A Forced Investigation

I did a recent post about the FBI’s botched anthrax investigation.  This kind of thing often happens when an investigation is forced.  In other words, there’s so much public attention, the investigation must find the culprit.  It must be concluded.  It can’t fail.  The anthrax investigation cost taxpayers $15 million, ruined the career of one prematurely fingered scientist, resulted in the payment of millions of dollars to the innocent scientist, and has now resulted in the suicide of another scientist the FBI is sure committed the crimes.  Dr. Bruce Ivins, 62-year old U.S. Army microbiologist and anthrax expert, killed himself on July 29 after being informed he’d be accused of mailing the deadly anthrax letters in 2001.  (Click here, here, here, and here for more.)

The focus of my first post was lessons learned on how to handle (or not handle) an investigation, something human resources professionals must do regularly.  This post will continue that focus.

Let’s look at what the FBI says is conclusive evidence (in a circumstantial way) of Ivins’ guilt.  Ivins had access to the strain of anthrax used in the crimes and a flask in which the anthrax was contained.  Ivins spent an unusual amount of time in the lab late at night just before the attacks.  He submitted incomplete samples of anthrax to the FBI for analysis.  Ivins sent bizarre emails, one of which contained wording similar to that in the anthrax letters.  He had a decades-long obsession with a sorority near the mailbox where the tainted letters were mailed in Princeton, New Jersey.  He had a long history of mental instability, seeking psychological help and using medication.

Let’s look at the other side of the evidence the FBI developed.  A hundred other scientists had access to the deadly strain of anthrax and the flask.  Ivins said he spent the late nights in the lab to escape a bad home life, a reason the FBI concluded was bogus.  (Millions of men could be suspects.)   The incomplete samples of anthrax (which the FBI quickly learned were incomplete) were submitted by Ivins 1n 2004.  The language in the anthrax letters could’ve been matched to hundreds, maybe thousands, of anti-American, anti-Israel literature published by known Islamic terrorists.  Ivins’ sorrority obsession linked him only to his mental illness.  No anthrax spores were found in Ivins’ cars or home.  Nothing showed that Ivins had ever traveled to the location of the New Jersey mailbox.  No handwriting analysis linked Ivins to the anthrax letters.  He had no known motive.

If you’ve got 100 suspects, narrowing it to one is improbable.  If you’ve already screwed it up once, maybe you admit you’re stuck.  If you don’t, you’ll force a result.  You’ll use flimsy evidence:  working late at night; years of emails you strain to make something out of; obsession with a sorority near a never-visited mailbox; and the stigma of mental illness.

You undoubtedly train your HR staff to do investigations.  Use this fiasco as the basis of your next session.