Blau and Briggs, 2011), Chile
(Chapter 46; Varas and Leiva, 2012), Colombia (Chapter 45), Cyprus (Chapter 39;
Mikellide, 2017), Bosnia and Herzegovina (Baraybar and Gasior, 2006; Komar,
2003), East Timor (Blau and Fondebrider, 2011; Blau and Skinner, 2005), Guyana
(Thompson et al., 1987), Guatemala (Chapter 40; Stuesse, 2013), Indonesia (Buck
and Briggs, 2016), Italy (Chapter 36), Korea (Park et al., 2009), Kosovo (Sprogøe‐
Jakobsen et al., 2001), Latin America (Casallas and Piedrahita, 2004; Fondebrider,
2016), Malaysia (Mohd Noor et al., 2017), Mexico (Schwartz‐Marin and Cruz‐
Santiago, 2016), Panama (Ross and Suarez, 2008), Peru (Chapter 41; Baraybar
et al., 2008; Cagigao and Lund, 2008), Poland (Ferlini, 2003), Serbia (Djurič,
2016), Solomon Islands (Archer and Dodd, 2016), Spain (Congram et al., 2014),
Thailand (Black, 2016), Uruguay (Chapter 42) and the United States (Chapter 34;
Sledzik and Wilcox, 2009; Sledzik et al., 2009).
47.6 Capacity‐building
Goals of humanitarian action usually focus on training, search and recovery and
identification issues. However, in many situations, trauma assessment also repre-
sents a key component. Of course, this represents a standard aspect of suspected
torture and prisoner abuse. Trauma evaluation is also included in skeletal analysis
and can detect cause of death and/or ante‐mortem injury. For example, Chacón
et al. (2008) presented evidence of torture and violence in their study of nine
individuals from Nebaj, Guatemala. Additional examples are provided by
Kimmerle and Baraybar (2008).
Baraybar (2015) presented a study of variation in gunshot injury patterns in
decedents associated with both human rights abuses and armed conflict. His study
suggested differences in the pattern of gunshot injuries. The application of this
type of knowledge supports the importance of the use of science for the collection
of data in the battlefield and, furthermore, feeds the humanitarian classification of
war wounds, which is based on features of the wound (Coupland, 1992). The
analysis of injuries and ammunition found on wounded people, including those
who have died on the battlefield or in violent armed scenarios, provide important
information for the defence of international humanitarian law, including the
assessment of the “use and manufacture of bullets that contravene the Hague
Declaration…” (Coupland et al., 1992).
47.8 Technology
Chapters in this volume document the many and diverse applications involved in
humanitarian action, forensic science and the management of the dead. In recent
years, applications have expanded to target unidentified migrants. These include:
search, location, excavation, recovery and analysis of mass graves and other sites
that contain human remains; disaster victim identification; integration of
information on missing persons and unidentified human remains; use of GIS
technology for search processes; and analysis of geographical provenience of
human remains using stable isotope forensics, which have proven useful as well
as improvements in international communication among forensic investigators.
While humanitarian forensic action initially focused primarily on investiga-
tions into the whereabouts of missing persons and the management of the dead
from armed conflicts, its role has progressively expanded to assist in the protec-
tion of those who are still alive but find themselves in a situation of high vulner-
ability. Novel examples of such kind of humanitarian forensic action are available
in the published literature, such as the report of Obertová and Cattaneo (2018)
on child trafficking and the migration crisis; Pollanen (2018) on the pathology of
torture; the interesting book edited by Jason‐Payne et al. (2018) on Monitoring
Detention, Custody, Torture and III‐Treatment; and Wells (2017) on forensic inter-
ventions in cases of sexual violence. All of them have in common the humani-
tarian importance of forensic science in this type of action. In the words of Morris
Tidball‐Binz, “this concerns its role in protecting the living, in line with today’s
requirements and expectations in humanitarian interventions, including for sub-
stantiating evidence‐based protection activities on behalf of the victims”
(Chapter 1). A new space is being developed and aims to strengthen humani-
tarian operations with respect to urban violence, which Peter Maurer, the
President of the International Committee of the Red Cross, refers to in his
Foreword to this book.
47.10 Summary
The field of forensic humanitarian action has expanded and matured remarkably
in the last decade. Gradually, that progress has become documented in the pub-
lished literature. This volume contributes to that growing record by bringing
together contributions from many disciplines and diverse areas of the world. Such
broad inclusion is appropriate because forensic humanitarian action has become a
multidisciplinary/multinational endeavor. International communication has
become an essential driving force for progress, along with new technology and
growing numbers of talented and experienced forensic scientists. Clearly, this
volume does not represent the last word on progress. Rather, it documents
advancement and experiences to date, and the great prospects for the future.
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Edited by Roberto C. Parra, Sara C. Zapico and Douglas H. Ubelaker.
© 2020 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Published 2020 by John Wiley & Sons Ltd.
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