The Arm in the Shark

A Shark with a Secret

On April 17, 1935, a fisherman off Coogee Beach caught a small shark. Before he could reel it in, a four-metre tiger shark surged from the depths and swallowed it whole. The fisherman managed to land both, and rather than discard the larger predator, he delivered it alive to the nearby Coogee Aquarium Baths.

A week later, on April 25, crowds gathered to watch the tiger shark on display. At the time, sharks were viewed as public enemies, having attacked swimmers along Australia’s coast. But this one didn’t seem threatening—it was lethargic, disoriented, and clearly unwell.

Then, without warning, the shark convulsed and vomited into the pool. Among the contents expelled was something horrifying: a human arm.

From Curiosity to Crime Scene

Despite exposure to the shark’s corrosive stomach acids, the arm was remarkably well preserved. It bore a distinctive tattoo of two boxers in a fighting stance and still had fingerprints intact. Police quickly identified the limb as belonging to James “Jim” Smith, a former boxer, bookmaker, and small-time criminal who had recently gone missing.

At first, police suspected Smith had fallen victim to a shark attack. But forensic examination revealed a darker truth: the arm had been cleanly severed with a knife, not torn by teeth. This was no accident—it was murder.

Detectives theorised that Smith’s body had been dismembered and dumped at sea. The tiger shark had merely scavenged what was already floating in the water.

The Investigation

James Smith was far from a clean-cut citizen. A bankrupt builder turned gambler, he had drifted into Sydney’s criminal underworld, particularly the thriving illegal betting scene. Investigators soon discovered his associations with known crooks, including one man who would become central to the case: Patrick Brady.

Smith had last been seen drinking with Brady at a hotel in nearby Cronulla. The two then returned to a rented cottage on the shore of Gunnamatta Bay. Brady, a forger by trade and no stranger to police, quickly became the prime suspect.

A local taxi driver provided a crucial lead. The morning after Smith vanished, Brady had taken a cab from Cronulla to North Sydney, asking to be dropped off at the home of Reginald Lloyd Holmes, a seemingly upstanding businessman.

Holmes ran a successful boatbuilding firm at McMahons Point but had a secret life. He was deeply involved in organised crime, operating a smuggling ring that used custom-built speedboats to retrieve contraband—cocaine, cigarettes, and more—dumped offshore. Smith had previously worked for Holmes as a driver on these runs, and tensions had recently escalated between them over a failed insurance scam. Smith was rumoured to be blackmailing Holmes, leveraging the businessman’s public image.

Suddenly, the pieces began to fall into place: Brady and Smith had been together; Brady was linked to Holmes, and Holmes had reason to want Smith silenced.

A Twist in the Tale

Despite the mounting suspicions, police lacked concrete evidence. Both Brady and Holmes denied involvement. Then, on May 20, the case took another bizarre turn.

Holmes left his boatshed in a speedboat and, while out on the harbour, shot himself in the head. He was catastrophically injured, but lived. Falling into the water, a rope caught around his wrist, saving him from drowning. Shocked back into consciousness by the cold, Holmes climbed back aboard and fled. For four hours, water police chased him through Sydney Harbour.

After his arrest, Holmes agreed to cooperate. He named Brady as the likely killer, and police formally charged Brady with the murder of Jim Smith.

But the case unravelled once more.

Just hours before the inquest into Smith’s death, Holmes was found dead, shot in his car at Dawes Point. Without their key witness, the Crown’s case collapsed.

At trial, the evidence against Brady was entirely circumstantial. The taxi driver testified that Brady had looked dishevelled and nervous, keeping one hand hidden in his pocket. But it wasn’t enough.

In under two days, the judge directed the jury to find Brady not guilty. He walked free.

Jim Smith’s body was never recovered. Patrick Brady was never convicted. And Reginald Holmes took whatever secrets he had to the grave. All that remained was a single severed arm, spat out by a sickly shark in front of a crowd of stunned onlookers.

Legacy of the Case

The Shark Arm Case remains one of Australia's most bizarre and compelling true crime stories. It has inspired books, documentaries, and fictional adaptations. It stands as a chilling reminder that sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, and that even the ocean can reveal a killer’s secrets, though not always the whole story.