The Science of Skeletons: What Bones Can (and Can’t) Tell Us

The Science of Skeletons: What Bones Can (and Can’t) Tell Us

By Jennifer Graeser Dornbush


In the spirit of all things spooky, creepy and Halloweenie, let’s talk skeletons and what they tell our hero investigators about their murder victims.

Growing up in a coroner’s world, I learned that skeletal remains hold a kind of truth that outlasts everything else—identity, memory, even flesh. Bones remember. They record. They carry the quiet history of a life lived, right up to the moment it ended.

Bones don’t lie.

Let’s look at what bones can reveal with scientific accuracy… and where we writers can push beyond the boundaries while keeping our stories authentic and entertaining.

What Bones Can Tell Us

1. Age (Within a Reasonable Range)

Anthropologists can often estimate a person’s age at death by examining:

  • epiphyseal fusion (how long bones join at their growth plates)
  • cranial suture closure
  • dental wear and eruption patterns
  • bone density changes

Children and teens can be aged fairly precisely because their bones change rapidly on predictable timelines. Adults are trickier—the range becomes broader as we age, often spanning 5–10 years or more. Elderly adults are often placed into very broad brackets (“60+”) because degenerative changes vary widely depending on lifestyle, health, and nutrition.

One detail writers often miss: age estimates become less reliable when the skeleton is incomplete. A single long bone might give a ballpark range, but a full skeleton allows a multi-point evaluation and more confidence.

📌 Writers: Avoid giving an exact age like “34.” Anthropologists don’t speak that precisely unless the case includes supporting evidence.

2. Biological Sex (When Enough Bone Is Present)

The pelvis is the gold standard. Its shape, subpubic angle, and sciatic notch hold clear clues. The skull also offers markers—brow ridges, mastoid processes, jaw angle—but these are secondary indicators and less reliable on their own.

Accuracy increases when multiple indicators align, and confidence decreases sharply with incomplete or fragmentary remains. Hormone therapy, childhood malnutrition, and congenital differences can all blur the expected patterns, meaning even textbook traits aren’t always foolproof.

📌 Writers: If the pelvis is missing, anthropologists often phrase findings with caution: “biologically consistent with male,” not “definitely male.”

3. Ancestry (But Never With Certainty)

Contrary to what some crime series suggest, forensic anthropologists cannot state a person’s “race.” Instead, they may identify skeletal traits that statistically correlate with certain ancestral backgrounds—facial bone structure, nasal aperture shape, dental features like shovel-shaped incisors, or cranial index trends.

These are probabilities, not identities. Many people do not present textbook traits, especially in a multicultural society where ancestry is complex and blended.

📌 Writers: Emphasize probability, not absolute identity. Anthropologists work in “likelihoods,” not certainties.

4. Stature (Height Range)

Using formulas based on long bones—usually the femur, tibia, or humerus—scientists can estimate height with an accuracy range of a few inches. These formulas vary slightly by ancestry and biological sex, which adds even more nuance to the reconstruction.

📌 Writers: Don’t give a precise height like “5’10.” Use ranges: “between 5’8 and 5’11.”

5. Evidence of Trauma

This is one area where bones shine. Anthropologists can distinguish between:

Perimortem Trauma

Injury around the time of death—fractures with smooth, sharp edges and bending consistent with fresh bone.

Antemortem Trauma

Older injuries—healed fractures, remodeled bone, surgical implants.

Postmortem Damage

Breaks occurring after death—more jagged, brittle, and without biological response.

Anthropologists can also identify trauma patterns that reflect interpersonal violence—defensive wounds, repeated strikes, blunt vs. sharp-force trauma, and sometimes even directionality of force.

📌 Writers: Fresh breaks and old breaks look completely different under microscope and to the trained eye.

6. Lifestyle Clues

Long-term habits leave marks—literally.

Anthropologists can identify:

  • repetitive stress injuries
  • arthritis patterns
  • certain occupations (e.g., heavy lifting)
  • dental wear from specific diets
  • nutritional deficiencies (porotic hyperostosis, enamel hypoplasia)
  • healed fractures consistent with childhood accidents, sports, or violence

A life lived physically demanding work—like farming, manual labor, or elite athletics—often leaves distinctive signatures on the skeleton. Even habits like pipe smoking or chronic childhood illness can show up in subtle but telling patterns.

These clues paint a picture not just of how someone died, but how they lived—their health, labor, struggles, and resilience.

What Bones Cannot Tell Us

This is where fiction loves to stretch for the sake of entertainment. Be careful treading on this territory.

1. Personality or Emotions

Bones cannot tell you:

  • the victim was athletic (unless supported by robust muscle attachments)
  • the victim was cheerful
  • the victim was “a fighter”
  • the victim struggled with depression

Skeletal remains record biology, not biography. They hold structural truth, not emotional truth. A healed fracture may show resilience and health indicators, but it cannot reveal whether a person was kind, cruel, introverted, or lonely. These details belong to the psychological and social worlds—journals, digital footprints, witness interviews, personal effects—not the bones themselves.

📌 Writers: Keep internal traits internal. Bones don’t reveal emotional states.

2. Some Causes of Death

Unless the trauma affects bone—gunshot wound to skull, sharp-force trauma to ribs, strangulation fracturing the hyoid—many causes of death leave no skeletal trace at all.

  • Poisoning
  • Smothering
  • Drowning
  • Cardiac arrest
  • Hypothermia

Bones are silent on these. Even in cases with perimortem trauma, anthropologists still rely heavily on contextual evidence from the medical examiner, investigators, and crime scene analysis.

📌 Writers: Anthropologists often use the phrase “cause of death undetermined” without shame or drama—it’s a scientific reality.

3. Exact Time Since Death

Skeletal remains are notoriously difficult to date. Environmental factors—soil chemistry, temperature, humidity, insect activity, scavenging—can accelerate or slow decomposition unpredictably.

Anthropologists can give broad windows (“several months to a few years”), but bones cannot pinpoint the hour, day, or even reliably the season. Even “fresh” vs. “older” remains can blur when the environment is extreme.

📌 Writers: Avoid pinpoint decomposition timelines from skeletons alone.

4. Detailed Eyewitness Descriptions

Bones cannot reveal:

  • hair color
  • eye color
  • scars on skin
  • tattoos
  • freckles
  • gait (except in severe deformity cases)

Despite what television suggests, forensic anthropologists cannot conjure a photographic likeness from a skull. At best, they create approximations, using tissue-depth markers and artistic interpretation based on averages—not specific individual traits.

📌 Writers: Facial reconstructions are artistic approximations, not forensic certainties.

Where Fiction Cam Overreach

Let’s talk about those moments that make forensic anthropologists groan:

❌ “The bones show she was murdered right here at 8 p.m.”

Not possible.

❌ “We know she was a runner because her femurs are strong.”

Strong bones ≠ running.
Muscle attachments reveal repetitive stress—but not specific sports.

❌ “We matched the skeleton to a missing person by cheekbone shape alone.”

Impossible without DNA, dental records, or unique surgical implants.

❌ “The bones say the victim was happy.”

Bones do not record mood.

❌ “This fracture proves the killer was left-handed.”

Force direction is complex and rarely that conclusive.

How Writers Can Use Skeleton Science

The secret to realistic forensic fiction is simple:

Follow the limits — and let the uncertainty create tension.

Some of the most gripping scenes come from what the remains cannot tell investigators.

Writers often think more certainty equals more drama. But the opposite is true.
In real crime labs, ambiguity drives conflict, teamwork, and urgency. It leaves space for your detectives, MEs, and anthropologists to disagree—and disagreement drives story.

Here are ways to use skeletal limits to your advantage:

✔️ Use broad ranges (age, height, ancestry) to keep the investigation open.

✔️ Let characters debate the meaning of trauma patterns.

✔️ Allow missing pieces of bone to stall the case.

✔️ Introduce scientific caution as a personality trait for your forensic experts.

✔️ Let DNA or dental records be the turning point—not the bones alone.

These choices ground your story in truth while deepening the suspense.

The Humanity in the Bones

When I look at skeletal remains—even fictional ones—I see more than evidence.
I see the outline of a life.

Bones record:

  • injuries survived
  • hardships endured
  • nourishment given or withheld
  • age, growth, and decline

They hold our histories quietly, without embellishment or judgment.

And that, to me, is where the deepest storytelling power lies.

As writers, we’re not just reconstructing death; we’re reconstructing humanity.

Bones tell a story.
Not the whole story.
Not every detail.
But enough to begin.

As a storyteller, investigator, or crime-fiction lover— we can find a balance that honors the truth, lets the science shine and entertains.

Happy Spooky Season! Stay curious!

Jennifer

Jennifer Dornbush is an author, screenwriter, and forensic specialist who brings crime stories to life with authenticity and heart. WALKING ON WHITE, the latest novel in The Coroner’s Daughter mystery series drops October 20. With a background rooted in real-world forensics and a passion for crafting unforgettable mysteries, Jennifer offers readers and viewers a front-row seat to the intersection of science, justice, and human nature. Jennifer’s crime expertise has made her a sought-after speaker, consultant, and educator. Through her webinars and master course, WRITING THE KILLER CRIME SERIES, Jennifer guides writers in melding suspenseful storytelling with forensic realism to the screen and page.

Join her community at http://www.jenniferdornbush.com/

Crime Writing — Do You Like Yours Hardboiled or Noir?

“Your crime writing is dark. Very dark. Do you consider it noir? Hardboiled? How do you slot your sub-genre?”

A podcaster recently put this to me. I was stumped. I knew my stuff was tragic and gore, but I had no strong concept of what noir and hardboiled really were—although I’d heard the terms many times. I thought they were just for the marketing department, but I made it my mission to find out.

What’s old is new again, hardboiled and noir. That certainly seems the case in resurrecting old crime story classics. Look at the resurgence of Agatha Christie. Netflix writers now idolize Elmore Leonard as the dialogue man. Say the names Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, or Mickey Spillane, and you’ll find an old-style legion of fans ready to tear this book house down.

Women aren’t excluded from the Hardboiled &Noir Club. No, ma’am. Besides Dame Agatha (I kneel before her), there are Dorothy Sayers, Dorothy B. Hughes, Patricia Highsmith, and (still going) Sara Paretsky. In their footsteps today, we have Megan Abbott, Val McDermid, and the intriguing hardboiled/noir writer Christa Faust.

So what’s the difference between noir and hardboiled, if there is any? From what I’ve just read, I’d say hardboiled is dark and noir is much darker. Noir is the French word for black. The term “noir” is somewhat more recognized in film, where hardboiled (hard-boiled) is common to print.

Either way, each term has its tropes and sub-genre idiosyncrasies. At its core, noir is dark and grim. Noir is urban gothic—hopeless. Hardboiled is gritty and unsentimental. Hardboiled is more like an action movie with a character-driven plot where the protagonist triumphs as best as they can.

Megan Abbot is one smart lady. She’s considered one of today’s masters in noir and hardboiled. I read a fascinating interview with Ms. Abbott where she defined “hardboiled” vs “noir” crime fiction. Here’s her quote:

Hardboiled is distinct from noir, though they’re often used interchangeably. The common argument is that hardboiled novels are an extension of the wild west and pioneer narratives of the 19th century. The wilderness becomes the city, and the hero is somewhat of a fallen character, a detective or a cop. At the end, everything is a mess, people have died, but the hero has done the right thing, or close to it, and order, to a certain extent, has been restored. ‘Law and Order’ is a good example of modern hardboiled.

Noir is different. In noir, everyone is fallen, and right and wrong are not clearly defined and maybe not even attainable. In that sense, noir speaks to us powerfully right now when certain structures of authority no longer make sense. We wonder, ‘Why should we abide by them?’ Noir thrived in the 40s after the Great Depression and during the war. It was popular during Vietnam and Watergate and is on the rebound again. ‘Breaking Bad’ is a good noir example.

It’s hard to sum-up noir and hardboiled better than this. Maybe another quote adds to clearing the smoke-filled alleys. The protagonist in noir must himself (herself) be part of the scummy world. The protagonist in hardboiled is a white knight in a world of scum.

Historically, hardboiled crime writing set itself on the perpetually-rainy, mean streets of American cities that were darkened by something more than night. Conventional tropes were the loner detective with a fedora and trench coat whose oak-desked, ceiling-fanned office operated in the low rent district. He looked out on the city of danger through Venetian blinds, chain-smoked, and was never far from a bottle of Scotch. The rebel gumshoe with a moral code spoke in nuanced dialogue saying “dames” for women, “gams” for legs, and “gat” for his gun.

Noir, on the other hand, sees little good in the world. Basically, everything and everyone is F’d. Noir crime writing examines psychological instability in people and their institutions. Being dangerously unstable is the key characteristic of noir protagonists. It might be a key characteristic of successful noir writers, too.

Examining noir and hardboiled isn’t complete without looking at these sub-genre’s origins. This isn’t a chicken-or-egg thing. It’s generally accepted that hardboiled came first and expanded into noir. Some may argue differently, and that’s what the comment section is for.

A hundred years ago, Brits were the kings and queens of crime fiction. Edgar Allen Poe paved the way for Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle to refine the cozy mystery genre. Here, scenes took place in confined trains and enclosed mansion libraries where the sleuth deducted the facts and announced the villain.

Americans, being the troublesome colonists they’ve always been, rebelled against criminally-correct plots and characters. America was shaped by an unregulated frontier that found its way to the roaring speakeasies of Chicago and the cold, cold heart of the Big Apple. Naturally, the North American public wanted a new brand of perpetrator and a hardboiled crime-fighter to match.

A Pinkerton detective shaped the hardboiled crime fiction world in the 1920s. Dashiell Hammett’s protagonist, Continental Operative, fought crime in the streets without sentimental emotion or official sanction. In 1923, Hammett teamed with a pulp magazine called Black Mask. This opened the door for hardboiled-cum-noir greats like Raymond Chandler with his Philip Marlowe character and Mickey Spillane with Mike Hammer.

Today, we have unique twenty-first-century hardboiled writers and characters. Michael Connelly has done well with Harry Bosch, to say the least. So has Lee Child with Jack Reacher.

And there’s a new girl on the block who writes about as dark and action-packed as you can get. Christa Faust has the chops to make her hardboiled noir, and she’s got the creds. Christa grew up riding subways and walking New York streets. She worked Times Square peep shows and practiced as a professional dominatrix. Now, Christa Faust is published by Hard Case Crime.

Yes, what’s old is new again. Hardboiled and noir are alive and well in crime writing city. That’s a good thing. And to answer the podcaster’s question, “How do you slot your sub-genre? Hardboiled or noir?” I have to say poached on the soft-runny side with a slice of dry, whole wheat toast. I’m an optimistic sort with a healthy infection of unorthodox attitude, and I’m not a psycho noir-person.

What about you Kill Zoners? Do you like your crime writing hardboiled or noir?

——

Garry Rodgers is a retired cop and coroner. Now, he’s an indie crime writer whose personal experiences with the light and dark side of life find their way into the pages of his books. Garry is about to release the seventh publication in his twelve-part, based-on-true-crime series. Watch for Beyond The Limits on ePlatforms this month.

Garry Rodgers lives on Vancouver Island at the Canadian west coast. He hosts a popular blog at DyingWords.net and occasionally checks his Twitter account @GarryRodgers1. Garry’s Amazon Author Page is open 24/7 as well.

Reader Question re Crime Scenes

Nancy J. Cohen

I will be on the road today en route to Bouchercon, so I won’t be able to respond. Here is a question for you to discuss amongst yourselves.

Do you prefer to read about clever crimes, ingenious crimes, heinous crimes, or funny crimes? Do you like these scenes to be offstage or on site?

dead woman

See examples of each below.

Clever crime: Stabbing victim with icicle that later melts, dissolving the murder weapon. Or using the victim’s own medications against him.

Ingenious crime: Getting a person who has a bee allergy in contact with an aggressive bee. Maybe multiple people get stung, disguising the true victim. This one takes more thought and planning than a mere clever crime.

Heinous crime: Abducting and murdering people then cutting up their body parts or dissolving them in acid.

Funny crime: Beating the victim with a frozen turkey and then cooking it up for the cops.

Which type do you prefer in the mysteries you read or write?