When Anny Sauvageau attends a party and someone asks what she does for a living, she knows what’s coming. Once people discover her occupation, “their eyes light up,” she says, and the questions really begin.

Sauvageau is an assistant professor in McGill’s Department of Pathology, but that isn’t what sparks the curiosity of strangers. It’s her work as a forensic patholo- gist at Montreal’s Laboratoire de sciences judiciaires et de médecine légale (LSJML), that gets her noticed. “It’s inter- esting to be in a field that’s seen as glamorous,” Sauvageau relates. “We get a lotof attention.”

If television ratings are any indication, the general public has a seemingly insatiable curiosity about the ins and outs of forensic science. Millions of viewers tune in each week to watch the sleuths featured on CSI: Crime Scene Investigationand its spinoffs, CSI: Miami and CSI: NY.

“Television is much better now at exploiting the sci- ence in what we do. Twenty years ago, the forensic science on TV shows was totally unrealistic,” notes forensic biolo- gist Vahé Sarafian, BSc’72, PhD’92, one of Sauvageau’s LSJML colleagues. “These days, it’s a little toorealistic. Some of these shows give away secrets. Some things they reveal should stay within the forensic community.”

Not that Hollywood gets everything right. For instance, most of the specialists who work at the Montreal forensics lab never venture near a crime scene.

“Remember Quincy M.E.?” Sarafian queries about the long-running TV series with Jack Klugman as a medical examiner. He regularly left his forensic lab to browbeat confessions out of murderers. “Quincy did everything from A to Z. That’s a classic example of what doesn’t hap- pen. On CSI, the crime scene investigators follow up on hunches and question suspects. We don’t do that.”

Forensic scientists do admit that the bizarre cases featured in films or TV shows aren’t always that different from what they encounter at the LSJML. People perish in all sorts of weird ways. That was the initial focus of Sauvageau’s research and many of her published articles deal with out-of-the-ordinary deaths. Like the schizo- phrenic who committed suicide by choking himself with toilet paper. Or the fellow whose ill-fated attempt at an underwater sexual experience was ruled “accidental autoerotic asphyxia” when the breathing device in his home-made diving apparatus malfunctioned.

“This is certainly not a job that’s ever routine,” notes Sauvageau dryly. “You never know what sort of case you’ll be working on next.” And you can’t ever be off your game. “We have to be meticulous. You only have one chance to do that first autopsy. A lot of evidence can be lost forever if you didn’t do it correctly.”

Sauvageau also cautions that it’s important for forensics specialists to approach their work without preconceived notions about what they’re going to find. Her colleague, Robert Dorion, had a memorable case to prove the point. The director of forensic dentistry for the LSJML, Dorion has been assisting the police for over 30 years and has received the FBI’s Exceptional Service in the Public Interest Award for his efforts. The case that he describes as “probably the high point of my career” didn’t result in a conviction, however. It helped get a wrongfully accused woman out of jail.

In 1997, Louise Reynolds was charged by police in Kingston, Ontario, with the murder of her seven-year-old daughter and spent over three years in prison awaiting trial. The pathologist who did the initial autopsy had con- cluded that the wounds on the child’s body were the result of an attack with scissors. Reynolds was arrested, even though there was no forensic evidence linking her to her daughter’s death, no murder weapon was found and a pit bull in the home at the time had blood on its fur.

Dorion, a noted expert on bitemark evidence – he recently edited and published the first textbook devoted to the topic – was called in by Reynolds’s lawyers for his opinion. “I knew instantly that a huge mistake had been made,” says Dorion, who recognized from the photo- graphs that the injuries were the result of dog bites. His testimony played a major role in all charges being dropped.

The pathologist who had jumped to the wrong con- clusion in the case wasn’t a forensic specialist, a fact that galls Dorion. Forensic scientists, by dint of their training and experience, are specially equipped to probe suspi- cious deaths. Dorion is so determined that forensic scien- tists be properly trained, particularly in his own field, he created a unique online program in forensic dentistry. The program is offered by McGill in collaboration with the LSJML and targets experienced dentists interested in gaining forensic expertise.

His online students hail from points as diverse as New Zealand, Israel and the U.S. Virgin Islands. “There is no such program offered anywhere in the world at the university level,” he says. Students ultimately come to Montreal to train with Dorion at the LSJML, where they receive hands-on experience in identifying bodies.

One topic Dorion’s program covers is giving expert testimony in court. It’s a part of the job that Sarafian admits he wasn’t entirely comfortable with initially.

“You have to have solid nerves,” says Sarafian. “All lawyers will try to get witnesses to say what they want them to say. Some lawyers try to do that by putting you in a stressful situation, to make you less sure of yourself. They’ll ask you the same question six or seven times, hoping they’ll find an opening to trip you up.”

Now that he knows what to expect, Sarafian says he almost enjoys matching wits with opposing lawyers. “I don’t want the evidence that I’m presenting to be inter- preted in a way that is different from what I believe the evidence means. That’s my bottom line.”

Much of Sarafian’s job is focused on DNA evidence. “The science has come a long way,” he says. “We need so little to establish a genetic fingerprint. Someone who gripped a gun or a knife, even if they only leave behind a few cells, that’s enough to create a genetic profile.

“DNA is considered the best scientific evidence in court,” adds Sarafian. “It’s not questioned anymore. The technology is accepted as good. The question in trials is, ‘How good are you in employing that technology?’”

The LSJML’s forensic scientists have dealt with more than their share of grim and unsettling cases. Even sea- soned professionals struggle to be dispassionate when contending with a particularly brutal crime. “Some cases do affect me more than others,” warrants Sauvageau. “It’s hard to be fully detached. You have to take that emotion and put it in your work.”

Still, Sarafian says, “It’s not that hard to find good peo- ple who want to do this sort of work. The results at the end of our efforts have a real impact on people’s lives.”

“I don’t do this for the money,” adds Dorion. “I can make a lot more money working at my dental practice. I love solving puzzles; I like intrigue.”

His motivations go deeper than that, however. “If I had a child who disappeared and some evidence later turned up, I would want somebody competent around to help me find out what happened. I would want to know the truth.”