A L U M N I M A G A Z I N E - Colby-Sawyer College

Firearms, knives, and baseball bats are only some of the weapons Kim has processed in her serology lab.
behavior. You would think it might wear her down emotionally,
but Kim rejects that thought. “When we go to a crime
scene,” she says, “yes, we may be walking into something
that’s horribly gross, bloodstained and miserable, but I
approach each crime scene now as if I’m looking at pieces of a
puzzle. I just want to figure out how everything fits into place.
I’ll see different patterns in different rooms, and I’ll picture in
my mind the scenarios that might have taken place. What’s
rewarding is when you can piece together what happened at
a particular scene from what you’ve observed. Maybe you can
tell that a suspect is lying about committing a crime in self
defense because of the way the bloodshed event is evidenced
on the walls or floor. Or maybe you discover a piece of hardto-spot
evidence that will help nail the lid shut on a criminal.”
Kim finds it most satisfying that she can work on crime by
solving puzzles from start to finish. Unlike many in her field
who are more specialized, Kim can go from the crime scene to
doing the serology work and then take it to DNA. “I like having
the ability to put all of the pieces together and then, hopefully,
seeing a completed picture. You have to have a passion for
your job. In every unit in the lab, whether it’s fingerprinting,
firearms, computers or the drug section, the thing that gives
people the strength they need is their passion for the job,
wanting to solve their part of the puzzle. It’s simply a love for
what you do. It’s also the challenge because just as technology
advances to help us in the lab, the bad guys are using it to help
themselves as well.”
For now, Kim is perfectly happy as a puzzle-solver, but
she has other interests that she may pursue in the future. She
teaches about blood spatter, serology and DNA at local high
schools, and she feels when she’s ready to retire she may do
more of this, as well as consult on forensic science. And then,
of course, there’s always that book that needs to be written,
which might start something like this:
It’s a pitch black night and I’m standing in the bathroom of an isolated farm
at the end of a long dirt road. The farm belongs to Sheila LaBarre, a suspected
serial killer. The window is open to let in fresh air, and I can hear
the crickets chirping. Other than that hypnotic sound, the night is
still, and the inky blackness presses heavily through the window.
I’m accompanied by a photographer and a police officer, but we
don’t speak. I begin to spray the shower stall with luminol.
As I spray, eerily glowing areas of blue phosphorescence emerge
from the darkness. This is where blood has run, where a
bloody handprint has been left, where a blood spatter
pattern shows itself. Each of us feels the hair rising
on our arms and the back of our necks. Each of us sucks in
our breath with a low whoosh as these creepy vestiges of crime
begin to appear. The blue glow brings forth answers no longer in
hiding, as well as a haunting, chilling echo of past violence. ■
WINTER 2010 21