Near the end of the workday.
Brian handed over the assay receipt form from the 'Forensic Processing' department, the death certificate, and so on to Henry, the bald forensic doctor.
This was a clear case of homicide.
Feedback emails.
They had already been sent to the Detective Bureau that morning.
This meant that all the Forensic Bureau had to do going forward was provide some technical support for this case; everything else was no longer their task.
Of course, if the perpetrator were caught,
then at the time of sentencing, Henry, as the forensic technical support expert for the case, would need to present the autopsy report in court and testify to ensure the fairness of the case.
As for Brian...
He was just an inconspicuous technician without the authority to testify in court.
..
After clocking out from work,
Brian didn't hurry to leave.
He went to the morgue and offered a cigarette to the armed guard, "Buddy, any sensational bodies come in today?"
"Hey, Brian."
The armed guard took the cigarette, greeting Brian warmly.
The handsome young man in front of him was a known figure in the bureau, with anyone fairly informed aware that he had many high-quality, safe used cars.
In the absence of conflicting interests,
nobody would snub such a treasure of a colleague.
When faced with Brian's inquiry, the guard didn't overthink it, pondering for a moment before nodding:
"There was a body that had been dismembered into many pieces and stuffed into trash bags to be discarded separately.
We've only found parts of the body so far.
But through the number on a dental implant, the police confirmed the identity of the deceased, rumored to be a once-prominent lawyer who met some misfortune and ended up as a dismembered homeless man."
Brian found his interest piqued upon hearing that the victim had been a lawyer, "This kind of case should be a revenge killing."
The intellectual "Gift" of a highly intelligent victim.
I wonder if it will enhance intelligence.
The guard nodded:
"Maybe.
There have been quite a few lawyers in Los Angeles killed or retaliated against with firearms.
The discoverer was a Chinese illegal immigrant and homeless person.
The poor fellow initially thought he'd stumbled upon someone's discarded meat, but upon seeing a glans...
He realized something was wrong and asked a passerby to call the cops."
As he mentioned the glans,
the guard flashed Brian a mischievous smile.
Brian:...
I hope that unlucky Chinese compatriot doesn't spend the latter half of his life haunted by this psychological shadow.
However, it's quite likely his latter half won't be very long anyway.
Thinking of the plight of the homeless, Brian couldn't help but express his sentiment to the guard, "It seems this case will be hard to crack."
The guard nodded, "That place is a veritable bedbug camp; every day bedbugs go missing, and the police won't waste their effort on them."
You could tell.
The guard had little regard for the homeless.
Which was normal.
Both the guard and Brian lived on taxpayer money.
And those homeless people didn't have any money on them.
Brian made some casual conversation before accompanying the guard to the morgue.
The excuse.
Was that there might be an assessment at the end of the month.
He wanted more exposure.
For Brian's slightly irregular request, the guard, having received contact information for several high-quality used cars, was very understanding.
They were all their own people.
If they didn't help out with this small favor, were they even human?
Of course, help was a must!
...
Shortly after,
Brian had toured all of the bodies brought back that day, and afterward stood in the corridor smoking with a somewhat uncertain look.
The collection of his obsession was not going smoothly.
Today the morgue had received thirty-eight fresh bodies along with four rotten, incomplete corpses.
Forty-two corpses.
The only carcass nurturing an obsession was the one the guard just mentioned – the dismembered remains of the lawyer.
The lawyer's obsession was quite far-fetched: solving the survival problem of the homeless in Los Angeles.
Wow.
What a great person.
He ended up as homeless himself and even got dismembered.
Before dying, he actually didn't think about revenge but about the survival issues of the homeless...
Thinking about this, Brian felt somewhat helpless.
This obsession was most likely never to be fulfilled.
As mentioned before.
Brian didn't believe that the undocumented compatriot who called the police would have much longer to live.
This was not a curse he was casting.
It was just that the life expectancy of a homeless person in Los Angeles tended to be around three to five years.
And by life expectancy, it wasn't to say that after three to five years, the homeless could turn their lives around.
It meant the real countdown to the end of their lives.
Yes.
That short!
Among men, those who could resist drug addiction, avoid medical experiments, and steer clear of women in the gathering areas might live a bit longer.
Some with more experience could survive for twenty or thirty years, living past the age of fifty.
Women...
Women among the homeless were like public restrooms and incubators of infectious diseases.
This was why it was rare to see female vagrants in the tents of the homeless.
Unless there was a fixed safe rest area.
Otherwise, even with a husband's protection, it was hard for a female vagrant to safely get through the first month or two.
For instance, they might encounter gang assaults with no protective measures and no limit on the number of participants, during which their husbands might have to kneel aside, watching everything happening in despair.
Or they might face theft, drug temptation, infectious diseases...
All these were threats to their lives.
The best outcome for these women was to find a gang and sell themselves.
Only the younger female vagrants had this option.
Such a group.
Brian, even risking his life, couldn't fulfill the dead lawyer's obsession.
Even the Los Angeles City Government could only limit this homeless population, which numbered in the tens of thousands, to a few fixed areas by segregating gathering spots, assigning temporary rest zones, providing daily food limits, and then...
Letting them solve themselves.
...
After smoking a cigarette,
Brian prepared to leave the morgue with some disappointment.
It seemed there was no gain today.
Just as he was about to leave the morgue,
A morgue van, pushed by a forensic examiner from the Forensic Bureau, rolled down the corridor towards the morgue.
Following closely behind the examiner was a frowning white man in casual attire.
Brian was really well-liked at the Forensic Bureau.
The pushing examiner, upon seeing Brian, smiled tiredly and was the first to greet him, "Hey, Brian, you look in good spirits today."
"I've been exercising lately," Brian responded while briefly glancing at the gurney in the man's hands. His eyes lit up as he steered the conversation, "A body is being brought in at this time?"
The examiner nodded begrudgingly: "Yes, a poor guy who died in a hotel room, I was hoping to leave early..."
"Cough, cough!"
The white man in the suit behind intentionally coughed to interrupt the examiner.
The examiner looked at Brian awkwardly and shut his mouth.
Seeing this, Brian didn't mind and moved forward to make the sign of the cross over the body bag. He uttered an 'Amen,' greeted them, and proceeded to leave the morgue.
"Is that pretty boy from the Forensic Bureau too?"
Watching Brian's departing figure, the white man in the suit inquired of the examiner.
The examiner nodded: "Yes, his name is Brian, a forensic assistant in Forensic Affairs, a really good person liked by everyone here."
Hearing this, the white man nodded.
He didn't ask further and continued to follow the examiner towards the morgue.
...
Back in the car.
A smile appeared on Brian's face.
A new obsession acquired!
Seeing no one around, Brian, unable to contain his excitement, rubbed his hands together like a fly, closed his eyes, and began to examine this new obsession.