Adelaide: A Good Place To Die

Adelaide: A Good Place to Die

How many bodies are buried in ‘The Most Liveable City’ of Adelaide?

What started out as a minor scratch in the face of colonial Adelaide, soon festered and rooted itself in the dregs of society. A certain type of people to root themselves into foundations of Adelaide soon began to cast their shadow over the innocent. The shadow grew until it enveloped the city and bogged the good people down in the wretched muck of the sick and evil. Wickedness and vulgarity run rampant at biblical proportions, the worst of the worst of human kind: murderers.

Adelaide was formed from concepts of a free settlement as imagined by British politician Edward Gibbon Wakefield, who “was a duplicitous, power-hungry, greedy kidnapper”. …show more content…
On the 30th of November in 1948, the body of a man was found next to a seawall at Brighton beach, dead. From the very beginning, when the man was found at 6:30a.m, everything about him was a mystery - his identity, why he was in Adelaide, even his death. It was uncertain whether this death was suicide or murder, however suicide was swiftly disregarded. Dressed in a smart suit, the tall man’s actions leading up to his death were unusual; he bought a train ticket for the mid-morning train to Henley Beach however for whatever reason he missed that train, after giving the conductor his ticket on the platform. Instead he checked his suitcase at the cloakroom, and walked across North Terrace to a bus stop to catch the bus to Glenelg and Somerton. The next morning the clean-shaven, well dressed man was found dead; all the labels on his clothes had been removed, there was no sign of violence of any kind and a half-smoked cigarette was found on his collar. All attempts at identification were fruitless, and the police hit numerous dead ends. The intriguing clues began in April in 1949, when police found a tiny fragment from a page in the book The Rubaiyat with the words ‘Taman Shud’ on it, rolled up in the man’s pocket. The Rubaiyat is a nine hundred-year-old Persian poem about “living life to the full and having no regrets”. The police jumped on the occasion to search for a copy of the book with the last page torn. Alas such a book was turned in by a doctor who’d found it in the back seat of his car. Written in the back of the book were four cryptic lines and two phone numbers: one belonged to an ex-army lieutenant, Alf Boxall, and the other to an ex-nurse who lived in Glenelg. The nurse told police that she’d given her copy of the book to Alf Boxall, who was her friend, and in it she had written a small excerpt of the poem and signed it ‘Jestyn’. Boxall still had his copy of

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