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SEASON 2 OUT NOW
Missing beaumont children. Adelaide

Jane, Arnna and Grant Beaumont (The Beaumont Children)

26 January 2025, will mark 59 years since Jane aged 9, Arna aged 7 and Grant aged 4, disappeared from Glenelg, South Australia in 1966. “The disappearance of the Beaumont Children,” is a crime that is hardly outwardly spoken about anymore, but it’s still there, lingering in the background of decisions to let your kids play outside. It’s a festering wound in our society alongside the still, as of the publication of this episode, unsolved Adelaide Oval abduction where Joanne Ratcliffe and Kristie Gordon were kidnapped in 1973.

There are many unanswered questions about the disappearance of the three children, that I truly believe we will never know the answer to. Their parents will never know the answers, for their mother, Nancy Beaumont died in 2019 and their father, Grant Beaumont died in 2023 without ever knowing who abducted and killed their children. 

This episode serves as a poignant reminder of the importance of perseverance in pursuing truth and accountability. Justice, when achieved, paves the way for truth-telling and can bring an end to the torment of ambiguous loss—a unique form of grief experienced when a loved one or friend disappears without resolution. On the topic of ambiguous loss, you may occasionally hear the term “closure” in discussions around true crime. However, in cases of long-term missing persons, closure is often an unattainable concept. The grief experienced by those left behind may persist indefinitely, spanning years or even a lifetime. Death offers finality; disappearance does not.

While researching archival footage and sound from this case, I found myself momentarily amused by the gravity of it all. In a 1967 Channel 9 News segment marking one year since the Beaumont children disappeared, a reporter delivers a piece to camera in that distinct old English-Australian accent. He speaks of a new revelation in the case—a woman’s sighting of the children at a bakery—and then quips;

“Consequently (the information) has come to light again today. I tried to find out just why and how it came to light today, but I ran into a brick wall.”

Nearly 60 years later, the often fraught dynamic between the press and police in Australia remains familiar. It was striking—and a little amusing—to realise that even then, journalists felt the same frustrations in their pursuit of the truth.

Glenelg, South Australia in 2025. Looking North towards Colley Reserve, with the ocean on the west, Jetty Road South and the Church on the east.

On Australia Day, 26 January 1966, three children, Jane, Arnna and Grant left their home in Somerton Park, a suburb 12km southwest of the Adelaide central business district. If you pull up your map, you can see it’s bordered on the west by the water and suburbs on the north, east and south sides.

It was a hot day in summer. The children woke up at 7 a.m. and eventually convinced their mother, Nancy, to let them go to the beach, but only on the condition that they return on the midday bus. In the morning, Nancy waits by the gate and watches her children walk 100m west towards Diagnal Road to catch the bus to Glenelg. Glenelg has been the staple beach for many Australian families and tourists for decades. It’s easily accessible by tram and has a straight connection (ANZAC Hwy) by car from and to the city. January 26 is usually a warm sometimes extremely hot day and falls at the end of school holidays. Because of its proximity to the beach and city, some areas of the suburb are affluent, such as the streets around the church and just east of the beach.

A passenger on the bus spotted the three children alighting at the Mosely Street stop, just around the corner from Jetty Rd. The children then walked west and were spotted playing in the water near the Glenelg jetty between 10:20 and 11 a.m.

Jetty Road, Glenelg in 2025 looking west to northwest. The water is approximately 500m from here, with Colley Reserve in the northwest direction.

At 11am, an elderly woman spots the three children playing in the sprinklers at Colley Reserve and were apparently being watched by a blond-haired man. He is described as wearing swimming trunks and lying on a blanket near the children. Witnesses later recall the children appearing relaxed and comfortable with him, indicating familiarity or trust.

At 11:15am, the same woman sees the man playing with the children and helping them put their shorts over their bathers.

At 12noon they purchase some pies, pasties and drinks from Wenzel’s Cake Shop/Bakery and at 12:15 they are then spotted again at Colley Reserve, never to be seen alive again.

When 2pm went by, Nancy said that she thought that perhaps the three had missed the bus they were originally going to take home and were on the next one. When the three of them failed to get off the next bus, Nancy began to grow concerned and contacted the police but it wouldn’t be until the next day that the Beaumont children would be declared officially missing.

Grant Beaumont, their father, searched tirelessly for his children. Even after being dropped off, he returned to the area in his car to continue searching. 

We’re now at the 59-year mark since the children disappeared. There has never been a crime scene and there has never been a definitive name. There have been several names associated with the disappearance of the three children, including Bevan Spencer von Einem, Harry Phipps, and Alan Anthony Munro.

Von Einem is a convicted child killer linked to other child murders in South Australia. His profile and known crimes suggest he had the capability and motive, but there is no direct evidence tying him to the Beaumont case.

Harry Phipps – A wealthy Adelaide businessman whose factory was located near where the children were last seen. Known to have exhibited suspicious behavior and fits descriptions given by witnesses. In 2018, excavations near his factory site found no evidence linking him to the case, though he remains a person of interest.

Alan Anthony Munro. A former Victorian scout leader and convicted child sex offender. Alleged to have confessed to involvement in the disappearance, though no substantial evidence supports this claim.

But remember, this podcast isn’t about the evil people who commit crimes and give fantasy and notoriety to killers. It’s to remind you that these children have never been found and are still considered missing. Their bodies have never been located. 

I believe we as a society failed Nancy and Grant Beaumont. They spent decades of their lives psychologically tortured by the unknown and we could never provide an answer for them as to what happened to their children. I know people have spent years, decades of their lives working on the Beaumont case and I understand that. But why, why is it still unsolved and why can we not bury the children alongside their parents? 

What circles of protection exist today and back then in 1966? Will someone come forward and break the line of trust they promised someone, to finally tell the truth of what happened to these three children? 

It’s a bittersweet reflection of the times that, as a society, we never blamed Nancy or Jim Beaumont for what happened to their children. No one pointed fingers at their decision to let Jane, Arnna, and Grant venture to the beach alone that summer morning. It was the 1960s, after all—when neighbourhoods felt like extended families, when parents trusted their communities, and when the idea of danger seemed more distant. The Beaumonts were no different from countless families who let their kids explore the world with innocence and freedom. 

Today, we might call it naive, but back then, it was simply life. And while that collective understanding spared Nancy and Jim the cruel judgment that so often compounds unimaginable grief, it also underscores how profoundly the disappearance of their children shattered that shared trust forever.

Today, our fear of “stranger danger” looms large, often overshadowing deeper issues of systemic protection and prevention. The burden of vigilance has shifted heavily onto individuals and families, yet we rarely interrogate how institutions and broader societal structures can do more to keep children safe.

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