Gaston-Edmond Bayle was born in Paris in 1879 and succeeded Alphonse Bertillon as head of the Service de l’Identite Judiciaire (Judicial Identification Service) in the Paris Ministry of Justice in 1921. Bayle was a scientists’ scientist. Bayle studied chemistry and worked at the Pasteur Institute in Paris and later at the French railway service before finally taking the position of a forensic chemist in January 1915. Eschewing psychology, Bayle studied materials that became evidence, from the large to the microscopic. “From my point of view there is no crime that cannot be detected that does not leave its traces behind, at least theoretically.”
Bayle fully believed that science1 could exist within a police department. His laboratory was devoted to “chemistry, physics…biology, microbiology, and histology.” Through Bayle’s efforts and education, the Paris Identification Service became more than Bertillon’s measurements; he hired chemists, photographers, and other specialists and filled the laboratory with then cutting-edge equipment and methods. Bayle worked to reveal German secret inks, making major advances in ink chemistry. He developed a secret ink for French intelligence services that has yet to be replicated or made public. He was made a knight of the Legion of Honor on January 1, 1926.
It is the duty of the police judiciaire to put before the expert the smallest item found after a crime—a bloodstain, a thread of cloth, the identification of who dye may lead to some result; a grain of gunpowder which may point to some particular kind of weapon; stains of shot the analysis of which can indicate both the nature of the powder and the bullet. Again the forger may be betrayed by the practically invisible traces left on a paper—sometimes only an infinitely small quantity of matter left by the written line, which however permits an analysis of the ink and a comparison with other parts of the document.
Although he did not attend crime scenes, Bayle knew the value of a properly processed scene. He also knew that things become evidence through their criminal involvement, and that one has to understand how things are to understand their transformation into forensic evidence:
He has to examine the windows, whether shut, open, or broken, their fastenings, their dimensions, their accessibility. Then the furniture must be inspected. The condition of the bed must be noted—whether made or not…Wardrobes, chests-of-drawers, sideboards, cupboards, etc., with locks must be searched to see if they have been broken open…
His awareness of the material nature of goods and their production is highlighted in one of his recorded testimonies:
“I do not hesitate to say that the handkerchief tied around the murdered man’s head is identical with the other five found in [the defendant’s] home. As you see, this material consists of two red threads followed by four white ones, but between the forty-seventh and what should have been the fifty-first red threads there are only three white ones. The same defect occurs in all six handkerchiefs. I must explain to you that this material is woven in pieces 100 yards long, which makes 180 handkerchiefs…this error in the weaving will also be found in the other 174…But there is another damning coincidence. These are cheap goods with raw edges, sold in lots of six. The purchaser herself hems them, and I have discovered by microscopic examination and measurements that the one-tied around [the victim’s head] and the other five found at [the defendant’s home] were hemmed on the same sewing machine and with the same make and weight of thread. Sewing machines space differently and tie differently. There are many makes, but the thread used on these six handkerchiefs was absolutely identical. I even studied the fibers to make sure of that.”
Some terminological issues aside, that’s insightful forensic materials analysis! My questions would be about those fibers (almost certainly cotton) and the dye analysis (which Bayle did regularly), as well as looking into the sewing machines— makes, models, variances within those…inquiring minds want to know. Understanding how things are made, where they come from, and how that influences, enhances, and limits what can be said about evidence has been discussed in this Substack before, like here and here.
Bayle is also known for revealing the Glozel forgeries, a collection of artifacts found near the French Hamlet of Glozel. The artifacts were touted as being from an advanced prehistoric culture; the story is fraught with assumptions, bad experts, and several reports, worthy of a movie or short series. Bayle analyzed some of the artifacts (carved tablets) and determined that they were recent forgeries.
Tragically, Bayle was shot coming to work while walking up the stairs of the Ministry of Justice on September 16, 1929. His murderer, Jean Emile Philipponet, was the defendant in a forgery case Bayle had testified in for the prosecution. “Another expert had previously ruled in my favor,” said Philipponent upon his arrest. “His was an out and out act of bad faith toward me that was well worth the death of a father of five children.”
Bayle’s reputation as a scientist and a seeker of truth still stands:
I can only say that the end the laboratory tries to attain is to isolate and examine in each case every object that seems to be connected with it-and as we have seen, the value of any such object is not to be determined by its weight or size. Much would remain undiscovered if the laboratory were not called upon-and much must still remain undiscovered when its work is done. But, in my opinion, the laboratory is carrying on fine work which brings its own reward.
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Thanks to Jeff Teitelbaum, Forensic Librarian at Florida International University’s Global Forensic and Justice Center for the inspiration for this post.
No *. I’m sure Bayle was conducting actual science.