February 24, 2004
Israeli Pathologist Faces Grisly Task After Bombings
By GREG MYRE
JAFFA, Israel, Feb. 23 — After the suicide bombing on Sunday, the flesh and the bones were collected from the bus and the street, and delivered here to Israel's lone forensic center. As always, Dr. Jehuda Hiss, the director, carried out his grim duty of piecing together the broken bodies and tending to the raw emotions of the living.
The Palestinian who blew himself up on a Jerusalem bus had a relatively small explosive, yet it tore apart some bodies so completely that it was not clear how many people had been killed. The police announced seven dead, plus the bomber. But when Dr. Hiss and his team had developed genetic profiles on the remains, they discovered an eighth.
"This person must have been sitting next to the bomber," Dr. Hiss, Israel's chief pathologist for 16 years, said in his matter-of-fact tone. "We could not have identified him without DNA tests."
Israel has seen more than 100 suicide bombings in three years, accounting for roughly half of the more than 900 Israelis killed in the violence. The country has developed a vast response network in which Dr. Hiss plays a unique role. All the dead are brought here to the National Center of Forensic Medicine. He has missed only one bombing, while traveling in the United States, and has been intimately involved in dealing with the dismembered victims and the shattered families in every other attack.
After the dead are identified, Dr. Hiss's job is tougher still. He informs the relatives, who can be angry and irrational in their grief.
"With bombings, it is necessary to do this because someone leaves home at 8 a.m. and is killed a half-hour later," he said. "The families want to know if they suffered. They want to know exactly how they died. I'm always surprised that they ask so many detailed questions."
The families wait, sometimes through the night, at the center, which was not built for the crowds of 200 or more that descend after major attacks. The relatives once spilled out onto the grounds. Today, a center for families has been built next to the morgue, easing the crowding, if not the trauma.
The most awkward moment comes when families ask to see the victim. "I say it is better to remember them when they were living," Dr. Hiss said.
About a quarter of the families insist. "I explain it's only part of the body. Still, they will hug a foot if that is all there is," he said.
He used to reject such requests, but psychologists recommended otherwise. "The families want to touch the body one last time to prepare for the separation. If they don't see them, it is like a virtual death. They are right to ask for this," he said.
The attack on Sunday sent the staff into overdrive to identify the dead. Biblical imperative demands the work be both swift and thorough. Jewish law calls for the whole body to be buried, preferably on the day of death, yet it can take days or even weeks to identify all the smaller remains. In some cases, an uncomfortable compromise is struck. The larger body parts are buried quickly and the smaller pieces later when DNA tests have confirmed the identity.
Unlike forensic pathologists who labor in isolation, Dr. Hiss, 57, often seems at the center of the Middle East dramas.
Consider just one day, Jan. 29.
For Dr. Hiss, it began in an airport hangar in Cologne, Germany, where he was part of the Israeli delegation handling a prisoner swap with Hezbollah and the repatriation of the remains of three Israeli soldiers killed three years earlier.
The team set up three tents in the hangar, and working beneath the wings of the planes, had just two hours to make a positive identification using X-rays, fingerprints and dental records.
As this process began, a Palestinian suicide bomber struck in Jerusalem, killing 11 people.
In Germany, Dr. Hiss confirmed that the remains belonged to the Israeli soldiers, permitting the prisoner exchange to go forward. The Israeli plane returned home at 7 p.m., and within 30 minutes, he was back in his forensic institute, identifying bomb victims. Amid such turmoil, mistakes happen.
This tumultuous day included Israel's return of 60 dead Lebanese, most killed in fighting with Israel years ago. But in one case, Israel turned over the wrong body, and the family complained. The forensic center has located the body in question.
"We delivered the wrong body, and it's a major disaster," Dr. Hiss said.
After bombings, the dozens of wounded are delivered to local hospitals, and that is where families begin the search for loved ones. If they are not found among the wounded, the families face the prospect of traveling to the forensic institute here in Jaffa, just south of Tel Aviv.
Because Israel is so small, it has always made do with just one such institute, and everyone who dies unexpectedly is examined here.
Few Israelis refer to the institute by its formal name. Most call it Abu Kabir, a reference to the wealthy family that lived on the grounds until the Middle East war that erupted in 1948 at Israel's founding.
On the Palestinian side, where more than 2,600 have been killed in the past three years, the dead are delivered to morgues at local hospitals, and there is no central forensic institute.
"This is not traditional, straightforward, forensic medicine," Dr. Yoram Blachar, head of the Israel Medical Association, said of the Israeli center. "The suicide bombings are very emotional and upsetting. The families have extreme reactions and have to be treated in a most sensitive manner."
"The institute plays a major role after every terror attack," he said.
While the forensic center is praised for its work after bombings, Dr. Hiss has been involved in controversies related to other cases, including allegations that the institute removed organs from corpses without permission from the families. The issue is enormously sensitive because of Judaism's emphasis on burying the whole body.
Government inquiries have not resulted in any charges against Dr. Hiss. But in December the Israeli attorney general recommended disciplinary action. The issue is still under consideration, and no sanctions have been imposed so far.
Dr. Hiss was born in Poland just after World War II and arrived in Israel at age 10. His medical training has taken him to Italy, Austria, Britain and the United States.
His office walls are mostly bare, except for a slate of black wood featuring 24 types of bullets. The most prominent book on his desk is "Gunshot Wounds." Within arm's reach is a plastic container of ball bearings a bombmaker packed into an explosive to make it more lethal.
Faced with this relentless stream of death, Dr. Hiss says he copes without any special means.
"As soon as I leave the premises, I really don't think about it," he said. "I keep myself busy, and I never discuss my work with my family.
"I've been asked many times if I need psychological support, but I don't."
Copyright 2004 The New York Times Company