The Coroner Series

by Thomas T. Noguchi

  Our office had also helped establish guidelines for the termination of life-support systems in cases of irreversible brain damage. And by law the jurisdiction of the Medical Examiner’s Office now extended to cover not only private nursing homes but also mental hospitals, where many suspicious deaths occurred, mostly stemming from abuse of patients by staff attendants.

  Another law we wanted passed sprang from a tragedy in a hospital. A new surgical wing had just been dedicated, but the very first surgery in it ended in disaster. A patient was given anesthetic and turned blue. When the anesthesiologist administered oxygen, the patient turned bluer and died! Our office was called in, and an autopsy showed that the anesthetic, pure nitrous oxide, filled the victim’s lungs. No oxygen.

  We learned from our anesthesiology consultant that oxygen is normally given to the patient along with the nitrous oxide because the body can’t tolerate nitrous oxide without it. So both gases are piped through the wall. The nitrous-oxide pipe is blue, the oxygen pipe green; they are color-coded to prevent the anesthesiologist from making a mistake. As a final precaution, the connecting heads of the pipes are designed so that they don’t match. What had happened? Someone working in the new construction had seen that the pipe heads didn’t match, and rigged up an adaptor to connect them. The result was that nitrous oxide was pumped through both pipes—and the victim received a double dose of anesthetic and died.

  Because our office wanted to make certain that this would never happen again, we lobbied for a bill which required every doctor’s office and hospital to conduct a periodic anesthetic-sample certification. But the proposed bill met with howls of protest from the California Hospital Association, the Dental Association, the State Department of Health and other medical agencies.

  I remember one telephone call: “Dr. Noguchi, we have thousands of dental offices in the state. This is monumental work for us.”

  Finally it was suggested as a compromise that the State Department of Health would promulgate a rule requiring sampling, but the state would not enact a law. State Assemblyman Paul Banai, the author of the law, concurred. And our office went along with the compromise because we knew we had achieved our purpose. We had alerted all of the relevant medical agencies, associations and hospitals to the problem, and they would be much more careful in the future. In fact, no such tragedy had occurred since.

  I was proud of the work we had done at the Forensic Science Center in the past and was determined to continue to be an outspoken voice for forensic science in the future, whatever happened in my own career. Finally, on February 10, 1983, hearing officer Sara Adler was ready to announce her decision, which, in effect, would be her recommendation to the Civil Service Commission. I stood in the hearing room that day as Adler’s decision was handed to Isaac and me.

  On the basis of the evidence she had heard during the months-long trial, Adler ruled that I had been unjustifiably demoted. She stated that I had never been given the chance to show whether I could manage the department with the new funds and personnel which had been granted only after I left.

  It was the happiest day of my life. I had won my battle for reinstatement.

  But from the high elation of that moment I plunged to another low. On February 23, the Civil Service Commission voted to disregard Adler’s recommendation, rendering, in effect, the hearing that had lasted for months and cost the county hundreds of thousands of dollars a farce. The commission said that her findings did not justify her conclusions—that in the course of her report she had implied that I was not a good manager.

  I am appealing that decision, and in doing so it is sometimes easy to feel sorry for myself, to believe that I have been the victim of bureaucratic harassment or even of some kind of personal vendetta. But, along with almost all of my fellow medical examiners, I have come to realize that I may be only a symbol—that my demotion really represents a bureaucratic fear of the independence of the medical examiner/coroner, whoever he may be. But it is precisely that independence that must be protected and preserved. A medical examiner serves to protect the people. When death strikes, inadequately trained or unscrupulous doctors or incompetent, corrupt or simply careless policemen may be present at the scene. It was precisely for this reason that laws were enacted to make the medical examiner the official in charge of death investigations.

  Forensic scientists, whether they are public officials or not, are the guardians of society. Our mission is to protect life through the lessons we learn from death. It is a noble crusade, and I am happy to have played a part in its growth. Once, during the early days of my battle to regain my job, I was asked to appear on a local television station to tell my side of the story. Before the interview, a secretary in an outer office handed me a short form to fill out. Under job title I wrote “Fighting Coroner.” That bit of bravado was picked up by the newspapers, and I found I had created a new image for myself, far preferable, in my opinion, to the old epithet “Coroner to the Stars.” So my present struggle is both a personal battle and a crusade for forensic science itself. There’s a sign on the door of my current office in the Los Angeles County—USC Medical Center. It says, “Welcome to Siberia.” I’ve drawn a little smiling face on it.

  Coroner at Large

  To my brothers, Kazuo and Tatsuo, and their families, to the delegates of the World Association on Medical Law, and to my fellow Medical Examiners and the hard-working employees in the Los Angeles County Medical Examiner’s Office

  Contents

  Preface

  THE UNANSWERED QUESTION:

  The Claus von Bülow Case

  FOR LOVE OF HY:

  The Jean Harris Case

  THE OTHER SIDE OF FATAL VISION:

  The Jeffrey MacDonald Case

  THE LOVE-TRIANGLE MURDER:

  The Buddy Jacobsen Case

  BREAKTHROUGHS IN FORENSIC SCIENCE

  A Curious Cause of Death: Dorothy Dandridge

  The Visible and Invisible Murderer: The Case of Sal Mineo

  One Last Laugh: Freddie Prinze

  Murder in Hollywood: Dorothy Stratten

  An “Impossible” Drowning: Dennis Wilson

  Prescription for Death: Elvis Presley

  THE “DETECTIVE OF DEATH”

  The Missing Baby

  All in the Same Boat

  The “Accidental” Lover

  The Funhouse Corpse

  FORENSIC PUZZLES OF THE PAST

  Custer’s Last Stand

  The Death of Napoleon

  Did Hitler Escape?

  Who Was Jack the Ripper?

  The Return of the Ripper

  THE DANGLING MAN:

  The Case of Roberto Calvi, “the Vatican Banker”

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  Preface

  Did the urbane Claus von Bülow twice attempt to murder his rich socialite wife, Sunny, by the surreptitious injection of insulin? Did Jean Harris, the attractive middle-aged headmistress of an exclusive private school, murder her lover, Dr. Herman Tarnower, the “Scarsdale Diet Doctor,” or was she really trying to commit suicide? Did Dr. Jeffrey MacDonald, the “All-American Boy,” slaughter his pregnant wife and two young daughters, or were they massacred by hippie intruders? Did playboy Buddy Jacobsen kill a rival, Jack Tupper, for the love of the beautiful model Melanie Cain, or was he framed?

  These were questions asked of me over and over again after the publication of my book Coroner. Americans everywhere were fascinated by these controversial cases, and wanted to know my opinions of them. To each questioner I responded that all of these cases had occurred outside my jurisdiction as Chief Medical Examiner of Los Angeles County, and I was not in possession of the detailed facts. But my interest was piqued, and when I began to look into these puzzling cases I quickly realized an amazing fact: all four actually pivoted on forensic evidence—and, chillingly, it was possible that such forensic evidence might not have been correctly understood by the juries. If so, innocent men and women had been convicted of cri
mes they did not commit.

  Circumstantial evidence, and even the courtroom demeanor of the defendant (as in the Jean Harris trial), had also played a role in every case, but forensic science had provided the evidence that really convicted all of the defendants: an insulin encrusted hypodermic needle discovered in Claus von Bülow’s “little black bag”; Jeff MacDonald’s pajama top; the bullet wounds in Dr. Tarnower’s body; the bullet shell found in a wastebasket in Buddy Jacobsen’s apartment.

  As I probed deeper into these cases, I became aware of the vital necessity for Americans to know more about forensic science, if justice is to be served in trials where lives are at stake. The science of forensic medicine, begun in a small corner of a police prefecture in France, then nurtured in London, Berlin and Tokyo, has lately begun to gain recognition in this country. But my own experience has shown me that our science is still baffling to many laymen. It should not be so, for our mission is simple. In forensic science we search for answers to unexplained deaths, not only in murders, but in suicides, accidents, drug overdoses, drownings, hangings, falls and a multiple variety of violent or abrupt endings to life. Our goal is to discover information that can be utilized in two ways: by the law in trials and other legal proceedings, and by medical men for the betterment of public health.

  In this book, I have attempted to tell the full story of forensic science for the first time by showing it in action. To do so, I have undertaken the role of forensic detective, investigating in depth the four most famous and controversial cases in recent American history, and a fifth—the death of Roberto Calvi, “the Vatican Banker”—that occurred in England. I have also included other mysteries and unexplained deaths in Hollywood and in Nashville, Tennessee. And I have delved into famous forensic puzzles of the past, both in America and abroad. I have traveled thousands of miles—from my home in California to Scarsdale, New York, to London, England—to investigate these enduring mysteries, and I have been aided in my endeavor by the worldwide network of forensic scientists who are both my colleagues and my friends.

  And so I invite you to join me in my travels to explore the fascinating field of forensic science, and to share with me the discovery and examination of telltale forensic clues. Because of them, justice was or—perhaps—was not done. And you will see why.

  THE UNANSWERED QUESTION:

  The Claus von Bülow Case

  1

  No judicial proceedings in recent history have aroused greater public curiosity than the two trials in which Claus von Bülow was accused of the attempted murder of his wife, Martha “Sunny” von Bülow. Press coverage was exhaustive, and both trials were broadcast in their entirety on television—an almost unprecedented occurrence. Viewers were able to follow the intricate legal maneuvers of the prosecution and the defense, listen to testimony and see revealing gestures and facial expressions as if they themselves were in the courtroom. Twice, Von Bülow was to be judged not only before a jury of twelve men and women, but before an audience of millions. And, in a twist that might strain the credulity of even the most jaded television viewers, his first trial resulted in conviction, the second in acquittal.

  What more is there to be said about a real-life drama that has already inspired so much comment and speculation? My investigation of the case was centered around a key question. With her husband’s innocence established, where does the blame reside for the tragic condition of Sunny von Bülow, still lying helpless in an irreversible coma?

  2

  Newport, Rhode Island, is perhaps America’s preeminent domain of the rich. There, decades ago, the aristocrats of our society built sprawling mansions, extravagant imitations of the great houses of the European aristocrats they so much admired. Time and inflation have caused many of these mansions to be sold, turned into museums or simply shuttered up because even their rich owners could not afford their upkeep.

  But a few of the great houses that line Cliff Walk are still open and in use. And among the most beautiful of them is Clarendon Court, the “summer place” of Sunny von Bülow and her husband, Claus. In fact, in 1950 the house was chosen as one of the settings for a movie about the tangled love affairs of a beautiful heiress, a movie called, appropriately enough, High Society.

  Sunny von Bülow could have played that role. Her father, George Crawford, was a utilities magnate of immense wealth. He was also seventy-one years old when his only child was born. He died a few years later, and his young wife, Annie Laurie, and her mother, Mrs. Robert Wormack, also a very rich woman, raised the fatherless child. Otherwise, Sunny’s childhood and adolescence were normal for those of her wealth and social background: private schools, chauffeur-driven limousines, “seasons” in New York, Newport, Palm Beach and Europe. There the lovely young American heiress almost inevitably met a handsome but penniless Austrian prince, Alfie von Auersperg. And in 1957, almost as inevitably, she married him.

  Two children were born of this marriage, but it did not last and Sunny again married a European, this time the mature, urbane Claus von Bülow, a Danish aristocrat whose pedigree, while distinguished, did not match that of her first husband, the Austrian prince. In fact, there were some who believed Claus von Bülow was a social climber determined to wed a rich woman. But others believed Sunny was the fortunate one of the two, because Von Bülow was so charming. Several years after their marriage, his charm would be evinced in a strange setting: outside a courtroom in Newport, Rhode Island, where Von Bülow was being tried for twice attempting to murder his rich wife.

  The events that climaxed in the trial had occurred on a typical evening for the Von Bülows. That “typical” evening was not, as one might imagine, a great ball, a festive dinner, or a magnificent lawn party with white-coated servants carrying trays of champagne. Instead, the incredibly rich Von Bülows had a little family dinner at home, then stood in line at a local movie house to buy tickets. Two of Sunny’s children, Alexander von Auersperg, by her first marriage, and Cosima von Bülow, whose father was Claus, ate dinner with their parents that night. The dinner was earlier than usual so that they would arrive at the Jane Pickens Theatre in Newport in time for the first showing of 9 to 5, with Jane Fonda, Dolly Parton and Lily Tomlin.

  Sunny complained of a headache at dinner but was otherwise in good spirits. And instead of eating the main course, she asked the butler to bring her a large helping of vanilla ice cream with the special caramel sauce that the cook always kept in jars in the refrigerator for her.

  At nine o’clock the four family members returned from the movie. Von Bülow went to his study to telephone an aide in New York on business. The other three adjourned to the library, Sunny excusing herself to go to the bathroom. She was back in only a few minutes, having changed into a dressing gown, and carried a glass containing a beverage that appeared to be ginger ale. She then chatted with her children for half an hour. At this point, Von Bülow came out of his study and asked his wife if she wanted anything. She said she would like a cup of chicken soup, if there was any left from dinner. Von Bülow left the room to get it.

  While he was out of the room, Sunny suddenly looked weak and her voice started to grow so faint that Alexander had trouble hearing her. Von Bülow returned from the kitchen with the soup, which he placed before her, then went back to his study to resume his telephone calls to New York. But meanwhile Sunny became weaker and weaker. She got up, and seemed to stagger. Alexander rushed over, picked her up and half carried her to her bedroom. Then he returned to tell Von Bülow, who was still in his study on the telephone, that his mother was ill.

  When Von Bülow arrived in the bedroom, Sunny was under the bedcovers. She asked her husband whom he had been speaking to on the phone, and he told her it was a business associate. While this conversation was going on, Alexander, according to his later testimony, searched the bathroom and the bedside tables looking for any drugs she might have taken. He said he found none. As he was about to leave, Sunny asked him to open the window. Apparently she liked to sleep in a cold room, with an el
ectric blanket to keep her body warm. Alexander opened the window, then left his mother and stepfather, who were conversing normally.

  When Von Bülow awoke at five-thirty the next morning, according to his later testimony, he found Sunny sleeping normally. He arose, let their dogs out of the bedroom, then showered and shaved. As was his habit, he took a brisk morning walk. And when he returned, he read the morning newspaper.

  At 8 A.M. he passed through the bedroom to his study to resume his call to his Shearson—American Express co-worker Margaret Neilly, with whom he had been speaking the night before. They spent an hour discussing a financial report which they couldn’t understand, finally discovering that an irrelevant page had been inserted by mistake, thus rendering the whole report indecipherable.

  Von Bülow was furious. To clear his anger he decided to take another walk in the fresh air, far from financial reports and bungling accountants. When he returned, it was almost eleven o’clock and both Alexander and Cosima were having breakfast. Surprised to find that Sunny was not yet up, he went to the bedroom to check on his wife, and found that she wasn’t in bed. Then he looked into the bathroom, and saw a terrible scene.

  His wife lay sprawled across the pink marble floor, her head under the toilet. Water was running in the basin of the sink. She was breathing, but icy cold to the touch.

  Von Bülow quickly summoned Alexander and telephoned for an ambulance.

  3

  When Sunny von Bülow arrived at the hospital, her body temperature was an astonishingly low 81.6 degrees, and her low pulse rate, highly constricted pupils and other symptoms showed that she was deeply comatose. Dr. Gerhard Meier, on duty that day, looked for needle marks but found none. He ordered routine blood tests and then went to speak to Von Bülow about his wife’s medical history. Von Bülow said that she had taken only one Seconal. In the middle of this conversation, a nurse rushed in to say that Sunny had suffered cardiac arrest, and Dr. Meier went to her bedside to resuscitate her. When she was stabilized, he gave her the first of several glucose “pushes,” a routine treatment for unconscious patients to determine if their illness involves low sugar in the blood.