The Bulldog and the Helix Read online

  That the samples had been retained was extremely fortunate. In 1977, forensic pathologists extracted semen samples from crime victims to determine if the donor was a “secretor.” A certain percentage of men produce a telltale substance in their semen and saliva that allows a serologist to determine their blood type. While it is not as effective as a fingerprint in establishing the identity of a suspect, linking the blood type of the suspect to the crime scene could prove to be one incremental step in bringing that suspect to prosecution.

  Conversely, and perhaps more realistically with this test, the RCMP’s serology section could quickly exclude a large segment of the male population from the suspect pool. The downside was that twenty percent of men are not secretors, making it impossible to determine even the blood type of the non-secretors from a cast-off semen sample. The man who raped Carolyn Lee was not a secretor, and so, according to the science available in 1977, the semen sample was worthless.

  In most cases, these unusable samples would have been tossed out as the case grew cold and colder. It was an indication of how determined Port Alberni investigators were to find Carolyn’s killer that this presumably worthless bit of genetic material was preserved along with the grim photographs and soil samples and articles of stained clothing collected at the crime scene. Smith said Ferris did not hold out much hope that the Lee samples would be of much use with the new technology that the RCMP was just installing at their main forensic lab in Ottawa. “Because of the way the samples were stored—not frozen or air-dried—they were likely degraded and not suitable for analysis by what was known as RFLP technology,” he said.

  PRESERVED DNA

  Through his initial inquiries, Smith had begun absorbing a technical education in DNA and forensic DNA technology. What he had learned is that DNA is the chemically expressed blueprint of life on Earth. All living cells contain strings of coded information known as chromosomes, on which all physical characteristics for an organism are stored.

  The DNA molecule is shaped like a spiral staircase. Each rung in that staircase is formed by a matching pair of chemicals: adenine-thymine (A-T) and guanine-cytosine (G-C). The order in which the rungs are arranged determines inherited characteristics factors like height and eye colour. The DNA code stored inside one human cell consists of approximately three billion chemical pairs of A-T and G-C. If the chromosomes on that spiral staircase were mechanically uncoiled and laid end to end, they would stretch to a length of about two metres.

  But the amount of variation within the DNA structure is extremely limited, and ninety-nine percent of human DNA is identical. It is by studying the known points—the loci—where wide variations occur (known as polymorphic areas) that investigators can establish the identity of an individual human being.

  The Restriction Fragment Length Polymorphism (RFLP) technique of DNA typing was first applied in forensic analysis in 1985 by a genetics professor named Alec Jeffreys at the University of Leicester, in England. At the time, the UK government ran the Forensic Science Services lab (FSS), where the new technology was developed and installed. FSS had first employed the genetic fingerprinting system in 1984 to determine paternity in several immigration cases.

  The RFLP technique uses a “restriction” enzyme like a pair of molecular scissors to snip out sections of the DNA chain from individual chromosomes. Radioactive probes are then attached to areas of interest on the membrane. These probes are used to expose an image on X-ray film, producing an autoradiograph, or autorad for short.

  In RFLP analysis, the DNA molecule must be in its native double-strand form. The restriction enzyme cannot work on a single-stranded molecule. The DNA fragments are size-separated in a gel-like medium under constant application of a high voltage. Under such conditions, smaller pieces of DNA fragments will move faster than larger-sized fragments. After a predetermined run time, the DNA inside the gel medium is “lifted” or transferred to a sturdier matrix or membrane made up of nitrocellulose or nylon in a process called the Southern transfer method (named after its inventor, E.M. Southern). Consequently, the DNA fragments are permanently bound to the membrane by high temperature.

  By 1988, at the time Smith approached Ferris, the RCMP was in the process of installing a modified version of the RFLP system in Ottawa. But now, after having his hopes raised, Smith had been told that the RCMP technology wouldn’t be capable of obtaining a DNA profile from the degraded samples collected from the crime scene in 1977.

  FERRIS EXPLAINED TO Smith that “there was a new technology coming down the pipe . . . that could obtain a DNA profile from a degraded sample like the one we had.” The new process was called Polymerase Chain Reaction (PCR), and it would prove to be much more effective for processing old or degraded genetic samples. The PCR process was developed by Dr. Kary Mullis in California almost concurrently with RFLP at Leicester, but the forensic potential of the new process was not immediately recognized. (Mullis won the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for this in 1993, at a time when the new process began to be introduced into forensic labs around the world.)

  Simply put, while RFLP cuts out DNA components from a sample cell, PCR makes duplicates—unlimited quantities, in fact. The “chain reaction” describes the replication process, using different enzymes, that allows scientists to make millions of copies of the targeted genes. Unlike the RFLP process, in PCR analysis, the gel screening stage to determine the viability of the DNA is not required. PCR uses repeated cycles of heating, cooling, and warming to replicate specific sequences of the DNA molecule. In essence, the PCR procedure doubles the amount of product formed in each cycle, i.e., from two through four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, and so on, ad infinitum. A fluorescent tag allows easy detection and quantitation of the product formed. Progressive stages break the DNA structure apart into smaller and smaller components that are tagged using the fluorescent tag and photographed using the same autoradiographic process as in RFLP. The “chain reaction” describes the replication process, using different enzymes, that allows scientists to make millions of copies of the targeted genes.

  In 1988, the infant PCR process was just beginning to enable scientists to obtain genetic profiles from minuscule samples taken from blood, semen, or the epithelial cells found in saliva. It would be nearly a decade—and several evolutions of technology—before the RCMP made a full transition to the PCR process, but within a few years, a few private labs emerged in North America that employed the first generation of PCR technology.

  While the RCMP had invested and trained personnel in the RFLP system, even as the new technology was first used in active casework, the molecular genetics section in Ottawa was already investigating PCR technology. Most critically, however, the RCMP elected to wait until the development of a more reliable PCR system than the one that had been used at commercial labs in the US to analyze the Dhillon crime scene samples, with relatively poor results.

  THE DNA TOOL

  By 1989, when The Blooding was released, the author, Joseph Wambaugh, had already established himself as a master storyteller in the field of police work, both in fiction and nonfiction. When his latest bestseller hit the bookshelves, millions of readers absorbed a crash course in high-tech forensic investigation in a story that ripped along like the best whodunit thriller.

  That included Dan Smith and his RCMP colleagues. The Colin Pitchfork investigation was to prove highly instructive as they incorporated the new forensic technology into their investigative repertoire. The world’s first DNA investigation had its origins in Narborough, Leicestershire, just a short distance from the University of Leicester, where, at the time of the first killing, Alec Jeffreys was still hard at work developing his RFLP process of DNA analysis.

  On November 21, 1983, Lynda Mann was raped and strangled on a footpath in Narborough known as the Black Pad. Using the existing serology of the day to analyze the semen sample collected from the victim, investigators determined that the killer was “a Group A secretor, PGM 1+.” That meant the killer’s semen showed a phos-pho
glucomutase enzyme reaction of PGM one-plus, which was high. After the sample was subjected to antigen testing, it revealed that suspect was a secretor with Type A blood. Investigators were advised that this particular pairing of blood type and PGM rating was present in just ten percent of the male population. That is based on a formula of forty percent of the population having Type A blood, eighty percent of men being secretors, and thirty-five percent of those secretors having the PGM+1 rating.

  Armed with this information, the Leicestershire Constabulary launched an almost unprecedented effort to locate Mann’s killer, with 150 officers assigned to the case. But the leads soon petered out, the investigation team soon dwindled down to two members, and the case went quiet. But then, three years later, on July 31, 1986, Dawn Ashworth was beaten, raped, and strangled on a footpath in nearby Enderby, also in Leicestershire.

  Investigators subsequently arrested a seventeen-year-old suspect, Richard Buckland. Buckland had brought himself to the attention of police as a result of his erratic behaviour after numerous witnesses told police he had revealed details of the Dawn Ashworth investigation that had not been released by police. Under interrogation, the unpleasant teen told police he had spoken to Dawn on the evening she disappeared, which later proved to be untrue. He also revealed that beginning at the age of fourteen, he had engaged in coercive sexual activity with a girl his own age. Later, he admitted that he had sexually molested a nine-year-old girl numerous times.

  Under further questioning, Buckland admitted to killing Dawn Ashworth, but he adamantly denied any involvement in the death of Lynda Mann. Investigators subsequently located both girls and corroborated Buckland’s admissions concerning his sexual behaviour. Confident that they had their man (or boy), they ignored the fact that Buckland did not share the Group A secretor, PGM 1+ profile that their serology section had identified from the crime scene evidence.

  And here was where the accident of geography intervened. There is some disagreement about how Alec Jeffreys at the University of Leicester became involved in the case—whether he was approached by government-run FSS or whether he volunteered his services as a concerned citizen. In any event, Jeffreys subjected the crime scene evidence to DNA analysis, along with a blood sample taken from Buckland. By way of DNA profiling, Jeffreys was able to prove that indeed, both girls were raped and killed by the same man. But it wasn’t Buckland.

  THE PRIMARY LESSON of this case was that, just as in old-fashioned serology, DNA fingerprinting is actually better at eliminating suspects from suspicion than in locating them. And the fact that investigators were willing to overlook the failure of the suspect to match the initial serology profile served as a caution to ensure that any new tools in collecting evidence become an established part of every investigation.

  With Buckland excluded, the Leicestershire Constabulary, working with FSS, then conducted the “blooding” that gave name to Wambaugh’s book. Investigators collected genetic samples, either blood or saliva, from nearly every young adult male in the communities where the murders took place. It had been determined that, due to the high sperm count in the semen sample, the donor was likely to be younger than thirty-five. The team collected nearly five thousand samples in a process that took six months.

  As a result of the DNA manhunt, Colin Pitchfork was arrested on September 19, 1987. But as Smith and a generation of forensic scientists discovered, Pitchfork was not located when his DNA profile set off the alarm bells; the baker’s assistant was identified through old-fashioned police work. On August 1, 1987, while drinking in a Leicester pub, a co-worker of Pitchfork’s, Ian Kelly, told colleagues from Hampshires Bakery that Pitchfork had talked him into providing a blood sample under his name. Kelly said Pitchfork explained that he had a previous conviction for indecent exposure and didn’t want to have to deal with the police. The matter might have ended there, but a female colleague at the table reported Kelly’s admission to police.

  Pitchfork was subsequently sampled and positively identified as the killer. Six weeks later, he was charged. Just four months later, after admitting to both murders, he was sentenced to life imprisonment. (In 2016, Pitchfork was denied full parole but recommended for transfer to an open prison.)

  Another lesson for Smith and a growing list of RCMP colleagues was that, for a DNA manhunt to be truly effective, investigators have to obtain a blood or saliva sample from the guilty suspect. While DNA could effectively link the suspect to the crime scene, having the killer’s genetic fingerprint would in no way replace the need for effective police work on the ground. But Canada would not enact federal legislation compelling a suspect to submit a DNA sample until well into the next decade, so on the surface, any DNA sampling would have to be voluntary. Forensic DNA testing was an entirely new police procedure that would necessarily result in the creation of a novel culture within the law enforcement community.

  There were serious ethical questions that had yet to be addressed. Most critically, how long would police be allowed to retain DNA information submitted by citizens on a voluntary basis? During the Pitchfork blooding in Leicester, thousands of men were profiled solely on the basis that they were young males living in the area where the crimes were committed. Would police be allowed to retain their genetic fingerprints against the possibility that they might commit future crimes?

  This question alone had serious ramifications. How many men would consent to a future blood sampling if they knew they would be permanently recorded on police data banks? At the same time, futurists trumpeted how DNA could be used to solve any number of crimes, major and minor. Police officials looked forward to creating a shared DNA data bank network that could be accessed by police departments across the country and around the world.

  The new technology gave law enforcement and, by extension, governments the capacity to record and store the genetic blueprint of any citizen, posing any number of ethical and legal questions. Over the next decade, each jurisdiction that employed forensic DNA would have to set the ground rules, forged though legislation and adjudicated in the courts of the land. Along the way, Smith and his RCMP colleagues would have to learn new rules of evidence in real time as the higher courts rendered their decisions. They would learn, for instance, the legal distinction between a voluntary DNA sample taken from an uninformed donor and a warranted sample.

  BUT THAT WAS all in the future. After conferring with Ferris and reading any available material on the science of DNA, Dan Smith knew that police work was entering a whole new era. And he was part of it. “That was 1989, and we were right on the cutting edge of the new science,” he said.

  Smith was also dealing with a full slate of routine investigations assigned to the Port Alberni GIS. While the Carolyn Lee investigation filled a high-profile compartment in his investigative mind, it was very much a part-time pursuit as he and his colleagues tracked down the parade of everyday lawbreakers found in any small industrial city. So when Smith filed those C-237 forms at regular intervals, he was not just going through the motions. Smith’s updates to E Division headquarters included his ongoing efforts to have the crime scene soil analyzed for metal content, along with his inquiries about incorporating DNA analysis into the investigation.

  What Smith didn’t know was that his routine reports were being copied to the E Division Serious Crimes Unit in Vancouver, where Corporal Wade Blizard began to take an interest in the Port Alberni cold case. As Smith became snowed under with current investigations, Blizard and his colleagues at E Division headquarters in Vancouver began to turn their attention to Carolyn Lee.

  IN JULY 1989, the Port Alberni GIS got a new team leader, Sergeant Dale Djos, and the investigative bulldog stalking Gurmit Singh Dhillon grew another set of jaws.

  Like Smith, Djos was born in rural Alberta, but unlike his associate, he did not grow up in a big city. The Djos family maintained a farm in the tiny (about 700 people) community of Sedgewick, but the future cop had no interest in following the family tradition, now in its third generation. “My
brother is still there, running the farm. I’m the only one who ever left,” he said. “I wanted to be a policeman, and that was that.”

  The thrills were few and far between in his first deployment. After graduating from the RCMP Depot in August 1969, Djos was posted to Vancouver, where he lived in Fairmont Barracks for six months, protecting a witness in a major heroin case. “There were four of us, just out of training. We spent eight hours a day sitting. For six months.”

  For a gung-ho rookie Mountie, that first deployment proved to be a snooze. But once he left Fairmont Barracks and headed out into the BC hinterland, Djos would be involved in a succession of high-profile investigations and arrests right up to the moment of his arrival in Port Alberni. There was plenty of excitement at the small rural detachment in Merritt, where he spent the next year and a half. “It was a seven-man detachment in an area that was mainly mining and ranching, with twelve [First Nations] reserves. We had five hotels and a Legion to police. We ran a lot of prisoners through our cells—about thirteen hundred a year. Those are very high numbers for a detachment that size.”

  From Merritt, Djos transferred to the rapidly growing city of Kelowna in the Okanagan region. When he arrived, he was the twenty-fourth member of the detachment. By the time he left in 1978, after seven years on the Major Crimes Unit, the detachment had expanded to over eighty members.

  IT WAS WHILE investigating the 1976 murder of Winfield resident Shirley Ann Baker by Harvey Harold Andres that Dale Djos learned to push the boundaries when it came to gathering evidence. Andres, a member of the Grim Reapers motorcycle gang with a long criminal history, had crushed Baker’s head with a large rock after sexually assaulting her while her two-year-old son watched. “When police found him, he said ‘A man came in the night. Mommy screamed, and he went away.’”