A Less Than Obvious Conclusion

When I was twenty-four, I was responsible for investigating thousands of unexplained deaths in Dallas for the medical examiner: homicides, suicides, and accidents. As the youngest forensic investigator in Texas history, I was exposed early to life unedited. Now, as I write my forth suspense thriller novel, I have a better understanding of why my books keep my readers on the edge of their seats—and the reason is not so obvious.

It is well accepted we are each unique products of our genetic lineage and environment. Taking that known reality and wrapping it in chance and happenstance, is further demonstration we go through life as an original—one of a kind. Not only are our points of view based on our own acquisitions of knowledge, but our truths are shaped by a lifetime of infinite exposures to the world under varying emotional and physical conditions. Allow me to illustrate.

When I’m standing in an alley over a horrific homicide victim and a fiery ball is sinking on the horizon—interfering with my investigation—my experience (my reality) is very different from that of a lover watching the same sunset from a sandy beach. For me the sun is a hindrance and the next yellow-orange ball I see will probably trigger a dismal memory. For the lovers the next sunset will reawaken fond memories. Both thoughts pass through minds shaping moods and spurring even more thought. In this example there can be a preferred experience and memory, but there is no right or wrong one. It just is, and it illustrates how one moment in time can shape life very differently.

Authors draw from life experiences. Our travels through the real world shape our characters, settings, plots and more. And because we are unique, the story possibilities are endless. Not only do we see a sunset our own way, we also see it through our own lenses of infinite and fleeting emotion that further change our worlds and how we want to express ourselves.

The characters I create in my stories exist. They are people I’ve known in my life. They are friends, family, acquaintances, or the person walking down the street or sitting at the table in a restaurant. They are the criminal, the victim, the witness, or someone on a plane crossing the Atlantic, or the business contact in a foreign land. They are faces and mannerisms and quirks and personalities that have touched me. But my characters are unique because they are compilations of many. They are built from a cornucopia of images and behaviors that fit my purpose. They are shaped by an author telling a story.

Now for the less than obvious conclusion I promised. My life as a forensic investigator did give me a wide array of skills and knowledge that help me write my brand of suspense thrillers, but the greatest asset I draw from is my vivid imagination, the product of my individuality and it comes from the current totality of my life experiences.

A good part of my stories are born from thoughts at the very beginning of an investigation, the time when the least is known and the worst crawls around in my head. It is the knee-knocking, bone-chilling moment when I stand alone in the shattered glass of a dark brutality and I am thinking about the possibilities. How did the real monster move this night? What was his motivation? What did he do and what mistakes did he make so I can catch him? How did the poor, lifeless victim come to be here at this moment in time, and what can they tell me now?

In the early moments of a terrible experience I take in the carnage. I smell death. I feel the terror, pain, and desperation of the victim and begin to assemble the facts. I touch the cold, hard, carotid artery, pronounce someone dead, and think about the life taken from this world and what it all means. It is in those dark, quiet moments my imagination works best. It is the place where anything and everything is possible, even the answers.

The Webster Dictionary defines “forensic” as relating to or denoting the application of scientific methods and techniques to the investigation of crime belonging to, used in, and suitable to courts of judicature. That is not what stimulates or drives my story telling process. It is my imagination, the place with no limits, the place where I search for meaning. My imagination is where I dig through the mountains of feelings and thoughts and knowledge I’ve collected over a lifetime. Today I write knowing my imagination has the greatest impact the stories I tell, and my conclusion is every author has one.

[Appeared in Southern Writers Magazine, Author Steve Bradshaw, March 2015]

Authors Writing about Murder for Sophisticated Readers

Today writers can’t just kill somebody. They’ve got to get it right or they lose readers. Before I became a suspense/thriller author, I investigated over 3,000 unsolved deaths as a forensic field agent for a county medical examiner’s office in Texas. Although it was not a consideration at the time, my advanced training and real life experiences equipped me for the killing sprees in my novels. Because few writers have these exposures and rarely witness life unedited, today more than ever it is vital they find other ways to get murder right.

The readers of mystery and suspense are more sophisticated and knowledgeable in the fields of crime and murder. With growing exposure to a plethora of CSI television shows, true crime documentaries, and blockbuster movies about twisted psychopaths, diabolical serial killers, and sick mass murderers, our reading audience understands how it all happens and know the likely evidence that leads to perpetrators. Writing a mesmerizing murder scene or crisp caper requires today’s authors to know the possibilities; planting legitimate clues, presentation and logical discovery, not missing the obvious, and the accurate treatment of the facts. Today, understanding the death investigation and discovery process is a must.

My first case as a forensic investigator was a ride-along with a senior agent. The call came into the medical examiner’s office as a multiple gunshot wound to the chest. We raced to the scene moments after the discovery of the body in an affluent neighborhood. Being new and fresh out of training, I knew right away we were dealing with a well-crafted homicide. The senior agent was older and a man of few words. As I drove, he blew smoke out the window and announced we were going to a suicide. The rest of the ride was quiet. Looking down my rookie nose, I thought the old guy was burned out. A suicide case was less paperwork than a homicide. How could anyone take multiple bullets in the chest and it not be a homicide?

The deceased, sixty-year-old white male, was slouched over on a back porch swing, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, gun clenched in his cold, stiff hand. After I counted five entrance wounds, I whispered to the senior agent, “You still think this is a suicide?” He said nothing, just stood over me and nodded in the affirmative.

After photographing (documenting) the death scene from all angles, we placed the weapon in a plastic bag and labeled. We put paper bags over the hands of the deceased and authorized transport of the body to the county morgue. We interviewed family and friends. The deceased was in early stages of rigor mortis placing time of death in a six to ten hour window.

At the institute of forensic science we test fired the weapon—five shots. A gunpowder residue sample was taken from our shooting hand and the hand of the deceased. They were assessed analytically and qualitatively via mass spectroscopy and other advanced detection instrumentation. Gunshot residue can contain various amounts of lead, barium, antimony, sulfur, aluminum, potassium, copper, titanium, zinc and more. Test results confirmed the gun was in the hand of the deceased when fired five times.

I was not convinced—being new and smarter than everyone else on my first case. The victim could not have physically shot himself five times—like the old story of the suicide where the man backed into the knife five times. I knew the diabolical killer put the gun in the victim’s hand and forced five rounds into the man’s chest. And I didn’t like the way the son-in-law acted at the death scene—very mechanical, no emotion, seemed to dodge questions, and just the way he behaved with his weeping spouse. The truth would come out after I delved into the victim’s history, his financials, and the story about his son-in-law. With or without my senior field agent on board, I would not stop until I found the veiled reason this man was killed.

It was not until the autopsy that the story came into focus. Four of the five shots into the chest missed the heart and internal structures that would cause immediate death (such as major arteries). One bullet found the heart. And because the bullets used were a mix between Colt and Remington, we were able to determine the bullet that hit the heart was the last fired.

I won’t go into contact wounds, patterns, and gunpowder burn anomalies. I won’t go into angles of entry and exit or the smokeless gunpowder today that can change everything but contains over twenty detectable compounds. I won’t talk about the suicide history uncovered or the doctor appointment where the deceased learned he had a brain tumor eight hours before he was found dead on the porch swing. What I will say is it took the field investigation, forensic testing, and the autopsy to get it right…regardless how it looked or felt.

This is just one example of how a traumatic death in today’s world is solved. People that do this every day understand cause and manner of death can only be determined when we replace speculation and emotion with logic and facts. As writers creating killers and death scenes, we can write our best chilling, thought provoking stories when we understand the advanced tools and processes employed in a modern world to catch the bad guys.

I encourage writers of suspense and mystery to make use of the internet to read about forensics and real cases. Attend writer conferences to hear from experts in forensics (which I often do). Visit a medical examiner’s office and the county morgue. Observe an autopsy. Ride with a homicide detective to see how the real world works today. If you are going to write about murder, I believe you get your best stories when you know more than your readers: how crime scenes are processed, how autopsies are conducted, the important clues and how to plant them. When writers get it right, readers come back for more.


Under the Microscope (KillerNashville Article by Steve Bradshaw)

For all you crime writers out there, it’s important to have a working understanding of how investigators set about to collecting evidence, and the gravity of every second, every random phenomenon or clue found at the scene of death.

Steve Bradshaw, author and founder-president/CEO of Active Implants Corporation has investigated a lot of deaths—thousands, actually. In all his experience, one fact has remained constant: the moment a person dies, the clock begins ticking for medical investigators and their affiliates to collect and evaluate evidence. In many cases, the amount of time between death and investigation is one of the largest determining factors of whether the truth of an incident can ever be unveiled.

Steve Bradshaw understands that urgency. In this installment of “Under the Microscope”, Bradshaw recounts an investigation and how, if it weren’t for diligence, skill, and a quick response time (and maybe just a little luck), it could have come to a much different conclusion.

For article by Steve Bradshaw “Death Scenes are Castles in the Sand” click here:


Installment #3 “CONCLUSION…My First Case…Multiple GSW to Chest…Suicide?”


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The autopsy room is cold. The lights are brightest over the naked body on the stainless steel bed. The laminar air-flow hood above the dead man attempts to remove airborne debris and the unmistakable, sweet smell of human flesh from the work area but mostly … Continue reading