For the past year I have been researching the life and death of Lady Isobel Barnett. Most public sources are laden with inaccuracies, particularly in terms of her death, as I soon found when beginning my research.

This led me to seek to find out the truth about her. I discovered a very strange case indeed. Read my present article below to find out more. There will be a podcast and book in the future as well as a second article which will be published in October 2026.

The Strange Case of Lady Barnett

By Paul Stenning

45 years ago, Lady Isobel Barnett was found dead in the bath in her home in Cossington, Leicestershire at the age of 62. She was an enduring and popular television and radio personality, though her frequency on television and in the press had diminished somewhat, until she made national headlines for supposedly stealing a few items from her local grocers. The theft, of items worth 87 pence, led to a trial in court which ultimately found her guilty and ordered to pay a fine of £75 plus £200 court costs – £1190 today. Either that or go to prison for 14 days. It was said that due to the shame of the trial and ordeal, not to mention being found guilty when she denied theft, that she took her own life.

As of October 2025, there are well over a thousand cold cases, or unsolved murders, in the UK and 250,000 in the USA. Worldwide the figure comes to an estimated 350,000 cases between 1965 and 2024. There is a supposition that if a case is not cold – cold meaning unsolved – that the outcome must be solved; complete. Perhaps in most cases this is true but what if the information which led to the original outcome is full of contradictions and just a slight examination leads to further inconsistencies? Should this case become cold? Is it really solved?

In the case of Lady Isobel Barnett the outcome was so immediate, so seemingly profound, that there was no further query applied to the most mysterious of cases. The press revealed the cause of her suicide through its cavalcade of assessments. Lady Barnett had stolen two items from a corner shop. Though the items totalled just 87 pence (just under four pounds today) she had been put on a public trial and humiliated, so the press said.

She defended herself, arguing it had been a mistake that she had put the items –a carton of cream a tin of tuna – inside a ‘poacher’s pocket’ in her coat and merely forgot to pay for them. She was looked upon pitifully yet favourably in terms of prison time. Pay a fine, make amends and she was free to go. Her stoic public persona seemed to contain no hint of remorse or shame. She even argued with the prosecution and denied all propensities to deprive.

To friends she was her usual outgoing, organised self. She had gone through the rigmarole of a public trial and been found guilty, despite her protestations. Thus, the media revealed, her suicide was a direct outcome of her inner shame. Articles were produced upon the inner workings of a kleptomaniac’s mind and the discrepancy between Lady Barnett’s outer persona and solid career output.

The dichotomy between one and the other was the subject of much debate. Could she really be the villain for the sake of such a small amount? Was the shopkeeper at fault for calling the police? It was soon revealed that locally she was believed to have a problem and had done this before. The resultant media suggestion was to take pity upon this poor lady who, despite showing no signs of seeking to end her life, ultimately took an overdose of Distalgesics (a commonly prescribed painkiller) and was found dead in the bath, an electric fire sitting in the water.

When I first came across the case of Isobel Barnett there was something which immediately did not seem quite right. Cases of suicide are, of course, always particularly tragic and elicit empathy. What was going through the person’s mind during their last minutes? How long had this been planned and what drove them to such extremes?

More disturbing than suicide, however, is the prospect of the apparent outcome not being all as it seemed. What if, more congruent with her past, Isobel Barnett was simply not the type of person who would do such a thing? When I came across her story I was immediately captivated by her past and her ultimate end. The journey from fiercely intelligent, strikingly beautiful, humanitarian, popular media figure to a person who would quietly take their own life with no note or warning was of immediate intrigue.

Isobel Morag Marshall was born in Aberdeen on 30 June 1918. She grew up in an upper middle class family based in Glasgow, although Isobel would always feel more at home in the Highlands of Scotland than the city. Her father Dr. Robert Marshall served in the army in France during World War I, working as a physician; his specialty was neurology. He was a strict disciplinarian and when working back in Scotland at the family home in Newton Place, Glasgow, Isobel grew to loathe the patients who would traipse in and out of her family home. It was surmised that her father’s patients would most likely be nervous and she was told to keep quiet during surgery hours. When that had finished she still had to be hushed as her father needed calm reflection, retiring to his world of music and books.

A Scottish Presbyterian, he would also ensure the family visited church on Sunday and observe the entire day as a time for rest and Christian devotion. Though Isobel would behave and observe her family expectations her true nature had displayed itself in her very earliest years when she developed a knack for exploration and a yearning to be allowed to do her own thing. The Marshall household employed domestic servants and their Gaelic language was hard to follow yet held Isobel in rapt fascination. She began to enjoy coming out of her room when she was not supposed to and listen outside the door to their conversations. Her naughtiest moment came when setting fire to her nursery curtains (and nearly the entire house) when as a toddler she wondered what would happen if she struck a match.   

She was also a handful for teachers in her early years at school although would later settle down and become a dedicated student. Perhaps the realisation that nothing could be taken for granted had helped in this regard; Isobel suffering with her family when her new baby brother was born with brain damage. He was sent away by the family and died when he was just ten years old. It would be a situation she would never talk about.

Isobel too would be sent away, to boarding school. Even when her father passed away following a stroke in his early 50s, and the family money was stretched, her mother insisted Isobel finish her education at the Mount School in York. Money became further problematic without the main income and though Isobel hoped to attend Cambridge University, the financial requirements left it impossible. She would attend the University of Glasgow where she could live at home.

Isobel admired her father greatly although he was against the idea of her becoming a doctor, believing women could never be taken seriously in the profession. Nevertheless she studied at the University of Glasgow and gained a degree in medicine in 1940. She would serve as a doctor, during World War II, where she was now based in Leicester.

In the late 1940s Isobel applied to become a magistrate and was accepted. She would perform this role – also known as Justice of the Peace, or JP – on and off for the next 20 years. It is important to note however that some sources which suggest she was a prominent or high profile legal expert are incorrect. Yes, she was prominent in terms of her local community and sought to serve that community.

This was the predominant reason she applied to become a magistrate. Yet the only requirement was to work for a mere two weeks of the year where she would oversee minor cases as opposed to legally complicated trials. Her legal role was therefore rather understated although it is indeed ironic that she may have been present during a case in court which may have been very similar to her own future trial.

In 1941 Isobel married local solicitor Geoffrey Barnett who would eventually become Lord Mayor of Leicester. In 1953 he was knighted for public services and Isobel Barnett would now be known as Lady Barnett.

It was in 1952 during one of her usual displays of making her guests feel at ease during one of many local ceremonies that a BBC man noticed Isobel would be perfect for television with a distinction of style and personality that made her a natural for the medium.

Beginning in 1953 she would appear on 327 episodes, over nine series, of What’s My Line? a popular television show which consisted of a panel who would confer as they tried to guess the occupation of guests who would perform a mime of their job role. They would also guess a celebrity whilst wearing blindfolds. Only host Eamonn Andrews would star in more shows than Isobel Barnett.

She would play herself in the 1955 comedy drama film Simon and Laura, which starred Peter Finch and Kay Kendall. She was one of the best known celebrities in the UK at this point – appearing on Desert Island Discs in 1956 – and would often appear as an after dinner speaker in Leicester and beyond. She thought nothing of driving to Dundee one day and then back to Leicester before onto London the next day to record a show.

She was as popular on radio as television and made many appearances on the radio panel game Many A Slip, often with Eleanor Summerfield, as well as the discussion programme Any Questions. She continued these obligations and even appeared in the new colour series of What’s My Line in 1973-4. It has been written that Lady Barnett was reclusive in the last years of her life. Her relentless television and radio schedule along with commitments and obligations to friends belies this suggestion however.

Though it was true that the death of her husband in 1970 had a huge impact on her, Lady Barnett was indefatigable in showing she was the epitome of grace under pressure. She would rarely share any feelings of personal dissatisfaction or upset and continued with her duties even as a widow. Her dedication was such that she personally responded to 500 messages of condolence when Sir Barnett passed away.

Her last television appearance was for This Is Your Life, in 1978, celebrating her fellow What’s My Line? panellist Barbara Kelly. Lady Barnett was noticeably older, yet still with the fierce intelligence and cast iron stare along with natural charm. She had also lost weight, which was said to be a side effect of her arthritic problems. Her knee had been exceptionally painful and would even buckle outwards when she placed her weight upon it. Friends noted she would never complain. She did, it seems take the odd tablet to combat the pain.

Letters to friends continued despite her slowing down from public duties and she was never happier than when at home in her extensive garden (there is a plant which has been named in her honour) or indoor pool. It was only following her immensely jarring return to the public eye that stories began to emerge of her latent kleptomania, apparently well known among local shopkeepers.

It had been said that they allowed her to take the odd items without payment given her prominence and respect in the area. One day, it was said, local shopkeeper Roger Fowkes – who had lived all his life in the area – had enough. As he saw her slip the tuna and cream in her coat he confronted her and then called the police. Despite the fact she had not left the shop, Lady Barnett was arrested.

Rather than simply owning up to her crime she denied intention and blamed absent mindedness. Instead of immediately and quietly paying a fine she decided to face a trial in court. It would seem that, whatever her state of mind, this would hardly be the choice she would make if she knew she were guilty. Nevertheless, it was determined that she was in fact guilty and she had to pay the fine and costs which were now public knowledge.   

Four days later she was found clad in a nightdress, her head under water, an electric fire also in the bath. Her son Alastair, who was born in January 1943, had been living at the family home in Cossington. A day after the verdict and reaction he went away for the weekend, according to his account, with his mother’s blessing. She was fine, she insisted. Alastair explained that he returned to find his mother in the bath and called the gardener and daily help.

It was later said several times that when the three entered the bathroom the “Water was steaming hot”. It takes less than two hours for steaming hot bath water to cool to lukewarm temperature and even noting the presence of an electric fire, the notion of water that is steaming hot is only explainable if the body was found within an hour of the bath being run. Assuming Lady Barnett herself ran the water then this means she would have died within one, possibly two hours, from being found. And yet the coroner’s verdict records she may well have passed away the previous evening – some 12-15 hours before being found. By this time the steaming hot water would not even have been lukewarm.

For the avoidance of doubt, an electric fire which is turned on and falls into the water does not electrocute the person in the water. Instead it shorts out and merely fizzles, causing a very slight current to pass through the water and simply increase the temperature slightly. The fire, the coroner noted, “may have accidentally slipped into the bath”. The idea of having the space on a bath to perch an electric fire seems ludicrous, even if you were not thinking clearly. Apparently, according to the coroner, Lady Barnett was indeed thinking clearly enough, with her medical expertise giving her the awareness of the exact number of tablets to take in order to ensure she did not wake up.

Alastair, it was said, was too upset to attend the inquest. Coroner Guy Toone would explain the cause of Lady Barnett’s death was a deliberate overdose of Distalgesics. He claimed that the normal dose was two tablets and that 10 to 12 had proven fatal.

Dista Products, the manufacturers of Distalgesic responded with a statement which promised the idea, “10 to 12 tablets were a fatal dose was completely without substantiation. Cases are on record of even 40 tablets being taken with subsequent recovery and comments such as these are both misleading and dangerous.”

She may have believed that 10 tablets would provide a fatal dose but she would also have known her son would find her when he returned home. It seems an unlikely act no matter which way it is explained.   

Just £4,250 of Lady Barnett’s will was given in personal bequests, charities appearing high on the list. The vast majority of her will was left to her son; a sum of £475,410 (£458,182 net), nearly two million today. In contrast her husband left little more than a fifth of this. She was noted for her good grasp of investment matters.

It was revealed that in 1980 she had supposedly told a Sun reporter, “I can’t stop stealing things. I know I have a serious problem.” No evidence of the interview ever came to light, only the reporter’s comments. This is unlikely to be true for a number of reasons. Not least is the fact that if Lady Barnett were so adamant later in court that she had not stolen, why would she tell the exact opposite to a reporter?

Worst of all, if the shame of having been found guilty were so pronounced that it supposedly led to her suicide, why would she have admitted her weakness and kleptomania to a complete stranger, one from The Sun of all publications? Literary agent Don Short (known for coining the term ‘Beatlemania’) was supposedly in talks with her to help make the story public.

The suggestion that Lady Barnett had a compulsion which stretched back some 13 years or more is intriguing for one particular reason. If the notion that it can often be those in emotional distress who become kleptomaniacs and that these can often be widows, it provides two quandaries. If she already had the compulsion three years before her husband died (in 1970) then this must not have contributed to the cause and secondly, therefore, what did? And how would she have hidden this for so long? In Jock Gallagher’s book, Portrait of a Lady, it is said that locals began to talk of her tendency to steal in 1978, just two years before she died. It was also said they whispered she may have a drink problem.

Two days before her birthday in 1980 she had a reasonably serious car accident which happened when she was leaning forward to change the radio dial and stepped on the accelerator instead of the brakes. Aside from two black eyes she seemed to be unscathed by the crash though it is of course conceivable that this affected her more than she realised.

Psychiatrists believe kleptomania – compulsive theft for neurotic rather than economic motives – is a symptom of many different kinds of emotional stress. “We are not ruling anything out at this stage,” a police spokesman said on 21^st October 1980, the day after Lady Barnett was found in the bath. The results of the post-mortem were not released to the public by the coroner’s officer, Sgt Robert Farrer who was making “further enquiries and forensic tests.” A Forensic science laboratory examined the electric fire and found nothing relating to the fire which may have caused Lady Barnett’s death.

Leicestershire Police were, of course, the same authority who had pushed for the prosecution of Lady Barnett in regards to the 87 pence theft and had taken this decision without reference to the Director of Public Prosecutions. This despite guidelines which encourage the police to seek guidance in cases involving a public figure. In the same week as Lady Barnett’s death a councillor was fined a total of £200 after stealing a full trolley of goods from a supermarket. The DPP had earlier that year helped Captain Mark Phillips avoid prosecution when he kicked a horse. There had been four cases of shoplifting by public figures who, by being referred to the DPP had avoided public prosecution. Lady Barnett was for some reason not afforded the same courtesy.

The coroner’s inquisition inferred that the fire being in the bath was contributory towards the verdict of suicide as the only other evidence in the document was “fatal poisoning of a substantial number of Distalgesic tablets.” The word substantial is arguably superfluous when one considers the number is important towards the decision; what is substantial to one person may not be to another. In the case of Distalgesics, in order to be fatal the number would have only been guaranteed at over forty.

The notes also contain Mr Toone’s explanation that there were a number of empty packets of Distalgesics found in both the bathroom and bedroom rubbish bins. He further surmises that it was known – “Everybody knew” – that Lady Barnett “had recently suffered one of the most traumatic experiences that any woman could suffer and yet remained completely in control,” which is in direct opposition to the notion that she could have been “very confused” to the point of ingesting too many Distalgesics.

It was also noted that she had spoken with a friend at 6:20 on the Sunday evening and was in fine spirits. She had mentioned having a glass of whisky and a bath. The whisky was found in her bedroom untouched and there was no alcohol in her body.  

In May of 1980 a group headed by Lady Barnett was awarded the franchise which would have allowed them to begin broadcasting as Centre Radio in early 1981. This was a new commercial radio station in Leicester, a local community service for which Lady Barnett served as chairperson. This would seem to show she was just as active in the community as ever before and in fact sought to deepen her efforts to serve the area. It was something to look forward to and is in direct contrast to those with nothing to live for who tend to commit suicide.

Given the numerous discrepancies in the Lady Barnett story, one of the first points of research involved contacting Leicestershire Police. Initial responses suggested there was nothing on record for the case. Pushing this further through a series of letters I was able to ascertain their complete – though final – response. There was, in finality, “no information held” at their records office regarding the death of Lady Barnett.

Part of the response concluded, “From what I have been able to identify, this was not considered suspicious and an inquest completed at the time by the Coroner determined that the cause of death was suicide by overdose. This therefore does not indicate that there was a criminal investigation completed by the Police and would explain why the investigation does not exist in our crime archives. Similarly, it is worth noting that even if an initial investigation was opened, if no crime was identified (which would be the case if the cause of death was determined as suicide) then this would not be subjected to criminal record retention periods.”

Case closed immediately. Lady Isobel Barnett committed suicide, or at least the coroner of the time put forth his opinion that this was the case. As we have seen, the glaring discrepancies might suggest that this could well be an unsolved case, potentially even one of criminal activity.

Although the Leicester coroner was co-operative enough to provide me with the coroner’s inquisition and a visitation to view the coroner’s notes, they were not forthcoming with a toxicology report. In fact, when this was requested they became almost hostile and defiant. Katharine Bakewell from the H.M. Coroner’s Office wrote, “Dr Pugh, the pathologist and Dr Osselton Senior Scientific Officer both gave evidence at the inquest and this evidence would have included toxicology analysis. Beyond that, the Senior Coroner is unable to comment further.” The senior coroner would not share this information despite repeated attempts, which would suggest the information may include something previously unreleased.  

On the 19^th October 1981, almost an exact year since Lady Barnett’s death, £105,000 worth (£455,000) of her art collection and furniture was put out onto the lawn of her home and offered for sale to members of the public. This included very personal items such as television awards she had won.

So what really happened to Lady Isobel Barnett? Did she really kill herself? Was her death an accidental overdose or was there something more nefarious going on? The suicide option seems the least likely. First of all, as we have established, she was not that sort of person and would not have let so many people down without explanation. She was also a tough Scot who would have battled through anything. If she had, however, decided there was only one way out why would she not at least drink the glass of whisky and wash down the tablets to “make sure”?

Her understanding as a doctor would have made her aware that strong alcohol mixed with the tablets would be even more deadly. Additionally the notion of deliberately dying in the bath seems to make this even less likely. If she were to desire nothing more than endless sleep why not simply take the tablets all at once (not with wrappers scattered in different bins), along with the whisky and go to bed, never to wake up? Why instead leave her dignity bereft, knowing she would be discovered in a pool of water with nothing but a nightdress on (and who bathes wearing this?) She would be aware that it would be her staff or her son who would discover her and as a humanitarian it seems the very last thing Isobel Barnett would have wanted.

An accidental overdose is far more likely but then the question becomes, why would she not have realised that ten or more tablets was too many? Once more it seems unlikely that if she took these because she were in pain that she would not at least have had a bath to soothe her arthritic muscles, then taken a glass of whisky before deciding if she needed any further tablets than a mere one or two. Her awareness as a doctor, in fact, is an argument against her doing the wrong thing.

If the above two options both seem unlikely then there can be only one other explanation. Lady Barnett might well have been poisoned with the scene set to look convincing in order to support a suggested suicide. Whatever really happened was certainly not fitting of the tremendous humour, spirit and elegance with which Lady Barnett lived her life and if nothing else it is worthwhile seeing a different side of the story in order that her legacy remain untarnished.  

In her 1956 autobiography My Life Line, Isobel Barnett wrote: “Whenever you achieve a coveted and envied position, then that position lays you wide open to criticism from all sides. The criticism may be unfair and unjust. But if you can take it, then sooner or later you acquire a philosophy and the criticism ceases to wound because you suddenly realise that each individual has his own standards and they are the only ones which are of significance in life. Each of us is his own judge and jury with our own private conscience and praise from the public is dust and ashes compared with your private shame if you fail to follow the dictates of that nagging conscience. A lifetime of criticism is worthwhile if you stick to the principles you believe to be the right ones.”

© Paul Stenning 2025

Note: Alastair Barnett died in 2020.

Note: In 1978 there was recognised a need to balance the “substantial risks” versus the benefits of Distalgesics. It was noted they could become addictive. At the time 5 million prescriptions for the drug were written per year. It is believed to be 28 times more likely than Paracetamol to be fatal if an overdose is taken. Death is often said to occur within just a few hours if an overdose is ingested. Distalgesics were banned in 2007 but have continued under new names and are still prescribed today.

I had many messages with the present day manufacturers, Lilly, but they ultimately declined to answer my questions in regards to the possible complications of ingesting too many tablets or indeed many other questions they initially were keen to answer.

Acknowledgments: I am indebted to a variety of sources. My particular thanks go to Mark Corns, The Record Office for Leicestershire, Leicester & Rutland (especially Natalia Lewszuk), the University of Glasgow (especially Robyn Stewart), The National Library of Wales (especially Caronwen Samuel) in the help of researching this article and future information for the podcast and book.

Note: An edited version of this article was published in the Leicester Gazette in November 2025.