‘See this right here? These photos are mounted. Back in those days you bought the pack of film, and in the box were eight or ten of these self-adhesive boards for mounting. Before that, instant film had a curling problem.’
Hell brought the photograph to his nose, sniffed it. Neither Jessica nor Byrne said a word. Hell put the picture back on the table.
‘My father used to have a couple of Polaroid cameras back in the day,’ Hell said. ‘His favorite, the one we always took to Cape May, was one of the old 250s, the kind with the projected frame lines and automatic parallax compensation. Great camera. Wish I still had it.’
Hell zoned for a moment. He did this from time to time, adrift on some techno reverie. You had to wait him out.
‘Hell,’ Jessica finally said.
‘Instant
film
, man. Think of everything that changed because of it. Dr Land was a genius.’
Jessica glanced at the dreadful photographs on the table. She wasn’t so sure that Dr Land had this in mind. ‘He was awesome,’ she said. ‘And this exact film?’
‘Right,’ Hell said, returning to the moment. ‘This looks like the 108 series. Low ASA. I think it was about seventy-five in those days. This guy didn’t use a flash, see. That’s why they’re kind of dark.’
‘Any chance of finding out where it was purchased?’ Jessica asked.
‘The 108 film?’
‘Yeah.’
‘It was only the most popular Polaroid film
ever
. I think they produced it for forty years or so. So, the long answer to your question is no. It was sold all over the world. They switched over to PolaColor for the SX70, but the 108 was still widely available.’
‘Is there any way to tell when the photographs were taken?’
Hell smiled. ‘There’s
always
a way. But that would take some time and testing. I
can
tell you that this film isn’t available any more, at least not in stores. They stopped selling it around 2003. But that doesn’t mean that someone didn’t keep the camera, and store some film.’
‘It would still be usable?’ Jessica asked. ‘The film, I mean.’
‘Sure, as long as it wasn’t exposed to extreme temperatures or light.’
Hell turned the photos over, angled the swing arm lamp. ‘But on first blush I would have to say these pictures are at least ten years old. The yellowing on the backing tells me these were taken and – if you’ll excuse the expression – mounted a long time ago.’
Hell once more turned the photos over, face up. ‘It looks like we have some serious fingerprints on these. Best surface on earth for processing.’
It was true. Glossy, non-porous surfaces were the latent expert’s dream but, in Jessica’s time on the job, she’d seen prints lifted and processed from any number of unlikely surfaces – cigarettes, orange peels, rocks, even bed sheets. Unfortunately, determining the age of a fingerprint was not as exact a science.
‘I can hang on to these, right?’ Hell asked.
‘Sure,’ Byrne said.
‘I might be able to narrow down the year this release of film hit the market. That should get us closer to when they were taken.’
Byrne reached forward, picked up one of the pictures, the one with the blurred face in the foreground, and the lighted doorway behind. He slipped a tissue out of the box on the counter, wiped the photograph clean of the fingerprint powder. ‘I’ll sign this one out.’
Byrne was referring to the chain of evidence logs. They had no idea if any of this even
was
evidence, but it never hurt to go by the book. Jessica wondered if and when a moment such as this would ever play out for her in a courtroom.
Signing out
was a euphemism that went back to the earliest days of law enforcement in Philadelphia. These days, everything got a barcode.
Byrne put the photo into a paper evidence bag; Hell coded it. For the most part, the PPD, as well as departments across the country, used paper for their evidence storage and transport, especially when dealing with fluid evidence, due to the
Hell brought the photograph to his nose, sniffed it. Neither Jessica nor Byrne said a word. Hell put the picture back on the table.
‘My father used to have a couple of Polaroid cameras back in the day,’ Hell said. ‘His favorite, the one we always took to Cape May, was one of the old 250s, the kind with the projected frame lines and automatic parallax compensation. Great camera. Wish I still had it.’
Hell zoned for a moment. He did this from time to time, adrift on some techno reverie. You had to wait him out.
‘Hell,’ Jessica finally said.
‘Instant
film
, man. Think of everything that changed because of it. Dr Land was a genius.’
Jessica glanced at the dreadful photographs on the table. She wasn’t so sure that Dr Land had this in mind. ‘He was awesome,’ she said. ‘And this exact film?’
‘Right,’ Hell said, returning to the moment. ‘This looks like the 108 series. Low ASA. I think it was about seventy-five in those days. This guy didn’t use a flash, see. That’s why they’re kind of dark.’
‘Any chance of finding out where it was purchased?’ Jessica asked.
‘The 108 film?’
‘Yeah.’
‘It was only the most popular Polaroid film
ever
. I think they produced it for forty years or so. So, the long answer to your question is no. It was sold all over the world. They switched over to PolaColor for the SX70, but the 108 was still widely available.’
‘Is there any way to tell when the photographs were taken?’
Hell smiled. ‘There’s
always
a way. But that would take some time and testing. I
can
tell you that this film isn’t available any more, at least not in stores. They stopped selling it around 2003. But that doesn’t mean that someone didn’t keep the camera, and store some film.’
‘It would still be usable?’ Jessica asked. ‘The film, I mean.’
‘Sure, as long as it wasn’t exposed to extreme temperatures or light.’
Hell turned the photos over, angled the swing arm lamp. ‘But on first blush I would have to say these pictures are at least ten years old. The yellowing on the backing tells me these were taken and – if you’ll excuse the expression – mounted a long time ago.’
Hell once more turned the photos over, face up. ‘It looks like we have some serious fingerprints on these. Best surface on earth for processing.’
It was true. Glossy, non-porous surfaces were the latent expert’s dream but, in Jessica’s time on the job, she’d seen prints lifted and processed from any number of unlikely surfaces – cigarettes, orange peels, rocks, even bed sheets. Unfortunately, determining the age of a fingerprint was not as exact a science.
‘I can hang on to these, right?’ Hell asked.
‘Sure,’ Byrne said.
‘I might be able to narrow down the year this release of film hit the market. That should get us closer to when they were taken.’
Byrne reached forward, picked up one of the pictures, the one with the blurred face in the foreground, and the lighted doorway behind. He slipped a tissue out of the box on the counter, wiped the photograph clean of the fingerprint powder. ‘I’ll sign this one out.’
Byrne was referring to the chain of evidence logs. They had no idea if any of this even
was
evidence, but it never hurt to go by the book. Jessica wondered if and when a moment such as this would ever play out for her in a courtroom.
Signing out
was a euphemism that went back to the earliest days of law enforcement in Philadelphia. These days, everything got a barcode.
Byrne put the photo into a paper evidence bag; Hell coded it. For the most part, the PPD, as well as departments across the country, used paper for their evidence storage and transport, especially when dealing with fluid evidence, due to the
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