Let's pretend we are an episode of Forensic Files

I’m the announce who patiently explains that GPS stands for Global Positioning Satellite, which tracks movement from outer space.

If you're going to break the window to suggest an intruder...don't break it from the inside. That's just stupid.

I'm the boyfriend/husband. I'm always the one who did it.

I’m the guilty spouse who goes on TV crying and pleading for help, but can’t seem to shed an actual tear

I am the cell phone tower that "pinged" when the suspect placed a call near the crime scene.

"Six days later, hunters hunting in the wooded embankment made a grisly discovery...."

I’m the noce, 80 year old, Christian woman who always ends up murdered.

*nice

I’m the tie in to Forensic Files at the end of every episode where the investigators say, “Advances in science allowed us to solve this case. Without forensics, this case would remain cold.”

I'm the scheming girlfriend who he met at the gym who's about to throw him under the bus.

R2, where were you 22 years ago?

I’m the amazing THEME!

I’m the handsy, rapy Dentist.

I'm the insurance policy, purchased right before the murder.

I'n the town doofus who is immediately suspected, who says something incriminating, but unfortunately, although I am accused of every crime in the area, I actually never do anything at all. My only purpose in life is to throw suspicion away from the obvious guilty party.

I’m the victim thought to be dead by suicide, but I have two bullet holes in my head!

I'm the anti-freeze, waiting to get mixed into some Jello or iced tea.

I’m dead by toilet bowl drowning.

I'm the semen left in the dead body's vagina

I’m the victim’s clothes hidden under a fence in a remote field.

I'm the touch DNA, left on the door seal in the other wise spotless car.

I’m the car paint on the victim’s boot.

I’m the bleach used to clean the car trunk.

I'm the hydraulic shovel operator, exhuming the grave of the first husband.

I'm the sulfuric acid to dispose of the corpses

I’m the biker roadhouse the killer was known to frequent. His buddies there will admit 20 years later they lost sight of him in the crowd for two hours.

I’m the new cement floor in the basement.

I’m the soda can used to gather DNA from the suspect.

I'm the detective.

Inevitably, I will say, "This is the worst crime scene I've ever seen."

I'm the red sand on the tires that you only get while driving down a deserted road to bury a body.

I’m the mini van paint that matches perfectly found on the mangled bike.

I'm the dramatic "but!" that Peter Thomas delivers at least once an episode.

I’m the very 90s looking investigator.

I am CHURCH, where seemingly a third of FF victims, perpetrators,& witnesses know each other & hook-up outside of their marriages, (quite often for kinky/hardcore, or gay sex).

This is what good Christians refer to as “the sanctity of marriage.”

I'm a blunt instrument.

I'm the cop in the van parked across the street from the suspect's workplace. I'm waiting for the guy to come outside, smoke a cigarette, and flick the butt onto the ground.

I'm the 1 in 34 trillion chance the DNA found on the victim's sock belongs to anyone other than the suspect.

I am a bottle of Luminol. Spray me over that clean-looking area under the kitchen table, turn off the lights and then see it light up like a lake of blue lava under black light, revealing the spot where a man bludgeoned his wife to death with a tire iron.

I'm the countless knock-off cold case and CSI shows, mostly on cable, that owe their formula to FF.

I'm the neighbor who didn't suspect anything because the people next door were just normal, regular people to me!

I'm the evidence that might break this case wide open. Sadly,I turn out to be a dead end.

I'm the bloody palmprint the killer left at the murder scene. Fucking dumbass.

I'm the bleach which never ever EVER removes trace blood evidence, but these fucking moron killers keep using me anyway, thinking they won't get caught.

I'm the girl he killed years ago just for fun. No one ever suspected him and they'll never find where he buried me. I'm the one he got away with that made him get cocky.

I'm Luminol, a.k.a. "Oh SHIT!"

I'm the cell phone records, which show the suspect's alibi is bullshit.

I'm the other woman.

I'm the delicious smoothie that the murderous spouse brought home for a special treat after that little misunderstanding the night before. Drink up, dear, I'm nutritious and don't contain even a drop of anti-freeze.

I'm the $45,000 in credit card debt that caused this episode.

I’m the secret gay lover the wife finds out about, and who ends up stabbed to death in the hallway.

I’m the unanswered phone that alarms friends and family.

I’m the cop up for a promotion in another town, but the wife doesn’t want to move. So, I hire thugs to scare her so we can move, but they end up killing her!

I'm the two life insurance policies, taken out three months before the murder, totalling more than $400,000.

I'm the black Thrive patch that drove him over the edge

I'm the ravine next to a lonely country road, in the middle of fucking nowhere. Hey, it looks like something is wrapped in a blanket down there!

I'm someone in a lab coat pipetting something while the narrator talks about PCR.

I’m “the smile that lit up a room.”

I'm the ER staff, suspecting that this is a case of poisoning instead of the heart attack it appears to be.

I'm the grainy VHS tape showing the victim as a high school cheerleader, circa 1988.

I contain lots of perms and scrunchies.

I’m the male nurse who injects my wife with Succinylcholine.

I'm the used typewriter with the replaced and mismatched key that I used to type all of letters that I sent out with my pipe bombs. This would lead the FBI right to me.

I'm the crime scene photos of the bedroom splattered with more blood than a slaughterhouse, as the detective's voice-over helpfully informs us "we knew we were dealing with a homocide."

[quote]T58 I'm the ER staff, suspecting that this is a case of poisoning instead of the heart attack it appears to be.

And I’m the small town funeral director pressured by the surviving spouse into cremating the body IMMEDIATELY...temporarily thwarting them.

I'm the photos of the husband's mistress, who always looks like a trashy whore.

I'm the dumber-than-shit criminal who doesn't get rid of the murder weapon, but keeps it in his house in plain sight.

I’m the blood splatter pointing to one conclusion...

I'm the 54 stab wounds.

I'm personal.

I’m ethylene glycol.

I'm the security camera that unfortunately was not working at a crucial moment.

I’m the gas chromatograph-mass spectrometer. You’ll be hearing a lot from me.

I’m the “late model sedan” seen loitering in the area.

I took off when approached.

I’m the lab.

I'm HLN, a.k.a the Forensic Files 24/7 network, with brief interruptions from that new Hill Harper show.

I'm the grim discovery made a few days later.

I'm the bumbling veteran cop who walked all over the crime scene, and his rookie partner who promptly threw up his chow mein when he followed me in a saw the gore.

I’m police wondering why the blood hound traced the scent of the victim from the backdoor when she was seen leaving the front door.

Hi R76! I'm the other person watchings the same episode right now.

Except none of that made it into the episode. ^- R 75

I’m luminol, R77.

I'm the Forensic Files drinking game.

I'm former prosecutor Trey Gowdy, who shows up in the episodes that take place in SC.

I’m the single fiber albiet from a wig or sweater that’s found and used to solve the case.

The guy who killed his wife with an injection of succinylcholine could have gotten away with it if he hadn't called 911 so soon, giving the drug time to completely leave her system (~1 hour) or blabbed to coworkers that a person could easily be murdered that way.

I'm the browser history the perpetrator didn't know he should clear.

I’m the bloody thumb print found by police.

I’m murder, madness, and mistaken identity.

I'm the husband who shot his wife in the head and put the gun in her hand to make it look like a suicide. I didn't think of the fact that she was right handed and I shot her on the left side of her head.

I’m the sketch artist.

I'm the piece of rarefied plant life found on the floorboard of the perp's car.

I'm the inheritance. The inheritance the suspect thought was worth......KILLING for. *cue ominous music*

I'm the surveillance tape from Walmart detectives watch showing the perp buying rope, duct tape, bleach and rubber gloves. A closeup of the dated, itemized receipt is shown to viewers.

I’m the washing machine that was going when police arrived.

I'm another, unsolved murder from years earlier that detectives think is related to this murder.

I'm the shoe impression detectives determine is a size 10 Nike

I'm the frau who hardly or didn't even know the victim and organizes searches, candlelight vigils and bake sales giving her life meaning

I’m the shoe imprint in the tomato.

I’m the purse left on the table when nobody’s home.

I'm the affluent neighborhood where this kind of thing just isn't supposed to happen.

I'm the dental profession, which surprisingly seems to have a large number of psychopaths.

I’m the exhumed body.

I'm the victim's only family member who isn't interviewed; Spoiler alert.

Taken from a TOMATO R94!!

Shit! Sorry R96! I should’ve read a bit further.

I’m the 300 lb fat suit used to get the depth of the tomato shoe impression just right.

I'm apartment complexes, which are deathtraps for young, single women.

R105 killer gained access through an unclocked window on the first floor.

I am the struggle.

I’m 1998.

I'm the tough-as-nails female prosecutor, who put that sonofabitch away for life, with no parole. You're welcome.

I’m that other narrator—not Peter Thomas.

I’m the surrounding plants that would tell investigators all they need to know about her killer.

I’m the pager found deep within the plants not far from the body.

I’m John List’s bust.

I'm the killer's hubris.

I'm the pseudoscientific blood spatter analysis.

I just binged all of the FF on Netflix and I had to take numerous laugh breaks when reading this list. So fucking funny!

Anyhoo, *I* am the narrator's pregnant pauses before dramatic or disappointing revelations that allow the watcher to call out the clichéd phrase that will next be used!

I am the hefty bag of bloody evidence and weapons that the murderer meant to hurl into the river, but which accidentally landed on a big patch of ice right under the bridge in the middle of town!

[quote]call out the clichéd phrase that will next be used!

I'm the one piece of evidence that holds the key to solving the puzzle.

I am the stock footage close up of tiny vials with q-tips being rubbed inside them or eyedroppers dripping small amounts of liquid into them. I am used in episode after episode to indicate DNA and other forensic testing.

I am the person who works in the fire prevention industry, either as a government inspector, insurance claim inspector or actual or failed firefighter who is actually A SERIAL ARSON!

I am the person who was a suspect being interviewed wearing a shirt that looks like scrubs. Turns out, I am not a surgeon, I am in jail for the crime.

I'm the CAUTION tape that is always upside down.

I'm the Medical Examiner, who is obviously a lesbian.

I'm the neighbors complaining of a foul odor coming from that other neighbor's house. Whatever could it be?

I’m the family vacation that turned into a nightmare.

I’m the DNA—a good tool used to free one man, and convict another. That’s justice.

I'm the richest guy in town, who is also the biggest asshole in town, and everybody hates his guts. It turns out the wife killed him because even she couldn't stand him, he was such a fucking asshole.

I’m the scientific proof.

I'm the lye that he left in the store...as in he didn't purchase me.--- I'm the teeth still in the vic's head because he didn't think to smash them out. (doofus).--- I'm the hands and feet HE FORGOT to cut off!

The railing paint on the tip of Mark Unger’s shoe.

I’m the scientific analysis of brain tissue and shoes that sent a man away—for life.

I’m the teenage boy that did not return.

I'm the credit card statement that shows purchases for a bag of lye, choloroform, arsenic, cement and .22 caliber bullets all purchased two days before the murder. Some people are just so stupid it is fucking unbelievable.

I’m the naked, sexually mutilated body of a young man—laying dead in a corn field.

I'm the phone records showing the husband and mistress called each other 47 times in the days leading up to the wife's murder.

I’m the trail of microscopic, single-cell evidence.

I’m a mysterious illness affecting more than 4,000 people in Milwaukee, where over 100 people died.

I'm the shocking discovery that police make during the investigation.

I'm the Chicago Tylenol murders of 1982. I inspired a copycat killer...a killer who was...careless!

I’m the theme music leading out to commercial played immediately after R139.

I’m the tiny spec of blood and bone fragments found in the fire pit that lead investigators to the perpetrators.

I’m the police hoping blood-splattered analysis will the solve the case of two murdered children.

I’m the mangled mother of two murdered boys, but scientific analysis revealed that mother knew more about the murder than she was telling police.

I’m the knife blade that told investigators something important about the killer.

I’m the DNA that revealed nobody was there...the night of the murders.

I'm the dimly lit police station where the local detectives are interviewed.

I'm the buttons straining under the weight of the detectives gut.

I’m the music teacher who ends up dead.

I’m something that disturbs investigators and the dark and ominous tones playing in the background.

I'm the seemingly perfect marriage that had a dark side few people knew about.

I’m a teenage aspiring singer who ends up dead.

LOL. I knew this thread would be a gem when I read the title. Love you all, but I want to marry R57.

I'm the sink trap pipe that still holds some of the blood the killer tried to wash down the drain.

I’m a huge discolored stain underneath a throwrug.

I'm the best friend of the victim who never liked her husband. I always knew he would kill her one day.

I’m a single strand of hair found on the victim’s thumb that identifies the killer.

I'm the story that could be told in ten minutes without all the unnecessary drama, pregnant pauses, constant review and summary of what has so far been discovered......AND..... the constant commercial breaks.

I'm the first husband, who died in a way that was eerily similar to the second husband.

I’m dimethylnitrosamine (DMN).

I'm the antifreeze mixed in the iced tea. I taste nice and sweet.

I’m the huge piece cut out of the bedroom’s wall-to-wall carpet.

The police wonder where I am.

"I'm former prosecutor Trey Gowdy, who shows up in the episodes that take place in SC."

I'm Trey Gowdy's punchable face!

I’m the TV viewer waiting for years for new episodes.

Im the little bit of semen left in the victims panties

I’m the police officer found innocent that only happened on one episode.

I'm the pubic hair found in the green shag carpet of the neighbor's van.

I’m the jaw dropping hairstyles that appear on this show. A crime in themselves.

I am the marriage that seemed idyllic on the surface, but harbored a dark secret.

I’m the trailer trash relatives who “jist knowed summin’ was wrong.”

I'm the state park employee who's about to get the shock of his life when he empties a trash can on the hiking trail.

I'm the Russian mail order bride. I end up dead after I try to leave my husband.

I'm the victim who "had it all" or who "was committed to their family" while having an affair.

I’m the mistress. There is always a mistress.

I'm the trailer park latch key kid. I'm an easy mark for the sex offenders who infest these communities.

I’m the rug in the boyfriend’s living room that’s replaced the day after the murder. This doesn’t set off any alarm bells until 5 years later when the victims decomposed body is found in a shallow grave wrapped in the rug the boyfriend replaced.

I’m the grifter with a long criminal history who attended the college party. I’m ALWAYS the one who did it.

I'm semen.

I'm the air embolism; air injected into the jugular to create an air bubble that cause the old lady's stroke. of course that woman's granddaughter is a nurse and beneficiary of her estate.

I'm discovered by the ME during the second autopsy, when they exhume Granny's body 2 years after the burial.

I’m the killer’s dog. If it weren’t for one of my stray hairs having been found on the victim’s body he would have gotten away with it.

I’m the cheapskate killer who instead of getting rid of the bloodied clothes and shoes that I wore while murdering my neighbour, I wash and continue to the wear the exact same outfit all around town. This leads to someone identifying me as the person seen running from the crime scene on the day of the murder. My shoe print matches the one under my neighbours window.

I'm the ads for Lyrica, Eliquis, Humira, Jublia, and home catheter delivery that appear every eight minutes. I tell you what the demographic is for this show..

I'm the psychic they bring in out of sheer desperation. I don't help one fucking bit.

I want Forensic Files back on the air, with DLers writing the scripts!

I'm the pubic hair.

Forensic Files plays on The Justice Network, a station I like to keep on my workroom TV when I have a particularly hairy problem to unravel.

I recognize a lot of these cases.

I am Tony Underwood, now retired from SBI. When I made appearances on FF I was the only law enforcement person to display any animation or charisma on screen. I have lovely eyes but I have gotten a bit tubby over the years.

No -- FF is on The Escape Network

I'm DNA recovered from saliva on the back of a stamp. Didn't think about me, did you, Mr. Clever Criminal?

I'm Joanne Chambers. I stalked myself and tried to pin it on a colleague I didn't like.

I'm Darrin Routier's snaggle tooth and mullet.

Lack of evidence compells investigators to look beyond the obvious when a woman is beaten to death.

I’m the gut of an investigator’s gut. “Something doesn’t seem right”.

I’m the antifree.

"Technology caught up with the investigation and solved the case for us."

I’m a a quiet waitress who hasn’t been to work in two-days, without calling in. My manager grew alarmed. When police were notified, they suspected foul play.

Investigators face a growing list of suspects after a beautiful flight attendant is brutally murderer in her own home.

Lol r193 I just watched that one last night! Stupid bitch forgot to wipe her prints off the glass.

This has been my favorite Let's Pretend We're A thread ever. So many laughs.

I wonder how many people get away with murder now because of all they learn from these shows. On Disappeared the cases were hardly ever solved.

I’m the finger prints, CCTV, and DNA testing that provide the keys to the thief and killer of an inside job.

I'm the victims's mother, who always hated the victim's husband and had his goddamn number from day 1. I knew the son of a bitch did it as soon as I got the 4am phone call.

I'm the house fire that was started in an attempt to burn all the evidence, but even fire is no match for forensic science.

R89 I just saw that episode this weekend. She was a fuckin' nut ball.

I'm the humorous puns used as episode titles, which are rather inappropriate given the content of the show.

I’m the skeletal remains found in a shallow grave. Scientists estimate that I’ve been there for less than 8 years, and that I’m a petite Asian female, approximately 120lbs.

I’m the female restructurist.

I’m the facial restructurist.

I’m the “Gentlemen’s Club”. I am featured in a number of episodes.

I'm the big frizzy 80s hair and crusty bangs on the wife, a style she was still wearing when she was killed in 2005.

I am the young 20 year old female "free spirit" who disappeared while hitchhiking to California.

I'm the hydrogen peroxide & water combo that none of these mooks knows is the best way to destroy blood evidence. I'm in Oxyclean, btw

I'm the woman whose body was finally identified 40 years after I was last seen, when a sister or niece posted about me on a "missing" website. My mother and stepfather never reported me missing because I used to take off for weeks at a time. (Except I really never took off for more than two or theee days, when I tried to run away from the horror of my stepfather abusing me).

My body was found in a California park. I was last seen in Ohio.

I'm the victim being profiled. I was smart, pretty, happy and had dreams of becoming a pediatrician. Life was great until I hit a little bump in the road. That bump was my pregnancy, which resulted from my job as an exotic dancer/prostitute, which I became due to my drug addiction. .

My little sister is now a hard looking, obese 56 year old and muses on camera what I would've been like if I'd lived. Would I have straightened my life out, got married, had more children and been here for all those thanksgivings and christmases?

I tbe tiny needle hole detected on autopsy

I’m the third time the victim’s remains are exhumed, over protests of the surviving spouse.

I've always wondered ... if you shot yourself, would the gun remain in your hand? I would think you'd drop the gun as soon as the shot jolted your body. Your arm would drop. Your hand would still be holding a gun? Doesn't make sense.

The gun would drop nearby

I'm the shirt the victim would have given you off of his back

T216 I believe this would depend on many factors. One of them being how someone’s hand would contract (or splay open) after gun was fired. Even if it opened, depending on how it was held, at what angle, etc., the loop around the trigger (whatever it’s called) could become entangled with fingers, keeping it in vacinity of the hand...or coming to rest there.

Just guessing....

I meant for R216

I'm the superglue dropped onto foil.

I'm the female bartender of the neighborhood bar (local version of the Cheers bar) who saw a negative interaction between the victim (female, deceased) and one of the male regulars. I poured the last shot from a bottle of Galliano (murder weapon) and, at his request, gave the empty bottle to the male regular. Police never bothered to interview me, but now I'm here to say that I think the male regular killed the female victim.

LOL @ R217

I'm the forged signature on the life insurance policy.

I'm the implacable voice of Peter Thomas. I am slow but relentless...like justice.

I'm the body of the first husband being exhumed out of the ground for a second autopsy, after the cops realize that the psycho bitch probably poisoned him too, like the bitch just did with the second husband.

I'm the expensive homes the victims live in, regardless of income.

I'm the super glue fumes.

I'm the pretty young lady who mysteriously disappears while driving through some Godforsaken white trash shithole town in the South, the Midwest or Kern County, California.

I'm this logo. If you see me, it means shit's about to be GOOD!

I'm the initial suspect they initially throw under the bus--by name, and on national television--only to exonerate me later.

I am the hardworking lonely doctor who thought I had found my soulmate. Until he took me on a romantic anniversary trip to the mountains, and pushed me off a trail. It turns out his first wife died under mysterious circumstances as well.

I'm the embarrassing "Oooh!" that escaped my lips when I discovered that Forensic Files is on Netflix.

I'm the Forensic Files binge-watch on Netflix, which is more addictive than meth or crack cocaine.

[quote]I'm the initial suspect they initially throw under the bus--by name, and on national television--only to exonerate me later.

And they do that ALL THE TIME, like every third episode! Can you even imagine how angry YOU would be if you were one of those people?

I am the motley crew of handymen, registered sex offenders, and parolees that are rounded up initially for questioning as persons of interest, only to be cleared shortly into the half hour of the show.

r234 I think they sometimes changed the identity of the "initial suspect"

I'm the lands and grooves on the badly mangled bullet retrieved from the victim's body, which when compared with a bullet fired from the suspect's gun under a double comparison microscope at 50x magnification, lead astute investigators to only one, inescapable conclusion . . . .

I'm the gas station next to the Interstate, where the hungry killer stops for snacks after dumping the body. The security camera footage and eyewitness testimony will come in very handy later on.

I'm the stupid white trash sex offender who decided to stage his own death to get the insurance money

For those who watch the show and caught the Ari Squire episode, this is truly bizarre. Remember he faked his death and killed a 20-year-old man in his stead? I found his online obituary, which contains condolences from his fake death. (He did commit suicide when the police were closing in, so he died not too long after these posts.) Still very odd.

R234 I am the names that have been changed to protect the innocent.

She was a dedicated mother, and a loving wife...

I’m the neighbour with a key piece of evidence who never said a word until questioned 15 years later. The case made national headlines and was referenced many times as a big mystery on numerous tv shows for years and yet I said nothing. Then one day the cold case cops knock on my door asking whether I saw a blue sedan loitering outside the victims home that fateful night. I sure did, I reply. And bang, 15 years later after much frustration and the ongoing anguish of the family the mystery is solved. I’m a moron.

We're the doltish parents, happy to marry off our old maid daughter to the murdering grifter who recently blew into town.

R81 I wish Trey would consult his old FF tapes fir hairdo re-inspiration.

R91 I am the 8 cents the killer saved by scanning their shoppers club card.

Lastly, I am the psycho mother in law who bragged that she breastfed HER GRANDCHILD because that sorry excuse of a mother (the victim) cannot raise him properly!!!!

I'm the grainy, black and white footage of the no-tell motel parking lot, where the killer paid the hit man.

[quote]Lastly, I am the psycho mother in law who bragged that she breastfed HER GRANDCHILD

Not possible unless she was herself recently pregnant.

I'm the service road off of the highway. I serve as a depository for bludgeoned corpses.

R247 I shit you not, that was granny's big claim to fame. And told in Peter Thomas' even keel voice, although he had to been thinking WTF???? but somehow remained composed.

R247- I think if you try to nurse a child enough times, those hormones kick in and you can start to lactate. Obviously, only if you’re a woman.

I’m the Kodak Disc camera which provides photographic evidence that the victim was drugged and pushed off a cliff.

I'm the shoes in the suspect's closet that match the shoe prints at the crime scene. Later forensic analysis reveals the same kind of dirt is on them. You'd think the stupid dumbass killers would get rid of such an obvious piece of evidence, but this one happens over and over.

I'm the pinking shears the Air Force guy, who was dumping his wife for his hot Thai housekeeper, used to cut up the floppy disk that had all the evidence on it. Later on some brainiac scotch-tapes that shit together and nails his ass to the wall.

People this is the Grandma Breastfeeder episode....

I’m the I.T guy hired to look into the suspects internet history. The suspect deleted his history but I’m still able to find that in the week leading to the murder the idiot husband googled “how to get away with murder” and “best insurance policies”.

I'm the cigarette the prime suspect crushed on the sidewalk, and I'm scooped up by the Chief Investigator on the case, and tested for DNA that matches the crime scene. Gotcha!

I’m the mistress who shacked up with the widower 3 weeks after he killed his wife. Her murder was fine with me for an entire decade while I lived in her house and spent the insurance money, until he dumped me for a younger woman. Now, I’m suddenly overcome with the need to “do the right thing” and tell the cops I suspect that SOB killed his poor, poor wife all those years ago. Of course I claim I had no idea or I would have reported him long ago.....

I'm the guilt you feel because you think the killer is pretty hot and you imagine what having sex with him would be like.

I am the retired detective. This case is the one I wish I could have solved before my career ended. It haunts me still.

I'm the unlikely source the investigators turned to.

I’m arsenic. No one ever checks for me until it’s too late.

OMG....r254 ‘s episode has the CLASSIC opening:

[quote]”A young woman just landed her first big modeling job...a few hours later, she disappeared. The weave pattern on some fabric, the mixture of some concrete, and a dog hair were the keys to the mystery.”

TELL ME MORE ! ! !

[quote]R256 I'm the cigarette the prime suspect crushed on the sidewalk, and I'm scooped up by the Chief Investigator on the case, and tested for DNA that matches the crime scene. Gotcha!

But Wait!

This usually only happens AFTER they’ve been trailing the canny killer for 3 months, in which time he’s discarded NOTHING!

I'm the 47 stab wounds, which the investigator tells us is "overkill."

I'm the tobacco pug, bitches!!!!

I’m the much younger handyman who ends up marrying the wealthy widow. Everyone knows I did it from the minute I’m introduced into the story.

I'm the daughter who defends my cold-blooded father for years, only to find out he really did kill my mother.

I’m the unlucky bastards who have to comb through the local landfill to find any remains of the woman and toddler daughter who disappeared 2 months ago.

I’m the dumbass murderer who has watched a bazillion tv shows and movies for years and still never figured out that the best place for that body is in water. The swampier, the better.

I’m the good looking yet aimless former high school football star from the wrong side of the tracks who dumps his hot blonde stripper girlfriend to marry the plain Jane socially awkward spinster daughter of the richest guy in town. She’s mysteriously murdered 2 years into the marriage. It won’t take long for DNA evidence to pin this on me.

I'm the psycho teacher who mailed death threats to myself and even shit on my own chair.

I’m the high school photo of the victim from 1985, making it clear that no one in the Midwest during the 80s had a flattering hairstyle.

R57 LOL!

We’re the family who have just decided to put in a pool. Unfortunately for our summer plans the excavator has just dug up the skeleton of a woman. Turns out the old guy who lived in the house until his death and who claimed his wife left him in the middle of night 45 years ago, had actually killed her. His kids always suspected him, but he got away with it.

The murderer's daughter in r267 also denies that her skeezy dad also had three-ways with two grannies in town....apparently this guy was such a charmer that he got Granny number 2 to shoot Granny number 1 when she realized that yeah this shit's getting too weird....

^^^^^I am M. William Phelps. I commentate on the BEST FF episodes. Also the jury is still out on whether that's a hairpiece or not.

I can't imagine dealing with the reality my father killed my mother. I can see how children in that position resort to cognitive dissonance -- it's hard enough to lose one parent to murder. If they abandoned the other parent, they're all alone.

"She was a hardworking, cheerful girl who made friends easily -- this time, the wrong friends."

Yeah how come these girls always go from cheerleader, yearbook editor, valedictorian to Faces of Meth Stripper with Visible C Section Scar while stripping.

I'm the dog. My hair gets fucking everywhere. You are so going to get caught because my hair will be at the crime scene and somewhere on the victim.

I am a fresh corpse. I was buried at the edge of a graveyard. Some idiotic, trashy couple dug me up, put me in the husbands car & set me on fire so the trashy couple could cash in on a life insurance policy.

I'm the shallow grave near the hiking trail.

We're the forest critters who unearthed the body.

I'm the hiker who followed after my squirrel-chasing dog the following spring. It took me a few moments to realize the skull among the scattered bones was human. In the artsy edge-blurred shot of the cordoned-off forest crime scene, I'll be played by a middle-aged actor in head-to toe camo but actually I'm a beanie-wearing hipster in Filson.

I'm the tarp the killer bought at Federal Army and Navy Surplus kept in his car for 20 years before ending up a hasty shroud, and my Korean War-era label and bonanza of forensic evidence from the trunk of his '95 Saturn are like winning the Lotto for the Medical Examiner. My former owner might as well have just left his business card tucked in the dead man's breast pocket.

I'm John List's lack of vanity, which precluded him wearing contact lenses.

R268 omg that poor woman's decomposing leg dangling from the bucket of the bulldozer in the landfill....horrible.

I'm Skip Palenik. I sound like an obscure character from a 1960s sitcom but I'm actually an internationally renowned forensic microscopist.

I'm blood-stained sneakers worn by the killer while being interviewed by the police. Seriously.

He was a quiet, studious boy interested in puppets. And then the first dog disappeared...

I am these glasses. I am proof that bad eyewear fashion is a trait that all killers possess.

I'm the shirt that "he would give you off his back"

I'm the TV news bimbo commenting that "the community was shocked by the triple homicide because he was a Christian and actively involved in his church."

Well, there's your answer, toots...

We're the forensic geologist/forensic dentist/handwriting analyst. We all kind of look like serial killers ourselves.

I’m the black bars on either side of the picture because The show is so old, no one is going to re-format it for modern rectangular screens.

I'm the racist "violent crime like this just doesn't happen in our community" dog whistle.

i'm the insurance policy that was taken out about a week before the husband/wife was brutally murdered .

I'm a very simple game that is too complicated for R287, R196, et al.

A game...that would turn...DEADLY.

I’m the shoes staged on”random” steps to look like the victim took a lethal tumble down the stairs on her way to do laundry complete with strangulation ligatures.

I’m the “saved” Word 95 document uncovered by computer forensic specialists in the computer’s history.

I’m google maps used in later episodes—2011.

I’m an Ohio mother with two daughters who go missing while vacationing in Florida. But, our bodies turn up floating in Tampa Bay.

I’m a California woman found dead in a yacht in a apparent love gone wrong.

*an

I’m a jury member and I expect to hear forensic evidence. If you can’t provide forensic evidence, you’ll have a hard time proving your case.

R300 is Natalie wood

Ugh r299 I HATE that story. Horrifying. Oh and the farmer dad could care less cuz he's got chores to do ya know?

I'm the bloody palm print the killer left at the scene. I mean really, how fucking stupid can one person be?

I'm the concerned co-worker that notices you're not at work... and well..that's just not like you, so I go to your house and find your corpse in the hallway by the bathroom....

I'm the dismembered body parts, an unexpected surprise for fishermen, hikers and garbage collectors everywhere.

I’m ‘ROC’ written in blood on the wall of a murdered airline employee. And no, Roc didn’t do it.

Yeah the one @ R299 stayed with me too. I cant imagine their terror when they realized their mistake in trusting that monster.

I'm the creepy echo-voice that's used to read a suicide note or a journal entry from the deceased.

I'm the nuclear reactor that's used to test hair for arsenic. No shit, this is really true!

i'm the sole person living in the year 2000 who doesn't know there are video cameras everywhere...

I’m the greedy idiot son who hires his friends to help him kill his rich parents. Naturally, since we’re just college kids who have watched one too many episodes of forensic files, we actually have no idea what we’re doing and we leave a sea of evidence that eventually leads the cops right to us.

I think the college kids DIDN'T watch Forensic Files....

I am the semi-hot actor in the re-enactment! Of course they’re going to make the murdered and the murderer a lot hotter than in real life!

We have to keep you watching somehow, even though 99% of these are about insurance policies!

I’m mitochondrial DNA, that’s MISS ROSS TO YOU!!!

I make an overly dramatic Mildred Pierce entrance into the frostiest of the cold case crimes!

Extra Points: I also make the original detectives from 23 yrs ago look like drooling Neanderthals!

I'm the series of events that led to a chain reaction that ended in..............MURDER!

I’m the complete confession that the murderer gives to his perfect stranger cell mate, while temporarily locked up for a minor offense! I’m chock full of details that only the perpetrator would know!

I’m paint chips & tire impressions

I’m the local murder being portrayed on one of these shows. The murdered woman is profiled as a loving mom struggling to make life better for herself and her young daughter. She has a job where she’s hoping to work herself up to manager. There is an obligatory cameo from one of her coworkers, saying that the victim was very dedicated to her job....on the days that she showed up. The victim has a bf, but sometimes goes to clubs with her friends to unwind and dance ....and maybe meet Mr Right.

IRL, you know the victim was a slutty girl who got pregnant, dropped out of HS and lives with her mother who watches her baby for her, along with the babies of her likewise HS dropout sister. Her mom has a regular rotisserie of men...”uncles”... who appear and disappear from the family’s life, then appear again, etc. The victim and her friends pick up guys for casual sex at the local club, then get beaten by their bfs, who are extremely jealous. The victim's bf dropped her off at her mother’s house at 4:15 am, after the club closed. He was the last one to see her alive....or was he?

After a half an hour of meandering story padding, the announcer finally tells the audience that the victim got a text on her phone at 4:30 am, from a man saying he saw her at the club & she’s real sexy ....how would she like to meet him and go for a ride with him in his new sports car?

He’s parked outside her door. He followed her bf’s car to her house from the club because she’s such a beautiful, sexy lady that he just had to get to know her. She says sure, and hops into the car with this strange guy who’d been ogling her at the club. Her body is found in the woods several days later by a homeless man searching for recyclables. The entire town is in an uproar, says the narrator, wanting police to find the heartless killer of this young mom. (IRL, no one outside her family cares because her behavior for the past few years pretty much guarantees she’d get murdered and oh yeah, the father of her baby is a gang member. And the “club” isn’t really a club, it’s just a dive bar with a dj). The shining, beautiful, loving, dedicated young mom is really ratty looking young woman who cruises bars til they close, has a “bf” at every bar and often stays away from home for a few days, which is why her mom didn’t report her missing til Monday.

The killer is a dishoberably discharged marine who lives in gang territory a few towns away and has the tats to prove it. He claimed she fell and hit her head on a table in his garage & died. He provides a cockamamie reason for why the two were in the garage, where blood spatters were found. He panicked after she accidentally died, so he wrapped her in a blanket & placed her body in woods off the service road at the next expressway exit over.

He dies of AIDS in jail 5 years later.

A little girl is now growing up without a mom. But there are photos and videos of her martyred mom - from happier times) - the girl can watch through the years. Plus another uncle will be coming along soon.....

I'm the vial of blood I'm going to place in my arm so when they test "my blood" the DNA won't match the perpetrator. Unfortunately the lab tech eventually realizes the blood appears old and the jig is up.

I'm the blood and saliva samples the LAPD steals from the coroner to hide the fact that the murderer is one of their own. Unfortunately, their search of the freezers miss one sample...

1. I'm the dumb ass doctors perplexed by the patient's unusual symptoms that ebb and flow.

2. I'm anyone who has watched FF and knows it's arsenic poisoning, you morons.

R319 Gurl, waaaay too much time on your hands.

Ignore R323, R319, you have talent.

I'm the encyclopedic knowledge of both antifreeze poisoning and arsenic poisoning that we never thought we would have, thanks to Forensic Files.

R319 Does not understand the premise of this thread. Sad.

I’m the FBI Forensic Analyst.

I’m the point-by-point analysis.

I’m Charles Barbee’s jeans.

I’m a small farm town in Canada that made national news when a young patient was raped by her doctor. DNA analysis proved he was innocent but she claimed the DNA analysis...was wrong.

I’m Dr. Schneebeger.

Schneeberger.

I’m the shed where the standout husband and father keeps his victims’ trophies.

I’m a woman’s car, abandoned along a Philadelphia highway, still running. But, was there enough evidence to solve the case?

I'm a weirdly obvious statement that an interviewee says just for the sake of saying something.

Nah, it's a true story that happened in what was my (now much changed) hometown and it was on one of those shows. Skank woman meets up with skank murderer. Mayhem occurred

I'm the creepy weird guy who witnesses saw wandering around the apartment complex.

I’m the strand of hair found in the cat’s feces that proved that the ex-husband was in the house that fateful day.

AMA

I’m the dad joke/one liner title of the episode.

I’m the scary realization that the killer in this old ep was eligible for parole years ago and ... may be lurking in my hallway as the credits roll!!!

I'm the no missing valuables, which indicates that robbery was not a motive.

I’m the evidence that a struggle took place.

I'm the 911 operator with big poofy hair, typing frantically with her talon-like long fingernails.

I'm the victims' iPods.

I’m the little child (usually with a horrible name like Kaylene or Montana) who was so young at the time that they cannot remember their mother.

(cut to shot of a peaceful graveyard)

I’m sadness. Even if they make new episodes it will not be the same without the great Peter Thomas.

I am the placid lake on the outskirts of town. Soon, I will give up my secret.

R307 You know Roc was hoping this would launch him into stardom!!!!! That guy totally wanted a show of his own.

Also, I am the slice of pizza the ex con prostitution ring-leader ate after he killed the poor newly MS diagnosed victim in that episode.....

I'm the victim who struggled with drug addiction. I was "getting my life together" in the months before the murder, adding another layer of pathos to my death.

I’m the rich girl who likes the seedier side of life. My friends are grifters, my boyfriend is a drug addict. Despite this, my parents go on vacation leaving me all alone in their palatial home. Guess what happens to me after my “friends” ransack the house?

I’m the crumpled Walmart receipt which led to the murderer’s undoing.

I'm the next-door neighbor who always thought the husband was creepy and shady. Turns out I was right!

I’m the best friend to whom the victim said that if anything ever happened to her, her husband did it.

I’m the DNA under the victim’s fingernails. She fought for her life and lost....but ....could she solve this crime from beyond the grave?

I’m the widow’s former husband — who, by an amazing coincidence, died in EXACTLY THE SAME WAY as the current deceased husband.

I'm the fly larva, left on a rotting murder victim's corpse that will help tell the time of death.

I’m the red paint that was spilled in the trunk of the car. I’m initially mistaken for blood. This sends investigators on a wild goose chase for a while. The biggest question of the episode is why anyone would have red paint in their car, then spill all over the trunk and then not bother to clean it up. That was the real mystery in that episode.

i'm the background check . If one was done it would have revealed the husband was the last one to see a family friend alive who had fallen down stairs to their death . His wife also dies falling down the stairs....

I'm child support. Instead of paying the husband would rather murder the wife....

I’m the husband who raises the insurance policy amount to a million bucks. The plan was to wait a year and then bump off my wife so that no one is suspicious. But my greed gets the better of me and she’s dead by the end of the week. To no ones surprise but mine I don’t get away with it.

I'm the stupid bitch who didn't have my husband's body cremated after I poisoned him to death. Instead I had him buried just so investigators could dig him up five months later to find out I'm guilty as fuck. Doh!

R361 I've seen it where they test the cremains in gas chromatograph mass spectrometer!!!!

I'm the suspect who didn't realize footprints are as unique as fingerprints.

[quote]I've seen it where they test the cremains in gas chromatograph mass spectrometer!!!!

Burying cremains? That's what rivers are for, silly!

I'm the victim of the house fire who does not have any soot in her lungs which leads investigators to believe that smoke inhalation was not, in fact, the cause of death.

I’m a forensic entomologist. I’m an expert on the maggots, larvae and blowflies found crawling all over a decaying corpse.

I'm Skip Sperber, forensic odontologist. Don't confuse me with that bitch Skip Palenik, forensic microscopist.

R362 Bringing the laughs!

I’m the mid-40s gay men, on his second career, working the case.

I'm the victim's own nylon stockings that were used to strangle her to death.

I’m the rapist who gets away with it for fifteen years because at the time of the rape, his DNA wasn’t in CODIS. It wasn’t until the cold case detective decides to re-run the DNA through CODIS that there’s a match. Turns out the perpetrator was jailed and awaiting trial for another rape, not to mention he had bragged to his cell mates about ‘raping a girl and getting away with it’.

I'm the cyanide episodes, which makes you ask "how the FUCK do all these people get their hands on cyanide?"

[quote]R365 I'm the victim of the house fire who does not have any soot in her lungs which leads investigators to believe that smoke inhalation was not, in fact, the cause of death.

“However, it wasn’t long before it was the ALIBI of the PRIME SUSPECT that would GO UP IN FLAMES!”

(Cue Commercial Break)

I’m your average viewer, now forever terrified of getting married.

The average viewer should also be shit scared of their creepy neighbor and that overly friendly guy at the office r374

I'm the episode that disturbs you. All the episodes are disturbing, but I'm the one that stays with you.

I am as described by R374.

r376, not a Forensic Files episode, but rather Cold Case Files: the story of Theresa Knorr affected me more than any other true crime show. The utter depravity never left me.

This woman tortured two of her teenage daughters to death with the help of her other children (including lighting one of them on fire by the side of the rood -- while she was still alive, but very sick.) I don't generally believe in evil, but this woman is evil.

After I watched the episode, I had to go outside and take a walk and remind myself that there is beauty and goodness in the world.

I am the ring Erika Sifrit stole off the guy she murdered, as well as the stab wound she had tattooed on her midsection, so she could forever be reminded of the sick game her & her psychopath husband BJ perpetrated against two unsuspecting tourists.

I remember that one, R379. The murders committed for no real reason sadden and disturb me the most.

For some reason the one that stays with me is the sick fuck who lured a woman and her daughters onto his boat. He raped them and killed them, but instead of doing something relatively merciful like shooting them, he tied them to cinder blocks and threw them in the ocean. The thought of being bound and helpless, watching my family members thrown overboard to drown, knowing I was next....

R380 if it makes you feel better, that guy was executed.

R380

r380 did they ever recover the bodies in that case?

I’m the church van.

OT: but the demon mom Theresa Knorr case at r378 is the episode that sickened me the most, as well.

There were once posts at the now defunct CrimeLibrary that readers believed to be from one of the brothers. He wrote about his sister that reported the case (Terry, since dead) and touched on how he and his brother came to be so controlled by their mom. It was chilling because it sounded real.

I think someone linked to them there through the Way Back Machine retrieval system. But i’ve never found them again. It was just very weird and striking to be reading posts that could have been from one of the survivors.

[quote]All articles on Crime Library were written exclusively for Crime Library by dozens of commissioned writers, many of them true-crime authors, including Chuck Hustmyre, Katherine Ramsland, Gary C. King and Anthony Bruno.

r385 I think one of the brothers went to prison recently for for child porn.

Bleeeech!

You do have to wonder how anyone could emerge from that household normal, though...

[quote][R380] did they ever recover the bodies in that case?

Yes, as I recall the discovery of the bodies is what started the investigation.

Yes, it was gross, weighted down by cement blocks & they still floated up. That story, and those people who were murdered the same way when they tried to sell their boat to a bunch of derelicts. That case bothers me too.

I’m a geographic profile.

I’m “Police Chief Magazine”.

I’m the unlikely place...the rapist’s garbage.

I'm the wood chipper that helle crafts husband used to dispose of her.

The wood chipper murder was a BIG local story in Connecticut at the time, and it also spawned many tasteless jokes.

Nice to know that I'm not the only Forensic Files-addicted DLer.

R394, please elaborate on the tasteless jokes.

I’m 1996–the year Forensic Files first aired.

Which would be the wood chipper episode

Why did this thread get grayed out?

Cause Datalounge has lost it’s charm, R398. It’s a hate site now. I try to have some fun on my little Forensic Files corner. Carrying on.

I’m the cop who claims I’ve thought about this case every single day since it happened 35 years ago

I’m the investigation that dragged on for months...then years.

I'm the telltale signs of arsenic poisoning that somehow every single doctor and nurse in the entire fucking hospital fails to recognize.

I'm the medical examiner here in Bumdoodle County, GA. Well, actually I'm a GP, but I do autopsies for the funeral home. Anything beyond an obvious bullet to the head or overdose with the needle hanging out of their arm, I'm way out of my depth, but I'm too stubborn to admit, so I found nothing suspicious about a thirty-five-year-old man in perfect health dying of what I figured must have been a heart attack. Or seizure. something like that.

I'm the guy with a strong resemblance to the man who tried to fake his own death. If I had kept my appointment with that sociopath I would be dead.

^^^ Ari Squire, so creepy.

All the ones about faking their own deaths are utterly laughable.

Yeah, turns out faking your own death is actually pretty hard. Though not so laughable to the family of that kid who got murdered for a failed life insurance scam.

The ones who fake their own death and come back a week later in a bad wig are the worst. His “widow” suddenly has a new partner that looks exactly like the old husband except with blonde hair. Gosh, how will anyone ever work it out?!

I know. I give the ones who flee to Mexico and get plastic surgery WAY more credit.

I’m the trail and I’ve grown cold

I'm the obvious murder that the show tried to portray as a puzzler. Hey, there's over 400 episodes. They can't all be good.

I’m the little girl that went to get a drink at the drinking fountain (by myself!) down a long, empty corridor. I was kidnapped and taken through the custodial closet and out the window! The kidnapper tossed me into the back seat of his vehicle; my pink winter jacket thrown to the floor indicating that something sexual may have happened! I vanished—never to be seen again.

I’m the victim’s church parishioner.

I’m the fibers on the victim’s clothes.

I’m the Christian, man of god, man of prayer.

I'm Skip Schwoeble, firearms expert. What's with all the Skips on this show? How many people name their sons Skip?

We could do a subgame of Let's Be an Expert Witness on Forensic Files. I'm Skip Dingleberry, forensic urologist, and I found something troubling in the victim's scrotum.

I'm the best friend of the killer. I'm consumed with grief, confusion, unanswered questions and guilt for not seeing he was really a monster underneath it all.

I’m the Forensic Analyst’s wig or odd baldness.

I'm the missing stripper.

I’m Odwalla.

I am the dirty air conditioner water reservoirs, breeding slime and bacteria and spraying the legionnaires' hotel rooms with a vapor carrying a deadly disease.

I am defensive wounds.

I'm the episode you think you haven't seen before....then you realize 10 minutes in you have.

So true r422! Lol.

I'm the viewer at home trying to impress Mother with my vast knowledge of forensics. I've seen the episode but pretend I haven't.

"Mother, this looks like arsenic poisoning to me..."

I’m Doctor Schneberger—back for the 4th time in a month!! Forensic Files LOVES the Schneberger.

I’m pseudo-corpse. I mimic the smell of a dead body and I’m used by dogs to sniff out corpses.

I’m the cellphone call which, had I been mentioned at the top of the program, would have put the killer in front of the victim’s house at around the time of the murder. There’s a reason why I wasn’t mentioned until.the last 5 minutes

Stop calling me that, R426.

I’m the tube filled with blood that Dr. Schneberger implanted into his own arm to give fake DNA samples to the cops. I fooled 2 cop blood drawers before a third one finally caught on, years after that sexual assault I committed.

I’m the late 80s/early 90s photo of the victim with frizzed hair and gel plastered bangs. Upon seeing me, you know I’m dead. No one would allow such a picture of themselves to be shown if they were still alive

I’m Enigma playing in the background in the “Unholy Vows” episode about WW II war criminals who emigrated to the US.

I’m Doctor Schneeberger AGAIN for the 5th time in one month! I have never seen so many repeats of one episode in my entire life. There are years worth of Forensic Files. At least 15 years. The programmer must love Schneeberger.

They must take shots everytime “Schneeberger” is said. It’s comical-it’s outrageous.

I am the inexplicable hold this cheesy show has on mankind ... of which I am of course a member.

I am a jogger = dead.

And, Peter Thomas says “Schneeberger” a lot. Like obnoxiously.

I'm Dr. Pignataro. I invented snap on toupees in which the user has snaps surgically implanted on their head in order affix the rug. I sold a few to a handful of DLers. I lost a patient during a routine breast implant surgery. I decided that the best way to rectify the situation was to try and poison my wife. Can you believe this convoluted scheme did not work out?

I'm the attractive young woman who's working the overnight shift by myself at a convenience store. Can you guess what happens next?

I'm when the serial killer really DOES look like a serial killer ! !

I'm cyanide and arsenic, which people who wish to kill their spouses can apparently find quite easily. Who knew?

I’m the Christian agenda Forensic Files has. I pointedly say “homosexual” or “atheist” followed by a list of “immoral” things both groups like such as “S&M” or was interviewed by Hustler or Playboy.

R435 I’m the jogger who finds the dead jogger the next day.

I’m the nosy neighbor who knew something like this would happen but doesn’t say anything until after the fact.

I am The Battle of Who has the most ridiculous, implausible supposed forensic interpretation of the crime smackdown match between Henry Lee and Ljubisa Dragovich.

I’m the neighbour who heard threats and screaming, but didn’t call the cops.

I am the nutty neighbor who alway knew there was something off about those people but no one listened to because, well, I was nuts

I am Brandy Hall of Palm Bay Fl, missing for 12 year ..will you please find me already!

I'm the missing stripper.

I’m the murderer who volunteers for the search party or stands in the background of the news story or talks to the local reporter about what a great neighbour the victim was. Despite the horrific situation I appear to be revelling in the situation.

[quote] [R435] I’m the jogger who finds the dead jogger the next day.

Only forensic-type shows use the word “jogger.” IRL they call themselves “runners.”

We call them joggers in my country r450

Stop calling female runners “joggers.” It wounds

I'm the word "flamboyant." I'll be taking the place of "gay" in describing the victim. In fact the word "gay" will never be uttered in this episode, even as we examine three of the victim's ex-lovers.

I am the Forensic Files thread...I SEEM to die and yet...I always Tell Another Story...from Beyond the Grave!

I'm the detective who delivers the line "The dead can't speak for themselves so we have to speak for them."

I'm the interminable recap of the entire case that's laid out after each commercial break

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I'm testosterone. I make men the most dangerous of all of God's creatures!

I’m the bite mark that sends an innocent man to jail.

I’m the black guy who looks exactly like another black guy. Well actually we don’t look that much alike when you see our mug shoots next to one another, but one of us is about to go to jail for a crime we didn’t commit until someone works it out about 10 years later.

I’m a half hour that is takes to solve the crime while other shows take a hour sometimes 2 hours.

FYI if you watch Forensic Files episodes on Youtube, many of the viewer comments are as funny as the posts on this thread.

I’m the succinylcholine.

I’m the nursing profession.

I feature heavily in this series for both vics and perps.

I’m sadness. I’m sad because I set my DVR for new episodes that will never come.

I'm antifreeze. I have replaced rat poison as the popular to kill someone. Put some in the iced tea and they will never know...

I'm the husband, wife, or significant other of the murder victim.

If I am interviewed in the first five minutes of the episode, you can rest assured I didn't play a part. Conversely, if they interview the victim's parents and sister, but not me, I'm guilty.

I'm the recently widowed middle-aged woman whose girlfriends coax her into joining Christina Mingle. Within seconds, a handsome slightly younger man responds. And it turns out he's a widower! Within no time he is wining and dining me at some of the fanciest restaurants in town and talking marriage.

Then one night he gets rough with me and shoves me to the ground, calls me a cunt. But I just chalk it up to the booze (a girl riding by on her bike witnesses this).

Three weeks later a neighbor starts to smell a nasty odor coming from my property. The next night, the house burns down.

For some reason, I'd put him on the title just the day before...

I agree with R456. When this goes down on Netflix we don't have to watch the commercials but it's really tedious.

I'm the 500th time a person shot their spouse in the head but then staged it to look like a suicide. The stupid spouse, however, shot the gun from too far away for it to be anything but murder (which was evident to the investigators in about two seconds) and if that wasn't enough put the gun ON TOP of the blood splatter on the bed/floor.

Bonus points if the spouse had gunpowder residue on his/her hands.

DOH!

I'm the window that the young, attractive woman decided to leave wide fucking open all night long while she slept.

I am the weed found under the killers shoe that only grows in the remote area where the body was dumped.

I'm freshly minted drag queen Christina Mingle!

R471 and I made forensic history in the field of plant DNA. Not only did we identify the plant species under the killer's shoes but the tree under which the murder took place.

I like Krystyn Mingle better

I’m the mother of the perpetrator. I look like I drank for 30 years and I did.

Sure there were signs.

But I wanted to get married again. And when my second marriage ended, I felt I needed another man in my life. Then another. There wasn’t actually a “parade” of men, like my son says. But I was so in love with the man I brought home I guess I didn’t have much time for little Wilbur.

Sure, he killed the neighbor’s cat and cut our dog into pieces. But what could I do? The police won’t put someone in jail for that. Sure he used to collect the bleached skulls of dead animals he “found in the woods.” I thought he might want to become a botanist or something. Oh....that isn’t what a botanist is? Ok. I thought he might want to be biologist or something.

I was happy when his girlfriend found out she was pregnant. Sure she was only 14, but I let her come live with us, didn’t I? Then I helped watch the baby when I was conscious. Ok, so maybe the police were watching the house because they felt there were too many people coming and going at all hours of the day & night, but that don’t mean anyone was dealing drugs.

Sure, I got pregnant again. I was so happy but.....

I'm the missing teeth of r475

I'm the most important lesson from watching Forensic Files: NEVER let a spouse take out a life insurance policy on you. You'll be dead in less than a year.

I’m the woman who flips her goggles down in the intro.

I’m the darkly lit blue, purple and orange lighting in the labs.

We're the members of the Yacht Club, who are unaccustomed to finding homicide victims floating in our harbor.

I'm the explanation of luminal, repeated nearly every episode.

I'm the forensic pathologist with my gas chromatograph mass spectrometer. Once I fire this bitch up and the detector sends information to a computer that records all of the data produced and then converts the electrical impulses into visual displays and hard copy displays, I will be able to conclusively prove that the suspect in this case is GUILTY AS FUCK. Have fun in prison, asshole!

I’m the finger dragging across the screen revealing FORENSIC FILES at every commercial.

I am Jussie and I have never watched an episode.

I'm the footage in the cemetery at the end of the episode.

Im the cheap wig the actors in the re-enactments have on their heads.

I’m the other narrator — on the hour long episodes.

What r487? What are these hour-long episodes of which you speak?

Are they on YouTube?

Maybe R488.

I am the boring episode about some bio attack that no one cares about.

I’m a naked body. Looks like The surely low paid actors have to do real nudity ( not shown ).

I'm the grisly discovery that awaits the family member when they return home.

I'm the family member at r492.

In 9 episodes out of 10, I did it.

I’m the avid watcher just waiting for the other CW to be charged with murder.

I’m the microbiologist who examines hundreds of stool samples looking for a parasite.

I'm the suspicious package with no return address on the front steps.

I’m the dresser drawers. Someone always opens me to make the place appear ransacked.

What conclusion R237? What? Dammit I can’t wait anymore. Damn you, stupid commercials!

I'm the heartbroken 87-year old grandmother, who lived long enough to see her granddaughter's murderer caught and convicted.

I'm the suspect brought in for questioning, who was caught on security camera, whose fingerprints are found at the scene, but who you already know will not be the culprit because it's only 9:11 p.m., and there are still 19 minutes left.

I'm the reenactment of the 1967 murder, but done with actors in clothes, hairstyles, cars and sets from current day because the producers are too cheap to spend money on accurate period details.

I’m the speck of fresh blood on the ceiling that the killer completely missed in his effort to clean up the scene.

I'm the ever-so-miraculous Luminol, which allowed investigators to see r501.

I'm the DNA analyst. We'll see how smug you are when I get done with my Q-Tips, motherfucker! "Innocent" my ass.

I’m DNA that is too degraded to be of help. I guess the cold case detectives will have to reopen all those file boxes again....

I'm the unmistakable sound of a gunshot the neighbors heard in the middle of the night, but decided it was nothing and didn't call the cops.

I'm the detective who first worked the case for ten years, long after it went cold; after I retired, i was called back to lend my expertise to the fresh young set of detectives who were determined to solve a few cold cases.

I'm the 2 years police spent observing the spouse, waiting for him to make a false move.

I'm the can of soda offered to the suspect during interrogation, so that they can try to capture his DNA.

I am the ignored can of soda.

[italic]Do they think he was born yesterday??

I’m the middle aged gay man who was filmed on video masturbating by two hot young guys from my gym. They were so excited about proud of the video. They tried to sell it to the local XXX video store and showed it off to their friends—nobody wanted it.

I’m the actual crime scene photographs shown in the early-middle seasons. Severed hands, crushed skulls - very little was too grizzly to show during this period of the show.

I'm the disappointment that they don't show pictures of the exhumed bodies.

I'm the minimum 40 inch waist on "law enforcement."

Obviously, foot pursuit is not our strong point.

I’m the choppy surveillance video showing the man in a grey hoodie — is that a hole on the left shoulder the clue that will lead us to the killer?

I'm the 3am shopping trip to Walmart to buy rope, duct tape, bleach and a tire iron.

All paid for with a credit card.

I'm the unfortunate looking victim, who disappeared after being offered a mysterious modeling job out of town ... though she really looked nothing like a model.

I’m the social security checks that kept being collected and cashed.

I'm the faith in god and religion that many of the idiot friends family members cling to after their loved one's senseless murder.

I'm the big crispy 80s hair, still being rocked in the 2000s.

I’m the “fresh set of eyes” that every cold case is looked at.

I'm the killer who was never suspected because I'm a deacon in the church!

I'm the gentle forensic artist, creating likelike busts from damaged skulls.

I'm the true crime addict getting my rocks off watching other people's true-life horror. Once I know someone who becomes a victim of a terrible violent crime, I realize it's not entertainment anymore.

I’m the “Actual crime scene photos” graphic, so you know it’s no longer in dramatization mode.

I'm the one grainy, black and white picture of the victim that producers could find, and I'm shown 31 times during a 22-minute (plus commercials) episode.

I'm the murdered lady's husband. I'm guilty as fuck 99% of the time.

I"m the truth. I have a way of coming out, if you wait long enough.

I’m the detective who spent my “whole career” pursuing this case.

I didn’t really as most of us catch more than one case, but it sounded good for this program.

i'm antifreeze. The number one choice of poison...

I’m the computer hard drive that was destroyed.

Or so they thought. (Dramatic music and commercial)

I'm almonds. Cyanide tastes like me....or is that arsenic? Can never keep my poisons straight.

I’m Michael Peterson. I FINALLY got a Netflix series, and I damn well deserved it! FF is for small time assholes who weren’t as smart as I.

I got away with it, and now I frequent DL on a regular basis. I especially love when the boys discuss moi, but of course!

[quote]FF is for small time assholes who weren’t as smart as I.

Oh, dear, Michael!

I'm the sparse synthesizer music that plays as we're introduced to the victim in the opening minutes of the show.

I'm the victim's troubled past.

I'm the neighbor, who thinks we hear a half dead bundle of blood and slashed flesh pounding on the door at 3:00 a.m.

We don't answer.

^*😂😂😂

I'm the ATF agent who says the victim was "blowed up." I'll be living that down for years.

I'm the spouse who doesn't seem to be all that upset that the other spouse is dead from a gunshot wound in the bedroom when the police arrive.

I'm the femur bone found in the woods by 3 teens playing Avengers in the woods. Not sure if it belongs to an animal or human, they call the police who come and find a skull ten feet away.

I'm the first few seasons that showed rather graphic pictures of bodies postmortem.

I am the fan who has watched all the FF episodes and I am SO GLAD TO SEE THIS THREAD COME BACK TO LIFE!

I'm the piece of forensic evidence that "tells a horrific tale of jealousy, betrayal, and murder."

I'm the freshly widowed wife, acting all nonchalant with the cops while the husband's dead body is still upstairs.

R544, are we going to commercial?

I’m the detective who knew something—I don’t know what—but [italic]something[/italic] just seemed “off” about the scene.

I'm the broken glass on the wrong side of the sliding door.

I am the murdering mother who raises suspicions by spraying Silly String and making a birthday celebration for my dead twins at their gravesite. I was taped doing this and shown on the local news.

I'm the perfect alibi.

Loved the voice of Peter Thomas who narrated 800 episodes. Died in 2016 at 91.

I'm the town that, though years had passed, never forgot the popular (fill in the blank) who'd disappeared that August night ... so very long ago.

I'm carpet fibers

[bold][italic]DROPS MIC

R552 sounds more like a Keith Morrison [italic]Dateline[/italic] episode than our beloved Forensic Files.

*eyes him suspiciously and asks if he’d like to take a polygraph*

I’m the polygraph that the prime suspect agreed to take. I get scheduled, but never taken since he didn’t show up.

I'm the odd statement the husband/wife/son/daughter/handyman/neighbor makes during questioning that arouses the suspicion of investigators.

I'm the husband wrapped in a blanket in the interrogation room.

[quote]r556 ...hand - yman/neighbor makes during questioning

I need a [bold][italic]yman[/italic][/bold] !

Sorry, I don't know why "handyman" came out like that. Formatting error.

^^ and I don't know why that work threw off my html for bold and italics!

It's a case for ... FORENSIC FILES!

"But then detectives noticed something unusual - scrolling back through the thread, BOTH users had experienced the same GLITCH in Erna's system. Could there be more?"

WORD ... not work.

OMG, this thread is haunted or something ! ! !

Of course it’s haunted. It’s the ghosts of all the dead people we’re taking pleasure in hearing about.

I'm the investigators who were stumped, so they decided to use a technique that had never been used before in a criminal case. And in doing so................they made forensic history.

I'm the dumbass willing to sit there for 12 hours getting interrogated by two small-time cops with no training. This is their BIG MOMENT.

What I don't know is that I've been charged with nothing and could just walk out.

I'm the idyllic small town where residents feel so safe they don't even lock their doors at night. But even in a setting such as this, things can still go terribly wrong. And one night, that thing happened to be..........MURDER!

I'm the lady taking a nature walk in the woods who sees what she thinks is a store mannequin that has been discarded up in the distance. But as she gets closer she realizes........

I'm the young perggo chola that corresponded with a delusional cunt, that then proceeded to murder me and commit fetal abduction on my ass.

I'm the construction business, which has a surprising number of homocidal psychopaths in its ranks.

I 'm the sidepiece who didn't know the suspect was married. I agree to help the police by getting him to admit he murdered his wife while we are secretly being recorded.

I'm the guy who confesses even though I really wasn't the one who did it.

I'm the murderer who volunteers for the search party.

"Oh, she's not here. Let's check in the woods!"

Classic tacky joke:

Victim: "Oh gee, mister, those woods look scary at night!"

Murderer: "You're telling me -- and I'll have to walk out of there alone!"

I'm the background check that reveals a sinister past.

I'm the kid who my parents were having a custody battle. My Dad kills my mother and since he got life I will be an orphan...

My name is Davey. They Should do a new episode on me....

[quote]homocidal psychopaths

Oh, dear!

I’m the plaster they use to collect shoe- or tire-print impressions with. I’m usually in the dirt.

I'm the longer-than-necessary scene of pole dancers gyrating in a strip club, because the victim was a pole dancer. At the end of the episode, we'll see the gyrating pole dancers again, just because.....you know....

I'm the murder of Linda Pritchard, which went unsolved for twenty years, until "a serrated knife blade, some fancy footwork, and a pioneering forensic scientist finally cracked the case."

r579 is spot on

I'm the threatening letters sent to the family in the months before the murder. What the family didn't realize was ... I was coming from inside the house!

I'm the elbow of the drain, filled with DNA the murderer thought he had washed away.

I'm the widower/ex who's a lawyer ... usually a divorce lawyer.

[bold][italic]LOCK 'IM UP!

I'm the dead body that has been discarded like a piece of garbage.

I am the window screen fibers clinging to the kitchen scissors that belong inside the house...there was no break in!

I'm the piece of evidence ... that tells a story.

I’m the intonation of “it may not have been a suicide after all.”

I'm the crawlspace.

I'm the BHS, or bushy haired stranger, the man who came out of nowhere, pulled me out of my car by my hair and drove off with my two kids strapped in the backseat.

But are you real, r589?

*eyes you suspiciously*

I'm the question "But would it be enough to identify the killer?"

Well I assume so since I'm watching an episode on the case.

I'm the stakeout in front of a cheap fast food restaurant, there to collect a discarded cup or a cigarette butt.

I’m the can of Pepsi the perp declined to touch or drink from. He knows you guys are trying to get his DNA from me and he ain’t having it.

I'm the old, empty bottle of Galiano, which was never thrown away, even though being used to brutally rape someone. The victim's blood was found on me several years later, (I was on display in the murderer's living room) and I was a key piece of evidence in the perp's conviction.

I'm a pupa.

I'm the forensic scientist in the opening credits who flips her goggles down to create that green glow on the lenses. Let's face, how hot am I?

I'm the list of mistakes made by the perpetrator provided in the last two minutes of the show.

I'm a boon to future murderers everywhere.

Since this thread is almost full, link to new thread:

I'm the forensic accountant. I'm even surprised there is a job called forensic accountant....

I'm the pubic hair that travels from room to room on a sock.