74 Years Since the Somerton Man: Solved or Unresolved? | Part 2
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Part Six: Secrets of the Dead Detective Sergeant Lionel Lean examined all 158 pages of the Rubaiyat, searching for the secrets of the Somerton Man. There was no inscription nor name, but there was a number. There, on the back cover, was a phone number written in pencil. That's not all. Lean noticed the faint impressions of handwritten capital letters just below. Finally, actionable clues.

Investigators managed to trace the phone number to a 28-year-old nurse who lived less than a mile from Somerton Beach. Disappointingly, the South Australian police kept her identity a secret. They were incredibly protective of their witnesses, many of whom feared that their connection to the case would sully their reputation. The nurse was no different.

In fact, she specifically asked him remain anonymous, demanding that her details never be released to the public or reported in the case files. Unfortunately, the police agreed, a decision that only hampered the investigation. The nurse, who investigators nicknamed "Justin," insisted that she didn't know the Somerton man, how he got her number, or why he visited her suburb the day he died. She was reluctant to say anything more,

likely because she was living with the man she would later marry. Eventually, however, she made a fascinating admission. Justin told investigators that she owned a copy of the Rubaiyat whilst working at a hospital in Sydney during World War II. She explained that in 1945, she gave it to an Australian army lieutenant she met at the Clifton Gardens Hotel. His name was Alfred Boxall. Finally, closure.

The police were certain that Boxall was the Somerton man. It couldn't be a coincidence, or could it? Just days after speaking with Justin, investigators managed to locate Boxall's last known place of residence in Marobra, New South Wales. There, they made a startling discovery. Lieutenant Alfred Boxall was alive. Not only that, but he still had a copy of the Rubaiyat, the very same one Justin had given him in 1945.

In the front was a signed inscription written by the nurse and in the back, an untorn final page. With Boxall being alive and seemingly unconnected to the Somerton Man, investigators turned once again to Justin. After some gentle probing, the nurse suddenly recalled something interesting.

sometime in late 1948. Neighbors told her that an unknown man had tried to visit her whilst she was out. Perhaps it was the Somerton man. Perhaps Justin did know him after all. Detective Sergeant Lean showed her the man's plaster cast bust, hoping she would recognize him.

She swore that she didn't, but her body language said otherwise. According to Lean, Justin was completely taken aback and almost fainted. She immediately looked away and refused to look at the bust again, seemingly unwilling to press Justin any further. Investigators revisited the faint impressions found in the Somerton man's rubyant. They managed to make out five lines of seemingly random capital letters.

The first three lines were separated from the final two by an X that had been crossed out twice. The second line had also been crossed out. Was it some sort of code? Or the writings of a madman? Investigators were determined to find out. They sent the cryptic notes to the renowned cipher experts of Australia's naval intelligence and distributed it to the press. But none could crack it.

In fact, no seasoned nor amateur cryptographer could confirm whether it was even a code in the first place. That, dear listeners, is when the Somerton Man case stagnated. The code was never deciphered and the South Australian police never identified him. Thomas Cleland's inquest into the man's unexplained death concluded in 1958, with the coroner unable to conclusively confirm who he was or how he died.

His copy of the Rubaiyat disappeared in the 1950s. His suitcase was destroyed in 1986, and witness statements have since vanished from his case file. Justin passed away in 2007, taking any potential secrets to the grave. It was a maddening outcome for a fascinating mystery, but it was by no means the end.

In recent years, the case of the Somerton Man was resurrected by both amateur and retired sleuths alike. The story enjoyed renewed attention, bringing with it fresh leads and intriguing theories. It was largely speculation, until one man initiated an investigation that has brought us closer to the truth than ever before. Part 7: The Resurrection

Professor Derek Abbott, a physicist and electronic engineer at the University of Adelaide, first sunk his teeth into the case in 2009. Adamant that everyone deserves to have a name, he put together a team and set about cracking the Somerton man's so-called code. In the end, he might have cracked the case in its entirety. Abbott's team concluded that the letters weren't random and seemed to follow the quatrain format of the Rubaiyat's poetry.

They theorized that the book might not be a book at all, but a one-time code pad encryption algorithm. With the Somerton Man's copy lost to the times and an identical edition apparently non-existent, the team couldn't prove it. However, a discovery made by Abbott certainly made their theory plausible. On June 3rd, 1945, police discovered the decomposing body of a Singapore-born Jewish immigrant in Ashton Park, Sydney.

His name was George Marshall. He was found with a copy of the Rubaiyat on his chest and barbituric acid powder near his left hand, prompting the police to conclude that he had committed suicide. Considering the book's poetic take on death and George's tragic history of suicide attempts, it made sense. However, as with everything in today's story, there is more than meets the eye.

George's former girlfriend killed herself two months later. Despite happily courting another man and his brother, David Marshall, went on to become the chief minister of Singapore. Many conspiracy theorists suspect that there are political connections here, whilst I can't verify that. I can tell you that George's story seems to be connected to that of the Somerton Man.

Firstly, Ashton Park, where George's body was found in 1945, was less than a mile away from the Clifton Gardens Hotel, where Justin gave Alfred Boxall her copy of the Rubaiyat that same year. Secondly, Justin eventually converted to Judaism, a rare move in Australia at the time.

This is particularly intriguing as, in 2009, rocks were found placed at the foot of the Somerton Man's grave, as per Jewish tradition. Flowers have also been left there over the years, though, by who? No one knows. Finally, like the Somerton Man, George's death was ruled suicide by poisoning, and his addition of the rubyot proved to be just as untraceable. It was published in London by Methuen, the seventh of its kind.

However, the publisher, along with several libraries around the world, seemed to think that only five Methuen editions were ever published. Though some say that this is all a coincidence, explaining that Methuen's seventh edition was never actually a new edition, but a reprint, it certainly lends itself to the one-time codepad theory. You see, many suspect that the Somerton Man was a Soviet spy.

To begin with, consider the Somerton Man's clothing labels. They had been intentionally removed back then, before international trade took off. Clothes were made by local tailors and seamstresses. As such, labels were an easy way to identify where items were made, who made them, and who bought them. In unsolved cases where espionage was suspected, the labels were often removed from the victim's clothing.

For example, the Isdal Woman. It's a story for another time, but the similarities must be noted. In 1970, during the height of the Cold War, the badly burnt body of an unidentified woman was discovered in Bergen, Norway. All clothing labels had been removed and her death was ruled a suicide. That's not all. Investigators found her suitcases three days later, which had been abandoned at Bergen railway station. Starting to sound familiar?

the Isdal Woman case remains unsolved, but it's suspected that she might have been a spy. Aside from her many disguises, aliases, and passports, she also had a penchant for hovering around Norwegian military facilities, something the Somerton Man has been posthumously accused of. He died in 1948, one year after the Cold War was waged, and the very same year the Australian government started cracking down on Soviet espionage.

His body was found in Adelaide, a city that was uncomfortably close to at least two sites that were known targets for spies: the Radium Hill uranium mine and the Woomera test range, a military research facility. More coincidences? Perhaps. But what about the fact that Lieutenant Alfred Boxall, the keepers of Justin's Rubaiyat, worked in intelligence during and after World War II? It was all very suspicious.

Even so, Abbott and his team weren't convinced. They were, however, intrigued by Justin, whose real name was rumored to be the decryption key for the Somerton Man's so-called code. Incredibly, Abbott actually managed to track her down, but in doing so, only strengthened the espionage theory. Our ever-evasive Justin was born Jessica Ellen Thompson.

Though she was dead by the time of Abbott's investigations, her identification inevitably thrusted her relatives into the public eye, resulting in a particularly telling expose. In 2014, Channel 9's 60 Minutes got an interview with Kate Thompson, Jessica's daughter. Kate confirmed that her mother was Justin and revealed that she admitted to lying to investigators back in 1949.

Jessica did know the Somerton man's identity and, apparently, so did the authorities. Kate explained that her mother had said it was a secret known to a level higher than the police force. Kate herself believed that her mother had known the man. In fact, she suspected that both were Soviet spies.

She explained that her mother taught English to migrants and was interested in communism. More so, Jessica could speak Russian, though she refused to tell Kate where she had learned it or why. Part Eight: Searching for the Somerton Man Abbott and his team respectfully gave little credence to Kate's allegations of international espionage. However, they too believed that her mother knew the Somerton Man. In fact, they theorized that the pair might have shared a son.

Back in 2009, Abbott noticed that the Somerton man had distinctive ears. After consulting with experts, it came out that his upper ear hollows were larger than his lower ear hollows, a feature found in only 1 to 2% of the white population. The man's teeth told a similarly unique story. Dental experts concluded that he had hypodontia, a rare genetic disorder present in only 2% of the general population.

Though interesting, these discoveries offered little insight into the case. That changed in 2010, when Abbott found a picture of Jessica's son, Robin. Born in 1946, Robin Thompson was raised by Jessica and her husband, Prosper Thompson.

However, there were serious doubts about who had fathered the boy. Abbott, in particular, felt that Robin was the illegitimate son of Jessica and the Somerton Man, which would explain why she was so evasive when confronted with his plaster cast bust. She was living with another man at the time after all. Unfortunately, Robin passed away in March of 2009, but Abbott managed to unearth a photograph of him, leading to a statistically bizarre discovery.

Robin had distinctive ears and teeth that closely resembled those of the Somerton Man. According to Abbott, the chance of it being a random coincidence is between one in 10 million and one in 20 million. To top it off, that's not all the men had in common.

Robin was a professional dancer with the Australian Ballet Company. As you may remember, the Somerton man's autopsy results pointed to a similar profession based on his pronounced calves, wedge-shaped toes, and muscular legs. Another coincidence? Or a case of nature versus nurture? There was no way to know for sure. Abbott's theory was precisely that, a theory. And it remained that way for several years.

In all likelihood, our story would have ended there had it not been for a groundbreaking discovery. In December of 2017, the professor and his team managed to salvage three hairs that were caught in the Somerton Man's bust. Finally, DNA. Abbott immediately contacted Colleen Fitzpatrick, a forensic genealogist who specialized in cold cases. And the pair devoted themselves to solving our decades-old mystery.

They submitted the Somerton man's DNA to GEDmatch, a genealogical research database, and, miraculously, they found a match. It was only a very, very distant cousin, but it was something. Abbott and Fitzpatrick painstakingly pieced together a family tree based on their findings. However, with over 4,000 distant relatives to sift through and vet, they had their work cut out for them.

For the next two years, the pair scoured archival records searching for the Somerton Man. As it turns out, they weren't the only ones on the hunt. In May of 2021, the South Australian police exhumed his corpse and took DNA samples, eager to be the first to identify him. Naturally, officials declined to comment on the matter until the results were confirmed by the coroner.

but one detail was leaked to the press. The Somerton man was not Robin Thompson's father. Undeterred, Abbott and Fitzpatrick pressed on. They compared biographies and birth certificates, looking for any that mirrored what little information they knew about him. Eventually, they managed to narrow it down to one set of parents. The Somerton man could have been any of the couple's sons, but only one had no documented death. His name was Carl Charles Webb.

Part nine, solved or unresolved.

On July 26th, 2022, Abbott announced that he and Fitzpatrick had finally identified the Somerton Man, setting the internet alight. Some were fascinated. Others, however, refused to believe that a case so mysterious could have such a mundane conclusion. You see, Carl Webb was no Soviet spy, nor was he the victim of some wild poisoning plot. He was an electrician and an abusive, suicidal one at that.

Carl was born on November 16th, 1905 to Richard and Eliza Webb. If he truly was the Somerton man, he would have been 43 years old when he died slumped against the seawall. Just as the medical examiners had theorized, he and his five siblings were raised in Springvale, a suburb of Melbourne, Victoria. Carl grew up playing all manner of sports, which would explain his athletic build and worked for the family bakery.

Sadly, however, Richard eventually fell ill and was forced to sell the business in 1939. Carl went on to become an electric instrument maker and, not long afterward, he met the woman who would become his wife, Dorothy Robertson, a 21-year-old foot specialist. The couple married in 1941 and moved into a flat in South Yarra. However, their marriage was anything but loving.

According to Dorothy, Carl was a brooding loner with a violent temper and a love for betting on horses. His gambling habit, it seems, might explain the cryptic notes found in the untraceable rubyot. Abbott and his team concluded that they simply denoted the first letters of each horse Carl was betting on. How depressingly ordinary, as it turns out. The significance of "tamam shud" was just as banal as that of the quasi-code.

Dorothy described her husband as being particularly fond of poetry. He was known for writing poems of his own, most of which were dedicated to death, something Carl dubbed his greatest desire. He wasn't being melodramatic either. One day in March of 1946, Dorothy arrived home to find Carl lying in their soaked bed, barely conscious and rambling.

Their flat was filled with the sickly sweet stench of ether, and it was clear that he had intentionally overdosed on the potent anesthetic. Dorothy dutifully nursed Carl back to health, but, astonishingly, he was less than impressed. He loathed being alive, and punished his wife for bringing him back from death's door. Dorothy had endured years of physical and emotional abuse at the hands of her husband.

After saving him from suicide, it only worsened and she refused to stand for it any longer. Six months later, Dorothy fled and eventually relocated to Butte, a town about 90 miles northeast of Adelaide. Carl moved out of their flat in 1947 and was never heard from again.

In an interview with CNN, Abbott speculated that he might have headed down to Adelaide the following year to find her, likely prepared to take his life if he didn't. Of course, Abbott can't conclusively confirm this. The professor also can't explain why Carl, if he was indeed the Somerton man, removed all traces of his identity. Abbott can, however, connect him to the T. Keene confusion.

Carl's sister, Freda, was married to a man by the name of Thomas Gerald Keane. Their son, John, was a soldier who seemed to have lived, or at least traveled in America at one point. He also seemed to be roughly the same size as his uncle.

If Carl was the Somerton Man, it would explain why he was wearing American-made clothing and had garments marked with the name T. Keene in his suitcase. But then, if the Somerton Man came from such a close-knit family, why did no one go to the mortuary to identify him? According to Abbott, the answer is a simple one.

they all lived in Victoria, a completely different state. Though the Somerton Man case was widely circulated throughout South Australian newspapers, articles were few and far between in Victoria. In fact, Abbott and his team could only find a single Melbourne article with his photograph in it. Dorothy, on the other hand, was probably happy to finally be rid of him. It's all disappointingly unremarkable, but it's also unconfirmed.

Abbott himself has since said that as a scientist, he's confident that Carl Webb and the Somerton Man are one and the same. However, that's not his conclusion to make. It's up to the South Australia state coroner to decide, and he has yet to confirm Abbott's findings.