Healthy Indoors Magazine - USA Edition

26 | January 2019 ending. "You don't want family members to end that novel with a bad picture," he proclaims. "We come and make sure they still remember the last memory of giving them a hug at Christmas, not walking in and cleaning up blood." Cleanup simply refers to the removal of blood and oth- er bodily fluids, but sometimes that includes ripping apart floors and walls. Restoration of the home can range from replacing carpet to repairing gunshot holes before repaint- ing a wall. Many companies leave the restoration up to ex- ternal companies, but Vogel wanted to incorporate it into his business model. He believes restoration of the home not only rebuilds the house itself, but also revitalizes the victim's family. It can be something as simple as switching wallpaper or transitioning from carpet to tile, but a little change goes a long way. "After this husband's wife had committed suicide, I asked 'what color do you want the wall now?'" he recalls of the husband's desire to repaint the bedroom where his wife passed. "Although he was still upset, you could hear it in his voice that he was finally thinking about himself now, not just about what had happened." Aside from learning about the lives of others through interactions with the victim's family, crime-scene cleaners glean a lot of information about themselves from the work they do—what horrors they can and can't endure, how im- portant that check-in call to their mother really is, and the way they want to raise a family. Nayler learned how significant a smile to a stranger could really be. Morse realized no place is immune from violence, overdose, accidents, or crime, but still wants to raise his daughter with an appreciation and a zest for life. And Vogel promised himself to always come home to his wife and kids after a job, no matter how far he had to travel. This industry is about erasing deaths and rebuilding lives. Back on site, Vogel and his team have completely re- moved the beloved recliner from the New Jersey home. The blood-soaked flooring is gone, and countless boxes filled with hazardous waste are packed into the truck. The rest of the home remains untouched—the plastic laundry basket filled with a clean load still sits on the bed, several freshly ironed plaid shirts still hang above the desk, and a portrait of a woman, a man, and a baby wearing a red bow is still displayed on the armoire. This article first appeared in the February 28, 2018 edition of Vice's TONIC and is reprinted with permission by the author. https://tonic.vice.com/en_us/article/gy83dx/this-is-what- its-like-to-be-a-crime-scene-cleaner "I've dealt with Ebola and Anthrax," he explains. "I dab- ble in higher-end diseases that will kill you." That word 'dab- ble' is indicative of Vogel's disposition: He talks about the most macabre aspects of life with almost glib humor. Vogel believes the Ebola crisis in 2014 played a huge role in identifying the main competitors (and bad actors) in the industry. Many of the companies claiming expertise in biohazard clean-up refused take jobs involving the poten- tially fatal virus. This is why Vogel is drafting a bill for the state of New Jersey to make it easier for families to differ- entiate between certified professionals and money-hungry amateurs. He says the bill is being revised. While Vogel might say things that would make the aver- age person squirm, it's his self-proclaimed "happy go-lucky" nature that allows him to endure his work. "It is absolutely possible, and even likely, that most crime scene cleanup personnel can move on with their personal lives without too much impact," Bira confirms. "However, it would be inaccurate to say there would be no impact." Vogel admits that some scenes hit him harder than oth- ers, particularly the death of a child. "Seven years ago, I could do it," he explains. "Now with kids at home, I can't deal with it." One situation that many technicians dread is unattended death. It's not the pungent smell of rotting flesh, nor is it the excessive volume of blood that pours out of every orifice after a few weeks. It's the mere idea that someone could go unnoticed for that long, only until a tenant complains about a possible gas leak. That's one reason why Donna Nayler can't help but think of the world as a lonely place. Nayler, a crime-scene cleaner and hair stylist based in Queensland, Australia, wrote the autobiography Bloodstains and Ballgowns in 2016 about her experiences in both careers. "It's sad that the neighbors would rather light a scented candle in the hallway to mask the smell of death," she says, "rather than knock on the door." Morse recalls his first job in the industry: a shotgun sui- cide in a hoarding home filled to the brim with a variety of musical instruments, sex toys, and porn. "I was able to clean it up without a problem," he explains. "The only thing that bothered me was that it's sad people die alone. It's troubling [that] so many people are dead without anyone knowing." But one thing these crime scene cleaners can agree on is their duty to erase any trace of death from a scene. For many, home is a source of comfort; coming home to a house drenched in the blood of a loved one seems unimaginable. Vogel compares his work to finishing a novel with a bad

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