By:
Jim Hagerty
LOVES PARK, Ill. (WTVO) – The holidays were always a joyous time at the Betts household in Machesney Park.
The
family’s four kids, 21-year-old Debby, 19-year-old Earl, 18-year-old
Gary and 16-year-old Louise enjoyed their time together on Christmas
1976.
“At 16, you’d think you’d have the world by the tail, going out and doing things,” Gary Betts said about Louise. “She was the youngest of four—carefree and fun-loving.”
In 1976, Louise Betts did have the world by the tail. She was in her junior year at Harlem High School, where she played the clarinet and busied herself with typical teenage activities.
“You’d ride your bicycles everywhere, anywhere you want to, anywhere you wanted to,” Betts said. “You stayed out until your parents called you in.”
Louise also frequented the Meadow Mart Mall in Loves Park, a popular teen hangout at the time. There, she and her friends shopped, socialized and talked about boys. Her mother dropped off at the shopping center dozens of times, and Louise would always find her way home.
“At two ends there [were] a Piggly Wiggly and Jewel, I believe it was, two grocery stores,” Bets said. “And, in between there were all sorts of little stores.”
Gary Betts did not know it at the time, but Christmas 1976 would be the last time he’d ever see his younger sister. Betts returned to his Army base in Kentucky after the holidays where, several months later, he’d receive some horrific news.
“The platoon sergeant’s coming up to me,” he said. “And that’s when he told me they found Louise’s body.”
Louise’s mother dropped her off at the mall Sept. 27, 1977, expecting to see her later that night. But Louise never showed up.
“Apparently she was going to hitchhike to another friend’s house,” Betts said.
But Louise did not make it there either.
Initially treating the Louise as a runaway, police had no clues where she may have gone. And as time passed, the likelihood of a safe return continued to wane.
“A mother knows,” Betts said. “And Mom knew she wasn’t [a runaway]. Something’s wrong.”
Days turned to weeks and weeks to months. Then, on March 30, 1978, the search for Louise Betts was over. A local farmer made the grisly discovery.
“The farmer was plowing his cornfield in Boone County and found her body, right out here,” Betts said.
Because Louise had been exposed to the elements for so long, the medical examiner was not able determine her exact cause of death. But, a suspect with a violent history soon emerged with a detailed and gruesome confession.
“The horror she felt, how she fought back,” Gary explained. “He strangled her. He jumped on her. She got up and ran. He chased her down, strangled her some more.”
The matter-of-fact confession came from 23-year-old Curtis Brownell, a local man who detailed how he picked Louise up while she hitchhiked on North Second Street before raping her and strangling her to death.
“I then checked her pulse again,” Gary said, reading from a portion of Brownell’s confession. “I listened to her heart on her chest. I left her on her back. I then got her purse out of the car and threw it in her direction.”
Brownell said Louise could have been alive when he left her in the cornfield. He said after dumping her, he went to a local bar, had a few drinks and put what he had just done out of his mind.
He told police because he hadn’t heard any news reports about Louise over the next two weeks, he “thought everything was all right and that she didn’t report it.”
Brownell also took one of his own children to the cornfield months after he killed Louise. According to his confession, he didn’t find the body there because he didn’t search deep enough into the field.
Those close to the case say the most frightening thing about Curtis Brownell is that he appeared to be a regular person. He had a good job at local factory, a family and was living an ordinary suburban life.
“He was a real quiet neighbor—would do anything to help in the neighborhood,” said Kathi Kresol, a historian and author who has written about the Betts case. “Some of the local teenagers would babysit for the family.”
And while he didn’t prey on his babysitters, Curtis Brownell had other victims. In January 1978, he abducted a pregnant woman from a Rockford laundromat, raped her and then ran her over with his car. The woman and the baby survived.
“He couldn’t stop himself,” Kresol said. “He had to keep doing it.”
Wading through pain of losing his baby sister to who the press at the time was calling a sex slayer has not been easy for Gary Betts. He says he still experiences everything from anger to sadness and has even blamed himself.
“All kinds of different scenarios come up in your mind,” he said. “With me, [it’s] not being a good brother, or, you know, other things—all kinds of things.”
Gary says the horrible picture of how his sister met her fate nearly 50 years ago may never leave his mind. But he says he’ll always remember Louise’s smile and carefree innocence. But even that is tremendously hard sometimes.
“The stress of this killed my mother at 56,” he said. “And then dad lasted six more years. But once Mom died, he gave up.”
Curtis Brownell’s initial death sentence was later reduced to a term of 100 to 300 years in prison. He is now eligible for parole every three to five years. He was last denied in 2024, his fifteenth attempt at early release.
Now 70, Brownell is scheduled to be in front of the parole board again in 2028.
“At 16, you’d think you’d have the world by the tail, going out and doing things,” Gary Betts said about Louise. “She was the youngest of four—carefree and fun-loving.”
In 1976, Louise Betts did have the world by the tail. She was in her junior year at Harlem High School, where she played the clarinet and busied herself with typical teenage activities.
“You’d ride your bicycles everywhere, anywhere you want to, anywhere you wanted to,” Betts said. “You stayed out until your parents called you in.”
Louise also frequented the Meadow Mart Mall in Loves Park, a popular teen hangout at the time. There, she and her friends shopped, socialized and talked about boys. Her mother dropped off at the shopping center dozens of times, and Louise would always find her way home.
“At two ends there [were] a Piggly Wiggly and Jewel, I believe it was, two grocery stores,” Bets said. “And, in between there were all sorts of little stores.”
Gary Betts did not know it at the time, but Christmas 1976 would be the last time he’d ever see his younger sister. Betts returned to his Army base in Kentucky after the holidays where, several months later, he’d receive some horrific news.
“The platoon sergeant’s coming up to me,” he said. “And that’s when he told me they found Louise’s body.”
Louise’s mother dropped her off at the mall Sept. 27, 1977, expecting to see her later that night. But Louise never showed up.
“Apparently she was going to hitchhike to another friend’s house,” Betts said.
But Louise did not make it there either.
Initially treating the Louise as a runaway, police had no clues where she may have gone. And as time passed, the likelihood of a safe return continued to wane.
“A mother knows,” Betts said. “And Mom knew she wasn’t [a runaway]. Something’s wrong.”
Days turned to weeks and weeks to months. Then, on March 30, 1978, the search for Louise Betts was over. A local farmer made the grisly discovery.
“The farmer was plowing his cornfield in Boone County and found her body, right out here,” Betts said.
Because Louise had been exposed to the elements for so long, the medical examiner was not able determine her exact cause of death. But, a suspect with a violent history soon emerged with a detailed and gruesome confession.
“The horror she felt, how she fought back,” Gary explained. “He strangled her. He jumped on her. She got up and ran. He chased her down, strangled her some more.”
The matter-of-fact confession came from 23-year-old Curtis Brownell, a local man who detailed how he picked Louise up while she hitchhiked on North Second Street before raping her and strangling her to death.
“I then checked her pulse again,” Gary said, reading from a portion of Brownell’s confession. “I listened to her heart on her chest. I left her on her back. I then got her purse out of the car and threw it in her direction.”
Brownell said Louise could have been alive when he left her in the cornfield. He said after dumping her, he went to a local bar, had a few drinks and put what he had just done out of his mind.
He told police because he hadn’t heard any news reports about Louise over the next two weeks, he “thought everything was all right and that she didn’t report it.”
Brownell also took one of his own children to the cornfield months after he killed Louise. According to his confession, he didn’t find the body there because he didn’t search deep enough into the field.
Those close to the case say the most frightening thing about Curtis Brownell is that he appeared to be a regular person. He had a good job at local factory, a family and was living an ordinary suburban life.
“He was a real quiet neighbor—would do anything to help in the neighborhood,” said Kathi Kresol, a historian and author who has written about the Betts case. “Some of the local teenagers would babysit for the family.”
And while he didn’t prey on his babysitters, Curtis Brownell had other victims. In January 1978, he abducted a pregnant woman from a Rockford laundromat, raped her and then ran her over with his car. The woman and the baby survived.
“He couldn’t stop himself,” Kresol said. “He had to keep doing it.”
Wading through pain of losing his baby sister to who the press at the time was calling a sex slayer has not been easy for Gary Betts. He says he still experiences everything from anger to sadness and has even blamed himself.
“All kinds of different scenarios come up in your mind,” he said. “With me, [it’s] not being a good brother, or, you know, other things—all kinds of things.”
Gary says the horrible picture of how his sister met her fate nearly 50 years ago may never leave his mind. But he says he’ll always remember Louise’s smile and carefree innocence. But even that is tremendously hard sometimes.
“The stress of this killed my mother at 56,” he said. “And then dad lasted six more years. But once Mom died, he gave up.”
Curtis Brownell’s initial death sentence was later reduced to a term of 100 to 300 years in prison. He is now eligible for parole every three to five years. He was last denied in 2024, his fifteenth attempt at early release.
Now 70, Brownell is scheduled to be in front of the parole board again in 2028.
