In a groundbreaking investigation that could potentially change state law, the Cook County sheriff's office has discovered the identity of an elderly person buried at the edge of a Chicago Catholic cemetery. Marked only by a cement cylinder labeled with the numbers 04985, the person, known as Seven, died in 2015 at a nursing home with no memory of their own name. However, using post-mortem fingerprints, investigators have identified Seven as 75-year-old Reba C. Bailey, an Illinois veteran who had been missing since the 1970s.

This breakthrough has brought closure to generations of relatives and friends who had been searching for Reba. Whether they knew her as Reba or as Seven, the investigation has revealed more mysteries about her life. Reba, a Women's Army Corps veteran who was raised in a large family, somehow ended up homeless with no recollection of her past, aside from wanting to be identified as a man called Seven.

Public records, interviews, newspapers, and police work have provided some insight into Reba's life, but there is still much that remains unknown. Despite the gaps in her story, investigators are determined to honor her with a new gravestone and military honors. Commander Jason Moran, who oversees the sheriff's missing persons unit, emphasized the importance of giving a name to someone who had died without anyone knowing who they were. "A person deserves a name," he said.

The case of Seven Doe, as she was often referred to in official records, was brought to Cook County Sheriff Tom Dart's attention last year. His office has gained a reputation for its work on cold cases, including identifying victims of serial killer John Wayne Gacy and leading efforts to locate missing women statewide. Seven's case, however, was particularly unusual from the start. Not only was she unidentified in life, but also in death.

The cause of Seven's death was determined to be heart disease, with diabetes and dementia as contributing factors. Her fingerprints were taken at the time of death and run against police databases, but no criminal record match was found. As she had no legal name or family she could remember, she was buried at Mount Olivet Catholic Cemetery as an unclaimed person, marked as the 4,985th case of the year by the medical examiner.

Typically, Dart's office takes up unsolved cases at least three years after they have gone cold, to avoid interfering with active investigations. With foul play ruled out in Seven's case, investigators began running her fingerprints against more state and federal databases, including military records. This led them to discover Reba's 1961 Army records. They then embarked on a search for any surviving relatives she may have had in the 1970s, eventually identifying five deceased siblings, the most recent being a sister who passed away in 2007. They also located over half a dozen living nieces and nephews, as well as a marriage record and evidence of traumatic events that shed light on Reba's life.

Commander Moran, who has been with the sheriff's department for over two decades, described human identification as a combination of science and circumstance. He acknowledged the difficulties that arise with the passage of time but expressed his team's commitment to piecing together the lives of those they investigate.

Most of Reba's living relatives, who reside in Florida, Alabama, and Illinois, had never met her. However, they had heard stories about her, creating a blend of folklore and facts within the family. The discovery of Reba's true identity has brought a sense of closure and a new understanding of their family history to these relatives, who now have the opportunity to learn more about the woman they had only heard of before.