Skip to main content

Trace Evidence

There's a really excellent podcast, "Trace Evidence," which devotes an hour to Suzanne Jovin. The focus lands on Jovin's GRE prep books.

In an email, Jovin indicated that she had to pick up her books from "someone," to whom she had made a loan. People tend to believe the use of "someone" suggests Jovin didn't know this other person well. But Trace Evidence sensibly asks: How often do you loan items of value to people you don't know?

The big, glaring issue with the GRE books is this: Whoever borrowed the books from Jovin has never, never come forward. Never, in twenty years. If you had received items from someone who later turned up dead, wouldn't you speak up? (Trace Evidence asks this, as well.) Wouldn't you want to be as helpful as possible--and also, if you were innocent, wouldn't you want to be sure that you established your innocence as quickly as possible?

Other people online have a divergent theory: "If I had these books, and I saw Jovin's corpse in the press, and I saw what the police were doing to her thesis advisor, I would keep my mouth shut." But I don't really buy this. I think, if you were innocent, and you had the books, it's likely you would want to be as forthcoming as possible. (Do you disagree?)

People can have so many different lives. One life can be a secret; or one life can be accessible to only half one's friends, or to a lover, or to a colleague. The EAR/ONS guy lived with the knowledge of what he did for many, many years. And, in another case, a guard claimed to have found a woman's corpse posed in a profane way, in a church. He maintained this claim for decades. It was only when the police linked the guy to the killing, via DNA evidence, that the guy killed himself. Who knows what kind of secret life Jovin might have had (and what kind of life her killer is now, still, having)?

It's hard to imagine getting so worked up in public--the screaming argument, then the murder. What kind of state would a person have to be in to commit this killing near possible bystanders? And then just to leave the body on a sidewalk? (It seems likely that decent police work would have spelled an end to the case--long ago. But possible DNA evidence was contaminated, and there were other inexcusable issues. I think the DNA route is now closed for good, in this case.)

The man who runs Trace Evidence describes having been haunted by mysteries early in life--studying library books about the Bermuda Triangle, Amelia Earhart, etc. He says he is kept up at night thinking about small knots in various crazy cases. He has turned this obsession into a kind of art form. I'm excited to hear what he has to say about Bible John, and about the "Superman" actor, among other stories.

(That said, it's a bad idea for me to listen to this material while alone. I just half-frightened myself to death.)

The "Trace Evidence" producer says his initial interest was simply in fretting over mysteries, but as his work has progressed, he has found himself powered more and more by empathy for the people whose lives are ruined in these cases (not just victims, but also families of victims, along with the wrongly accused). Anyway, if you're looking for a fast, creepy hour, consider Googling "Trace Evidence Jovin." Then listen with all of the lights on.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

My Favorite Pop Song

  One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...."  I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...