Maureen Gail Sowerbutts (deceased) is the mother of serial-killer obsessed man-child David Sowerbutts.
She shares an unnervingly close bond with her son whom she spoils and treats like a child, but she also has a sinister manipulative hold over him.
She is a widow; her husband John Sowerbutts, David's father, died when David spiked his food with an overdose of painkillers in an attempt to take away his pain after a long illness. Unknown to David, Maureen was the cause of John's illness as she had been lacing his salt with caustic soda for months after years of physical abuse. David took the blame for the crime and was incarcerated in Ravenhill psychiatric hospital for a while.
Maureen becomes David's accomplice when he starts to kill off the members of the murder mystery acting troupe he used to work for; she was unaware that the initial 'murder' David committed was only an act.
At the end of the first series, Maureen takes an overdose of sleeping pills when she realises that David has committed several killings for nothing and she thinks their crimes are about to be exposed.
It was revealed at the start of the second series that Maureen survived her suicide attempt and David's murders were still undercover. However after a few hospital tests the doctors give David the terrible news that they have found a cancerous tumour in Maureen's stomach - it is inoperable and she has only weeks to live.
Maureen dies later on in series two; in a macabre twist, David decides not to bury her body but keep it preserved in a bathtub full of ice.
On David's website, www.bestmurders.co.uk, he has poem dedicated to his mother.
I found this poem I wrote about mum, when I first went into hospital
My Mum - a poem
She always brings be cocoa She always brings me tea She always holds my willie If I need to do a wee Her hair is always golden Her eyes are black and blue My faver says she’s lazy I don’t know what to do One day he wrapped up oranges And hit her in the belly She layed there doing nothing I wish we had a telly She tests me on my murderers While she scratches my dry back She likes Reginald Christie And I’m a fan of Jack. Mum tells me I am special I think that she is too I wish I was her husband Cos the one she’s got won’t do.