Chuck Steiner would later boast to his friends that his first thought upon seeing a corpse floating near the rocks of the Berkeley Marina was, “Christ, not again.” How he thought it in later recollections depended on who he was trying to impress. To his more seasoned colleagues of the marina’s waste disposal crew, he had been frustrated, inconvenienced even. He had sighed, rolled his eyes and damn near rumpled up his sleeves to pull the bastard out himself if he could’ve done it without wrecking the crime scene. To his friends and family in PrincetonNJ, he was grieved, but not surprised by the sight of another casualty of the gritty underbelly of Berkeley. Though the truth was, when he first saw it, he thought it was another dead seal. Dead seals were a common nuisance, often tumbling in with the waves and resting on the beach at low tide, or at high tide softly crashing against the rocks. That’s when Chuck would call Animal Control and wait by the pier for three hours for a pickup bed lined with tarps and a student in waders carrying a pole with a hook on the end. He was dialing their number that very moment when he looked up and noticed that this seal had a tattoo and a full head of hair. In spite of himself and the morning cold, Chuck began to sweat. "Uh..." And for a good thirty seconds that was all he could say.