The Lady of the Dunes: The Chilling 1974 Provincetown Murder Mystery Solved – Ruth Marie Terry's Identification and Her Killer Revealed
It was a sweltering summer morning on July 26, 1974, when a young girl named Leslie Metcalfe, out for a walk with her family's dog along the remote sands of Race Point Dunes in Provincetown, Massachusetts, stumbled upon a scene straight out of a nightmare. The Cape Cod National Seashore, with its windswept dunes and crashing Atlantic waves, is a place of natural beauty and isolation, drawing artists, tourists, and free spirits to the tip of the cape. But on that fateful day, amid the scrub pines and sea grass, Metcalfe spotted something unnatural—a nude, decomposing body of a woman, lying face down on a green towel as if sunbathing in eternal repose. The discovery would launch one of the most enduring and frustrating unsolved murders in New England history, a case that baffled investigators for decades, inspired wild theories, and earned the victim the poignant moniker "The Lady of the Dunes." For nearly half a century, her identity remained a ghost in the wind, until breakthroughs in DNA technology finally gave her a name: Ruth Marie Terry. And with that revelation came the even darker truth about her killer.
Provincetown, or P-town as locals call it, was in the height of its bohemian summer season in 1974. The town, known for its vibrant arts scene, LGBTQ+ community, and as the landing spot of the Mayflower pilgrims in 1620, buzzed with visitors escaping the heat of Boston and New York. The dunes themselves, part of the protected national seashore, offered a wild escape—miles of undulating sand hills where one could hike in solitude or seek privacy away from prying eyes. It was in this serene yet unforgiving landscape, about a mile east of the Race Point Ranger Station, that the body was found. The woman had been dead for an estimated one to three weeks, her remains ravaged by the elements, insects, and scavenging animals. But the horrors inflicted upon her were unmistakably human.
The scene was gruesome, a tableau of calculated brutality. She lay on half of a green beach towel, her head resting on a pair of folded Wrangler jeans and a blue bandana, as if arranged in a mocking display of comfort. Her body was nude, with no clothing nearby except those items beneath her. The cause of death was immediately apparent: a massive blow to the left side of her skull, crushing it with such force that it nearly severed her head from her neck. Blood had pooled around the wound, and investigators noted defensive injuries on her arms, suggesting she had fought for her life. But the killer hadn't stopped there. In a chilling effort to erase her identity, both of her hands had been severed at the wrists—likely with a hacksaw or similar tool—and were never recovered. Several teeth had been extracted, possibly to remove dental records or identifiable fillings. There were signs of possible sexual assault, though decomposition made it hard to confirm. No murder weapon was found at the scene, but tire tracks nearby hinted at a vehicle that had veered off the main path, perhaps to dump the body in this secluded spot.
The victim herself was estimated to be between 25 and 40 years old, about 5'6" to 5'8" tall, with an athletic build weighing around 145 pounds. She had long auburn or reddish hair tied back in a ponytail with a gold-flecked elastic band, and her toenails were painted pink. Gold crowns on some remaining teeth suggested she had access to quality dental care, and a healed surgical scar on her abdomen indicated possible past medical procedures, like an appendectomy. Despite these details, no missing persons reports matched her description at the time. Flyers were distributed, sketches circulated, but leads dried up quickly. The case went cold, and she became "The Lady of the Dunes," a name that evoked both mystery and melancholy, as if she were a spectral guardian of the shifting sands.
As years turned to decades, the investigation persisted through the dogged efforts of Massachusetts State Police, the Provincetown Police Department, and later the FBI. In 1980, the body was exhumed for further examination, yielding little new information. A clay facial reconstruction was created in the hopes of jogging memories, depicting a woman with striking features—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and piercing eyes. By the 1990s, as forensic technology advanced, another exhumation in 2000 allowed for DNA extraction, though early databases were limited. Investigators chased countless tips: Was she connected to the local fishing community? A hitchhiker who vanished en route to the cape? Rumors swirled about links to organized crime, given Provincetown's transient summer population.
One of the most tantalizing theories emerged from the world of Hollywood. In 1975, just a year after the discovery, Steven Spielberg filmed "Jaws" on nearby Martha's Vineyard, with scenes shot in the Cape Cod area. An extra in the film bore a striking resemblance to the reconstruction sketches—same hairstyle, build, and even similar jeans. Some speculated she could have been an extra who met a tragic end during production, her disappearance unnoticed amid the chaos of filming. Joe Hill, son of horror master Stephen King, even publicized this angle in 2015, pointing to a woman in a crowd scene wearing a blue bandana and jeans. While intriguing, exhaustive checks of cast and crew lists turned up no matches, and the theory faded into folklore, though it kept the case in the public eye.
Other suspects loomed larger in the investigative shadows. Notorious Boston mobster James "Whitey" Bulger, who frequented the area in the 1970s, was rumored to have connections to unsolved murders. Witnesses claimed to have seen him with a woman matching the victim's description, but no concrete evidence linked him. Bulger was killed in prison in 2018, taking any secrets to the grave. Then there was Tony Costa, the "Cape Cod Vampire," a serial killer convicted of murdering two women in Provincetown in 1969. His methods—dismemberment and burial in shallow graves—echoed aspects of the Lady's case, but Costa had died by suicide in prison in May 1974, just months before her estimated time of death. Another false lead came from serial killer Hadden Clark, who confessed to the murder while imprisoned for other crimes, claiming he buried her hands nearby. A search yielded nothing, and his confession was deemed a fabrication for attention.
The breakthrough finally came in the 2020s, powered by advances in investigative genetic genealogy—the same technique that cracked the Golden State Killer case. In 2021, the FBI's Boston division, working with Othram Inc., a private DNA lab, re-analyzed bone samples from a 2013 exhumation. By comparing her DNA profile to public genealogy databases, they traced familial matches. On October 31, 2022, authorities announced her identity: Ruth Marie Terry, a 37-year-old woman from Tennessee. Born in 1936 in Whitwell, Tennessee, Ruth had a life marked by movement and hardship. She grew up in a large family, worked various jobs including as a waitress and factory worker, and had a son from a previous relationship. Described by relatives as vivacious, beautiful, and kind-hearted, with a love for music and adventure, she had traveled extensively, living in California, Michigan, and other states before vanishing in the summer of 1974.
Ruth's identification opened a Pandora's box of revelations about her final days. She had married Guy Rockwell Muldavin in February 1974, just months before her death. Muldavin, an antiques dealer and sometime author who wrote under pseudonyms like Guy Rauel DiMucci, was a man with a checkered past. Born in 1923, he had been linked to suspicious disappearances as far back as 1960. That year, his second wife, Manzanita "Margo" Ryan, and her daughter Dolores Ann Mearns vanished from their Seattle home. Weeks later, dismembered remains were found in a septic tank on his property—body parts matching the women, though Muldavin was never charged due to insufficient evidence. He fled, reinvented himself on the East Coast, and even appeared on TV shows like "The Merv Griffin Show" promoting his cookbook "Cooking with Antique Dealers." Ruth met him in Michigan, and they wed quickly, embarking on a road trip that may have included a stop in Provincetown.
Investigators zeroed in on Muldavin as the prime suspect. Family members reported that Ruth had confided fears about her new husband, and her son recalled Muldavin's evasive behavior after her disappearance—he claimed she had "gone away" after an argument. No alibi placed him elsewhere during the murder window. On August 28, 2023, Cape and Islands District Attorney Robert Galibois officially named Muldavin as Ruth's killer, closing the case. Muldavin had died in 2002 in California at age 78, evading justice but leaving a trail of devastation. Authorities believe he may have been responsible for other unsolved deaths, including a 1950 hit-and-run and additional disappearances.
The resolution brought closure to Ruth's family, who buried her remains in Tennessee in 2023, but it also underscored the enduring pain of cold cases. For Provincetown, the Lady of the Dunes had become part of local lore—a ghost story told on dune tours, featured in books like "The Lady of the Dunes" by Sandra Lee and documentaries on Investigation Discovery. Podcasts such as "Murder, She Told" and "The Lady of the Dunes: Hunting the Cape Cod Killer" dissected the twists, while true crime enthusiasts debated on Reddit forums like r/UnresolvedMysteries. The case highlighted the power of modern forensics, inspiring renewed efforts in other unidentified victim investigations across the Northeast.
In the end, Ruth Marie Terry was no longer just the Lady of the Dunes—a nameless figure lost to the sands. She was a woman with dreams, a mother, a wanderer whose life was cut short by betrayal. Her story serves as a stark reminder that behind every unsolved mystery lies a human tragedy, waiting for the truth to emerge from the shadows. As the waves continue to crash on Race Point Beach, they carry whispers of her memory, urging us to remember the victims who once walked among us.
Mike D. is a Connecticut Based Writer Specializing in Stories from The Northeast