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A good forensics person can tell just about anything from a dead body. It's pretty amazing.
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My lovely Uncle Charlie died on the toilet (like Elvis - but that's the only similarity between them).
He wasn't discovered for two weeks - at least they assume it was two weeks, that's the longest time he ever went without contact with either of his brothers anyway.
It was summer. Hot (not necessarily a given in this country).
They were unable to ascertain exactly what he died from
because he was too decomposed to autopsy.
Not really relevant, just thought I'd share it. I loved Uncle Charlie, but I do get a ghoulish pleasure from the manner of his death. And I'm pretty sure he'd have got a kick out of that too.