After death… Nothing. Only nothing.

The facts:
A woman was found hanged.
Her husband had been away than evening.
Based on the first evidence the investigators suggested that she had committed suicide.
The husband refuses to believe the conclusions and insists that his wife’s murder must have been concealed as a suicide. He submits as evidence the absence of letter from the victim though she used to spend much time on the computer.
Could it be that the computer would contain useful information that could steer the investigation in one direction or another?
The judge orders a forensic analysis of the computer.

Output from the forensic analysis:
In this type of assignment, what are we looking for? Documents? E-mails? Images?
I went through the entire content of the hard drive.
I read all e-mails, sent or received, archived or deleted.
I visited the whole browsing history.
I studied every picture, stored and deleted.
I read all documents whatever the format.
I queried for every possible relevant keyword.
I spent more than a hundred hours in her intimacy, until I knew her like a friend.
And yet….

Nothing. Only nothing.
Not a single reference to suicide.
Not a single reference to any enmity.
The computer was switched off ordinarily two hours before the death. And I cannot say by whom.

When I think of it I can still sense her presence, mocking my inability to reveal the truth. I feel the husband who asks me questions that I cannot answer. I can sense the judge who wishes he could read something else than “I did not find anything” from my inquiries report.

That’s much contact from people I’ve never met.

The conclusion:
I charged the court ten hours of work.
I never learned what became of this case (Court experts are never told, [Translator’s note: they are kicked out of the process as soon as they have delivered their report])
I often think of it: Suicide or murder?
What help am I if the computer only contains casual stuff?
Yet…

PS: Ages, genders and links between the characters have been changed. Only the story and my dissatisfaction remain. This woman’s life still haunts me. Her death as well.


This article echoes this second article that I have written in a different manner.

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Translation by No One, checked by PrometheeFeu.
Photo credit unspeakable.org

The original note is here: http://zythom.blogspot.fr/2007/10/aprs-la-mort-le-nant.html

Seeking the truth

I delve into the contents of a computer, looking for the truth. So far the woman who owns this computer seems to lead a normal life.

The analysis of her web browsing history reveals various interests: chat rooms about politics, cooking, children and sports. Online shopping websites are mixed in with local and national news websites. A few online dating sites could lead one to believe she was not fully satisfied by her marital life or more likely that she played with her erotic fantasies. I’m not a psychological expert.

Reading her emails seems more relevant : she’s got several webmail accounts besides the one furnished by her Internet service provider. Three accounts actually. The first one she uses to talk with her family and friends. The second one seems to be used only when buying online. The third one is the same as her Internet pseudonym.

She seems to lead a normal and happy life with the ups and downs everybody goes through.

There are also digital photos, neatly sorted by year or event. Among them I discover weddings, the children, the family, the holidays.

My mission requires me to look at every document, to read every email, to open every document. I am required to look for all deleted files, to reconstruct the whole recent activity of this woman.

According to her husband, only she used the family computer. She spent an hour a day on it, no more, except on Sundays when she could surf the web for several hours while her husband was tinkering in the garage or in the house, was gardening or repairing the car. She was a geek even before the word became fashionable.

Instant messaging conversations are often personal and written concisely as appropriate to the tool. They deal with the weather, everyday life, work or the moods of the moment…

As usual I don’t feel comfortable. I don’t like prying into somebody’s private life without their consent. It’s something I loathe doing. I like privacy and I like it to be respected.

However the mission I’ve been given requires me to look for the truth.

So I search the hard disk and I dig out an unbelievable quantity of piled, arrayed, stacked and deleted data. I find administrative mail, certificates and bank statements; emails of all kinds, spam, chain letters, jokes, Christmas invitations and confidential talks with friends of both genders.

It’s getting late. I’ve been working on this case for several weeks, a little bit longer every night. This woman is becoming less and less a stranger to me as I get to know her habits, verbal tics, emotions, phobias, passions and little ways… I’m tired and I start confusing Internet commands with dating websites pop-ups, spams for magic pills, party invitations and unpaid bills.

I’ve been looking for the truth, searching into her computer for more than a hundred hours.

I’m doing this to find out why this woman died, hanged, two hours after her computer was switched off.

I’m doing this so that her husband can find out, so that the investigating magistrate can find out, so that her children can find out.

So that I can find out whether her death was a suicide or a crime.

I never found out.


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Translation by Clem, checked by PrometheeFeu.
Photo credit Koscum

The original note is here: http://zythom.blogspot.fr/2012/06/je-cherche-la-verite.html