Colourful graffiti covers the walls, dull tags from years gone by melding with vibrant offerings from the new kids on the block. The stale smell of urine mixes with a faint whiff of iron, creating an overpowering stench. At the far end of the alley lies our victim. Dried blood on the ground forms a sinister, breadcrumb-like trail to the body.

At first glance, the position of his body could suggest he simply had too much to drink and has taken a tumble. He’s face down on the tarmac with both arms stretched as far as they can beyond his head. He remains fully clothed and the only sign of foul play is the bloody mess that once was the back of his head.

From the man’s bulk, I can hazard a pretty good guess at his identity. As we approach the body to discuss John’s findings, Martin and his SOCO team leave the vicinity with a disconcertingly cheery goodbye, ready to try and make sense of the forensics found. When we are at the victim’s side, John points to the head.

‘I’m ruling this as a homicide,’ he says, more out of duty than need, as it is clear that this was not self-inflicted, nor an accident.

He kneels down next to the body.

‘As you can see, the most likely cause of death is blunt force trauma to the head. I’d say whoever did this has swung something pretty hard, perhaps a baseball bat or…’

‘A hammer,’ I interject, more a statement than a guess.

‘Certainly a possibility,’ John nods in agreement. ‘Once I have got him back to the lab, I’ll have a better chance of clarifying the murder weapon based on the impressions left behind.’

‘Is there any other damage?’

‘None apparent, though I haven’t turned him over as I wanted you two to see the crime scene as the perpetrator intended.’ I bend down to take a closer look, moving around the body to take it in from different angles, but aside from the head, the body does not look as if it has been otherwise harmed.

‘Let’s turn him, take a look and then he can be removed.’

We spend a few minutes deciding how the body is going to be turned with the aim of minimising loss of evidence and put our plan into place.

John positions himself by the head, Liam by the torso and I take my place by his legs. On the count of three, we all heave the body in the same direction, Liam doing the brunt of the lifting.

We take a step back and observe. My initial guess as to whom it is has been confirmed. Flat on his back, aside from a few injuries to his nose and mouth and without the bloodied back-of-the-head on show, you’d be forgiven for thinking he is simply asleep.

A glance at his torso, however, tells a different tale. His shirt has been ripped and a series of cuts and scratches are present on his enormous, exposed stomach. A similar story is told in the torn knees of his jeans. A lanyard with a picture of the deceased American pokes out of the pocket of his trousers.