“Hands show significant damage consistent with long-term fighting.” I lifted his right hand, examining the knuckles under the magnifying lens. “Extensive callusing across all metacarpophalangeal joints. Palpable deformity of second and third metacarpals consistent with multiple healed fractures. Similar findings on the left hand affecting the fourth and fifth metacarpals.”
“He broke his hands a lot,” Lily observed.
“Repeatedly, over years.” I flexed his fingers gently, feeling the way the joints ground against each other where they should have moved smoothly. “And he’s not that old. He started young—mid-teens, probably, to have this much accumulated damage.”
The old damage was expected. I’d seen it at the scene and knew what it meant. But what the autopsy gave me that the field exam couldn’t was confirmation of timing.
“All phalanges show perimortem fractures,” I recorded, examining the tissue surrounding each break under the magnifying lens. “Vital reaction is present—edema and early hemorrhagic response in surrounding soft tissue, indicating fractures were sustained while the subject was still alive.” I set his hand down carefully. “These injuries occurred hours before death, not after.”
“He was conscious?” Lily asked.
“His body was still mounting an inflammatory response. You don’t get that postmortem.” I moved to the next hand, documenting the same findings. “He felt every one.”
Lily was quiet for a long moment after that, the camera still in her hands.
I moved to his torso, where the real brutality became apparent.
“Multiple contusions to the anterior and lateral chest and abdomen.” I measured each bruise, photographed it, noted its position on my body diagram. “Bruising shows variation in coloration—some contusions appear fresh, dark purple to black, while others display green and yellow margins consistent with healing over twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
Lily was quiet as she documented, the camera clicking in steady rhythm.
“He was worked over for a couple of days,” I said, not for the recorder but for her. “At least two, maybe three, based on the healing patterns.”
“While he was restrained.”
“Yes.” I moved to his wrists, where the zip-tie marks cut deep into his skin. “Ligature marks on both wrists, consistent with zip-tie restraints. Deep tissue damage with evidence of significant resistance—he fought against the restraints hard enough to tear his own skin.”
No old marks beneath the fresh wounds, though. Whatever had happened to Andre Tyrell Washington, it had happened fast.
I examined his back next, documenting the parallel abrasions across his shoulder blades—drag marks, I was almost certain—and the circular burns that dotted his lower back like a constellation of cruelty.
“Eight circular burns on the posterior lumbar region,” I recorded. “Diameter consistent with cigarette burns. Varying stages of healing corresponding to the timeline established by other injuries.”
“Someone took their time,” Lily said quietly.
“Someone wanted him to suffer.”
I moved to his feet, scraping samples of the grayish residue into evidence containers. Whatever this substance was—brick dust, calcium deposits, old mortar—it would tell us about where he’d been held. Where he’d walked barefoot across cold floors while someone burned him with cigarettes and beat him until his bones cracked.
“Let’s look for injection sites,” I said.
I searched for injection sites—a standard part of any autopsy. Inner arms, hands, feet, neck, the spaces between his fingers and toes.
“No injection sites visible,” I recorded. “No puncture wounds or bruising consistent with needle use.”
Lily documented it with the camera while I moved on to the next step.
“Let’s get x-rays before we open him up. I want to see what his bones can tell us.”
The machine hummed to life, and we moved through the familiar process—positioning, adjusting angles, capturing images of the skeleton beneath the damaged flesh. When we finished, I loaded the films onto the illuminator and stepped back to study them.
The damage was extensive.
“Geez,” Lily said. “Poor guy.”
“Multiple healed fractures visible throughout the skeletal system,” I said into the recorder, tracing the ghostly lines of old breaks. “Nasal bone shows evidence of at least three previous fractures. Bilateral rib fractures, healed, ribs four through seven on the left, five and six on the right. Metacarpal fractures in both hands with evidence of repeated injury and healing.”
I moved down the images. “Right radius shows healed mid-shaft fracture. Left ulna shows similar injury—both consistent with defensive wounds from blocking strikes.”
