NEW YORK — The call came in to the New York police Monday: A woman who had lived in Queens in the 1970s had something she needed to get off her chest. As a child, she had witnessed a body being buried in her backyard. It had been decades, but she was sure she knew exactly where it was.
Twenty-four hours later, forensic anthropologists unearthed decaying human bones from the very spot the woman described, behind the Richmond Hill townhouse where she had grown up. For more than 40 years, the remains had rested there undisturbed, buried in a makeshift grave.
The sensational — if grim — discovery is one of the rare moments when the reality of police work all but trumps fictionalized TV true crime tales. The excavation has captivated conspiracy theorists and sent the department into a scramble to try to crack the case, which is being treated as a homicide.
“We’d really like to put a collar on it,” said Patrick Conry, the director of the Police Department’s public information unit.
But as with any good mystery, there are myriad unanswered questions. Who was the victim? When did that person die? And, most important, how did that body wind up in pieces in a backyard, all but forgotten since the 1970s?
John Guido has lived for more than 40 years behind the two-story home at 87-72 115th St. where the remains were found. He said the home had been a rental property that for decades had housed an endless stream of tenants. In the 1970s, he said, it attracted “really bad guys.”
“They broke into my house,” he said. He stopped the burglaries by installing a 6-foot chain-link fence.
Guido, 69, said he watched as officers combed the weedy, debris-strewn backyard with a police dog Tuesday. The German shepherd bounded through the lot, barked and began digging. Thirteen officers — one in a white evidence suit — swarmed and began digging with shovels.
They were working near the middle of the yard when Guido heard one say “hey” and stop digging. “They found something,” Guido said.
The remains, which still held a significant amount of body tissue, were taken to the city’s medical examiner. But given their condition, it is expected to take extensive examination to determine the person’s age at the time of death, sex and cause of death, an official said.
The home was a blight on the otherwise tight-knit, safe block through the 1980s, said Bill Corsa, who has lived there since 1980.
“I wasn’t happy about it,” he said. “I can’t imagine how somebody buried a body and nobody noticed.”
The home’s backyard was a patchwork of dirt and holes Wednesday as the police continued to investigate for a second day. Some holes appeared to be several feet deep. The house was cordoned off with police tape and bore a “No Trespassing” sign. It is blocks from where Detective Brian Simonsen was killed last month.
In the real-crime lexicon, cold cases are their own storied class. Tales of decaying bodies and belated justice can captivate crime junkies.
But the day-to-day reality of cold cases for the detectives who work to solve them can be tedious. Leads are usually stale, evidence is difficult to find and suspects are often lost to history.
To get a fruitful tip like the one officers received Monday — from a witness who was a child 40 years ago — is rare.
“Through the passage of time allegiances change, alliances change, brotherhoods change,” said Kenneth Mains, a former Pennsylvania detective who now works as a consultant to help solve cold-case crimes. “People also underestimate the impact witnessing a murder has on the human conscience.”
Advancements in forensic anthropology have made difficult cases easier to piece together. Modern DNA technology and software can make facial reconstructions simple, and the popularity of genealogy websites has made it easier to find relatives of victims.
“The fuller the body, the better they’re going to be able to determine age and sex and potential ethnicity,” said Dr. Robert Kunkle, a forensic psychologist who is a consultant for cold-case investigations.
As 115th Street in Queens was turned into a real-life version of a “C.S.I.” set, neighbors said they found the entire experience unsettling.
“You don’t imagine it here,” said a 22-year-old neighbor, Jacob Avilia. “It’s like you see in the movies.”
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.