Keeping Tabs on What Dead Leave Behind
When Lee Crandell got the call late one Saturday evening, everything seemed routine.
Someone had died. Colleagues in the Los Angeles County coroner’s office had taken the body away. Crandell was called to secure the property.
What the person had was “a lot of brown bags, lunch-sized bags,” recalled Crandall, a property custodian of nearly 40 years who is now retired. “There were a hundred of those bags.”
They all were stuffed with cash. When the money was finally counted, the total topped $100,000.
“Some of the money was dingy and dusty,” Crandell said. “The story is that he was born there and he died there.”
Just another day in the professional life of the coroner’s office, where officials work with police, judges and lawyers to safeguard the property of people who die.
The office, better known for handling corpses at crime scenes, also often takes custody of a dead person’s property for safekeeping. (The coroner does not become involved when the death is from natural causes and a doctor is available to sign the death certificate.)
In some cases, the property goes to the public administrator at the treasurer-tax collector’s office, which handles the estates of deceased people whose next of kin are unknown, unwilling or unable to handle the estates.
“Now, a lot of these people have idiosyncrasies,” said investigator David Machian. “A lot of times they’re old and had to deal with the Depression, so they don’t trust banks anyway.”
And there are animal stories. Juan Jimenez, assistant chief in the office’s investigative division, said one of the most unusual cases dates to the late 1970s.
“The police called me and said, ‘Hey, we’ve got a little bit of a problem over here. Do you take charge of animals?’
“We said, ‘Yeah, we’ll take care of them.’ I’m thinking, usually, it’s cats, dogs and birds.
“When I got there, the cops told me, ‘We got a big kitty.’ They just kept saying ‘big kitty.’ ”
In a cage in the center of the home paced a 400-pound, adult male Bengal tiger. After the animal was tranquilized, it took six people to cart it out of the house and into a humane society van.
The property section of the coroner’s office holds 1,220 items at present, most of which are sealed in envelopes arranged by case number. Every month, about 350 items are added, said supervisor Armida Carrillo.
The property is held in a restricted-access vault behind a thick, metal door with a combination lock. Things that cannot be sealed in envelopes sit atop shelves or along the walls.
There are clear bags of personal items that belonged to prisoners who died, Jane and John Doe boxes dating to 1993 -- the coroner may indefinitely keep items of the unclaimed and unidentified dead -- and small boxes of old driver’s licenses and immigration cards. There are suicide letters.
“Not just anyone can do this job,” said office spokesman David Campbell. “Our people really do reach out to the family.”
“Sometimes when [relatives] see the property, they break down and cry,” Crandell said. “It makes you want to cry right with them.”
Next of kin usually have 60 days from the date of a notification letter to claim items. In some cases, relatives can get up to 90 days. After that time the coroner can discard items or, if they are valuable, they are turned over to the Sheriff’s Department for auction, Carrillo said.
Investigators say the most rewarding part of the job is helping families identify lost loved ones, someone who may have been a Jane or John Doe for years.
Many times, personal property such as rings with inscriptions, necklaces and even those grocery-store discount cards help investigators to identify unclaimed bodies.
This month coroner’s investigators were able to put to rest a case of a young woman who had been missing from a board and care facility since January.
Her skeletal remains were found July 21 on a mountainside in Pomona. Personal property, including empty prescription bottles, were recovered.
They led investigators to doctors and dentists. After six months, the coroner’s office positively identified the remains as those of Annie Chan, 25.
Investigator Daniel Machian said that, however painful the news is, families need the certainty that the office alone can provide.
“The family can know it’s her and can make arrangements,” he said. It “makes me feel good, because the family is able to put closure on it.”
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