Delavan has weathered many difficult chapters, but few ever gripped the community—and much of Central Illinois—the way the death of 19-year-old Betty Crabb did in March 1938. Betty was the young wife of James “Jimmie” Crabb, 21-year-old son of W.W. Crabb, president of the Tazewell County Bank. Their home at 401 W. 3rd Street, now occupied by the Gravitts, would long be known in town lore as “the murder house.”
On the night of March 10, Betty and Jimmie returned home late from a party where both had been drinking heavily. Not long after they entered the house, a single gunshot rang out. Betty was found dead from a wound inflicted by Jimmie’s own Colt .45 pistol. Jimmie insisted she had shot herself. But almost immediately, doubts spread. Betty’s youth, the couple’s intoxication, and the nature of the wound all raised questions.
A Crowded Inquest at Houghton’s Funeral Parlor
Tazewell County Coroner Dr. Nelson A. Wright II convened the inquest on Wednesday, March 8, 1938, at Houghton’s Funeral Parlor. The small chapel overflowed with townspeople and reporters. The jury—W.W. Alexander, Chief Joe Cook, Richard Yarrington, Gerald Warne, Joe Sowa, and Howard Alexander—heard testimony that quickly complicated the Crabb family’s narrative.
From the outset, the Crabbs arrived with attorneys and a coordinated story: Betty had taken her own life. They also attempted to downplay what witnesses described as Jimmie’s drunken “rampage” earlier that night—an outburst so alarming that W.W. Crabb had called the police and asked Chief Cook to come to the house.
But as testimony unfolded, the facts began to contradict Jimmie’s account.
Four Revelations That Shifted the Case
Over the course of the hearing, Jimmie Crabb was called to testify twice, an unusual step that signaled how many questions investigators still had.
Four essential revelations emerged:
- Betty had shown no suicidal intent. Catherine Crabb could offer only a single remark Betty once made about her troubled marriages—hardly evidence of despair.
- Jimmie was alone with the body for up to ten minutes, long enough to alter the scene, according to Officer Ringo.
- The autopsy showed Betty’s stomach was empty, contradicting Jimmie’s claim that they had shared a sandwich minutes before the shooting.
- Sheriff Ralph Goar testified that it was “utterly impossible” for him to point the heavy Colt .45 at his own right breast and pull the trigger.
The contradictions were so significant that Coroner Wright recalled Jimmie to the stand, giving him a chance to revise his testimony. He did not.
An Open Verdict—and a Murder Warrant
After deliberating, the inquest jury returned an open verdict. They could not determine whether Betty’s death was suicide, accident, or homicide, and they called for further investigation.
Before the inquest even concluded, Betty’s father, Glenn Collison of Champaign, Illinois, swore out a murder warrant for Jimmie’s arrest.
On Saturday, March 12, immediately after Jimmie completed his second round of testimony, Sheriff Goar served the warrant and transported him to the Tazewell County Jail in Pekin for questioning.
After hours of interrogation, Jimmie abandoned his suicide claim. He now said he had argued with his father, drunkenly waved his gun, and retreated to the bedroom, where Betty tried to push the weapon away and it “accidentally” discharged. He admitted wiping his fingerprints off the gun, hiding it between the mattress and headboard, and removing the pillow from beneath Betty’s head.
But when presented with the written statement, he refused to sign it.
A Trial Without Resolution
The case drew statewide attention, prompting Governor Henry Horner to send investigators from Springfield. By early summer, prosecutors charged Jimmie Crabb with manslaughter.
The trial in Pekin was one of the most sensational in Tazewell County history. The courtroom overflowed daily. Testimony swung between emotional and explosive. But after long deliberations, the jury deadlocked. A mistrial was declared. The case was never retried.
A Story That Still Echoes
Nearly ninety years later, the Crabb case remains one of Delavan’s most haunting and unforgettable stories—a collision of tragedy, privilege, and unanswered questions that still lingers in the community’s memory.
