catch can. The FBI kept single prints on record
only
for the most wanted criminals in America, and all ten prints were necessary to identify an
ordinary
criminal. But the AFIS system has virtually changed the forensic identification world. One lone fingerprint can elicit remarkable information. Now, an investigator for the Medical Examiner’s office called Steve O’Leary at 9:30 that first night to say that AFIS had spit out another hit on the prints taken from the unknown man with the bullet hole in his head. But the new information only made the case more bizarre.
On November 16, less than two weeks earlier, a King County ID officer had run prints of a John Doe for the Lynnwood Police Department. “They came back to a Steve Gary Coole.”
O’Leary was elated, but not for long. Lynnwood police had arrested Steve Coole, but they didn’t really know who he was. He was only a most peculiar man who had been hanging around a local park. On November 9, 1998, at about 1:30 in the afternoon, a father had been waiting for his nine-year-old daughter to take a shower after a swim in the pool at the Recreation Pavilion in Montlake Terrace, Washington. Because it was a public facility, he stood guard outside the curtain where she showered. He was glad he had when he was startled to see a tall man walk up and boldly peer over his shoulder into the shower stall.
“Back off,” the father had said forcefully. “My daughter’s taking a shower in there.”
The man, who was described as tall and slender with a mop of brown hair streaked with gray, did move away—but only for a moment. He kept coming back, and walking much too close to the shower area several times, initially ignoring the father’s warnings. “On the third warning, he finally left,” the father told the Lynnwood police. “But I remembered him and what he looked like.”
One of the lifeguards had noticed the man too, and she wondered why he was hanging around the pool.
A week after the incident, the girl and her father were again at the Montlake Terrace pool when he saw the man who had acted so strangely before. He decided that he wasn’t going to wait for trouble; he dialed 911. The officer who responded to the call spotted the suspect in the Jacuzzi, and waited for him to move into the locker room. There, he attempted to talk with him. He took the most basic initial approach, asking the tall man who he was and when his birthday was. But the stranger insisted he didn’t have any identification on him. Finally, he agreed to give the officer his name.
“Stewart Coltrane*,” he said, adding that his birthdate was May 15, 1957.
“Why were you hanging around the girls’ showers last week?” the policemen asked. “You were making people nervous.”
Coltrane was adamant that he had done nothing wrong. “I just wanted to use the shower,” he said. “She was taking too long, and I was getting impatient. I just wanted to see if she was done yet.”
But he had been so persistent that he had alarmed the little girl’s father, and he didn’t seem to understand that, at best, he had used bad judgment. He insisted that he’d been within his rights. The officer told Coltrane it would be best if he left the Rec Pavilion. He headed off down the street, while the investigating officer checked computer bases for Coltrane’s name. He learned there
was
no Stewart Coltrane who’d been born on 5/15/57, and he quickly steered his patrol car in the direction the suspect had walked.
“I got nothing on that name and birthday you gave me,” the officer said when he caught up with the tall man, and Coltrane quickly gave him three more birthdays: May 14, 1957, May 15, 1959, and May 14, 1959. He didn’t seem to be developmentally disabled, but he didn’t even know his own birthdate! None of the dates he gave drew any hits on the computers as matching up with the name Stewart Coltrane. The suspect had then explained that he was from New Jersey. Maybe that was why the
only
for the most wanted criminals in America, and all ten prints were necessary to identify an
ordinary
criminal. But the AFIS system has virtually changed the forensic identification world. One lone fingerprint can elicit remarkable information. Now, an investigator for the Medical Examiner’s office called Steve O’Leary at 9:30 that first night to say that AFIS had spit out another hit on the prints taken from the unknown man with the bullet hole in his head. But the new information only made the case more bizarre.
On November 16, less than two weeks earlier, a King County ID officer had run prints of a John Doe for the Lynnwood Police Department. “They came back to a Steve Gary Coole.”
O’Leary was elated, but not for long. Lynnwood police had arrested Steve Coole, but they didn’t really know who he was. He was only a most peculiar man who had been hanging around a local park. On November 9, 1998, at about 1:30 in the afternoon, a father had been waiting for his nine-year-old daughter to take a shower after a swim in the pool at the Recreation Pavilion in Montlake Terrace, Washington. Because it was a public facility, he stood guard outside the curtain where she showered. He was glad he had when he was startled to see a tall man walk up and boldly peer over his shoulder into the shower stall.
“Back off,” the father had said forcefully. “My daughter’s taking a shower in there.”
The man, who was described as tall and slender with a mop of brown hair streaked with gray, did move away—but only for a moment. He kept coming back, and walking much too close to the shower area several times, initially ignoring the father’s warnings. “On the third warning, he finally left,” the father told the Lynnwood police. “But I remembered him and what he looked like.”
One of the lifeguards had noticed the man too, and she wondered why he was hanging around the pool.
A week after the incident, the girl and her father were again at the Montlake Terrace pool when he saw the man who had acted so strangely before. He decided that he wasn’t going to wait for trouble; he dialed 911. The officer who responded to the call spotted the suspect in the Jacuzzi, and waited for him to move into the locker room. There, he attempted to talk with him. He took the most basic initial approach, asking the tall man who he was and when his birthday was. But the stranger insisted he didn’t have any identification on him. Finally, he agreed to give the officer his name.
“Stewart Coltrane*,” he said, adding that his birthdate was May 15, 1957.
“Why were you hanging around the girls’ showers last week?” the policemen asked. “You were making people nervous.”
Coltrane was adamant that he had done nothing wrong. “I just wanted to use the shower,” he said. “She was taking too long, and I was getting impatient. I just wanted to see if she was done yet.”
But he had been so persistent that he had alarmed the little girl’s father, and he didn’t seem to understand that, at best, he had used bad judgment. He insisted that he’d been within his rights. The officer told Coltrane it would be best if he left the Rec Pavilion. He headed off down the street, while the investigating officer checked computer bases for Coltrane’s name. He learned there
was
no Stewart Coltrane who’d been born on 5/15/57, and he quickly steered his patrol car in the direction the suspect had walked.
“I got nothing on that name and birthday you gave me,” the officer said when he caught up with the tall man, and Coltrane quickly gave him three more birthdays: May 14, 1957, May 15, 1959, and May 14, 1959. He didn’t seem to be developmentally disabled, but he didn’t even know his own birthdate! None of the dates he gave drew any hits on the computers as matching up with the name Stewart Coltrane. The suspect had then explained that he was from New Jersey. Maybe that was why the
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