An NBC News investigation revealed the risks of a poorly regulated industry through the journey of Libero Marinelli Jr., who transitioned from a public hospital to operating as a for-profit body broker.
By Jon Schuppe, Tyler Kingkade, and Mike Hixenbaugh
This article is part of “Dealing the Dead,” a series investigating the use of unclaimed bodies for medical research.
CORNELIUS, N.C. — Karen Wandel received a shocking message last year: her father, Libero Marinelli Jr., had died in a South Carolina hospital more than five months earlier. When no family member came to claim his body, the hospital sent it to be used for medical research.
Wandel’s relationship with her father had been strained for years, and they hadn’t spoken in a long time. Still, as a North Carolina attorney, she was easy enough to locate. Marinelli’s brother in California and sister in Massachusetts were also reachable and had maintained contact through birthdays and holidays. Yet, none of them learned about his death until Marinelli’s brother sent a Christmas card that was returned unopened.
Wandel remains shocked at how her father’s body was treated — particularly given that as a former Army veteran, he was entitled to burial in a veterans’ cemetery. Instead, his body was first sent to a body broker in another state. “I just want somebody to look me in the eye and say, ‘What we did was wrong, and we are sorry. We are sorry to your family, and we’re sorry that your father suffered this indignity,’” she said. “Particularly after he served his country.”
Using unclaimed bodies for medical research is widely viewed as unethical, and many medical schools and states have ended the practice. However, it continues, driven in part by the health care industry’s demand for specimens and the overwhelming rise in unclaimed bodies with no next of kin to arrange for their disposition. Tracking how often this happens is difficult because the body trade lacks federal oversight, and many states fail to monitor the practice.
NBC News spent months investigating this issue, conducting public records requests with state agencies, county coroners, and medical schools to shed light on the scope of the practice.
Since 2020, a North Carolina community college has received 43 unclaimed bodies from welfare agencies and medical examiners to teach embalming to funeral services students. Similarly, Pennsylvania’s body-donation program — which provides remains to medical schools — reported that it had received 58 unclaimed bodies from medical examiners and hospitals between 2019 and 2023. Louisiana State University documented one instance in 2023 in which an unclaimed car crash victim was sent to its forensic department. A university spokesperson emphasized that its lab prioritizes “ethical practices and respect for the dignity of individuals.”
However, in many states where unclaimed bodies can legally be used for research, officials told NBC News they lacked data on the practice or denied information requests. Pennsylvania officials, for instance, said they could not detail how those 58 bodies were used. In Illinois, a 2018 law required tracking these bodies, but state officials admitted that no funding had been allocated to carry out this requirement.
“There could be a lot more happening that we don’t know about,” said Joy Balta, an anatomy professor at Point Loma Nazarene University in California. Balta advocates for stronger regulation of the body donation industry and has proposed guidelines that would halt the use of unclaimed bodies. Without such oversight, he said, “There’s no way to know about it.”
The most extensive known use of unclaimed bodies was found at the University of North Texas Health Science Center in Fort Worth, where thousands of bodies from county medical examiners were collected and leased out to private companies and the Army — often without the consent of any next of kin. The practice ceased in response to NBC News’ investigation, which highlighted failures in “respect, care, and professionalism.” With no uniform regulations, hospitals and local officials are often left to make their own decisions about how to handle unclaimed bodies. For some, body donation or sale becomes the cheapest and simplest solution, even in the absence of evidence or requests from families.
The journey of Marinelli’s body, sent from a public hospital to a for-profit body broker, illustrates the risks involved in these decisions. Often, health care workers and local officials lack the time or expertise to locate relatives, leaving families without the opportunity to decide how their loved ones’ remains are handled.
Upon learning of her father’s death, Wandel began a search for answers, her anger growing with every step.
“If they could do this to a veteran Army officer, a guy with a house, a guy with a dog, a guy with family,” she said, “imagine what could happen to really vulnerable people.”
Wandel acknowledges that her father was a difficult man.
Marinelli grew up in New Jersey, joined the Army, attended law school, and spent years as a military lawyer during the Vietnam War. He told his daughter that one particularly traumatic assignment — defending a soldier who had fired on his own unit — nearly broke him and led to a drinking habit that eventually became alcoholism. After working at the Justice Department’s tax division and later in private practice, Marinelli faced personal struggles.
His marriage to a U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs lawyer was strained, with both partners battling addiction and mental health challenges, which ultimately led to separation. While they did not divorce, their personal issues impacted their ability to care for their daughter, who spent much of her childhood in foster care.
Marinelli would later try to reconnect with his daughter, offering swimming lessons and attending her high school, college, and law school graduations. Yet, in 2011, after a series of disputes over his refusal to manage her mother’s affairs as she battled terminal cancer, their communication ended.
Inspired by her mother’s struggle, Wandel began volunteering at a hospice, a role that solidified her strong belief in the dignity of death. She said, “I found the idea of people dying without dignity or without somebody there to listen to them and hold their hand really offensive.”
Had she known her father was dying, she said, “I would have been there.”
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