The women in the cave: mystery etched in bone

The murder of Marmie Stuart – a crime hidden in plain sight, and a body concealed for decades.

In 1919, 26-year-old Marmie Stuart vanished without a trace. A young woman with a troubled marriage and a bright future, her disappearance raised questions—but few answers. It wasn’t until over 30 years later that her remains were discovered in a remote cave in North Wales, her bones tucked behind a boulder in the darkness.

This episode unpacks the disturbing case of Marmie Stuart’s murder, the forensic breakthroughs that finally identified her, and the man long suspected of ending her life. We explore how Marmie’s story was nearly erased from history—and what it took to uncover the truth buried with her.

Where you can find us?

**Our brand new website is coming soon**

Join our Facebook discussion group!

For more information on the podcast and the hosts, make sure you check out this link.

Follow us on Instagram - @welshmysteries, as well as via our individual profiles (@kaycpage and @mags.cross).

If you like the content or find value in what we do, you can buy as a coffee via our Ko-Fi account.

Work with us?

If you have a particular case that you would like us to cover, please feel free to contact us via the email below.

We are also open to discussing business and sponsorship opportunities via this email - hello@welsh-mysteries.co.uk.

Transcript

This episode begins with an ending. An almost final resting place. A woman’s story, almost lost in the passage of time, buried in the shadows of a Welsh seaside cave. Momentarily untold, unfinished and almost forgotten.

Caswell Bay is quiet now—waves lapping gently, cliffs towering above the shoreline, sea air sharp with salt. Biting in the way that crisp, watery air has a want to do. But in November 1961, something lurked beneath that peaceful surface, a discovery that fractured the silence.

Inside a limestone cave, deep within its narrowing tunnel, a group of young cavers made a grisly discovery: a canvas sack, rotting from age, stuffed with what appeared to be bones.  

Other such cave discoveries were found to have been ancient, historical remains that had been preserved as if wanting to tell their story. But this, this was different. While aged, the bones were obviously not historical – or ancient – and it was apparent that something important had been uncovered.

There were no headlines at first. No immediate identity. Just a skeleton in a sack. But in time, the story took shape—through fragments of fabric, a broken wedding ring, and a truth that had been waiting in the dark for over 40 years.

Because her name was Marmie Stuart.

A woman that was once bright, bold young woman. A woman who loved life. Who loved fiercely? Who married quickly? And who disappeared, completely, in 1919—her husband claiming she’d run off, her voice swallowed by the shame and silence of the era. 

But she hadn’t run. She hadn’t left.

She’d been murdered. Hidden. And hopefully, her killer thought, forgotten.

This is a case that echoes through history—not just because of its cruelty, but because of its importance in the history of violence against women. Because of what it tells us about domestic abuse at the time, about how far we’ve come, how much has changed and yet, how much actually hasn’t.

Marmie lived in a time when domestic violence wasn’t named, let alone prosecuted. When a woman’s disappearance could be dismissed as drama. Or hysteria. 

When control wore the mask of charm. And when men like George Shotton—her husband—could smile, move on, remarry, and live their lives… while the truth stayed buried. Or hidden – in a cave.

Marmie’s story matters because she was failed. By society. By law. By a culture that believed men like George, and doubted women like her.

And wow, doesn’t that feel familiar. 

It took decades for the science to catch up. For forensic techniques to reconstruct her final moments. For investigators and historians to reopen the file, revisit the past, and piece together what really happened.

This isn’t just a mystery. It’s a mirror.

Because Marmie isn’t the only woman to go missing, to be silenced, to be written off as “difficult” or “dramatic” or “just gone.” Her story is more than a historical curiosity—it’s a case study in the quiet, methodical ways women disappear, and the systems that allow that to happen.

In this episode, we’ll explore who Marmie Stuart really was. How she came to vanish. What the discovery of her body revealed. What it didn’t.

We’ll look at how early forensic developments helped identify her, how her husband evaded justice, and how her memory is being reclaimed now—over a century later.

This story may have started with a sack of bones…But what it really uncovers is how easily a woman can be erased. And how powerful it is when her story is finally told.

This is the Lost Voice of Marmie Stuart.

Before she became a mystery, Marmie Stuart was a woman with a name, a past, and a future. She wasn’t born a headline or a case file. She was born Marion Theresa Stuart in 1893 in Sunderland in the North East of England. Her father, William, worked in the ship industry as a captain and was said to have done well from himself. The family was made up of five, with Marmie having two siblings, a sister called Edith and a younger brother called James.

Unfortunately – as it was later set to affect the handling of her disappearance – the household was one that held strong ideas about respectability and appearances. 

She was an educated, middle-class woman from a well-respected family and those who knew her said that she was clever, independent, and full of spirit. Her homelife was said to have been one of comfort but her parents were strong disciplinarians. 

Marmie’s upbringing, like many women of her time, was designed to shape her into a wife. A woman who would bring elegance to a household and stability to a husband. But Marmie wanted more.

She was a beautiful woman, with brown bobbed hair – as was the style – and grey-blue eyes. She was fairly small, 5ft3. Later, when she went missing, her teeth would also be described, with them said to have been “very even teeth with one missing”. 

But she also had four faint teeth marks on her right cheek, from a dog attack when she was a child, but she tended to conceal these with make-up.

From a young age, Marmie had developed a passion for dancing and aspired to perform in music halls or in London’s West End. It was with these aspirations that she joined a troupe called The Magnets, performing as a chorus girl on several their tours. Her parents had given their consent for her to do this.

It was during this time that she chose the name Marmie.

Once her time with The Magnets was over, Marmie continued to peruse her stage career, leaving her family home and starting her own dance troupe which, she named The Five Verona Girls. They performed nationally, doing moderately well, and becoming a popular attraction. In area known for conservative dress styles, they were known for their daring style. Occasionally showing their legs.

In 1917, the band came to a sudden end when two of the five Veronas became unavailable. One of them had fallen pregnant, while another had broken her ankle. The troupe was finished and Marmie returned to her family home.

In her early twenties, during the final year of the First World War, she worked as a secretary—unusual at the time for a woman of her class—and it was through this work that she met a man who would change her life.

His name was George Shotton.

George was from Southampton and worked as a marine engineer and had introduced himself to Marmie as a ‘widower’. 

The relationship developed quickly. He was the kind of man who knew how to make an impression. It’s for that reason that many described him as charming, and attractive. He was quick to offer compliments, with a polished way of speaking. 

 It is perhaps little wonder then, that Marmie and George fell in love quickly, with George wasted no time in sweeping Marmie off her feet. Their courtship was brief, and intense, and by May 1918—while the echoes of war still rumbled across Europe—they were husband and wife. 

 Following their marriage, the couple moved to Bristol briefly, before then moving to Swansea for George’s job. In the late summer of 1919, the couple moved into a rented property in Caswell Bay, Swansea. While living her, Marmie remained in regular contact with her family, writing to them on a regular basis.

But their love story wasn’t to have a happy ending and just a short while later, things were to attend badly.

In the weeks before she vanished, Marmie had continued to communicate with her family, and in these letters, she was said to have discussed her marital issues. Telling her family that the marriage wasn’t a happy one, that there was violone and that she was increasingly keen to leave him. She’d even suggested – or at least hinted at – the fact that she wanted to return to the stage. 

Their neighbours in South Wales had noticed that Marie was becoming withdrawn and her letters to her family became less frequent. People around town had started to whisper, with people living near the couple often hearing several loud noises from inside the home.  It was common for them to hear raised voices and slamming doors. Several people had also seen Marmie with brisures, about which she was never able to give a compelling story.

At some point in November or December 1919, Marmie vanished, with no one able to accurately pinpoint when she was last seen. 

But we do know the last date on which she corresponded with her family. 

On the 12th November, she wrote her final letter to her parents and shortly after, they posted a reply. This letter was returned to them, unopened, marked with “House Closed”. 

This is not something that I have ever come across before, but in a nutshell, it means that delivery was attempted but that the address was either incorrect or the house was now empty.  

The family believed that Royal Mail had made a mistake, but wanting to be sure, they tried an alternative method. This time, they posted a reply-paid telegram to Marmie. 

“Reply-paid” is exactly what it sounds like. It essentially meant that the parents paid for the postage of their telegram and any reply that their daughter made to it. However, this was returned with the same marking as the former – House Closed. 

In the meantime, her husband was quick to make up a story, telling anyone who asked after that she had left him. She’d packed her bags, walked out, and vanished into the anonymity of post-war Britain. He wrote to her family, casually informing them that Mamie had deserted him and that she had not left a forwarding address. There was no explanation but also no concern. 

Then, just before Christmas, they received a telegram supposedly from their daughter. It offered seasonal greetings, but they never heard from her again. 

For a while, her family attempted to find her, sending letters and asking questions about her whereabouts. But George stuck to his story; Marmie had simply walked out, leaving him. Over time, the search came to a stop.

For Marmie’s family – who were traditional and cared deeply about their reputation – the fear of public judgement had somewhat outweighed their concern. They were worried about what people would think of them – or Marmie – if news came out that she had walked out on her husband. At the time, she was only 26 years old. 

And so, her absence was noted, but then it became a rumour. And she became a memory—a silence.

It’s worth us briefly touching a few important facts about George that are going to be important later. 

You might recall a key detail from earlier, because when they first met, George had described himself as a “widower”. But that wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t even a little bit true. It was an absolute lie. 

About 50 miles away from their home in Caswell Bay, lived another woman Mary – Mary Shotton to be precise. And she was George’s first wife. Not ex, not former and certainly not deceased. She was alive, well, and caring for their son. Their marriage also had a history of violence, and she believed that his absence was related to his job. 

George Shotton was a bigamist. 

In March 1920, a leather trunk was discovered at Swansea’s Grosvenor Hotel and staff remembered that it had been left by a man in December 1919. However, three months later the luggage had still not been claimed.

There was no address attached to and unsure of how to dispose of the property, the hotel contacted the police and when they arrived, they opened it. Inside were two women’s dresses, and a pair of shoes. All of which were damaged, with cuts and tears. They trunk also included jewellery, a bible, a rosary and a manicure set. 

 But it also included a scrap of paper upon which there was writing. It was an address, and police would later discover that it was the address of Marmie’s parents. 

The police visited them and were immediately met with concern, with both parents admitting that they believed their daughter was missing. It had now been a few months since that final letter on the 12th of November 1919, and their daughter hadn’t contacted them once. 

The police were concerned, with the parents raising several concerns about Marmie’s husband. They were even able to provide the police with letters that Marmie had written, some of which contained information that proved their point. Marmie’s husband was dangerous, and she was concerned about his escalating behaviour. Marmie was scared.

Tragically, in one such letter, she wrote: “If you don’t hear from me, please write to Mrs Hearn and see if she knows anything about me. The man is not all there. I don’t think I will live with him much longer. My life is not worth living.”

Mrs Hearn was a friend of Marmie’s. 

Shortly after, a maid who had been asked to clean the deserted cottage, uncovered Marmie’s handbag. It had contained two pounds in change, as well as Marmie’s sugar ration card. It had been concealed behind a dresser in the bedroom. 

It didn’t take much investigation to release that something sinister had likely happened and by the end of March 1920, the police believed that she had been murdered by George. They surmised that rage, control or jealousy were the likely motives.  

Wanting to ensure that the investigation was through and accurate, South Wales Police contacted Scotland Yard and Chief Inspector William Draper was dispatched to oversee the investigation. 

His first port of call was the final location at which Marmie could be placed, the cottage in Caswell. The home was searched but nothing was uncovered. A description of Marmie was circulated the country, but she was never located.   

 The Scotland Yard detective agreed with South Wales Police, deciding that George was the prime suspect. And they were able to locate him, as he had returned home to his first wife in Penarth. 

He admitted to having “known” Marmie, suggesting that he had been unfaithful to his wife with her. He also admitted that he was the man who had left the trunk in the hotel in Swansea. He claimed that they had been in a big argument and that he had left it there following this disagreement in early December. 

But he denied having married her or having any knowledge of her whereabouts. 

The police were able to challenge his version of events relatively quickly, discovering the evidence that proved that he had married Marmie. 

The police then did as Marmie had suggested to her family in that letter and asked Mrs Hearn to tell them what she knew. She confirmed that George had been abusive and that Marmie had said “If I am ever missing, do your utmost to find me, won’t you?” 

Unfortunately, it was impossible to charge George with murder, as the law permitted such a charge from being brought in the absence of a body. And investigators at Scotland Yard believed that he had got away with it, stating that it was almost as if he had committed the “perfect crime”. 

Unable to charge him with murder, they made the decision to charge him with what they could – bigamy. On the 29th Marc9h 1920, he was arrested and tried at the Glamorgan Assizes two months later. He pleaded not guilty, admitting to having had a relationship with her and having shared a home, but denying the marriage existed. His explanation for the documents that proved Marmie had married a George Shotton? 

Someone had pretended to be him. This defence – surprisingly – didn’t stand up to scrutiny, as several witnesses gave evidence in support of the marriage’s existence. And that the married party was the George in the dock. 

One of these witnesses was Marmie’s sister, Edith. She gave evidence that Shotton frequently ended letter to his wife with the phrase “your own loving husband” and his pet name for her was “my own little wife”.

During this trial he also denied that he ever abused her, stating that the two had ended their relationship following a quarrel. 

The prosecuting KC wasn’t having any of it, and accused George of having killed her. On the 13th of July, George was sentenced to 18 months’ imprisonment with hard labour for having married Stuart. He was a convicted bigamist. 

He’d had two wives, but by the time he left prison, he had none. His first wife, on hearing of his crime – and with the space and safety of him not being there – divorced him. 

The police were pretty certain, Marmie was dead, and her husband was responsible. But this didn’t stop some witnesses from suggesting that not only was she alive but that they were seeing her. 

It all began following the bigamy trial, with it gaining media and traction, as a result, Marmie’s name, description and photographs were being seen by a wider audience. 

She’d been seen in Canada, South Africa, Australia, and India. And the media relished these occurrences, giving them a considerable amount of airtime. 

We now know, of course, that these sightings couldn’t have been Marmie, but some of them seemed compelling at the time. 

One of the earliest sightings was by a man called Thomas James, a Chief Officer of the Blythmoor – a cargo ship. And this was an interesting one because Thomas knew Marmia’s father. 

He reported that he had seen Marmie in portal of Karachi, Pakistan, in the early 1920s. Interestingly, he believed that she was part of a troupe of English performers. He told investigators that he spoke to her but that she denied being Marmie. He remained adamant that it was her, despite the denial.  

In early 1922, George was released from prison and he moved onto a smallholding in Tintern. He attended the local church, ran the tennis club and was regarded to be a “charming chap”.

But one day, he left, rather abruptly, surprising everyone who had known him. It was later assumed that he’d left because of the media were retelling Marmie’s story and specifically placing the blame on his shoulders.

At this point, he moved to Balham in London and moved in with his elderly mother, Louisa. He took a series of jobs, with one being an odd job and one as a motor mechanic. 

In May of 1938, he was arrested for threatening his sister with a revolver at her home address. And, as a result, he was charged with causing actual bodily harm. The dispute was said to have related to their mothers will. Once again, he was sentenced to prison with hard labour and was released 12 months later.  

This time he moved to Ledbury, cutting all ties with everyone from his former life, taking a job at an aircraft factory. 

And at some point, he moved to Bristol.

The case went cold with the next development taking place in 1950, when something curious was discovered. The cottage in Caswell had recently been purchased by a dentist, who was doing some work with the drainage around the property. They uncovered a pit at the back of the house, which lined up with a hole in the foundation, reaching beneath the floorboards 

It was soon discovered that this pit had been filled with quicklime, and it was in here that a women’s shoe was found. But nothing more. 

And then, her body was found. 

On the 5th of November 1961, her body was discovered, rotting in a sack. Inside of a disused lead mine at Brandy Cove, hidden behind a large stone slab that was 50 feet down.

It was only 200 yards from the home that she had vanished home, the home that she had shared with her husband. 

Her final resting place had been uncovered by three young potholers. One of them would later explain their reason for being there, stating that the area had once been used by smugglers. They were attempting to explore a ventilation shaft, and to get there they needed to crawl through a narrow tunnel. However, that tunnel had been blocked with a large stone slab. 

One of the boys – the one at the front – pulled the slab to one side and immediately spotted s kill. Turning it towards him, he quickly realised that it was human. Next the skill was a black, celluloid hair clasp that contained a piece of brown hair. There were also several items of jewellery, including a seven-inch brass chain and several scrapes of clothing.

The remains were collected and taken to the Forensic Science Laboratory in Cardiff. Two Home Office pathologists, William James and John Griffiths, conducted a forensic examination. The skeleton was found to have been almost complete, with the exception of the rib cage, which was missing. They were also able to discover that one canine tooth was missing and that her wisdom teeth were present, meaning that she was over 21. Further assessment of her bones suggested that she was in her mid 20s. But evidence found on the skull suggested that she was closer to 28. 

The next thing that the established was the woman’s height, placing her at somewhere between 5ft3 and 5ft4. Her bone bore copper staining from the jewellery.

Due to the nature of the remains, police were unable to identify a cause of death, but due to the decompensation of her soft tissue, no signs of strangulation or stabbing could be identified. However, the scraps of clothing, and jewellery helped them to establish a likely timeline for her death.

The National Museum of Wales was able to assist with this. Their research discovered that the gilt-copper stole tassels which were worn by the woman were most likely from the 1920s, as this was when they were in fashion. Whereas the jewellery – a gold wedding ring and a diamond engagement ring – had been most recently manufactured in 1912 and 1918. 

The police felt confident estimating that the woman had likely died in the years immediately after the First World War. 

The police were quick to establish a suspected identity, immediately linking the location and description with the missing woman. They spoke to one of Marmie’s friends, and she was able to assist with the identification process. The police showed her the two rings that had been found with the remains, and she confirmed that they were Marmie’s.

The police knew that there was something they needed to do – they needed to locate Goerge Shotton. Tasking nine full-time men and with the assistance of Interpol, they found him, three weeks after the bodies recovery. 

But there was a snag. They had located him, in Bristol’s Arnos Vale cemetery. He’d died in April 1948, aged 77, from natural causes. The only justice being that he’d died penniless, spending his final years in a home, with no one around him. He’d been buried in an unmarked grave, noting but his welfare number to mark the site.

 But police were far from satisfied and decided to speak to his former wife, seeking clarity on his temperament. Wanting to be sure that the case was closed. When questioned, she confirmed that her former husband had a violent temper and that he had been repeatedly adulterous while married to her. While he never confessed, nor been convicted, she remained convinced of his guilt. This, she had said, was why she’d divorced him. 

 On the 14th December 1961, an inquest into Stuart’s death was opened. Her skeleton remained on the table in the well of the court room for the entirety.

It was revealed, for the first time, that the body had been severed in three equal lengths but that the process had proven difficult for the suspect. There were multiple striations and indenters proving that he’d made multiple attempts to dismember her before being able to. 

To further assist with the identification, experts superimposed a photograph of the skill over a life-sized portrait of Marmie. 

The inquest then moved to cause of death, with the Coroner admitting that he was not able to offer one. The reason being that there was a lack of soft tissue and he was therefore unable to identify what had happened to Marmie. However, he was able to rule out one cause of death – a head injury – because there was no damage to Marmie’s skull. 

To include his evidence, the coroner directed a question at the jury, asking: “can you imagine any reason for sawing up anyone if the person had committed suicide or if the death was accidental?” 

He then stated that Marmie’s death was undoubtedly a murder.

The inquest then heard evidence from an 83-year-old, retired postman named William Symons who gave evidence about something that he had witnessed. He told the inquest that in December 1919, he had been delivering mail to the cottage when he observed George struggling with a large sack. He was attempting to place the sack inside of a yellow van that was parked at the gates of the cottage. 

On seeing the postman, George jumped, before shouting: “No! No! Oh god, you gave me a fright. For a minute I thought you were a policeman.”  

He then climbed in to the van before driving off towards Brandy Cove and ultimately, the cave where Marmie was found. 

Ultimately, there was no other verdict and in the end a coroner found George to have been responsible.

The verdict came on the 15th December 1961, and it decided that while no cause of death could be offered, Marmie had been murdered. It concluded that she had died between the 12th of November and the 6th December 1991. 

 Following the inquest, Marmie’s skeleton was retained at Cardiff University and it has since been reported that her bones were used to teach students. It is now alleged that Eminent Forensic Pathologist Bernard Knight – who is known for his work on the Fred and Rosemary West case, amongst others – regularly utilised them.  

For some reason, neither the university or authorities, ever made any effort to locate her extended or surviving family.

In 2019, Susan Oldnall, Marmie’s great niece, was approached by CBS Reality in research for a programme that they were making. It was they who informed about the fact that the bones were being held by Cardiff University, and they were stored in a cupboard inside of the forensic laboratory. 

According to reports, the department had been urged to dispose of them on multiple occasions, but a senior forensic pathologist at the university had made the decision to keep them. Dr Stephen Leadbeatter hoped that one day someone would reclaim Marmie. Upon the discovery of her great niece, Dr Leadbeatter then personally returned her remains to her family.  

In December 2019, Marmie was finally laid to rest, being buried in a cemetery in Sunderland. She was buried in a grave next to her parents and four of her descendants attended the service.  

Speaking to the BBC, following this, Mrs Oldnall said: "She's been treated with such lack of dignity, and now she's with her parents. I'm not religious, but I do feel much better about it now ... I only did what a lot of people would have done and I hope, if there is a heaven, that the family are all finally having a good time together."

As we bring this episode on Marmie Stuart to a close, it's important to pause and reflect on what her tragic death represents—not only as a true crime case but as part of a much broader, devastating pattern of violence against women.

Marmie wasn’t just a headline or a grim discovery in the Welsh countryside. Or a set of bones to be used in education. She was a person— someone’s friend, someone’s neighbour, someone’s daughter. And the circumstances surrounding her final days—still shrouded in a mix of silence, suspicion, and sorrow—echo the reality that countless victims of domestic abuse continue to face today.

Domestic abuse is not an anomaly. It is, heartbreakingly, a widespread crisis that cuts across age, class, race, and geography. According to the Office for National Statistics (ONS), an estimated 1.4 million women in England and Wales experienced domestic abuse in the year ending March 2023. That’s nearly 1 in 20 women in just one year.

And yet, as common as it is, it often remains hidden. Victims are silenced by fear, shame, financial dependence, or a justice system that still, at times, fails to adequality protect them.

In true crime, we must be wary of using old adages as they can generalise and depersonalise a very personal story. But, that said, there is a reason why the police home in on a person’s domestic life and why that is the first place they look. 

Because as much as the fictional media and entertainment industry prefer to focus on stranger danger, it’s often at home that we face the most peril.

The story of Marmie Stuart reminds us that while a body can be buried, the questions, the pain, and the systemic failures can remain unaddressed. Her case, like many others, may never have a definitive conclusion. But it should never be forgotten. 

It’s true that progress has been made since Marmie’s murder, and expectations and standards have shifted. 

In the UK, the Domestic Abuse Act 2021 introduced significant legal reforms—finally recognising coercive control, expanding the definition of abuse beyond physical violence, and creating Domestic Abuse Protection Notices and Orders to provide quicker, more responsive support.

We’ve also seen an increase in public awareness campaigns, better training for police and healthcare workers, and the rise of survivor-led organisations that offer resources and refuge. More conversations are happening now about the complex realities of abuse—how it looks, how it feels, and why it’s so hard to leave. 

But we are not done.

For every step forward, there are still barriers that keep survivors trapped. Funding cuts to women’s shelters, underreporting of abuse, long waits for court dates, and the victim-blaming culture that still pervades media narratives all contribute to a system that can feel rigged against those most in need.

Globally, the World Health Organization reports that 1 in 3 women have experienced physical or sexual violence by an intimate partner in their lifetime. That’s a staggering, generational wound that transcends borders.

And closer to home, two women a week are killed by a current or former partner in the UK—a statistic that has remained horrifyingly consistent for decades.

We may never know all of what happened to Marmie Stuart. The silences around her life—and her death—speak to how society often fails its most vulnerable. But by telling her story, and placing it within the context of a much larger issue, we honour more than her memory. We shine a light on every woman who’s been dismissed, disbelieved, or disappeared in plain sight. 

So what can we do?

We can listen. Believe. Share. We can support local domestic abuse services, push for stronger protections, and keep having uncomfortable conversations. We can call out misogyny when we see it, even when it’s subtle. Especially when it’s subtle.

Because behind every statistic is a person. Behind every name in a headline is a life that mattered.

And Marmie Stuart mattered. 

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic abuse, help is available. In the UK, you can call the National Domestic Abuse Helpline at 0808 2000 247, which is free, confidential, and open 24/7. You are not alone.

Until next time, take care of yourselves—and each other.