The words were not written on paper.
When a young woman in Wayanad died by suicide, allegedly following harassment by her husband and his relatives, investigators found no suicide note or other clues.
Evidence lay bare on her skin instead.
A young crime photographer named Suresh Babu was called to document them. “She had written the names on her body with a ballpoint pen before ending her life. It was so precise that I initially felt she had printed the words,” recalls Suresh, who is currently the chief at the photography wing of the State Crime Records Bureau (SCRB).
“Photographing her final words accurately was crucial. After all, one cannot present the body in court like a document.”
The photographs became important evidence in the case, which eventually resulted in the husband and his mother being sentenced to 10 years each.
It is one of the cases that has stayed with Suresh through nearly three decades behind the camera.
Forensic photography may appear straightforward: arrive, photograph, leave. But every frame answers a more consequential question — what must be preserved, how should it be recorded, and what might matter later?Sometimes, the answer is barely visible.
From negatives to digital trails
Kerala’s forensic photography system dates back to 1966. In the film era, negatives formed an important part of the evidentiary chain.
“The photograph and its corresponding negative had to be produced,” Suresh explains. “There was even a certification on the back of the photograph stating when, where and in connection with which crime it had been taken.”
Digital photography transformed the process. Photographs and videos became electronic records, bringing new requirements for authentication and preservation.
“The certification process now requires details that can establish the authenticity of electronic records, including the equipment and devices used,” says Suresh.
Hash values provide another layer of verification. When photographs are stored on a CD or other electronic medium, the number of images and their hash values can be documented to establish the integrity of the material submitted as evidence.
More than a picture
A forensic photograph establishes the setting of an incident and the relationship between evidence and the crime scene.
“A crime scene has only one original moment. Once investigators leave, objects may be moved, blood may dry, fingerprints may disappear and bodies may be taken away. The camera becomes a means of preserving that moment,” says Suresh.
If a bloodstained knife bearing a fingerprint is recovered from a house, he adds, the photograph documents where and how it was found. A fingerprint expert can then develop the print and compare it with a suspect’s fingerprints.
The photograph does not prove the entire case. It preserves and presents evidence that investigators and experts use to build it.
At fingerprint scenes, photographers use macro lenses and specialised lighting to capture ridge patterns invisible to the naked eye.
For Suresh, the importance of such images is usually understood only when a case turns on a tiny detail.
“I may have covered about 8,000 crime scenes during my 28 years of service. In around 30 to 40 per cent of these cases, my work has played a crucial role in the investigation, particularly in documenting crucial evidence,” he says.
Suresh recalls another case in which one of his junior colleagues played a vital role: the hand that had no identity.
In Kozhikode, a series of discoveries in 2017 left investigators with a difficult question: who did the dismembered body parts belong to?
A severed hand was recovered from Chaliyam. Since it had been lying in water, transferring a fingerprint proved difficult. Another hand was found nearby days later.
Photographs showed faint ridge patterns on some fingers. Though the fingerprints could not be conventionally transferred, the images were preserved.
The fingers were later processed and photographed using macro photography, revealing ridge patterns that could potentially aid identification.
Around the same time, a skull was recovered. Near Mukkam, in Kozhikode Rural police limits, a headless and legless male body was found packed inside a plastic cover and sack.
DNA examination established that the recovered body parts belonged to the same person.
But his identity remained unknown.
The finger photographs were sent through district, state and national databases. No match was found.
The case eventually reached the Crime Branch. In 2019, forensic photographer Haris Pathirikodan, who had been working in the field since 2015, revisited the old photographs and enhanced the clearest images.
“It was not actually a photograph of a fingerprint. It was a photograph of the finger. But after enhancement, the ridges became more visible. We thought it was worth trying,” he says.
The enhanced images were sent to the State Fingerprint Bureau. Nearly two and a half years after the body parts were recovered, the images produced a match.
“The deceased was identified as Ismail, a native of Malappuram,” recalls Haris.
“Investigators learnt that Ismail had been missing and traced his last known movements. The probe led to Birju, who was traced to the Nilgiris in Tamil Nadu, where he was living under another identity.”
Investigators also uncovered a separate murder involving Birju’s mother, whose death had initially been treated as suicide. They alleged that Birju had killed his mother over her property and later murdered Ismail, who had been involved in the earlier crime.
“Ismail was strangulated before his body was dismembered. The parts were packed and disposed of at different locations, including the Iruvazhinji river,” says Haris.
“The photograph of those fingers ultimately helped identify the deceased.”
The eye behind the lens.
The technology may involve sophisticated cameras, macro lenses, specialised lighting, digital storage and hash values. But lensmen like Suresh and Haris believe the most important instrument remains the photographer’s eye.
Forensic photographers undergo specialised training after recruitment. Suresh says recruits receive about three months of training at the Photographic Bureau, learning documentation related to inquests, autopsies and crime scenes.
“They are also trained at the Forensic Science Laboratory in hash-value computation and aspects of forensic science,” he says.
“The work requires familiarity with biology, chemistry, physics and cyber forensics because photographers must understand what investigators and forensic experts may later need from an image.”
The scenes can be difficult. Suresh recalls that the first dead body he encountered during training was that of a 15-year-old girl who had self-immolated.
The experience was disturbing, but training and repeated exposure gradually helped him adapt.
“Once you enter the profession, you are mentally prepared. During training itself, you see such scenes. Over time, you become accustomed to them,” he says.
“Not just the eyes, our minds are also trained to look for crime details. No space for emotions there.”
The ‘unofficial’ crime photographer
M S Rajan had barely completed his SSLC when he joined his father at Dinesh Studio, probably one of the few photography studios in Wayanad district in the early 1970s.
By 1975, however, he had become a regular presence at crime scenes, summoned by the local police to photograph inquests. Now 74, Rajan estimates that he would have photographed over 400 dead bodies — victims of murders, suicides, accidents and other unnatural deaths.
“There were not many photographers in the region those days. As a youngster, it used to be thrilling to accompany officers,” he recalls. “I felt proud that I chose photography over a bank job that I had landed.” His first ‘assignment’ remains etched in his memory. “It was around 1975. There was a bus accident near Chelodu village. About 10 people were killed,” he recalls.
“Another one is the Kamalakshi murder case, where her body was found in an estate. I also used to be called to document crimes in SC/ST settlements.”
In those days, Rajan adds, photographing gory crime scenes was not a job many were willing to take up. “Most would chicken out, fearing ghosts,” he smiles.
The work affected him, too. During his early days, he often found himself grim. “Over time, it becomes routine,” he says.
In his early days, senior police officers taught him how to photograph a crime scene.
“One important lesson was that you don’t get second chances when it comes to photography,” he says. “Well, I guess this can be applied in certain areas of life too.”
A few years later, the relationship was reversed. Rajan began guiding newly inducted police officers on how to survey a crime scene thoroughly. “That’s because a photographer’s eyes capture details unlike a normal human being’s,” he says.