Some questions arrive in the quiet of a pathology lab. Others come in the aftermath of an earthquake, a hurricane or a plane crash.
For more than three decades, Joyce deJong has worked in both worlds.
Her career moved through forensic pathology, county medical examiner offices, disaster response, medical education and now the dean’s office at Michigan State University’s College of Osteopathic Medicine. And while the settings have changed, her purpose has not.
She joined a federal mass fatality response team in 1996 after hearing a presentation at the annual meeting of the National Association of Medical Examiners. Assigned to the Midwest team, she assumed her deployments would be limited to Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Illinois, Indiana and Ohio.
Then came her first call to Guam.
“I was thinking, ‘Is there a Guam, Indiana?’” she recalled with a laugh.
Within hours, she was on a plane across the Pacific, joining efforts to identify victims of Korean Air Flight 801. It marked the beginning of a series of deployments that would include the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, Hurricane Katrina, the Haiti earthquake, Joplin’s tornado, Puerto Rico’s hurricane recovery, and most recently, a deadly midair collision over Washington, D.C.
Today, she leads one of the nation’s largest colleges of osteopathic medicine. But the common thread running through every chapter of her career has remained steady.
She is still searching for answers.
This year, as the nation marks 25 years since the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, deJong’s experience offers a window into the painstaking work that continued long after that day. Deployed first to New York City and later to Pennsylvania, she helped identify victims, provide answers to grieving families and fulfill one of disaster response’s most difficult responsibilities: ensuring that every life was accounted for.
That commitment to science, service and leadership recently earned deJong the 2026 Women of Excellence Award from the Michigan Osteopathic Association, recognizing her contributions to osteopathic medicine, medical education and public health. The award adds new context to a career that has spanned forensic medicine, disaster response and academic leadership.
An unexpected calling
Medicine was not part of the original plan.
As a high school student, deJong worked weekends in housekeeping at a local hospital. When a laboratory position opened, she stepped into it and eventually began assisting with autopsies.
“I thought I was going to be a lawyer,” she said. “I was on the debate team. That was the plan.”
The laboratory changed her direction.
Pathology offered something she had not expected: clarity in the middle of uncertainty.
“I really enjoy our ability to provide answers,” she said. “That’s what we’re trying to do.”
Building a career in forensic medicine
Before disaster response became part of her career, deJong built her professional foundation in forensic pathology and medical examiner work.
In county offices, questions often came first, and answers followed slowly, if at all. Sudden deaths, unexplained circumstances and homicide investigations required scientific precision paired with communication with families in crisis.
She served as the medical examiner for Ingham County and 14 other counties across Michigan, expanding her responsibilities to include oversight of forensic systems and public health operations.
Over time, she became known not only for technical expertise, but for bringing clarity to situations defined by uncertainty.
Those years shaped everything that followed.
When disaster calls
Her work with the federal Disaster Mortuary Operational Response Team, known as DMORT, continued to expand beyond the Midwest.
She responded to aviation disasters, earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes and terrorist attacks.
Her work reflects the unseen role of emergency response professionals whose work extends past the immediate crisis. Like deJong’s, their efforts continue long after the headlines fade, helping communities recover while strengthening resilience.
For deJong, those systems became real in places where infrastructure had collapsed.
After Hurricane Katrina, she worked in conditions defined by limited resources and overwhelming need. Sleep came wherever space allowed, often in vehicles, tents or temporary facilities, always with care not to displace residents already struggling to recover.
Years later, she traveled to Haiti after the 2010 earthquake.
“When I looked at Haiti, I didn’t know where you find hope,” she said. “People needed healthcare, education, food — everything.”
Across each deployment, the mission remained consistent: identify the deceased, reunite families and provide answers amid loss.
The weight of the work
Meaning rarely arrives in a single moment. It builds across years of cases, deployments and conversations with families facing the unthinkable.
After the Sept. 11 attacks, she deployed first to New York City and then to Pennsylvania, assisting with identification efforts tied to United Flight 93.
Years later, deJong and her husband stopped at the Flight 93 National Memorial on their way to a wedding in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Standing among the names etched into the landscape, the significance of that work settled in differently than it had in the days after the crash.
“We accounted for everybody on that flight,” she said. “We were able to identify every person and provide each family with answers. You realize what you did mattered.”
While visiting the site, deJong also helped settle a lingering question that had taken on a life of its own. An employee had asked about a rumor from the Sept. 11 Pentagon recovery effort: whether a victim had been identified by a Superman tattoo. deJong didn’t hesitate. She had seen it herself.
“There was a Superman tattoo,” she said. “I saw the Superman tattoo.”
For her, it was a small detail in a much larger case. Like every identification, it required scientific confirmation through DNA analysis. For others, it became a point of connection, a human fragment that made an unimaginable loss feel real.
Moments like that, she said, prove how even the smallest pieces of information can carry meaning far beyond the science. They can offer families and the public something to hold onto past a tragedy. In this case, certainty that someone was there, and someone knew.
The human side of forensic pathology
Forensic pathology is often viewed through investigation and science. She sees something different.
“People think forensic pathologists don’t deal with families,” deJong said. “But we deal with families during the worst times of their lives.”
Some cases resolve quickly. Others take months or years.
In one instance, a grandfather who had spent years seeking answers about a child’s death finally found peace after speaking with her.
Those moments are not exceptions. They are the work.
From forensic medicine to leadership
Over time, deJong’s role expanded beyond individual cases and disaster response.
She became one of the nation’s leading voices in forensic pathology and was elected president of the National Association of Medical Examiners, the first osteopathic physician to hold the position.
But her perspective shifted as she saw patterns that extended beyond individual deaths like gaps in access, delayed care and broader challenges in the health care system.
“I realized there are so many problems in our health care system,” she said. “I wanted an opportunity to influence how we train future physicians and improve access to care.”
That path led her to MSU, where she now serves as dean of the College of Osteopathic Medicine.
Preparing the next generation
Her work now centers on preparing future physicians for a healthcare system marked by increasing complexity and growing need.
In early July, she welcomed the 300 students who make up the incoming Spartan D.O. Class of 2030, encouraging them to embrace their purpose and prepare to become the next generation of healthcare leaders.
For deJong, her career reflects continuity rather than change.
The settings may be different. The questions are not.
Still searching for answers
While deJong remains on call in disasters, she continues to navigate questions through education, leadership and the training of future physicians.
What happened. How do we respond. How do we do better.
The work has changed. The search has not.
