It takes five hours to disassemble the body.
The dead man—"H: 71 inches," as scrawled on the autopsy-room whiteboard—is laid out on a metal table, head propped up on a plastic block. The body is naked, marked only by a neon-yellow hospital bracelet and a paper toe tag. The flesh—now grey and exposed—is stretched tautly over bone. The feet are swollen, blackening; all the muscles are tensed, the face thrown back. It's a wan, triangular face, with few wrinkles for a middle-aged man. The chin is dotted with stubble.
The man had died eight hours earlier at a hospital in the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (UPMC) hospital system, where the pathologist Jeffrey Nine directs the autopsy service. Nine suspects the man died of a heart attack, but the family wants to be sure, so Nine, his chief pathology resident, and two students training as pathologists' assistants set to work performing an autopsy. (The man's family wasn't told that I would be present at his autopsy, but Nine made sure to shield me from any details that might identify the man.)