Going Behind the Scenes With ‘Forensic Science on Trial’

Let's start with the hardest question: what is Forensic Science on Trial about? What will people learn when they visit? 

Let’s start with what it is not. This exhibition doesn’t have a traditional “true crime” narrative. It certainly has material that will interest fans of that genre. There are objects from at least three trials of the century, as well as materials representing at least 12 forensic techniques, but what we're really trying to do is highlight the ways that a broad range of people have and can influence forensic science.

True crime usually focuses on the victims and perpetrators of crime. This exhibition encourages visitors to consider other people invested in the justice system, like the ones who create, present, and judge evidence. The hope is that the exhibition will help us think critically about how the data that underpins forensic science is made of, by, and for people. That line of thinking gets us talking about how personal belief impacts science, what traces of people matter and can be used for identification, and how the presentation of state-of-the-art data is shaped by the past.

Why this topic, and why now? Where did the idea for the exhibition come from?

Faulty forensic science, exonerations, and new techniques like forensic genetic genealogy are regularly making headlines. There is a high level of angst and excitement about both capabilities and deficiencies of various forensic science techniques. People like to think about what forensic science can—and should—look like in the future. To engage with these ideas, I would argue that we should not only look forward, but we should also look back.

Were there already objects in the museum's collections that intersected with the history of forensic science, or did you have to look outside the institution's walls?

Yes to both. The museum has some objects related to forensic science in its medicine and science collections. One of those objects is a board displaying poisoning evidence from the 1872 trial of Lydia Sherman. During that trial, Yale professor George Frederick Barker used up to seven different chemical analyses per sample to demonstrate the arsenic present in the bodies of four of the eleven victims Sherman was suspected of poisoning.

That being said, the museum (and the larger Smithsonian) did not have all the materials that we needed, so I started looking at other institutions who could help. One thing I quickly learned was that a lot of the material culture of forensic science does not have a long life. It was not uncommon to destroy the evidence and related materials from criminal trials after they were concluded.

But there were always exceptions, and I'm grateful for the individuals, organizations, and institutions that agreed to donate or loan the objects they've preserved so that they can be part of the exhibition. Their objects open up important topics we couldn't explore otherwise.

To give just one example, the Massachusetts State Police loaned a pistol and a bullet from the trial of Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti. The bullet and pistol have been examined extensively by various experts over the years in an effort to answer the question: Did this gun, which belonged to Sacco, fire this bullet? This question was central to the trial and the accusation that Sacco was part of the group that murdered two people in an infamous robbery in South Braintree, Massachusetts, in 1920. We show images made by different examiners, separated by 60 years, who used different techniques. To me, the repetitive analyses of these objects illustrate a belief that modern scientific techniques can allow us to definitively answer historic questions. I find that fascinating.

Was there a particular bit of research, or a discovery, or a conversation that dramatically changed the shape or style of the exhibition?

Databases sound boring, but they've got to be the most powerful thing I've heard forensic scientists discuss.

The Vitullo sexual assault examination kit that is displayed in the exhibition is a good example. When this kit started being more widely used in the 1980s, DNA wasn't even something that was tested with the evidence gathered. The composition of kits like this hasn’t changed much with time, but we now have DNA testing. No matter the type of test, the point was always to match evidence found on a victim with a suspect. The advent of databases, like the National DNA Index System (NDIS) and its associated software known as CODIS, means investigators were not just comparing one against one, they were comparing against hundreds of thousands, if not many more. And that's a pretty phenomenal change.

The big revelation for me was how much buy-in is needed for these systems to work. It can be top-down like the passage of the DNA Identification Act, which led to NDIS. Or it can be bottom-up like the sexual assault examination kit we display. If not for the effort of Martha Goddard to train staff at Chicago hospitals, the kit would not have been as widely used. I think it's powerful to recognize that it's not just lawmakers or, you know, people in the Department of Justice who decide what evidence counts. It's also the person that's going into a hospital doing the training and asking what police need.

Object pairings are an important part of the show. Can you talk a little about why that is?

The whole point with forensic science is looking for connections, right? Knowing that, I think it's valuable to encourage people visiting the museum to do the same intellectual work, exploring connections between objects, ideas, and stories.

There are too many pairings and connections in the show for me to describe here, but I can give an example. One section of the exhibition places a Micro-dynameter alongside a Deceptograph.

Both objects come from the museum's collection. The Micro-dynameter, which dates to the 1930s, used electrical conductivity of the skin to test for disease and other ailments. Eventually, the FDA determined these claims were misleading and seized the device, deeming it a threat to public health.The Deceptograph comes from a later period, the 1950s. It used electrical conductivity of the skin to test for deception, and the U.S. military used the instrument in criminal investigations. Polygraphs (a.k.a. lie detectors) like the Deceptograph are still used today. These two objects are very different, in terms of their function, but they use the same technique to probe a person—galvanic skin response. Pairing these objects raises the question Why do we regulate one device but not another?

What's something you learned while creating the exhibition that will inform your work going forward?

One thing that this exhibition showed me was the crucial importance of interviewing stakeholders. Compared to other topics, forensic science has not been given its due course in the historical literature; there was no way that I could have sat down with a pile of books and made an exhibit. I needed to go out and talk to people, as well as dig into the archives. So, I spoke with a range of people whose work intersected with forensic science—scientists, lawyers, police officers, victim advocates, and more. Those interviews did more than inform the exhibition; they broadened my whole life.

For example, I was talking to a person who regularly served as an expert witness, who provided testimony and analyses that were later shown to be wrong. But they said something interesting to me in the interview: “We used the science we had at the time.” And it just really struck me. Certainly, some of this person’s work is now castigated. I knew that going into the interview. But it was interesting to see that in this case, these mistakes did not come with malicious intent. That quote would stick with me during the exhibition and beyond.

To better understand controversy, I needed to think less about the individuals and more about their context. You can be a well-intentioned person using faulty tools and knowledge and do real harm. The thing to dig into was not the person making the mistakes but rather how we, as a collective, made the tools, knowledge, and systems they used. Everyone is on the hook then.

What do you hope visitors will take away from the exhibition?

My hope is that visitors will leave the show with a greater awareness of the human hand of science. It's important to me that people don't look at a topic like forensic science and say: “That's not me; I'm not wearing a lab coat.” I think the exhibition illustrates how we are all bound up in the systems that make up forensic science, and beyond it the justice system. I hope the exhibition helps people see that they can have an impact out in the world—as jurors, media consumers, and more.

Forensic Science on Trial is currently on view in the museum's Albert H. Small Documents Gallery, located in the east wing of the museum's second floor. The exhibition is generously made possible by Andrew and Anya Shiva. It is scheduled to close to the public on Sunday, July 6, 2025.

Kristen-Frederick Frost is a curator in the Division of Medicine and Science. Jordan Grant is a digital experience specialist in the Office of Digital Access and Archives.

This post was originally published on the National Museum of American History's blog on January 23, 2025. Read the original version here.