THE DOWNTOWN MURDER

                                 NORMAN V.  KELLY

 

It was Halloween Eve in Peoria, Illinois and the local kids could not wait until it got a little darker. They were in their homes all over town trying to make the time go by so they could get into their scary costumes. Tricks or treating was a big deal back there in 1983. Today, kids still do it, but now a lot of them head for the mall and more parties than they used to have.

 

Downtown, Marion T. Wood, a fifty-five year-old retired Caterpillar man was a happy man. Since his retirement he had been working at the Bi-Sel Novelty Store, 109 N.E. Glendale. You know the place, right next to the Blooming Balloons Store and not far from Jake’s Pour House down there by the YMCA building. You won’t find them today, and even the “Y” is virtually out of business. After years as a burr operator at CAT, Marion was doing something he liked to do. He loved novelties and having the store to pass the time made him happy.

 

 

Mr. Wood lived over on Montana, apartment 66, a widower he had a son and four daughters. A nice man, blessed by his family, Marion was liked by all the folks that came in contact with him. Marion was born 1-29-l928 in Peru and married Bonnie in 1955.  He was devastated when she died, and needed desperately to keep busy, so he took the job. He retired from CAT in 198l after thirty-one years on a burr bench.

 

Halloween is a busy time for stores like Bi-Sel and Marion kept pretty busy the whole day, talking to the people that wandered inside his store. Well, it wasn’t his store but he treated it like it was. Oh, remember the Kickapoo Hotel? That was right there too, but now long gone. Attorney Dick Burgess had an office right in that area as well. Mr. Jacobs was the owner and he and Marion had become friends. In fact, around 3:30 that fateful day, Wood called over to Mr. Jacobs’ apartment, who at the time was taking a nap. The two talked for a few minutes, Wood telling the man that someone had offered $100.00 for the TV set, and Marion wanted to know if he should sell it. Mr. Jacobs told him that he wanted at least $150.00 for the TV set. That was the last time the two would ever speak.

 

David and William Wilson, brothers, were pretty good pals as well. They lived over on Wayne Street in adjacent apartments. On this Halloween Day they had spent some time drinking over at The Pour House. Just before leaving home, David had been handed an $80.00 check by his girlfriend to deposit in the bank. Well, it never made it to the bank, and according to David he had lost it. This seems insignificant on the surface, but later it would prove to be much more important. Once they left The Pour House the two men wandered into the store to see Marion T. Woods.  Actually, Marion was a distant relative of these two young men, and they even called him ‘Uncle Marion.’ They exchanged pleasantries, walked around the store for a few moments. William bought a buck knife, and Marion handed him a receipt for the weapon, another significant act, as we shall find out later.

 

On the way over to the store the two brothers had talked about the missing check and David expressed concern over the hell he would get from his girlfriend, Linda, for losing it. Keep in mind, according to testimony the two had been over at the bar from eleven until just after three that afternoon. Were they drunk? They also smoked a considerable amount of weed, which testimony later attempts to verify. So what was their frame of mind, and what kind of mental condition were they in at that time? Later on the Wilson brothers will tell you.

 

They were the ones that had talked to Marion about the TV set, offering a $100.00 that they certainly did not have. Suddenly David came up behind his ‘Uncle,’ brandishing a large knife. He got Wood in a one-arm strangle hold and threatened to cut Marion’s throat. Perhaps Marion thought he was just kidding, but once the knife sliced his throat, he knew he was in for the battle for his very life. Marion was no pansy, a large man he fought like hell with David Wilson. In fact he damn near won the battle according to William, because William was watching the struggle and was certain that Marion was about to get his hands on the knife. At the point William rushed over whipping the newly purchased buck knife from his belt as he ran. William stabbed Marion Wood in the back, not once, but five times. That turned the tide of battle and soon the clerk was on the floor, dying.

 

                                ITS  OVER  FOR  MARION

 

Just before the slaughter of Marion T. Wood, Herman Capshaw was inside the store talking to Mr. Wood. He walked around talking as he looked. David and William were actually in the store when he came in but they were off to the side. As Herman walked about he overheard the conversation between the Wilsons and Marion concerning the TV set. Mr. Capshaw left the store not realizing the information he had about the Wilsons was soon going to be significant news indeed. He walked back over to his apartment at the Towers to get ready for Halloween.

 

Mr. Jacob walked over to the novelty store, opened the door and expected to be greeted by the smiling face of Marion Wood. Instead what he saw stopped him cold in his tracks. Marion was on the floor, covered in his own blood. Mr. Jacob gasped and raced to the telephone to call police. Marion Wood, murdered, it was simply impossible to believe. Marion’s boss looked at the clock, it was close to 4:30 that Halloween Eve, certainly a day that he would never forget as long as he lived. Mr. Jacob stood waiting for the police thinking about his friend Marion. He was such an easy going, mild-mannered Marion Wood. Funny, he remembered how Marion liked the lottery and the day that he’d won $5,000.00. He shook his head, Marion Wood murdered it was incomprehensible.

 

                                     THE  SEARCH  BEGINS

 

Officer Richard Gamma got the call about a body and raced over to the novelty store. He saw a man, later identified as William Swearinger, waving at him from the front door of the store. The officer pulled up and hurried over to Swearinger, who told him that there was a man on the floor inside the store. The officer went in and saw the body of Marion Wood.  He was immediately on his radio and within a short time the store would be crowded with investigators and crime scene people.    

 

 Crime scenes look chaotic but they are rigidly controlled, and each investigator has a purpose or he wouldn’t be there. The forensic team is a methodical bunch, and they rarely if ever overlook anything. Once the coroner or the assistant finishes with the body the real search begins. The police gathered more than sixty items from the store, took hundreds of photographs and dusted the place for fingerprints, and of course the blood stains for lab samples. By the time they left the store they had enough material to keep them busy for months.

 

A lot of criticism is aimed at the media, some rightly so, but it is the media that informs the community of each day’s tragedy. As soon as the public heard of Mr. Wood’s death, scores of people began calling in tips to the police department. Some of them were ridiculous, even funny, but many of them helped considerably. Take this tip from a lady that told police she was having a drink over at The Pour House the day after the murder. She said she overheard a lady telling a man that her son had come home “covered in blood.” Well, the police got on that tip immediately and soon were talking to the woman with the bloody son. To their astonishment, that woman turned out to be the mother of the Wilson brothers. They left that interview shaking their heads, wondering how in the hell they could have gotten that lucky. Quickly they pulled up the criminal records of David and William Wilson. Experts then matched the prints from the murder scene with those of the Wilson brothers and they had a match. The officers were jubilant with their success, and plans were soon made by the commanding officer for arrangements to arrest David and William Wilson. They found both brothers over there on Wayne Street and both were taken into custody with very little effort. Police got permission to search the apartments, read the two their rights, and moved on with their investigation.

 

                                   THE  NOOSE  TIGHTENS

 

Once the two brothers were in jail and the police had names and photographs to show around, other witnesses were quickly found that aided in the investigation. The search over at the apartments revealed bloody clothing, the knife receipt, wrappers from the toys, and a cigarette lighter. Down in the basement in the blower of the furnace the police found David’s knife. The Wilson brothers, certain they had just committed ‘the perfect crime,’ lay over in their jail cells certain that they had been much too clever for the police. Once they had sobered up they soon discovered how pathetic they really were.

 

Three times the police read the brothers the Miranda Card and now they were ready for the final attempt to get from the brothers the ‘true story.’

Armed with the evidence I just told you about, the brothers were questioned separately. David told the police “it was William’s idea to rob the place, not mine.” William told the police “David had the idea to rob Marion, it wasn’t my idea.” Ah, brotherly love, how deep it runs. The brothers confessed to the murder, and of course, blamed it all on alcohol and pot.

“We were out of our heads,” David told detectives “we probably drank a case of beer and smoked at least 32 cigarettes.” That was pot folks not Marlboros, by the way.

 

Police took their statements to the state’s attorney, handed over what they had as evidence and went back out into the street for more. The SA had all the papers drawn up, presented the matter to the grand jury, and got the indictments. The brothers were held in jail without bail.

 

                                        OTHER  MATTERS

 

The sad job of burying Mr. Wood was conducted by the family and about all anyone could ask was WHY? Who would want to kill a nice guy like Marion Wood? Hell, the police knew how it was done, they had the killers as well and they could probably tell you why. But…that was up to the courts to determine; they had done their job and done it well.

 

The coroner held his inquest over the body of Mr. Wood, an agonizing ordeal for the family members. The coroner calls family members to establish some facts about the deceased for the record. Many family members leave the hearing room before the coroner’s physician testifies. No wonder, listen to what Dr. Immesote had to say about the body of Marion T. Wood.

 

“Mr. Wood was a man of about 5’ 8 inches tall weighing approximately 240 pounds, and at the stated age of 55. The body suffered multiple wounds, including stabbing and slashing wounds all over the body. Multiple stab wounds to the back, one of them nicking the heart. The throat was slashed and numerous other cuts and stabbing wounds were noted. There were over 35 stab wounds plus slashes and scratches over the body and over the left orbit. There were deep stab-wounds to both eyes, as well as stab wounds to the cheeks. There was one large, six-inch slashing wound to the right neck. There were twelve additional slashing wounds to the throat.

There were two stab wounds to the left clavicular area and nine stab wounds to the stomach.  Multiple slashes to the stomach and cuts on the thumbs and fingers. Stab wounds to the left flank and penetrating stab wounds to the left lung and liver.  There were multiple stab-wounds to his head, as well as the neck, back, liver and spleen. The victim’s birth date was noted as 1-29-1928.”

 Think about it for just one moment and put your loved one in the situation that Mr. Wood found himself in that Halloween evening in 1983. Want to volunteer to be on the jury that tries these two brothers?

 

                              

                         ARRAIGNMENT AND  SUCH

 

The brothers were appointed a Public Defender, and on the day of their

Arraignment hearing they were charged with three separate counts of murder, armed robbery and capital murder. That last charge can carry the death penalty with it and authorities refer to it as a capital murder trial. The brothers soon had their own lawyers, Mr. Holman for David and Mr. Picl represented William. Marcia Straub and Larry Paluska from the SA’s office would represent the People. The brothers entered a not guilty plea and the matter was set down for trial.

 

The first bit of business for the defense was to get the trial held somewhere else, a change of venue. Also, the defense lawyers wanted the brother’s trials severed. To add to that list, the defense wanted not only the evidence suppressed, they wanted the confessions quashed as well. No evidence, no confessions, no fingerprints, no bloody clothing, no knife, you get the idea?

Oh, they also asked the judge to quash any evidence that might come from the police lineup the police held. Judge Charles Wilson listened to all these motions, heard all the arguments, battled with the lawyers and finally decided to overrule all of them, allowing the evidence and confession to be used in the trial. On February 22, 1984, after one of those heated hearings, David Wilson married his girlfriend, Linda.

 

                                   YOUR  TRIAL  AWAITS

 

It was a beautiful spring day, that April 23, 1984 when the murder trial for the Wilson Brothers got under way. High school kids from Bergen and ICC filled the back rows of Judge Donald Courson’s courtroom. The struggle to seat a jury in a well-publicized murder like this one is never easy. Both sides have an idea what they are looking for in the ‘perfect juror,’ and the process is long and tedious. Finally they seated six men and six women with two alternates.

 

Both men were buffed up from the appearances they had the day of their arrests. Beards were gone, and well-trimmed mustaches took their place. David wore a light tan sport coat and William sported a nice pin-stripped suit. They had family in the audience and sat looking rather confident there at the defendant’s table with their two damn good lawyers.

 

The opening argument or statement is the first chance for the lawyer to strut his/her stuff. This is not evidence although the lawyers would like to have the jury believe it is. They tell the jury what they think the evidence will show. The burden of proof is on the prosecution and they too try to do a convincing job. The evidence comes from the witnesses and the judge tells the jury what the law is. The lawyers, based on their skill levels try to finagle this theory the best way they can for their respective clients. With the lives of two men on the line this can all become very dramatic indeed. So cases 83 CF 46l3 and 83 CF 46l6, the People vs. David and William Wilson got underway. The opening statements over, the State called its first witness. The young assistants were eager to prove their case, and one by one, the witnesses and police officers were called. For every exhibit they wanted to put into evidence they had to lay the legal groundwork. This is tedious work, and during the process, the defense will try to object. Bitter arguments erupt and the judge in some cases is more like a referee than a judge. The battle here in open court is to sway the jury, period.

 

The trial heated up and so did the weather. During the trial the courthouse became almost unbearable, Judge Steve Covey, not part of the trial ordered some windows opened up. The man in charge of the building, Robert Pomeroy told the judge he could not do that “because of insurance reasons.” Well, Judge Covey was not going to buy that and told Pomeroy to open the windows. “If you order me to do it, judge, I will,” Steve smiled at him, “well, then I order you to open the windows.” Pomeroy, not too happy said “there is a danger of people falling out.” The judge countered “I believe it will keep them from passing out rather than falling out.”

 

The State called Detective Dale Whitlege to read the confessions the brothers had given to the police, and the objections flew. Overruled, the devastating statements were made part of the record. The State’s witnesses then began to parade in front of the jury. Forensic people testified as to the authenticity of each exhibit, the knife used to kill Mr. Wood, the fingerprints, the bloody clothing and all the other evidence found at the scene and the apartments of the defendants.

 

The People’s case was presented and the objections from the defendant’s lawyers proved to be basically useless. Finally, the State rested its case and now it was up to the defense.

 

                          

                      I  WAS  NOT  IN  MY  RIGHT  MIND

 

The defense was pretty much summed up in the above captioned phrase. The brothers testified that they had been drinking most of that day, consumed a case of beer, smoked all those cigarettes I told you about and simply did not know what they were doing. I suppose that is all they could do considering the fact that the confessions were now part of the exhibits for the jury to study. I’ll give you some specific quotes from these two defendants in the sentencing stage of the trial. In most capital cases, the defendant does not testify, so at least here the jury got to hear what these two had to say for themselves…it wasn’t much.

 

The boys’ mother walked slowly to the stand, the burden of what she was going through evident on her face. “Their father left home when the boys were three and one,” she said, a tissue dabbing at her eyes. “Vern Wilson, their stepfather, neglected them and didn’t want them. Once he tried to run over David with his car.” She went on to tell the jury that she had to kick William out of her house because he tried to break in after she had locked the house for the night.

 

The defense called the officers from the jail. They told the jury that the Wilsons were model prisoners and that they read the bible all day. Officer Livengood told the jury that David told him he was going to write a book about a Halloween massacre. The guards said that neither man seemed to have any withdrawal symptoms from drugs or alcohol. The defense then put on a doctor that told the jury that was common among people that were used to abusive drug use. And so it went. The defense tried to show the jury that the Wilson brothers were just nice young men who happened to make a mistake. Was the jury buying any of this?

 

The trial was running its course, and with Dr. Immesote’s graphic description of the condition of Marion’s body in the jury’s mind, the State was confident. Along with all the exhibits the horrific photographs were included as well. Finally, the defense rested, and the only bit of work to be completed was the closing statements. Like the opening arguments the closing statements were not evidence. This phase is the lawyer’s interpretation of the evidence that has been presented. The other side has a right to object, and they do, but in most cases, the lawyers are pretty much allowed to say what they want. It can get pretty dramatic, even ridiculous, but hey…they’re lawyers.

 

So, after 80 items of evidence, marked by exhibit numbers and admitted into evidence, the trial was over. The judge now had to charge the jury and read to them what the law was in this case. Believe me he does not do this on his own. For hours the judge and the lawyers battle this phase of the trial out in the judge’s chambers. A lot of experienced court spectators get out of the courtroom before the judge reads the law to the jury. I was guilty of this myself over the years.

 

                                      THE  JURY  DECIDES

 

The jury got the case at 1:35 that afternoon and at 3:40 they let the judge know that they had reached a verdict. This was a solemn time as the courtroom filled up, the lawyers were summoned and the judge walked in.

“Call the jury,” said the judge. The judge looked over at the jury, “I understand you have reached a verdict.” The foreman stood “we have your honor.” The bailiff walked over and took the verdict, handing it to the judge.  The judge looked at the paper then asked the foreman what the verdict was. “Guilty as to all counts, your honor.”

 

It was over. There was little to no emotion on the part of the defendants. Surely they could not have imagined that this jury was going to set them free. Actually, it was not over. This very jury had to reconvene and decide the death penalty phase of the trial. Would they sentence these two young defendants to death row and execution or would they just give them life? I asked you once if you wanted to be on this jury. Well, here is your chance, execution or life? Before we get to that final phase, I wanted you to hear what the two defense lawyers said, among other things, in their closing arguments. These statements are important because they came at the end of the trial when the jury is more apt to remember.

 

                       

David’s lawyer said to the jury “these young men did not plan on killing Mr. Wood. They were in all honesty drunk and high as a kite.” Mr. Holman continued: “This murder was drug and beer induced. If they wanted to kill Mr. Wood they could have done it more easily. I mean sixty some odd wounds is a frenzy induced by beer and marijuana”

 

William’s lawyer, Mr. Picl, said “William is not eligible for the death penalty because he did not inflict the most damaging wounds. The slash wound to the neck was caused by David’s larger knife.”

        

                                     LIFE  OR  DEATH?

 

It was May 3, 1983, one of those beautiful spring days that make us think of lying on a hammock day dreaming, not stuck in a hot courtroom. The courtroom was packed again with some people waiting in line to get in. This was the last chance for the defense to save these two young men, and the gloves would be off. There was excitement in the air when the judge called his court to order. The young defendant’s families were in attendance as well as relatives from Marion Wood’s family.

 

David took the stand and his lawyer guided him through his life of alcohol and drug addiction. He told the jury about all of his time in jail as well.  David sobbed, the court allowed a brief moment, and testimony continued.

                    “David what would you say to these people to

                      keep you alive? Would you beg?”

David leaned his head on to his arm and sobbed. A few minutes later, composed, David again blamed his brother William for planning the robbery. Later, David said this about the actual slashing of Marion’s throat.

                                 “As far as I know I did it.”

 

This sentencing phase of the trial would continue for close to eight hours. The two authorities on drug abuse told the jury that these two men were “brain-damaged, and burned out on drugs”.

 

Ms. Straub from the SA’s office countered that with this: “Blaming the brother’s action on alcohol and marijuana is self-serving. They try to minimize their actions and somehow absolve themselves.” She then walked over and looked at the jurors “this was a brutal, merciless killing and from the first step they took until the last they were acting together.”

 

Linda, now the wife of David Wilson, told the jury that David often hit her and threw things around in a fit of rage. She also told the jury that they had lost the custody of the two children because of  ‘spanking them with a belt.’

The reason for her testimony was to show the jury how drugs had controlled her husband’s life for years.

 

The state put on the two bartenders and they testified that in their opinion the brothers were not drunk when they left the tavern. The State also went through all the planning and actions the two brothers took after the murder to show that the killers were not acting like they were ‘out of their heads,’ as the defense contended. Mr. Picl for William said “as I told you in the opening statement my client is not guilty of murder and the State has done nothing to prove it.” Later Mr. Picl would say to the jury “a death penalty might even be a reward, sending William to a better existence.”

 

The State countered. “They are using their addiction to blame someone else for their predicament. Their life was not made by someone else, it was a life they created and reveled in.”

 

And so it went, back and forth, the defense blaming everything but their clients, and the State reminding the jury of the facts in the case. “On the day this event occurred they could function…and they did.”

 

                                 HOW WILL THIS JURY FIND?

 

The jury came back and in open court informed the judge that they could not agree on the death sentence. Oh, they agreed that the Wilson brothers were eligible for the death penalty, but they could not agree on passing that sentence. So…they left it up to Judge Donald Courson. Here is what the foreman said in the formal verdict.

 

“We are unable to conclude unanimously that there is no mitigating circumstances, factors or factors sufficient to preclude the imposition of the death penalty. We cannot unanimously find that the court shall sentence the defendants to death.”

 

                                         JUNE 21, 1983

 

It was in the very capable hands of Judge Courson now and the emotional aspect of the case was over. The judge considered the evidence, the defendants and the law. He would now pass sentence on David and William Wilson.

 

‘A long life of drugs and alcohol are not mitigating factors, I consider them factors in aggravation. The maximum term is warranted here, the nature of the wounds on Mr. Wood’s body and the Wilson’s attitude. They were ready to party after the crime with the pitiful amount they had to gain.”

The judge continued “Mr. Holman said the act was mindless, that is one way to look at it. I look at it as callus.”

 

The judge then went on to sentence the Wilson brothers to life without the possibility of parole. He then tacked on 60 years for armed robbery. So on April 30, the defendants were found guilty and here in June they were sentenced to life without parole. The sixty years would be served concurrently. So that was the end of the trial for the brothers. What was next of course was the appeal to the higher court.

 

Later on the appeal would be handled by the public defender’s office and a direct appeal to the Appellate Court in Ottawa was made. They did change the sentence and that surprised quite a few folks. The court dropped the armed robbery charge: however it confirmed the conviction of Felony Murder. The matter was then appealed to the Illinois Supreme Court and on l0-2-1985 denied the appeal and affirmed the judgement of the Circuit Court.

 

That brought to a close the Wilson matter. Of course there was always the United States Supreme Court in some cases, but apparently not this one. As the years go by the Wilson brothers will surely try whatever is left for them to obtain a parole. The judge said there was no possibility of parole, however, so there it is. Of course none of it will ever bring back Marion Wood to his family.

Editor’s Note:   Norm is a Peoria Historian and author of 12 books and hundreds of short stories.  norman.kelly@sbcglobal.net

 

BYE BYE MISS BIRDIE

                                            Norman V. Kelly

 

Handsome Charles Otis Botts was only seventeen that May 1, 1900

when he guided his horse and buggy over to pick up his girlfriend,

pretty Miss Birdie Hoffman. The couple rode around the small village of Peoria Heights before parking in a wooded area just off Prospect Road.

Romance was pretty much the way it is today between two young lovers and things quickly got out of hand. On the way home Miss Birdie began to cry, remorseful over what had taken place. According to Botts, Birdie grabbed his pistol, leaped from the carriage and ran off. Botts raced after her, but before he reached her a shot rang out in the silence of that starry May night.

Poor Birdie Hoffman died in young Botts’ arms.

 

Botts rode up to the Peoria Heights Police Department and summoned help.  He was held, questioned and testified at the Coroner’s inquest. The jury ruled the death a suicide and Charles Botts was released. Many folks believed that Botts had not told the jury the entire story and that he was more than likely a killer.

 

Over the next few years Botts used his good looks going from woman to woman, taking employment only as a last resort. In 1904 he married Artie Slagel, much to her mother’s chagrin. The couple moved in with Artie’s mother, but that arrangement lasted all of three weeks. They ended up in a shabby apartment on Monson Street in Peoria, Illinois.

 

It was around ten in the morning that January 5, 1905 when the cleaning lady knocked on the Botts’ apartment door. Moments later, on that quiet, snowy January morning her screams were loud enough to wake the dead.

Peoria detectives, along with the coroner stared down at the body of Mrs. Charles Otis Botts.  Blood seeped from her nose and soaked the handkerchief that had been jammed in her mouth.  A bright blue ribbon had been tied tightly around her throat. The coroner found finger marks on her bruised throat indicating strangulation. He told the police that she had been dead just over one hour.

 

Otis Botts was missing, and police used every available officer to mount a citywide search for the suspected wife killer. After an all night drunk, Botts ended up in a bawdy house in the south end of Peoria.  Around noon the police had gotten enough tips to take Botts into custody. His only comment to them was:  “If I had killed my wife why would I still be in Peoria?”

 

                                         THE TRIAL

 

The terrible murder was the talk of the town and almost daily the local newspapers ran follow-up stories.  By the time the trial began here in Peoria, most folks had the wife killer guilty and on the way to the gallows. The Evening Star set the stage with editorials that certainly made its attitude clear for its readers.

“This uxorcidest is not only a degenerate, malignant fiend he is a monster in human form.”  For Botts it went downhill from there.

 

On March 24, 1905 folks jammed the courthouse for the big show. Once the trial got underway, dramatic testimony from the medical examiner brought the courtroom to a stunned silence. Throughout it all, Botts seemed disinterested, yawning, and fidgeting in his seat. The state’s attorney caught the defendant’s attention when he put Birdie’s clothing, ribbon and bloody handkerchief on the table in front of him.  The young man turned his head away, refusing to look at the evidence as the attorney accused Botts of the horrible murder of his young wife. Many times the judge banged his gavel warning the spectators to remain quiet. His threats of clearing the courtroom finally subdued them and the drama continued. After the prosecution rested its case, the defense attorney rose and walked slowly toward the jury box.  He stood quietly for a moment and then turned, dramatically he said, “Your honor, the defense calls Charles Otis Botts to the stand.”

 

Botts sauntered to the witness chair, knowing that all eyes were upon him. He stared up at the judge, then, grinned at the jury. Even though he was penniless, the court had supplied him with two fine lawyers. They put love letters to his wife in evidence and then concluded by asking Botts if he was a killer. “I did not kill that girl…I loved her.”  Once the prosecutor cross- examined confident, cocky Botts, the young man was reduced to a stammering, broken witness. Everyone in the courtroom knew he had killed his wife. The jury wasted little time reaching a guilty verdict.

 

                                         THE HANGING

 

All roads led to downtown Peoria, Illinois that beautiful morning of June 16, 1905.  A massive crowd jammed the courthouse square and the streets that led to the square. Police officers surrounded the courthouse stopping folks from storming the building. Only the designated witnesses were allowed inside to view the execution. Charles Otis Botts was led from his cell to the hangman’s noose.  The witnesses surrounded the gallows built within the county jail, jostling for position. Little time was wasted before the trap door was sprung.  Gagging sounds came from the hooded figure! The rope had not snapped the killer’s neck and for twenty-one minutes Bott’s heart kept beating.  Finally, the three doctors declared the man dead. By then, most of the witnesses had fled the ghastly scene. Botts was buried in Saint Mary’s Cemetery.

 

Editor’s Note:  Norm Kelly is a lifelong resident of Peoria and a local historian. His eight books can be found in the Peoria Library.   Norm welcomes your questions:   norman.kelly@sbcglobal.net

BODY PARTS AND PLASTIC BAGS

                                                            

                                                              NORMAN V. KELLY

                                  

                                                  A  GHASTLY  FIND

 

It was a nice day for a bike ride that May 19, 1983 when two young men stopped their bikes on a small bridge over Funk’s Run Creek. They had traveled at their leisure in Tazwell County, crossed over into Woodford County and stopped to rest and stretch.  The sun was going down, as they talked about the day’s ride.  There was a slight, warm spring breeze kicking up and the boys enjoyed the moment.  One of them commented about an odor in the air, his companion sniffed and walked east as the aroma got stronger.  They stopped in horror as they looked down at something sticking out of a green, plastic bag.  They inched closer until the realization of what they were looking at dawned on them. Once they slowed their heart rate down enough to act, they hopped on their bikes and raced off toward the nearest telephone to call the sheriff.

 

It was dark now as a Woodford County Deputy pulled his patrol car up to the edge of the bridge the boy’s had described.  He sat a moment listening to the noise of the evening outside his rolled down window.  He snapped on the cruiser’s flashing lights, grabbed his flashlight and got out of the car.  The breeze had kicked up and the smell was coming directly at him.  The deputy trained the light ahead and walked to the side of the bridge.  Moments later he was back at his vehicle, radioing in his gruesome discovery.  The officer was careful not to be too descriptive as he reported to the sheriff.

 

                                “I’m two miles north of Route 116 right here at

                                               Funk’s Run Bridge.  No doubt it’s ours here in

                                               Woodford County, Upper Spring Bay Road.

                                               It’s real rural out here so we’ll need some lights.”

 

                                   A  VERY BUSY NIGHT

 

The deputy repositioned his squad car and put out some flares on both sides of the road.  He would turn back any car that happened by, but none ever approached the bridge.   A few minutes later the officer heard the siren off in the distance and moments later the flashing lights of the Spring Bay Fire Department.  Snapping on his flashlight, he stood ready to guide the truck up to the bridge.  As it pulled up he greeted the driver and told him to position the truck close enough so he could shine the powerful truck’s spotlight on the object.  Soon, the firemen and deputy were staring down at a green bag that had been tossed off to the side by the bridge.  One of the firemen made a move toward it but was stopped by the deputy.  “Better wait until the sheriff gets here.”

 

The sheriff’s car could be seen coming down the rural road followed by a couple of other vehicles.  The deputy greeted his boss, as the other cars parked behind the sheriff’s car.  Once out of the car, Sheriff Quentin (Jim)  Durst instructed everyone with a flashlight to make a thorough search of the grounds. He told them to be careful, and to bring back anything that looked out of place. He then went with his deputy over to the green bags, to have a look for himself.

 

The powerful light bathed the bags in an eerie cast of light and shadow as Durst snapped on his own flashlight.  He squatted down moving his flashlight back and forth.  With his gloved hand he pulled one of the bags open and viewed the grisly contents. He ordered photographs as he turned to his deputy.

 

                          “It’s a murder no doubt, but it doesn’t look

                               like the killing was done here.  No, the body

                               was dumped here.”

 

The sheriff started assigning his men to tasks as he began to make contact with nearby towns and departments he needed to aid him.  He called the State of Illinois to ask for the services of Robert DuBois, a crime scene investigator. The press, the TV media and anyone that thought they belonged at the scene flocked out to the old rural bridge.  The officers began blocking off the road and flashing lights filled the night with colorful hues.

 

They worked well into the night, taking more pictures, continuing the search around and under the bridge.  The media sniffed out the scene and soon their camera lights added to the brightness of the night.  The coroner soon took over and he made a lot of requests as the men scurried about trying to secure the scene. Once the coroner ordered the remains, or what was left of them, taken away, soil samples under the body were taken.  More photographs and finally the squad lights were turned off. One lone deputy was left at the scene as the eastern sky lit up with the first signs of a new May morning dawning.

 

                                THE BODY IN THE BAGS

 

Cars from the sheriff’s office were back at the scene before the sun came up with orders to make another thorough search of the entire area. The sheriff would talk to the boys that discovered the body and of course a house-to- house investigation would be made of the surrounding area.  Someone might have seen something that would help with the investigation.  Sheriff Durst was at his office conferring with the coroner, deputies and waiting for the photographs to be developed and handed to him. He also had a few more telephone calls to make.

 

Later in the day Sheriff Durst called the Chief of Police in Peoria, Illinois. As far as the sheriff was concerned, most of his job was done.  Of course he would continue his questioning of local folks but the important information he had discovered would send the case back over to Peoria County.

 

                        “Afternoon, chief, I wanted to get back to you on that

                              body we found in the trash bag over here. The dead man

                              is Jeffrey J. Williams, age 26.  His listed address is 401

                              Hayward over there in Peoria.  No doubt the body was

                              dumped over here, chief.  I think you got yourself a

                              murder.  I’ll wait to hear from you once you check out

                              his address.”

 

                                     THE  SHERIIF  WAS  RIGHT  ON

 

Once the Peoria Detectives followed up on the sheriff’s clue the rest seemed to come easy to the Peoria officers.  The detectives quickly visited the Hayward address and the case seemed to simply come together. Armed with search warrants, police investigators swarmed over the house at 401 Hayward, searching every square inch of the place with every forensic piece of equipment they had available in 1983.  It took very little time to convince them that Jeffrey Williams had been murdered and butchered in that very house.  Detectives outside the house were making headway in running down the girlfriend of the victim, and soon the pieces fell into place like a horror jigsaw puzzle.

 

                             

 

                                  SOME  PARTS  ARE MISSING

 

Once the body of Mr. Williams was taken to a funeral home another horrible discovery was made…some of his body parts were missing! Both his legs, as a matter of fact, and now the case took on a more bizarre twist and the media swarmed over it from all over the area.  Police were piling up the evidence collected from the house. Bloody towels, blood samples from the sinks and bathtub, and scores of other evidence that needed to be analyzed.  They went to work on the neighborhood convinced that someone must have heard the shots and knew a lot more that the police knew.  They talked to every single person they could, but got very little information.  The connection between the dead man and his girlfriend seemed to be about all they really needed.

 

Thirty hours after The Woodford County Sheriff had handed the case to them, they arrested Jeffrey Willams’ lady friend. They charged her with concealing a homicide.  This is what the state’s attorney often charges suspects with, because it is quick, and allows the police to take the suspect in custody.  I laugh at this charge because I wonder what you would do if you murdered someone…reveal it everyone.  But it worked and the lady Williams shared the house with was now in custody.  They had not revealed her name as yet, but plenty of neighbors knew who she was, that’s for sure.

 

                                          MAY   26,  1983   

 

Another glorious spring day that brings Peorians down to the river’s edge, but today many of them were over at the Peoria County Courthouse. Attorney James Hafele would represent the defendant with Judge Joe Billy McDade the presiding judge. Today would be the first chance the media and the local citizens would get a look at the woman police were accusing of dismembering her boyfriend.  It was exciting stuff, and the courtroom filled up in minutes.

 

Folks always have a preconceived notion as to what a monster, or a killer or sex offender looks like, but they are never right.  That certainly held true when they got their first look at this alleged murderess.  A pretty young lady walked in with her attorney and took her seat at the defendant’s table. She wore the jumpsuit of a Peoria County prisoner, and was employed over at her hair was long and attractive, and she seemed so small. Her name was Roberta M. McCumber, age twenty-two, and she worked over at Saint Francis Hospital. Reporters told their readers that she was a divorced woman with a three-year old daughter.

 

She was to be arraigned and charged with concealing a homicide, obstructing justice and theft. Police had impounded her car and forensic people had found blood, a gun and the odor of something that had been in the trunk of her car.  All of that would come out later, but as for today, it was more show and tell than anything else.

 

Attorney Hafele argued for the bond to be set low enough so that his client could go home and take care of her young daughter. Assistant State’s Attorney Patelli argued to the court the severity of the crime, the brutal way it was carried out and asked the court to set the bond at $100,000.00, McDade finally settled on half of that. That meant she had to come up with 10% or some valuable property. That afternoon the alleged killer was free and on her way home.

 

                                NO  MURDER  CHARGES

 

There are quite a few court observers and folks that take a great interest in what goes on in our courthouse.  The question from them to the reporters was; ‘Where was the murder charge’?   Well, the state attorney’s office had a plan and what it was waiting for was the lab results on the gun and all the blood analysis from the results of searching the defendant’s car. Once all that was in and the proof was all there, the final charges would be made. The charges the SA filed against her were sufficient for the moment and even though she was out on bond, they felt reasonably certain that she would face additional charges.

 

An additional problem was finding the two missing legs of the victim. The police agencies were working on that, and folks in Peoria and Woodford County were extremely interested in this murder case, I can tell you that.

 

Going on the premise that the body was dismembered in McCumber’s apartment the police set out to find witnesses.  They discovered that two boys had helped her put something in the trunk of her car, and they meant to find out exactly what that was. Their investigation led them to believe that the killer shot Williams in the apartment, dismembered him there, and put the body in different trash bags.  The body was dumped out in Woodford County and the legs were dumped somewhere else.  So, all they had to do was find them.  That was the question folks talked about here in town and over in Woodford County as well. Where were Jeffrey Williams’ legs?

 

Police now felt that the killer put the legs in the bags and then the boys innocently helped her put them in the trunk of her car. Their investigation led them to believe that the killer was looking for a dumpster away from her neighborhood.  Once the suspect found the right one, the legs were tossed into the dumpster and taken out to the county dump.  So… a massive crew of officers headed out to the dump.  The ‘pleasant’ work went on for days off and on.

 

                             TELL  IT  TO  THE  MARINES

 

Police spoke to the garbage man and he told them he remembered throwing “Something long and smelly into his truck.”  He thought it was a dead dog. With that clue the police called out the Marines. Charlie Company from a local group brought a tractor and went out to the dump to help.  They, along with a lot of soiled police officers hunted around the dump, looking for a green smelly bag. After long, diligent searches, officers finally gave up.  The SA informed the press that his office did not need the legs to fully prosecute the case he had against McCumber.

 

                                            NEW  NEWS?

 

The appetite for sensational news in a murder case is insatiable, so during the lull, local reporters manage to keep our interest up with articles to keep the story alive.  Reporters told us that Williams, the victim, was a musician and that at one time he lived with the accused on 609 Tracy here in Peoria.

He was twenty-six and had a minor police record, which the press shared with its readers. He once lived in Woodford County where he was convicted of possession of Marijuana. From Tracy, the couple moved over to 401 Hayward, Apartment A.

 

                                WOULD  IT  PLAY  IN  PEORIA?

 

It is only natural that a case like this one would get all the press and media coverage that could possibly be reported. And…as usual, that gave the defense the opportunity to seek a change of venue. Always the question to the court was this:  “Judge, how the local jury pool can not be prejudiced against my client?”

 

The final charge of murder was lodged against Roberta McCumber and that sparked another round of hearings concerning her bond. The judge set her first-degree murder bond at a half million, later reducing it to three hundred thousand.  Did McCumber have the assets to cover the bond?  No.  She remained in jail awaiting her trial.

 

During the time Mcumber languished in jail her attorney was busy filing motions and seeking mental examinations of his client.  He was also busy convincing Judge McDade that a change of venue was appropriate.  A hearing was held and the judge agreed.  The trial would be moved to Dupage County in Wheaton, Illinois.  Wheaton or Peoria, the charges and the evidence would stay the same, so Wheaton it would be. Of course that disappointed the local folks who would have to travel quite a distance to see the big show.

 

Before the trial got underway a friend of McCumber got himself in trouble for trying to create an alibi for his friend, Roberta.  He was charged with obstruction of justice and was later sentenced to two years in jail.

 

DECEMBER 4, 1983                                                 WHEATON, ILLINOIS

 

Judge Peter Paolucci called the packed courtroom to order and the hot ticket trial was underway up north of Peoria, Illinois. Small towns always win in situations like this as strangers from all over the state rush to their towns.  It certainly was the same in Wheaton, Illinois. The state was still represented by Mr. Pattilli, and the defendant had her attorney, Mr. Hafele. 

 

The opening statements outlined the battle to come, and the atmosphere in the courtroom was one of intent interest.  Hafele told the jury that his client shot Williams in self-defense during one of the frequent arguments the couple had.  The prosecution had a little different take on the matter, telling the jury that the defendant shot Williams twice deliberately. Once the lawyers finished the opening statements the real trial began.

 

The pathologist instructed the court that Williams had a bullet lodged near his spine and that he had found a bullet in the head of the victim. He then went into the grisly discussion of the missing legs, indicating that they had been chopped or sawed off with some instrument, perhaps an axe. Later, evidence showed that the tools used were a hatchet and a saw, owned by the landlord. A gun expert testified that the gun had a fourteen-pound pull on the trigger and he doubted the gun could be accidentally fired. He also pointed out the working safety on the gun.

 

I will just quote one witness to give you an idea of the crushing evidence the defense attorney had to deal with.  Ms. Riopell, Roberta’s friend was on the stand. She told the jury that she had visited Roberta’s apartment and complained of the terrible odor inside. She testified that she had asked Roberta what it was. ‘Its burnt transmission oil,’ was the reply according to the witness.  Later McCumber confided in the witness, telling her that she was a suspect in the murder of her boyfriend.  Dramatically the witness said, “I asked her, oh, my God, Roberta, was that his legs?”

 

“What did the defendant say when you asked her that question?”

 

“She said, ‘Yes.’ ”

 

“Pyschokenic Amnesia,” that’s the reason McCumber was not guilty of the murder of Mr. Williams.  Well, anyway, that is what Dr. Ziporyn testified to at the defense aspect of the trial.  This doctor testified at the Richard Speck trial here in Peoria, Illinois. The physician told the jury that although McCumber was mentally ill at the time of the shooting, she was currently sane. Dr. Ziporyn liked to use that diagnosis, the same one he used when he testified at the Richard Speck trial here in Peoria, Illinois.

 

                                  THE  JURY  HAS  THE  CASE

 

The exciting drama ended once the judge charged the jury to follow the law and reach a verdict. The question of whether or not McCumber shot Williams was not at issue once the case ended.  The question was under what circumstances?  The jury could find her guilty of first-degree murder or several alternatives. It was pretty certain among the spectators that she would not simply walk out of the courtroom a free woman.  Some of course disagreed.  After all, Roberta was a sympathetic figure sitting there in a white dress, appearing to be rather shy and harmless.

 

The ordeal was over and now all Roberta and her family could do was wait and see what the jury decided. No living human being can predict what a jury will do…especially the lawyers involved in the case.  If the jury stays out a long time…that’s good.  No…if they stay out a short time…that’s good.  See what I mean?   Hell...nobody really knows.  In this case they deliberated for eleven hours.  What’s your guess?   Good or bad?

 

                                  AND  THE  VERDICT  IS?

 

Roberta McCumber was acquitted that Tuesday afternoon in Wheaton,

Illinois.  Hold it…I’m not finished.  She was found GUILTY but was mentally ill on a Voluntary Manslaughter charge.  The eight women and four men jury of Dupage County had listened to the evidence, heard all the arguments and then they deliberated.  The verdict was now part of the court record. But, they were not done yet.  The jury found the defendant guilty of concealing a homicidal death and for obstructing justice because she severed the legs to conceal the death.

 

Roberta burst into tears upon hearing the verdict.  Were they tears of joy or sadness?  Later, her attorney told the press that she was confused at the verdict.  Once the verdict was explained, she was joyful, since the other charges would have sent her off for a long, long time.

 

                              THE  SENTENCING  PHASE

 

The ‘Guilty but mentally’ ill verdict meant that the Illinois Department of Corrections had to provide psychiatric treatment to her not only for just a couple of months, but until she was cured.  As soon as she was pronounced ‘Cured,’ then off she would go to complete her sentence.  Don’t sound so good now…does it?

 

The doctors had testified that she had been suffering from extreme anxiety brought on by the abuse inflicted upon her by Williams. One of the prosecutors had told the jury that McCumber lied about everything she said on the stand. The defense team pounded away at the fact that the murder was a justifiable homicide.

 

                                       JANUARY  20, 1984

 

Judge Peter J. Paolucci was ready to pronounce sentence on the defendant.  It was a new year and some time had slipped away. A lot of the media had lost interest in the case as the folks crowded into the courtroom to observe the final outcome of the exciting trial. A murder that had gotten some national coverage was now concluding with a sentencing hearing.

Attorney Hafele allowed Roberta to make an appeal directly to the judge.  The drama built as she stood facing the judge.

 

                “To say I am sorry for what I did to Jeff wouldn’t even be right.

                          But I’ll say that I hate what I did to Jeff and I will know I’ll

                          remember it the rest of my life. I know I need help and I just

                          hope you help me get it.”

 

Roberta McCumber then admitted that she shot Jeff Williams during an argument, using an axe and a hacksaw to cut off his legs.  She explained that she then dumped the torso somewhere in Woodford County and the legs in a dumpster near her parent’s home.

 

Judge Paolucci looked down at the hapless defendant and said to her:

 

             “Justice is a two-way street. Society, the State, and the family of Jeff

                     Williams also have their rights.  Sometimes we forget about those.”

 

The judge talked about Roberta’s past, her three abortions, including the one she had while awaiting trial in jail.

 

                “Taking that in conjunction with taking the life of Jeff Williams,

                          what value, may I ask, does she place on human life?

 

The judge then sentenced Roberta McCumber to a thirteen-year prison term. Roberta gasped and began crying as she was handcuffed and then led away. Her distraught family watched in despair. The time she had already spent in jail would be deducted from the sentence in the Illinois Department of Correction in Dwight, Illinois. 

 

                                 WHAT  ABOUT  AN  APPEAL

 

January 14, 1986                                                               Peoria, Illinois

 

Almost thirty-three months had passed and Roberta was back in court. She came before one of Peoria’s best, Judge Calvin Stone.

 

   

 

                      “I certainly would have considered a more severe sentence had

                                  the court not been restricted by law.”

 

The judge then reinstated a ten-year voluntary manslaughter prison sentence and the three-year sentence for concealing a homicide. In all, about one and a half years were knocked off her initial sentence.  Roberta McCumber, if all things went well for her, could find herself out of prison in 1988 or early 1989.  That information would be available on your computer.

 

Editor’s Note:  Norm Kelly is a local historian, author and lecturer. This story is abridged from his book  MURDER IN YOUR OWN BACK YARD.  Comments:  norman.kelly@sbcglobal.net

                         

NORMAN   V.  KELLY

Bradley sophomore and navy veteran Flavel Feuger sang along with the radio in his new, 1947 Pontiac as he cruised the downtown streets of Peoria, Illinois. It was December 3, 1947 and Flavel had always considered himself to be a lucky guy, with a pretty girlfriend, a new car, a wealthy father and home safely from the war.  Folks were scurrying about under the bright Christmas lights, enjoying the mild December evening. Flavel stopped his car at a red light on Adams Street. Suddenly his passenger door swung open! A man in a navy pea coat stuck his head inside. “Could you take me to the airport?”

 

Mavis Bishop stood outside the Pere Marquette Hotel anxiously waiting for Flavel to pick her up. She returned to the hotel to make several telephone calls to his friends and his mother.  Finally, her father picked her up and took her over to the Feuger home. Together they waited…worried and cried. Sadly they would never see their beloved Flavel alive again.

 

Mr. Feuger and his wife arrived at police headquarters early that December 4, 1947. The next stop was Bradley University and Flavel’s fraternity house. Within hours a massive search was organized that involved volunteer groups from every walk of life. For five days they searched, but still no sign of Flavel Feuger.  While the fear mounted, police concentrated on finding the Pontiac.  A Bradley student found it parked downtown and the police swarmed over it. Inside the glove compartment they found a crumpled cap bearing the printed name of Norma Weber.

 

                                WANTED:   Herman Weber

 

After extensive talks with Mrs. Weber, the police put out an all points bulletin for Herman Weber. He was soon located in Conroy, Texas and Peoria detectives drove down there to bring him back. On the way home, Weber confessed to the killing of Flavel Feuger. The problem was he told three different stories, telling the police that Feuger’s body was probably in Saint Louis by now.  The local newspaper issued EXTRAS about the news creating the biggest excitement since the Thompson murder case in 1935. It appeared that the police had their killer but where was Flavel Feuger’s body? Mavis Bishop and the distraught Feuger family prayed for help.

                      

                HELP  COMES  AT  THE  WRIGHT  TIME

 

Basking in the limelight in his jail cell, Herman Weber enjoyed telling the police one lie after the other. The police web picked up several of Weber’s friends and his wife. The detectives zeroed in on Fred Wright, and his tip finally got the police on the right track. Police, along with about forty Bradley students headed down toward Dixon Mounds where they found the body of Feuger in a frozen pond.  Flavel Feuger’s death had been caused by .25 caliber slugs to the head and chest, and was dead when he was tossed in the water.

 

Once the coroner held the inquest Weber was indicted for kidnapping, car theft, murder and a count of rape upon the lady from whom he had stolen the gun that killed Flavel Feuger. Like so many other criminals in Peoria, Weber was just the guy next door, a war veteran, good neighbor and a friendly man and a veteran Sailor just like Flavel. He told police the shooting was an accident and the stealing of the Pontiac was just something he did for a living.  It was that simple.

 

                                            THE  TRIAL

 

On February 3, 1948 the hottest ticket in town was at the courthouse for the murder trial of Herman Weber.  Like the Thompson trial in 1935 crowds flocked to the courthouse trying to be part of the excitement. Hundreds were turned away.  The trial lasted five days and the jury took very little time finding Weber guilty on all counts and recommending the death penalty.  Shortly after the verdict newsboys flooded the streets, all yelling the same headline.  “GUILTY DOOMED TO DIE.”  Weber testified on his own behalf, telling the jury that the confessions were coerced and that a man named Crawley was the real killer.

 

Herman Weber stayed in the Peoria County Jail for a few days more before he was taken to Joliet where he would be held on death row.  Once all of his appeals were lost the exact date of his execution was set. After seeing a few family members and a priest, Herman Weber was led from his holding cell to the electric chair, the same one that had executed Peorian Gerald Thompson in 1935. It was a few minutes after midnight when the lights dimmed three times, indicating that the killer of Flavel Feuger had been put to death. Weber was the tenth and last person from Peoria County to be executed for murder. Eight of those killers were executed here in Peoria by hanging.  Thompson and Weber, both Peorians, were executed in our state prison in Joliet, Illinois. What a terrible waste of lives for these two young men, both war veterans who had their entire lives ahead of them.  You can read the book UNTIL YOU ARE DEAD, available in the Peoria Public Library.

Editor’s Note:  Got a comment or question for Norm?          norman.kelly@sbcglobal.net