For four decades, Sharon Fulton’s
disappearance remained one of Western Australia’s most troubling cold cases. Her husband changed his name,
built a new life and maintained that he knew nothing about what had happened.
Then an anonymous letter arrived, apparently pointing investigators toward
another man. But the envelope carried something its sender could not take back:
his own DNA.
In the end, the evidence that helped bring the case
to trial was not discovered at a remote crime scene or buried beneath concrete.
It was found on an ordinary envelope.
The case would become a remarkable example of how forensic DNA analysis,
renewed police attention and a family’s determination can transform an
investigation that once appeared impossible to solve. Yet even after a murder
conviction and a life sentence, one question remains unanswered: where is
Sharon’s body?
The ordinary Tuesday morning that
became a 40-year mystery
Perth, Western Australia, March 1986.
Sharon Fulton was 39 years old, a mother of four and
a woman preparing for a major change in her life. Her marriage was breaking
down, and she had begun taking steps toward divorce. She wanted to separate
from her husband and establish a different future for herself and her children.
The family had moved from Brisbane to Perth in the
early 1980s, eventually settling in Duncraig, a northern suburb. From the
outside, their household appeared comfortable. But behind the ordinary
routines, the relationship was deteriorating.
According to evidence later presented in court,
Sharon was seeking legal advice and considering what separation would mean for
the family home, property, finances and custody of the children.
Her plans were significant. A divorce could have
changed the financial and personal circumstances of both spouses. Prosecutors
would later argue that her intention to leave supplied a possible motive for murder.
But on its own, a troubled marriage does not prove a
crime. What happened next would become the central question of an investigation
that lasted decades.
On Tuesday, March 18, 1986, Sharon left her home with
plans for the day. A friend was expecting her at a small gathering scheduled
for 11 a.m. Sharon had reportedly telephoned to explain that she might arrive
late because she had an appointment in the city first.
She also dropped off one of her young sons during the
morning.
That was the last confirmed sighting of Sharon alive.
She never reached her appointment. She never arrived
at the gathering. The plans she had made for that Tuesday simply stopped.
For her children, the disappearance marked the
beginning of a lifetime without their mother. For investigators, it marked the
beginning of a mystery that would resist conventional police work for years.
The explanations that kept
changing
Sharon's husband did not immediately report her
missing. Prosecutors later highlighted the delay, arguing that his response was
inconsistent with the behaviour expected from a husband whose wife had suddenly
disappeared.
His explanations also changed.
At one point, he suggested that Sharon had left the
family home because she wanted time away and might have been seeing another
man. Later, he gave detectives a different account, saying he had driven her to
a railway station so she could meet someone in the city.
Even the station reportedly changed between versions
of his story. Mount Lawley, East Perth and Perth were all mentioned.
Those differences became important parts of the
prosecution's case decades later.
Investigators also heard evidence about the family's
telephone number being changed after Sharon disappeared. Prosecutors argued
that her husband claimed to have contacted her friends but that those friends
had not received the calls he described.
Each detail was examined in the context of the wider
timeline. None independently established what had happened to Sharon, but
together they became part of the case presented to the jury.
There was another detail that would attract
particular attention: a $120,000
life insurance policy taken out on Sharon's life in the weeks
before she vanished, with her husband named as beneficiary.
Years later, he went to court seeking a declaration
that Sharon was legally dead so he could pursue the policy.
The timing and financial circumstances became part of
the prosecution's argument about motive. The defense, however, was entitled to
challenge the significance of those circumstances and insist that suspicion was
not proof.
That distinction mattered because the investigation
had a major problem.
There was no body.
Why the missing body made the
investigation so difficult
In 1986, detectives had no confirmed crime scene, no
recovered weapon and no physical evidence establishing how Sharon had
disappeared.
There was also no witness who could describe an
attack.
Without a body, investigators faced the difficult
task of establishing not only that Sharon had died, but that she had been
unlawfully killed and that a particular person was responsible.
The technology available to police was also very
different from what investigators would have decades later. Modern DNA profiling,
advanced forensic laboratories and increasingly sophisticated methods of examining
old evidence had not yet become routine tools for an investigation of this
kind.
There were no comprehensive mobile-phone location
records to reconstruct movements and no extensive network of modern
surveillance cameras.
The case therefore depended heavily on statements,
timelines and the accounts of people who had known the family.
As the years passed, Sharon's children grew older.
They experienced birthdays, school milestones, graduations and family occasions
without knowing what had happened to their mother.
Her eldest son, Heath Fulton, refused to accept that
the disappearance should become a forgotten file.
He continued pressing for answers and seeking renewed
attention from authorities. His determination became an important part of the
case's later history.
For families of missing people, this kind of
uncertainty can create a particularly painful form of grief. There is no
confirmed place to visit, no grave and no reliable explanation to help make
sense of the loss. The experience is often described as ambiguous loss—a
situation in which a loved one is absent but the circumstances remain
unresolved.
For Sharon's sons, the question never disappeared.
A new name and a life far removed
from Perth
As the investigation remained unresolved, Sharon's
husband eventually adopted a different identity.
The man previously known as Maxwell Robert Fulton
became Raymond Reddington.
The name attracted attention because it was also the
name of the fictional criminal mastermind in the television series The Blacklist. Another
unusual coincidence was the presence of a character named Dr. Sharon Fulton in
the same series.
Those details became part of the public fascination
surrounding the case, although the available evidence does not establish why he
chose the name or whether the television connection had any personal
significance.
What mattered more to investigators was the change of
identity itself and the life that followed.
He remarried and established himself elsewhere. For
years, the disappearance of Sharon Fulton remained a mystery associated with a
man who had apparently moved on.
When detectives interviewed him in 2017, more than
three decades after Sharon vanished, he reportedly said he could not remember
the circumstances surrounding her disappearance.
His second wife later gave evidence at trial about
his alleged efforts to teach her how to imitate memory problems to obtain an
Alzheimer's diagnosis. That testimony became part of the prosecution's wider
argument about his claimed memory loss.
The jury was asked to consider the evidence as a
whole, rather than treating any single statement as conclusive.
By then, however, the investigation was approaching a
turning point.
The anonymous letter that changed
everything
In 2021, an anonymous letter arrived at the Western Australian Coroner's Court.
It was signed with the name Michael Harrison, and its
writer claimed to have worked with Sharon's husband.
The letter contained an explosive allegation. It
claimed that the writer had impregnated Sharon and that her body had been
concealed beneath a concrete driveway.
At first glance, the message appeared to offer
investigators a new direction. It suggested another possible person connected
to the disappearance and identified a location where Sharon's remains might
supposedly be found.
But anonymous accusations can be difficult to verify.
A name on a page does not establish that the person exists, that the claims are
true or that the writer has genuine knowledge of a crime.
Investigators therefore had another question to
answer: who had actually sent the letter?
That question would prove far more important than the
accusation written inside it.
In 2022, a formal coronial inquest began examining
Sharon's disappearance. The renewed proceedings brought old evidence back into
focus and created an opportunity to revisit the timeline, earlier statements
and unanswered questions.
A coronial inquest is not the same as a criminal
trial. Its purpose is to investigate the circumstances of a death or suspected
death, rather than determine criminal guilt. Nevertheless, it can bring
witnesses and evidence into a public process and help identify areas requiring
further investigation.
For detectives, the anonymous letter was one of those
areas.
Instead of simply following the name written on the
page, investigators examined the physical object itself.
The envelope carried a clue its
sender could not erase
The envelope was not just a container for an
accusation. It was potential forensic
evidence.
Anyone handling paper can leave behind microscopic
biological material, including skin cells. An envelope that has been sealed
with saliva may also retain genetic material from the person who licked it.
Modern laboratories can sometimes recover and analyse
this material using established DNA
testing technology.
That does not mean every envelope produces a usable
profile. The quality of a sample can depend on how it was handled, stored and
exposed to environmental conditions. Investigators must also consider
contamination and document the chain of custody.
In this case, however, forensic examination produced
a significant result.
The envelope was sent to PathWest, Western
Australia's forensic laboratory. Evidence presented at trial described how
forensic scientist Bethany Offerins examined the seal and recovered biological
material.
The resulting genetic profile was compared with
available reference material.
According to the prosecution evidence, the DNA
matched Raymond Reddington.
The man whose identity had replaced Maxwell Robert
Fulton was now connected to the anonymous letter that had attempted to direct
suspicion toward someone else.
The significance was extraordinary.
The letter had been designed to create a new suspect
and encourage investigators to search elsewhere. Yet the physical evidence on
the envelope pointed back toward the person prosecutors believed had been
responsible for Sharon's disappearance.
The DNA did not, by itself, explain how Sharon died
or where her body had been taken. It did, however, undermine the story that the
letter had come from the person whose name appeared beneath its accusations.
The envelope had become one of the most important
pieces of evidence in a case that had once seemed to have almost none.
From a cold-case investigation to
a murder charge
The investigation continued as detectives assembled
the evidence and examined the letter's origins.
In 2023, Reddington was extradited from Port
Macquarie in New South Wales to Perth to face the investigation.
The following year, Western Australian authorities
announced a $1
million reward for information relating to Sharon's
disappearance and the prosecution of the person responsible.
In June 2024, detectives charged the 77-year-old with
wilful murder.
He appeared by video link and was remanded in
custody.
The charge marked a major development, but it did not
guarantee a conviction. Prosecutors still had to persuade a jury that the
evidence established guilt beyond reasonable doubt.
And the defense had an argument that had shadowed the
case for almost four decades.
There was no body. There was no weapon. There was no
direct witness to a killing.
The question was whether the combined circumstantial
and forensic evidence could overcome those gaps.
The trial: could a jury convict
without a body?
The trial took place in the Supreme Court of Western Australia.
By then, the accused was elderly and used a
wheelchair. The proceedings examined the events leading up to Sharon's
disappearance, the explanations given over the years, the financial
circumstances and the anonymous letter.
The defense challenged the prosecution's case and
emphasized the absence of a body and direct evidence of a killing.
It also raised the possibility that other people
could have been responsible, including David and Catherine Birnie, the
notorious Perth serial killers who abducted and murdered young women during the
same period.
The prosecution responded that the trial had heard no
evidence connecting the Birnies to Sharon's disappearance.
Instead, prosecutors directed the jury's attention to
the evidence they said established the accused's responsibility.
They examined the changing accounts of where Sharon
had supposedly been taken, the delay in reporting her disappearance, the
insurance policy, the later legal effort concerning her presumed death and the
testimony of his second wife.
They also relied on the evidence surrounding his
changed identity and the anonymous letter.
At the centre of the forensic case was the envelope.
The prosecution argued that the DNA recovered from
its seal connected the accused to a letter intended to mislead investigators.
In their account, the attempt to frame another man had produced evidence that
helped expose the sender.
The defense disputed the prosecution's interpretation
and maintained that the case did not establish guilt.
The jury had to consider the entire body of evidence,
including the scientific findings, witness testimony and competing
explanations.
After deliberating for approximately four hours, the
jury returned its verdict.
Guilty.
The accused was convicted of the wilful murder of
Sharon Fulton.
For her sons, the verdict brought a long-awaited
legal answer. But it did not solve every part of the mystery.
A life sentence, but no location
for Sharon's remains
In 2026, almost 40 years after Sharon disappeared,
the man convicted of her murder was sentenced to life imprisonment.
The conviction brought an end to the criminal trial,
but it could not provide the one thing her family had spent decades hoping to
receive: the location of her remains.
Sharon's body has still not been found.
Her sons have continued asking for information that
would allow them to bring her home and give her a proper burial.
That request is about more than the practical
arrangements of a funeral. It is about having a place to remember their mother
and finally resolving a question that has shaped their lives since childhood.
The absence of a body also leaves investigators and
the family with unanswered questions about the final hours of Sharon's life.
Where was she taken? What happened after she left
home that Tuesday morning? Was her body concealed at a location known only to
the person convicted of her murder?
Those questions remain central to the family's search
for answers.
The conviction established criminal responsibility in
the eyes of the law. It did not reveal the burial location.
The forensic lesson behind the
envelope
The case has attracted attention because of the
unusual role played by an anonymous letter.
For years, the disappearance appeared to offer
investigators little physical evidence. There was no recovered body and no
conventional crime scene from which to build a straightforward forensic case.
Yet the letter created a new opportunity.
Its writer apparently intended to send investigators
toward another person. Instead, the envelope itself became an object of
examination.
This illustrates an important principle in forensic investigation:
evidence does not always come from the location where a crime is believed to
have occurred. It can emerge from later communications, objects handled by a
person of interest or material that becomes scientifically useful only years
after it was collected.
Modern DNA
profiling has transformed the investigation of many historic
cases, particularly where biological material was preserved and can be tested
using newer methods.
But DNA evidence must always be interpreted
carefully. A genetic match can help establish that a person contributed
biological material to an object; it does not automatically prove every
allegation associated with that object. Investigators and juries must consider
how the sample was obtained, the circumstances of its presence and the other
evidence in the case.
In Sharon Fulton's case, the prosecution presented
the envelope evidence alongside a much wider collection of testimony and
circumstances. The jury ultimately found the accused guilty.
The most striking part of the story is not simply
that a forensic laboratory recovered DNA from an old envelope. It is that a
communication apparently intended to redirect suspicion became part of the
evidence against the person who sent it.
Forty years of questions—and one
answer still missing
Sharon Fulton was 39 when she disappeared. She had
four children and plans for a different future. She left home on an ordinary
Tuesday morning, expecting to attend an appointment and meet a friend.
She never returned.
Her family spent decades living with uncertainty. Her
sons grew up without knowing what had happened to their mother, while the
investigation repeatedly confronted the same obstacle: the absence of a body
and a lack of direct physical evidence.
The later discovery of the anonymous letter, the
forensic examination of its envelope and the eventual murder conviction changed
the legal outcome.
But a verdict cannot replace a missing person.
The family still needs to know where Sharon is. They
still want the opportunity to lay her to rest.
The case also leaves a difficult question for anyone
following the investigation: What
should happen when a person has been convicted of murder but the victim's
remains remain undiscovered?
For families, the answer may seem simple. They want
the truth, the location and the chance to say goodbye. For investigators, any
information that could lead to the recovery of remains may be crucial, even
after a conviction.
The anonymous letter was intended to create a new
suspect. Instead, its envelope helped connect the sender to the investigation.
A new name had not erased the past. Four decades had
not made the questions disappear. And the absence of a body had not prevented a
jury from reaching a verdict.
Yet Sharon's family is still waiting for the final piece of the story: the place where their mother lies.
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