For Desmond Butler, it began with a headache. Then diarrhoea. Nausea that felt like a hangover. He was otherwise a healthy man, not yet 30. He shared two children with his wife Yvonne Gladys Butler, a striking woman, small and doll-like. Desmond also attracted the attention of neighbours, with dark, thick floppy hair, an athletic physique and perhaps a wandering eye. It was October 1947, and the young couple lived in a small house in the then working-class suburb of Newtown in Sydney. But back to Desmond’s h...
For Desmond Butler, it began with a headache. Then diarrhoea. Nausea that felt like a hangover.
He was otherwise a healthy man, not yet 30. He shared two children with his wife Yvonne Gladys Butler, a striking woman, small and doll-like. Desmond also attracted the attention of neighbours, with dark, thick floppy hair, an athletic physique and perhaps a wandering eye.
It was October 1947, and the young couple lived in a small house in the then working-class suburb of Newtown in Sydney.
But back to Desmond’s headaches.
Over the course of a week, his symptoms worsened.
Extreme fatigue. Aches and pains throughout his whole body, and a strange stiffness in his legs. Pins and needles travelled to his feet.
Before long, Desmond saw a doctor. They could find nothing, physically, wrong with him. The doctor’s order was Bonox… a drink otherwise known as beef tea. It was gentle on the stomach and high in iron, concentrating also the nutrients from beef in a drink. Every night, Yvonne continued to serve him Bonox. But his condition did not improve. It got worse.
While out with friends one night, Desmond fell to the floor. His legs were no longer working. He shouted at the top of his lungs: “I feel like I’m on fire!” Rushed home and put to bed, his friends didn’t know what to make of Desmond’s mystery illness. Was it possible he was putting it on?
As time wore on, neighbours began to notice a smell around the Butler house. It smelt like urine and faeces. Desmond no longer had control of his bowel, and Yvonne could only wash him with a sponge in bed given she was unable to lift him. His screams were heard throughout the neighbourhood - like an animal in excruciating pain.
Finally, he was rushed to hospital again.
A friend explained to the doctor: “He’s in so much pain he’s been threatening to eat poisoned wheat. His wife told us so”.
He likely didn’t know what the repercussions would be for such a statement.
Desmond was not admitted to hospital. He was taken into custody. In 1947, suicide was a crime. And Desmond had just threatened it.
And so people believed Desmond Butler had lost his mind - imagining symptoms for which there was no physical explanation.
But they were real.
And they did have a physical explanation.
But by the time police made a startling discovery, it would all be too late.
CREDITS
Guest: Tanya Bretherton, author of The Husband Poisoner
Host: Jessie Stephens
Producer: Gia Moylan
Audio Producer: Ian Camilleri
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