FOR forensic pathologist, Dr Rohayu Shahar Adnan, the smell of decaying flesh is something she can never get used to. Accompanied by police officers, she made the long trip from Johor Bahru to Batu Pahat to start finding answers in the body that was already in an advanced state of decomposition. The conversation she had with the police officer earlier in the squad car kept ringing in her head: "The girl could possibly be a bohsia (promiscuous girl). She's not so innocent, you know."
She'd been missing for around three days and her body had been found in the middle of an oil palm plantation. According to Rohayu's police escort, the deceased's ex-boyfriend and his friend were already in custody.
"Apparently the boy came with his friend on a motorbike and waited for her at the plantation where they agreed to meet. Next thing you know, they had sex while the boy's friend watched," he said during the long drive. She was taken aback at the story and felt a wave of sadness for the young girl. "She was dead with no voice to defend herself," she confides, soberly.
As one of the two forensic pathologists in Johor back then, she had the unenviable job of finding out what had happened to the 14-year-old girl. It would not be quick or easy, not like television crime shows where deaths are neatly wrapped up in under an hour.
The job requires examiners to break apart bodies: hard physical work. Stomach-turning, too. Rohayu would be on her feet for hours, splattered by blood and other body fluids, at times breathing in an unimaginable stench. She could spend weeks, or even months, piecing together clues that might never add up.
From the initial information she was given and the presumptuous label given to the deceased, Rohayu was determined to find the truth. She lifted the cloth covering the body and realised that the teen's track bottoms were positioned halfway at her thighs. Maggots covered her face and chest but it didn't faze the pathologist at all. She knew the answers lay within the body before her.
The young girl's story slowly started to unfold as Rohayu proceeded with her examinations. The bruises and blood around her genital area and thighs, as well as a fresh tear on the teenager's hymen, told a different tale than what was being told.
She'd been stabbed, tortured, strangled and burnt as well. This wasn't consensual sex. This was a case of brutal rape, torture and murder. Rohayu had to take a minute to regain her composure and process the information she'd just found.
An air of solemnity wrapped around her as she realised that this young dead teenager on the autopsy table no longer had a voice to reveal what really happened to her, and the story that she was given had been painted by misinformation.
"This is why I do what I do," she says. "Who'll fight for justice on behalf of those who don't have a voice anymore?"
This horrific crime, as well as many other intriguing cases, are recounted in her memoir (co-written with Fatin Amin) called A Dead Body Never Lies. Words and actions can mean a thousand things in any mortality case, but only the body can provide the answers needed to decipher the cause of death.
Rohayu knows she has a duty to the dead and lives by the statement, 'a dead body never lies'. She has taken the unsaid oath to be the voice of and safeguard the ones who aren't able to tell their story. Forensic examination of human remains is crucial to establish the person's identity, and cause, and manner of death. This way they can have a proper burial, families can get answers, death certificates can be issued and justice can be served.
"A lot of people used to tell me, 'I'd have loved to have done forensics, but I can't deal with the decomposition and maggots'," she says, smiling. "I actually have no problem doing them, and one of the reasons is because I feel like I'm the last person that's going to be providing some kind of care, bridging their death and their life. I'm the last person."
MEET THE DOCTOR
It's definitely not easy finding the Forensic Medical Department at Hospital Sungai Buloh. "Oh, you'd have to drive your car out and head to the other entrance after passing the traffic lights," a kindly hospital attendant told me. The blazing sun overhead isn't helping my mood either. I'm late and lost. It's only 11.30am but it's already beginning to feel like a long day.
I finally find the correct block where the department is located. The faded sign at the gatepost tells me I'm in the right place. But again, I have to ask around for directions. Take that flight of stairs, I'm told by yet another helpful gentleman. He's pointing to the winding metal stairs at the corner. "Go down that stairs and you'll find it."
Rusty metal stairs lead to a deserted area with no one in sight. How fitting, I think dryly. It's a little well… "dead" around here. There's a small sign that reads "Forensics". Tucked right beneath the Emergency ward where the focus is on keeping people alive, the shroud of silence that envelops this remote location can be a little unsettling.
It's true that forensic pathology isn't your average medical specialty. Yet, my fascination with the macabre has led me to binge watch on crime scene investigation shows like Bones and Crime Scene Investigation (CSI) that lent an air of glamour to forensic science with their exciting storylines.
The origins of forensic pathology, however, dates way back to 44 BCE when Roman physician Antistius performed what's probably the first forensic autopsy on Julius Caesar. The Roman general and statesman was stabbed 23 times which led to his death but Antistius' autopsy revealed that only one of the 23 stab wounds was fatal. The physician reported his findings in the Roman forum, from where the word "forensic" was coined.
Determining the cause of death is essential for closure for the families of victims and the dignity of the deceased, but also for the safety and health of the public by assisting the criminal justice system and revealing causes of premature death.
A message pings on my phone. "I'm going to be a little late," Rohayu writes. "Would you mind waiting for a while?" Her assistant appears at the deserted reception station and promptly ushers me inside her cheerful little room.
If I'm looking for some air of mystery, there's none to be found here in her office. Framed photos hang on one side of the wall. Her coats and handbags hang from a coat-rack rack behind her desk. On the other wall, the notes pinned on the little notice board on the side of one wall is a dead giveaway to what she does for a living. 'Collecting insects for forensic investigation' reads one such note that teaches you how to collect maggots, beetles and fly pupa from a decomposing body. Not exactly regular reading material for the uninitiated.
The paperback novel on her desk catches my eye. A James Patterson novel? Ah, the doctor likes a good mystery fiction when she's not solving mysteries in real life.
"I'm so sorry I'm late!" her cheerful voice breaks through my thoughts. The smiling tall woman in tudung in a striking red blouse and floral skirt walks into the room hurriedly. Looking more like a school teacher than one who deals more with the dead than the living, Rohayu grins when I point out the James Patterson novel on her table.
"I can't resist a good mystery," she admits blithely, adding: "…maybe that's why I love this field of forensic pathology so much!"
Continuing, she shares: "Every day is a challenge because you never know what you're going to get. We get to see the most extreme, most fascinating cases — ones that no other doctor sees or has managed to figure out."
I watch a lot of forensic crime dramas, I confess sheepishly, and she chuckles before replying: "It's a lot different from what's being portrayed in Hollywood. When you see an autopsy on the television, it's usually in an isolated, dark room, usually quiet. When we do our procedures it's actually not quiet at all. There's a lot going on!"
Continuing, she says: "Usually, the lonely, dim room is for dramatic effect. The focus is on this one body and this one cause of death, and they can just look at the body and tell something immediately. That's not usually the case when we're actually doing an autopsy."
But the cases are no less fascinating than the ones shown on television and the movies. Some are even more so, as related by Rohayu in A Dead Body Never Lies. They're shocking, fascinating and sometimes heart-breaking.
From the little 3-year-old girl found dead at the beach by her distraught father, a dead housewife suspected of being a victim of witchcraft, to a young man who died in a sexual misadventure that turned tragic, as well as a pregnant woman who dropped dead because of a stroke.
By the start of this century, death had become a subject generally to be avoided, glossed over, obfuscated and (if at all possible) simply ignored, at least until one was faced with it personally. But in Rohayu's case, confronting the spectre of death has become all in a day's work.
"A common question asked is: 'Why does it matter? The person is dead.' While it's true that the dead cannot benefit, the value in death investigation is to benefit the living and future generations. In a culture that values life, explaining the death is crucial for many reasons. And this interest goes beyond simple curiosity," explains Rohayu, adding: "We become advocates for the dead and to seek justice for them."
HUMBLE BEGINNINGS
She didn't always want to be a forensic pathologist. "It's not something you dream up when you're young anyway!" she quips with another hearty laugh. The Perak-born attributes her parents as being inspirations that led her to this profession. Her father was a storekeeper while and her mum worked as a security guard in the same establishment. "We weren't rich and life was quite hard," she shares.
Her father believed in the power of education. She recalls how he used to take her on trips to the British Council and museums, encouraging her to read English books and improve her grasp of the language.
"My father may have only been a storekeeper but he loved English literature. He was the first one to teach me English," reveals Rohayu with pride, adding with a tinge of regret: "He wanted me to be lawyer actually!"
Her decision to pursue medicine was due to the untimely death of her father when she was just 20. "I remember my mother lamenting if only we had a doctor in the family. At least we'd have learnt about his sickness earlier. Maybe that would have saved his life," she remarks, eyes glistening.
Her father's death was a blow. "I was very close to him. Perhaps it was because I was his only daughter," says Rohayu, who has two brothers. She eventually received a scholarship to pursue medicine at the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland. "I still remember how I used to burn the midnight oil studying hard for my exams. Failure wasn't an option. Come hell or high water, I didn't want to be sent home without a degree in hand!" she tells me, shaking her head.
After graduating, she returned to Malaysia to do her one-year internship at Hospital Tuanku Jaafar in Seremban and went on to work as a medical officer in Hospital Tuanku Ampuan Rahimah in Klang.
"I first discovered my love for forensic pathology thanks to the pathologist in Klang who opened my eyes to this fascinating field," she recalls. They had a case where a man attempted suicide by hanging himself. Rohayu was the attending surgeon who helped put him on ventilator.
He eventually succumbed to his injuries and it soon became a medicolegal case. The young medical officer called the pathologist and presented the man's case to the latter.
"Was he fully suspended from the ceiling?" she asked Rohayu, along with a barrage of other detailed questions that surprised the latter. "I mean, who asks those questions?" she muses. "I realised that she was trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together and that fascinated me."
Rohayu soon approached the head of the forensic department to indicate her interest in joining the team. "You tell me what kind of cells you have from your mouth right through your anus," he tested her. "I didn't know the answer then of course!" she says gaily. "…but I was even more piqued by the way they thought!"
I can't help myself. "So, what was the answer to that question?" I ask her, fascinated. From the mouth to the anus? That sounds so wrong. "Well, we have many types of cells. In your body you have trillions of cells!" she replies, breaking into laughter.
Her persistence won out in the end. She eventually enrolled in Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia's four-year Master of Pathology programme. Upon graduating, she went on to do her six-month specialist gazettement in Hospital Kuala Lumpur.
In 2010, she was transferred to Johor and served as a forensic pathologist there. In 2020, Rohayu moved back to Kuala Lumpur, heading the Forensic Medical Department at Hospital Sungai Buloh. There was no looking back since.
SPEAKING FOR THE DEAD
As a forensic pathologist, her time is split between mortuaries, hospitals, the courts, and, sometimes, crime scenes, which requires regular travel. A key aspect of her role is performing autopsies on the bodies of people who've died in suspicious circumstances — such as suicides, suspected homicides or deaths in custody.
Because of this, forensic pathologists, like Rohayu, usually carry out examinations under the authority of a coroner and their findings can play a fundamental role in bringing perpetrators to justice. And they're responsible for attending a variety of courts to explain details of cases they're working on to juries as well as relatives.
"The trait of solving a mystery is what lured me into the field," she reiterates, adding: "You know the saying makin lama makin cinta? (the longer it is, the more I fall in love). That's the way I feel about my profession."
Medical examiners like Rohayu are the conduit between the dead and the living, providing answers, consoling grieving relatives and — if needed — informing police detectives. They fill a crucial but often overlooked role in a city where hundreds of autopsies a year are performed for deaths that are deemed sudden or suspicious or are a result of crimes, accidents or suicides.
"It's fascinating how the body can give up so many of its secrets," she says softly, adding: "The dead don't hide the truth and they never lie." When death is sudden or unexplained, it falls to Rohayu and her band of pathologists and medical officers to establish the cause. Each post-mortem or autopsy is a detective story in its own right and she has performed hundreds — if not thousands — of them.
From a deadly disease to a tragic accident, a horrific crime to a drug overdose, Rohayu takes on some of the most perplexing, intriguing and even bizarre cases in her gritty memoir, leaving nothing for granted in the pursuit of truth.
In or out of the public eye, her evidence has put killers behind bars, freed the innocent and turned open-and-shut cases on their heads. "After every case, I walk out of my office with a huge sense of pride and accomplishment," she writes in the epilogue of her book. "Tedious as it may be, this job has given me the opportunity to help and advocate."
A Dead Body Never Lies is an unputdownable record of an extraordinary life, a unique insight into a remarkable profession, and above all, a powerful and reassuring testament to lives cut short.
Our lengthy conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door. Another pathologist stands at the door with a new case that needs her urgent attention. In his hand is a life-size baby doll. A mum had apparently accidentally rolled over her newborn baby, suffocating the child to death.
It's up to Rohayu and her team to fit the pieces of jigsaw together and give closure to both the police and the grieving family. It's also time for the amiable head of the department to attend yet another meeting after despatching her team to the scene where the tragedy had taken place.
Bidding goodbye, I follow the guy with the doll in hand out of the department. "I'll be going with the police," he tells me as an aside. The squad car is waiting for him at the parking bay.
The sky has turned grey and it's threatening to rain. As I drive out of that hospital block, I can't help but recall one of the cases in Rohayu's book — a housewife who died of a mysterious illness. "Tell me what happened to you, dear. Tell me everything and don't hide anything. Just tell me the truth," whispered Rohayu as she gently unzipped the body bag.
And just like any other case before and after her, the dead woman slowly began to unravel her secrets.
A DEAD BODY NEVER LIES
Authors: Dr Rohayu Shahar Adnan and Fatin Amin
Publisher: Penguin Random House SEA Pte Ltd
258 pages
Sold in MPH bookstores nationwide.