12B Clean
At 12B Clean, we don’t shy away from anything—and I mean absolutely anything—when it comes to cleaning. Our three divisions are staffed by intelligent and highly trained people who know exactly what is expected of them.
Journalist and writer
Linda Samplonius
As an experienced journalist, Linda has been working in journalism and the magazine industry for more than ten years. She is currently working on the book “Behind the Police Tape,” in which 13 professionals share stories about the one crime scene that forever changed their outlook on life. For this book, she is spending a day shadowing our professionals at 12B Clean.
Her Story
“I meet Wendy and Jimmy ina small chalet in a village on the MeuseRiver”
In a small chalet in a village on the Meuse River, I meet Wendy and Jimmy. “You can wear the mask,” Wendy tells me, handing me an oxygen mask. “Jimmy sacrificed himself.” I don’t quite understand what she means, but when the door to the house opens, I get it right away. The smell of a body that’s been lying there for ten days wafts out. It’s a pungent odor—nothing like a dead mouse under a kitchen cabinet you just can’t quite reach. This smell gets into your clothes, your hair, under your fingernails. Luckily, I’m given a white suit, thick plastic gloves, and that divine mask, thanks to which I smell nothing but fresh air.
“Wealways speak respectfully of thedeceased”
The chalet is a mess; bottles of gin are stacked meters high, and the bed hasn’t been made in years. Spiders scurry across the floor. In the living room lies a dried-up pool of blood mixed with corpse fluid. Let’s not even talk about the bathroom. Wendy hands me a large plastic bag and starts cleaning up. “We always speak respectfully about the deceased,” she tells me. “You never know how someone’s life turned out; we don’t judge.” That’s what I like about her—and about Jimmy.
The playground next to the chalet is empty; thankfully, there are no children around to see what we’re doing here. Slowly, all the household belongings are disappearing into the dumpster parked by the road. An entire life is being cleared out, and we get to know the man who lived here through his glasses, phone, wallet, and a note that reads, “You’re the sweetest dad.” We place these cherished items in a separate box for his loved ones.
“Whata team, what an achievement!”
Two coworkers arrive to help out. They, too, put on masks and start cleaning. The bathroom wall, covered in brown nicotine stains—which I had long since given up on—is slowly turning white. The walls in the living room are looking fresh again, too. I’m impressed by this team, which keeps going long after it’s gotten dark. Around 8:30 p.m., the dumpster is full and the chalet is empty and clean. I say goodbye to Wendy and Jimmy. In the car on the way home, my first thought is: what a team, what an accomplishment—and then: how on earth am I going to get this smell out of my clothes?
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