Sacred & Mundane
artifacts of contemporary culture
Fuzzy Forensics
by laurel a. neme
The liquid-nitrogen freezer sits unobtrusively up against the far wall, but crack
it open, and, after the clouds clear, you’ll
see stacks of animal blood and tissue samples. Turn the corner and you’ll >nd a
walk-in freezer o= the evidence room full
of feathers, hides, and bones, and various
animal parts and carcasses awaiting
examination. A co;n-sized Plexiglas box
in the “bug room” holds thousands of
black carpet (dermestid) beetles that swarm
over bones, cleaning them without altering evidence of trauma or tool marks. The
Ashland, Oregon–based U.S. Fish and
Wildlife Service Forensics Laboratory,
dubbed the “Scotland Yard of wildlife
crime,” is the world’s >rst lab of its kind.
Killing wild animals is big business.
While much wildlife trade is legal, a huge
black market exists, especially in rare and
endangered species. Global illegal wildlife
tra;cking is worth perhaps $20 billion
annually, maybe more. It’s the third-most-lucrative criminal trade in the world, ranking behind drugs and human tra;cking
but ahead of arms smuggling. Ounce for
ounce, illicit products such as rhino horn
and deer musk can be worth more than
gold, diamonds, cocaine, or other drugs.
In the 1990s, crystallized bear bile sold in
South Korea for over $1,000 a gram, about
twenty times the price of heroin.
As with any crime lab, the wildlife
forensics team has two jobs: >rst, to identify evidence, and second, to link the suspect and crime scene. Like standard police
labs, it uses physical evidence such as >
n-gerprints, tire tracks, bullets, gunshot
residues, poisons, and DNA to reveal
what happened to its animal victims and
to identify possible suspects. But this lab
has an extra job: >guring out
what the victim is.
The lab handles over thirty
thousand species of victims,
which makes a regular police
lab, with a mere one species
to worry about, look like a
vacation spot. The lab’s sta=
isn’t just solving crimes, they
are forging a new >eld of
science as they go, working
from a vast array of products. Victims often arrive as
unidenti>able parts: a carved
statuette, a belt, or maybe a
small vial of pills. As lab
director Ken Goddard explains, “All the things that
might tell you ‘this is an elephant’ aren’t
there.” The scienti>c challenge is often to
reverse the manufacturing process, to
trace a product back to the species from
which it came.
Because legal protections for animals
are based on the species, agents must
prove that the animal involved is protected.
For live animals, that’s not hard; but for
wildlife parts and processed products
found in commercial trade, it’s more di;-
cult. Without species identi>cation, agents
can’t prove crimes exist, and suspects go
free. Hence, the lab must >gure out what
techniques to apply to the evidence, identify a unique characteristic contained in the
animal part in question, and then develop a
methodology that >nds that trait consistently. All of this can take years.
Since its inception in 1989, the lab
has grown from just ten forensic scientists to a sta= of more than thirty->ve;