Post-Mortem Examination Report

Deceased: Professor Helen Margaret Vickers, aged 47 years Date of Examination: 9th October 2025 Place of Examination: Queen Elizabeth Mortuary, Ashworth General Hospital Pathologist: Dr Caroline Elsworth, FRCPath, Home Office Registered Forensic Pathologist

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External Examination

The body is that of a well-nourished Caucasian female, height 168 cm, weight 64 kg. The deceased is wearing a white laboratory coat over a dark blue blouse, grey trousers, and flat-soled black shoes. A university identification lanyard bearing the name "Prof. H. Vickers" is around the neck.

The face and neck show marked oedema (swelling), particularly around the eyes, lips, and tongue. The lips are cyanosed. The tongue is swollen and protrudes slightly between the teeth. There is a widespread erythematous (red, raised) rash across the chest, neck, and forearms, consistent with a severe allergic reaction.

A puncture mark is present on the right lateral thigh, through the fabric of the trousers, consistent with deployment of an adrenaline auto-injector (EpiPen). The injection site shows a small bruise and a trace of subcutaneous fluid. The needle depth and injection pattern are consistent with the device having been discharged.

No other injuries. No bruising, no defensive marks, no signs of restraint.

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Internal Examination

The upper airway is severely compromised. The larynx is oedematous with swelling of the epiglottis and aryepiglottic folds, reducing the airway lumen to approximately 2 mm. This degree of obstruction would have rendered breathing extremely difficult or impossible.

The lungs are hyperinflated with mucus plugging in the bronchi, consistent with acute bronchospasm. The heart shows no structural abnormality. The coronary arteries are patent. There is no evidence of pre-existing cardiac disease.

The stomach contains approximately 150 ml of a thick, pale green liquid consistent with a blended smoothie. Fragments of banana and what appear to be seeds (possibly hemp) are present.

Blood samples taken from the femoral vein for toxicological and immunological analysis.

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Toxicology and Immunological Findings

Serum tryptase level: 247 ng/ml (normal range: 2-14 ng/ml). This markedly elevated level confirms a severe anaphylactic event.

Serum-specific IgE: strongly positive for Arachis hypogaea (peanut).

Adrenaline level in blood: 0.03 ng/ml. This is significantly below the expected therapeutic level following EpiPen deployment (expected range: 0.5-2.0 ng/ml). The finding is consistent with the auto-injector having delivered a negligible dose of adrenaline.

The auto-injector recovered at the scene (Exhibit JW/03) was examined. It is an EpiPen 300 microgram unit, manufacture date March 2023, expiry date March 2024. The device is eighteen months past its expiry. Testing of the residual adrenaline in the device showed significant degradation, with estimated potency of less than 8% of the labelled dose.

The deceased's GP records confirm she was prescribed an EpiPen 300 microgram auto-injector in August 2025, dispensed by Ashworth Pharmacy on 19th August 2025. The device found at the scene is not this unit.

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Stomach Contents Analysis

The smoothie residue was submitted for allergen testing. It contains concentrated protein from Arachis hypogaea (peanut) at a level of approximately 3,200 mg per serving. This quantity is many times the threshold dose capable of triggering a severe reaction in a sensitised individual.

An unopened bag of the same brand of hemp protein powder was purchased for comparison. No peanut protein was detected in the control sample.

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Cause of Death

1a. Anaphylactic shock 1b. Ingestion of peanut protein (Arachis hypogaea)

Opinion

Professor Vickers died from anaphylactic shock following ingestion of peanut protein concealed in her daily smoothie preparation. She had a documented, severe peanut allergy. The auto-injector she used was eighteen months expired and delivered a negligible dose of adrenaline.

The contamination of the hemp protein powder with concentrated peanut protein was deliberate. The expired auto-injector found at the scene does not match her current prescription and appears to have been substituted for her prescribed unit.

I am unable to reach a conclusion other than that this death resulted from a deliberate act.

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Dr Caroline Elsworth, FRCPath 9th October 2025

Case Notes: Death of Professor Helen Vickers

Detective Inspector Sarah Moran, West Midlands Major Crime Unit Notes compiled 8th-10th October 2025

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Called to Ashworth University at 2:15 p.m. on Wednesday. Professor Helen Vickers, 47, head of the Molecular Therapeutics Research Group, found dead on the floor of Laboratory 5.03 in the Wainwright Building. Paramedics pronounced death at 1:52 p.m. Anaphylactic shock. She had a severe peanut allergy, well known to colleagues and documented on the departmental register.

First thought: tragic accident, cross-contamination in a shared kitchen. University labs are not renowned for their housekeeping. But forensics found concentrated peanut protein in the smoothie. Not a trace. A dose. And the EpiPen beside the body was eighteen months expired. Not hers.

Two acts: contaminate the protein powder, swap the pen. This was planned.

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The Scene

Fifth floor of the Wainwright Building. Three research labs (5.01, 5.02, 5.03), a shared kitchen, Vickers's corner office, a smaller office for Hale, and a corridor connecting them. Key card access to the fifth-floor stairwell. The lift also requires a card. The shared kitchen is accessed from the lab corridor and has no separate card reader.

Vickers made a smoothie every day at about one o'clock. Hemp protein, banana, oat milk, blended in a NutriBullet she kept on the bench in 5.03. Everyone on the fifth floor knew the routine. Several people mentioned the sound of the blender as the unofficial lunch bell.

Her EpiPen was in the top drawer of her desk, in her office. Not on her person. She told colleagues once during a fire drill: "It's in my drawer, I'll grab it on the way out." Which meant anyone who heard that, and several people did, knew exactly where to find it.

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Persons of Interest

Dr Naveen Prakash, 34. Postdoctoral researcher.

Found the body. Called 999 at 1:40 p.m. He was in the next-door lab, 5.02, and says he went into 5.03 to ask Vickers a question about a reagent order.

Prakash has a serious grievance, and he has not tried to hide it. Vickers submitted a paper to Nature last Friday with her name alone on it. Prakash did the bench work. Three years of it. He describes his contribution as cell cultures, protein assays, Western blots. She described it as "technically competent but derivative." He sent an email to a friend at Imperial on Saturday night: "She's stolen my work. Three years and she's taken everything. I could kill her." He told me this himself before I had even asked about it. Either very honest or very calculating.

His fingerprints are on the bag of hemp protein powder. He says he carried it up from the car park on Monday when he helped Vickers with her shopping. Kirby confirms this. But fingerprints on the contaminated powder are fingerprints on the contaminated powder, whatever the explanation.

Motive, proximity, prints on the murder weapon, and an email that reads like a confession. He is my primary line of enquiry.

Professor Marcus Hale, 56. Structural biology, fifth floor.

The academic rival. Nineteen years in this department and still sore about losing his corner office to someone who arrived five years ago. University politics. Vickers had been pushing to relocate his group to the third floor, which would cost him the specialist ventilation his grant depends on. He emailed the Dean on Monday calling her "a menace to this department." When I asked him about it, he said he regretted "the phrasing" but not "the substance." He is that sort of man.

Key card log puts Hale on the fifth floor at 7:22 a.m. on Wednesday. First in the building. Twenty-six minutes before anyone else. Time alone on the fifth floor.

But his card shows access to 5.01 only. Not 5.03. Not Vickers's office. He says he was preparing a lecture. His afternoon alibi is solid: departmental meeting from 11:00 to 1:30, confirmed by five people and written minutes. Not that the afternoon matters much. The contamination happened before Vickers arrived at 9:05.

Hale had motive and early access. The card log does not place him in the right rooms, but doors are sometimes propped open.

Samira Osei, 26. Laboratory technician.

Manages fifth-floor shared equipment. Vickers reported her over a freezer malfunction that destroyed two months of samples. The freezer alarm's SIM had been deactivated because someone in admin forgot to renew the contract, which is the sort of institutional failure that lands on the person nearest the bottom. Osei is on a formal performance plan. She told a colleague two weeks ago: "That woman is going to get what's coming to her."

She maintains the departmental allergy register. She knew about Vickers's peanut allergy in detail. She has master key card access to every lab and office on every floor.

But her movements are hard to pin down. She says she was on the third floor from 9:00 a.m. restocking supplies. The receptionist saw her at about 9:15. She admits she propped open the third-floor stairwell door with a rubber wedge, a habit she shares with apparently everyone in the building, which means her card did not register floor movements. No card trail for most of the morning.

Knowledge of the allergy, access to every room, and an unverifiable morning. Worth pursuing.

Liam Kirby, 28. Third-year PhD student.

Vickers's doctoral student. Three years into his PhD. He was in 5.03 all morning working alongside her. Left at 12:30 for lunch in the ground-floor cafe. Card confirms cafe entry at 12:34. Returned to the fifth floor at 1:47, by which time paramedics were on scene.

Kirby is the most helpful of the four. Gives a clear, structured account. Describes Vickers as "brilliant but demanding." Says he "owed her everything." Mentions the Edinburgh postdoc lined up for next autumn. When I asked how he was coping, he said he did not know how to talk about her in the past tense yet.

He arrived at the Wainwright Building at 7:48 a.m. and was on the fifth floor for forty-three minutes before Prakash arrived. He says he made coffee in the shared kitchen, then set up his experiments. Routine morning.

CCTV shows his rucksack looked fuller on arrival than on departure at 12:33. Could be anything. Gym kit, lunch.

No obvious motive. No conflict. Cooperative and apparently devastated. Noting for completeness.

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Key Questions

1. Prakash's email and fingerprints. He had the strongest stated motive and physical evidence ties him to the protein powder. The question is whether a man who writes "I could kill her" to a friend at midnight is the same man who grinds peanut protein into a smoothie. Sometimes the answer is yes. Usually it is not.
2. Hale's early arrival. Twenty-six minutes alone. His card does not show 5.03 access, but could he have entered without swiping?
3. Osei's missing card trail. She had access and knowledge. Can we place her on the fifth floor that morning?
4. The expired EpiPen. Where did it come from? Training supplies? Who had access to those kits?
5. The rucksack on CCTV. Kirby's bag, fuller on entry. Probably nothing, but flag it.

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Next Steps

• Full analysis of Prakash's digital communications. Subpoena university email.
• Interview Hale about fifth-floor door-propping habits. Can 5.03 be entered without a card?
• Trace Osei's movements through the third floor. Speak to everyone who saw her.
• Check the first-aid training kits on each floor. Are expired EpiPens stored there?
• Obtain Vickers's recent correspondence. Any conflicts beyond the known ones?

Prakash is the strongest lead. Prints, motive, proximity. Building the case around him unless something shifts.

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DI S. Moran West Midlands Major Crime Unit 10th October 2025

Forensic Examination Report

Case: Death of Professor H. Vickers, Wainwright Building, Ashworth University Date of Examination: 8th-10th October 2025 Lead Forensic Officer: DS Andrew Collier, West Midlands Forensic Services Assisting: CSI Karen Walsh, CSI David Nkomo

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Laboratory 5.03

A research laboratory on the fifth floor of the Wainwright Building, approximately 8 metres by 6 metres. Two long benches run parallel down the centre of the room. The deceased was found on the floor beside the southern bench, near the window end, between a personal blender (NutriBullet, 600W) and a bench-mounted centrifuge.

Smoothie preparation area: The southern bench holds a NutriBullet blender, a bag of hemp protein powder (500g, "GreenVitality" brand, approximately one-third used), a bunch of bananas (four remaining), and two cartons of oat milk (one opened, one sealed). A reusable protein shake bottle (500 ml, purple, with the name "HV" written on the lid in marker pen) was on the floor beside the body, empty, with a residue of pale green liquid inside.

Smoothie residue analysis: The residue in the bottle and the blender jug tested positive for Arachis hypogaea (peanut) protein at a concentration of approximately 3,200 mg per serving. The hemp protein powder remaining in the bag also tested positive for peanut protein contamination, uniformly distributed throughout the powder, consistent with deliberate mixing rather than surface cross-contamination.

A control bag of the same brand and batch number was purchased from the same retailer. No peanut protein was detected in the control sample.

Fingerprints on the protein powder bag: Multiple prints recovered. Positively identified: Professor Vickers (multiple, consistent with daily use), Dr Naveen Prakash (two partial prints on the upper portion of the bag). No other identifiable prints. The bag's surface is a matte foil that retains prints poorly.

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The EpiPen (Exhibit JW/03)

An EpiPen 300 microgram adrenaline auto-injector, found on the floor beside the deceased, cap removed, needle deployed. The device has been discharged.

Manufacture date: March 2023. Expiry date: March 2024. The device is eighteen months past expiry. Testing of the residual adrenaline shows estimated potency below 8% of the labelled dose.

Batch number: EP-2023-0347-UK.

This batch number was cross-referenced with departmental records. The fifth-floor first-aid training kit (stored in an unlocked wall cupboard in the corridor adjacent to the shared kitchen) is recorded as containing two expired EpiPen units for demonstration purposes, received from the university pharmacy in June 2024. One expired unit is now missing from the kit. The remaining unit has batch number EP-2023-0348-UK, the sequential number to the unit found beside the deceased.

The training kit cupboard has no lock and no access log. It is accessible to anyone on the fifth floor.

Professor Vickers's GP confirmed that her most recently prescribed EpiPen (300 microgram, dispensed August 2025) has not been recovered. It is not in her office, her laboratory, her car, or her home.

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Key Card Access Log: Fifth Floor, Wednesday 8th October

Time	Name	Access Point	Direction
07:22	Prof. Marcus Hale	Fifth-floor stairwell	Entry
07:22	Prof. Marcus Hale	Laboratory 5.01	Entry
07:48	Liam Kirby	Fifth-floor stairwell	Entry
07:49	Liam Kirby	Laboratory 5.03	Entry
08:31	Dr Naveen Prakash	Fifth-floor stairwell	Entry
08:31	Dr Naveen Prakash	Laboratory 5.02	Entry
09:05	Prof. Helen Vickers	Fifth-floor stairwell	Entry
09:06	Prof. Helen Vickers	Office (Vickers)	Entry
09:12	Prof. Helen Vickers	Laboratory 5.03	Entry
10:55	Prof. Marcus Hale	Fifth-floor stairwell	Exit
11:14	Dr Naveen Prakash	Laboratory 5.03	Entry
11:21	Dr Naveen Prakash	Laboratory 5.02	Entry
12:30	Liam Kirby	Fifth-floor stairwell	Exit
12:50	Dr Naveen Prakash	Fifth-floor stairwell	Exit
12:54	Dr Naveen Prakash	Fifth-floor stairwell	Entry
13:40	Dr Naveen Prakash	Laboratory 5.03	Entry
13:47	Liam Kirby	Fifth-floor stairwell	Entry
14:05	Prof. Marcus Hale	Fifth-floor stairwell	Entry

Note: The fifth-floor shared kitchen is accessed from the lab corridor and does not have a separate card reader. Movements to and from the kitchen are not recorded.

Note: Samira Osei's key card shows no fifth-floor access on 8th October between 07:58 (exit, previous evening's late departure logged incorrectly as next-day) and 14:17 (entry, after the incident).

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CCTV: Wainwright Building Ground-Floor Lobby

The lobby has one camera covering the main entrance and turnstile. Footage reviewed for Wednesday 8th October, 06:00-15:00.

Time	Person	Notes
07:21	Prof. Marcus Hale	Enters carrying a leather briefcase
07:47	Liam Kirby	Enters carrying a dark blue rucksack. Rucksack appears full.
08:30	Dr Naveen Prakash	Enters carrying a messenger bag
09:04	Prof. Helen Vickers	Enters carrying a handbag and a reusable coffee cup
12:33	Liam Kirby	Exits carrying the same rucksack. Rucksack appears less full than on entry.
12:34	Liam Kirby	Enters ground-floor cafe (separate camera)
13:46	Liam Kirby	Exits cafe, enters main lobby, takes lift

No other persons accessed the fifth floor before 09:05 on Wednesday morning.

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Summary

1. The hemp protein powder was deliberately contaminated with concentrated peanut protein. This was not a manufacturing defect.
2. The EpiPen used by Professor Vickers was expired and came from the fifth-floor first-aid training kit, not from her prescription. Her prescribed EpiPen is missing.
3. The training kit cupboard is unlocked and accessible to anyone on the fifth floor.
4. Key card records show three people accessed the fifth floor before Vickers arrived at 09:05: Hale (07:22, accessed 5.01 only), Kirby (07:48, accessed 5.03), Prakash (08:31, accessed 5.02).
5. The shared kitchen has no card reader. Movements to the kitchen are not logged.
6. Prakash's fingerprints are on the protein powder bag. No other suspect's prints were found on the bag.
7. CCTV shows Kirby's rucksack was fuller on arrival than on departure.

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DS A. Collier West Midlands Forensic Services 10th October 2025

Witness Statement: Professor Marcus Hale

Taken at the Wainwright Building, Ashworth University, on the 9th day of October 2025, by Detective Inspector S. Moran, West Midlands Major Crime Unit.

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I should say at the outset that I find this whole business deeply troubling. Helen Vickers and I did not see eye to eye on a number of matters, and I will not pretend otherwise. But I am appalled by what has happened and I want to help in any way I can.

I am Professor of Structural Biology. I have been at Ashworth for nineteen years. My research group occupies Laboratory 5.01 on the fifth floor of the Wainwright Building. Helen arrived five years ago and was given the corner office that had been mine, along with Laboratory 5.03 and a substantial startup package. The Head of Department made the decision. I was moved to a smaller office at the other end of the corridor. I mention this not as a grievance but as context. Though it is also a grievance.

Were we rivals? Professionally, yes. We compete for the same UKRI funding streams. We draw from the same pool of PhD students. She wanted my group moved to the third floor because she said she needed the bench space. The third floor does not have the specialist fume cupboard ventilation that my work requires. If I lose that ventilation, I lose the capacity to do half my experiments, and my current grant renewal depends on demonstrating that capacity. I wrote to the Dean about it. I was direct. I called her a menace to the department. That was intemperate and I regret the phrasing, but the substance was accurate.

None of this means I would harm her. For God's sake, I have been in this department for nearly two decades. I do not kill colleagues over lab space.

On Wednesday morning I arrived early. I am an early riser. I like to have an hour before anyone else appears. The building is tolerable at that hour. My key card will show me entering the building at 7:21 or 7:22 and badging onto the fifth floor a minute later. I went directly to 5.01, my laboratory, and worked on preparing slides for my ten o'clock undergraduate lecture. I was in 5.01 with the door closed until approximately five to eleven, when I left for the departmental committee meeting on the second floor.

I did not enter Laboratory 5.03 that morning. I had no reason to. I did not enter Vickers's office. I did not visit the shared kitchen. My key card will confirm that the only fifth-floor access I recorded was 5.01.

The committee meeting ran from eleven until half past one. I can give you the names of everyone present: Dr Iqbal, Dr Paterson, Professor Langton, Mrs Healy the departmental administrator, and myself. The minutes are on record. After the meeting, I spoke with Langton for about twenty minutes in the corridor. I returned to the fifth floor at approximately five past two. By then the paramedics had been and gone, and a uniformed officer was sealing off the corridor.

You asked whether I knew about Professor Vickers's peanut allergy. I did. It was common knowledge. There were laminated signs on the kitchen cupboards. She was not shy about it. She would remind people at every departmental social event. One could hardly miss it.

You asked whether doors on the fifth floor are ever propped open. Occasionally, yes. The fire doors between the stairwell and the corridor have magnetic hold-open devices that release when the alarm sounds. During working hours those doors are usually held open. But the individual lab doors require a card swipe to open from the corridor side. My card opens 5.01. It does not open 5.03 or Vickers's office. I checked with Facilities when you first asked. My card has no access privileges for her rooms.

I do not know who did this. But I will say that Helen Vickers was a formidable operator, and she had made enemies across the faculty. Not just me. The way she treated Prakash over that paper was unconscionable, and everyone in the group knew it. I am not pointing fingers. I am telling you the climate.

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Statement reviewed and signed by Professor Marcus Hale, 9th October 2025.

Witness Statement: Liam Kirby

Taken at the Wainwright Building, Ashworth University, on the 8th day of October 2025, by Detective Constable R. Hewitt, West Midlands Major Crime Unit.

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I'm a third-year PhD student in the Molecular Therapeutics Research Group. Professor Vickers was my supervisor. She has been my supervisor since I started in October 2022. I don't know how to talk about her in the past tense yet.

She was the reason I came to Ashworth. I read one of her papers on TRPV4 channel modulators when I was finishing my master's at Leeds and I knew I wanted to work with her. She was hard on me. She expected more than I thought I was capable of, and then I found I was capable of it. Once, early on, I presented a seminar that I thought was solid. She told me afterwards that "solid" was the word people used when they had nothing interesting to say. I rewrote the whole thing that weekend. It was better. She pushed everyone like that. Naveen, the PhD students before me, the undergrads. She did not accept anything less than your best. I owed her everything. My project, my training, my way of thinking about science. I have a postdoctoral position lined up at Edinburgh for next autumn and that is entirely because of what she taught me.

On Wednesday I arrived at the Wainwright Building at about quarter to eight. My key card will show the exact time. I badged into the kitchen at about ten to eight to make a coffee before anyone else arrived. I like having the floor to myself in the morning. It's the only time you can think without someone asking you to move their samples or check a booking.

I made a coffee, instant, nothing fancy, and took it to Laboratory 5.03. I set up a cell viability assay that I needed to run that morning: thawed the reagent plates, calibrated the plate reader, labelled my tubes. Normal start to a normal day.

Professor Vickers arrived at about nine. She came into 5.03 and we discussed the assay protocol for ten minutes or so. She was in good form. She mentioned that she had a meeting with the Dean at three o'clock and wanted the plate reader results before then. She went to her office after that and I didn't see her again until she came back to the lab at about half twelve.

Between nine and half twelve, 5.03 was fairly busy. Naveen came in once to borrow a multichannel pipette, around eleven I think. Professor Hale popped his head in at about ten looking for a copy of the building evacuation plan, which was pinned to the noticeboard inside the door. Samira was not around. I don't think I saw her at all on Wednesday.

At half twelve I saved my data, packed up my lunch things, and went downstairs to the ground-floor cafe. I had a sandwich and read a paper on my phone. I badged into the cafe at, I think, 12:34. I ate slowly. I was in no rush.

I came back to the fifth floor at about quarter to two. The lift doors opened and there were paramedics in the corridor. Naveen was standing outside 5.03. His face was grey. He told me Helen was dead.

I can't describe the rest of that afternoon with any clarity. I sat in the kitchen for a long time. Someone brought me a cup of tea. I don't know who. One of the paramedics asked me questions. Then your officers arrived and sealed the floor.

You asked whether I knew about Professor Vickers's peanut allergy. Of course. Everyone did. She had a laminated notice on the kitchen fridge. She made her smoothie in the lab every day at about one o'clock: hemp protein, banana, oat milk. It was part of the routine of the fifth floor, like the autoclave cycle at four or the fire alarm test on Tuesdays. You knew it was lunchtime when you heard the blender.

You asked about the EpiPen. I knew she had one. I didn't know where she kept it exactly. In her bag, I assumed, or her desk. She mentioned it once, I think, but I don't remember the specifics.

I don't know who did this. I don't understand how anyone could do this. She was difficult, yes. She was demanding and she could be cutting. But she was also the best scientist I have ever worked with, and I am not the same person I was before I met her.

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Statement reviewed and signed by Liam Kirby, 8th October 2025.

Witness Statement: Samira Osei

Taken at the Wainwright Building, Ashworth University, on the 9th day of October 2025, by Detective Constable R. Hewitt, West Midlands Major Crime Unit.

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Right, so. I'm the lab technician for the biochemistry department. I cover all six floors of the Wainwright Building but I'm based on the fifth because that's where the most expensive kit is. Autoclave, the ultracentrifuge, the minus-eighty freezers. My job is keeping it all running and stocked.

Professor Vickers and I had a problem. I'll be straight with you because you'll find out anyway. Two months ago one of the minus-eighty freezers on the fifth floor failed over a weekend. The alarm system should have sent a text to my phone but the SIM had been deactivated because someone in admin forgot to renew the contract. By Monday morning the temperature had risen to minus twenty and two months of Professor Vickers's cell line samples were destroyed.

She blamed me. Not the SIM provider, not admin, not the fifteen-year-old monitoring system that should have been replaced in 2018. Me. She went to Dr Khalil, the departmental manager, and said I had been negligent. I was put on a performance improvement plan. Twelve weeks, written targets, monthly reviews. If I fail it, I'm out. I did say to my colleague Jen, in the kitchenette on the third floor, something like "that woman is going to get what's coming to her." I was angry. I'd just come out of the meeting with Khalil. I didn't mean I was going to do anything. I meant karma. The universe. Whatever.

On Wednesday I was on the third floor from nine o'clock. I was restocking the tissue culture suite with pipette tips, falcon tubes, and media. The receptionist on three, Ayesha, saw me come through at about quarter past nine. I was there until half twelve, then I went down to the ground-floor stores to sort a delivery that had come in wrong. I was in the stores until two, maybe a bit after. I didn't go to the fifth floor at all between eight in the morning and about quarter past two, when I heard what had happened and went up.

I'll be honest, my key card record is a bit of a mess for that morning. The stairwell doors on the third floor are heavy and they slam shut and you have to badge through again every time you go to the loo or the kitchenette, so I prop them open with a rubber wedge. Everyone does it. It means my card doesn't show me moving between the third-floor stairwell and the labs that morning. I know that looks bad. But Ayesha saw me, and the stores manager, Phil, signed off the delivery paperwork with me at about one o'clock.

You asked about the allergy register. Yes, I maintain it. One of about forty spreadsheets I maintain for a department that thinks a lab technician's only job is knowing where the pipette tips have gone. It's a departmental spreadsheet. Professor Vickers is on it. Was on it. Severe peanut allergy, anaphylaxis risk, carries an EpiPen. I update the register at the start of each academic year. I knew about her allergy. So did everyone who has ever eaten a biscuit in that kitchen.

You asked about the first-aid training kits. Each floor has a wall-mounted first-aid box and a separate training kit that we use for the annual CPR and emergency response sessions. The training kits contain a practice AED, bandages, and a couple of EpiPen trainers. Some of the trainers are actual expired units that the pharmacy sends over when they're past date. They're for demonstration only. No one logs what's in them. I check the main first-aid boxes quarterly but the training kits, honestly, I just leave them in the cupboard until the next session.

I didn't check the fifth-floor training kit after this happened. Your forensic people took it. But if you're telling me an expired pen is missing from it, I can't tell you when it went or who took it. That cupboard is in the corridor by the kitchen. It's not locked. Anyone on the fifth floor could open it.

I didn't touch Professor Vickers's smoothie. I didn't go near her office. I didn't swap any EpiPens. I was on the third floor all morning with a clipboard and a crate of pipette tips.

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Statement reviewed and signed by Samira Osei, 9th October 2025.

Witness Statement: Dr Naveen Prakash

Taken at the Wainwright Building, Ashworth University, on the 8th day of October 2025, by Detective Inspector S. Moran, West Midlands Major Crime Unit.

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I am a postdoctoral research associate in the Molecular Therapeutics Research Group. I have worked under Professor Vickers for three years. My contract runs until next September. I found her body.

I need to get something out of the way first. You will find an email I sent to a colleague on Saturday night. I wrote "I could kill her." I know how that reads now. I was angry and I was venting to a friend. I did not mean it literally. I would not have sent it if I thought anyone would ever read it besides Fiona.

The paper. Yes. I did three years of laboratory work on the TRPV4 ion channel project. Cell cultures, protein assays, Western blots, the lot. Professor Vickers submitted the paper to Nature last Friday with herself as sole author. I am not on it. Not first author, not second author, not in the acknowledgements. Three years of my career, gone. She told me on Thursday that she had "restructured the authorship to reflect the intellectual contribution" and that my work was "technically competent but derivative." Technically competent. Three years of twelve-hour days and she made it sound like I had been filing.

I was furious. I still am. But I did not kill her.

On Wednesday morning I arrived at the Wainwright Building at about half eight. My key card will show 8:31 on the fifth floor. I went straight to Laboratory 5.02, which is my usual workspace. I was running a gel electrophoresis that I had set up the previous afternoon and I needed to check the results.

I did not enter Laboratory 5.03 that morning. I had no reason to. Vickers and I were not on speaking terms. I had not spoken to her since Thursday, when she told me about the paper.

At about ten to one I went to the shared kitchen to make tea. The kitchen is just along the corridor from 5.02. I boiled the kettle, made a cup of Assam, and went back to my bench. I did not see Vickers in the kitchen or the corridor. I did not go into 5.03.

At 1:40 I went to 5.03 to ask Vickers a question about a reagent order. The door was ajar. She was on the floor beside the bench where she keeps her blender. Her face was swollen. Her lips were blue. The EpiPen was on the floor next to her, the cap off, clearly used. I knew immediately it was anaphylaxis. Everyone on the fifth floor knew about her peanut allergy. She talked about it openly. She had a laminated card on the fridge in the kitchen listing her allergens.

I called 999. I tried to find a pulse. There was nothing. I shouted down the corridor but nobody was there. The paramedics arrived within eight or nine minutes. They worked on her but she was already gone.

You asked about my fingerprints on the protein powder bag. On Monday lunchtime Vickers asked me to help carry some bags from her car. She had been to the health food shop in town. There were two bags of shopping. I carried one from the car park to the fifth floor. The hemp protein was in the bag I carried. I put it on the bench in 5.03 where she keeps her smoothie things. Liam Kirby was in the lab at the time. He saw me put it down.

I did not tamper with the protein powder. I did not go near her EpiPen. I did not know where she kept it. Actually, that is not true. I did know. She kept it in the top drawer of her desk. She mentioned it once during a fire drill, when someone asked whether she had her pen with her. She said, "It's in my drawer, I'll grab it on the way out." Everyone heard that.

I have nothing else to tell you. I found her and I called for help. That is all I did.

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Statement reviewed and signed by Dr Naveen Prakash, 8th October 2025.