I called it the “naked murder”. A murder-suicide (which we always treated as a murder in case somebody was trying to make it look otherwise), the victim was a man, completely naked, and sitting in a kneeling position in front of the couch, leaning back as if reclining.
Somewhere, out there, there is a body. I don’t know who it is, and I don’t know how this individual passed away. I don’t even know where, but they are out there, waiting to be found. They might be found in a moment or two, or maybe their body will float downstream after the spring thaw. Maybe they’ll be lost for years. But they are there, waiting.
Editorial Note: This blog contains graphic descriptions of an autopsy.