This is not an easy story to tell. And it won’t be easy to read. But it must be told. For her. For Betty Jean Owens. In the spring of 1959, Betty Jean was just 19 years old. A student at Florida A&M University. A daughter. A sister. A young Black woman who had done everything right. She had enrolled in college. She had followed the rules. She had dared to dream. And yet, injustice still found her. This story is part of a series we’re calling No Escape — a truth-telling project about how Black people in America, even when we were educated, careful, or hopeful, could not escape injustice. In the first two videos, we shared the stories of Thomas Smith and the Wade family. Stories of lynching, bombing, and imprisonment for doing nothing wrong.
A College Girl in the Jim Crow South
Betty Jean Owens was born around 1940. It’s believed in Florida. From news reports after the event, we know she was one of at least three children to her mother and father. The fall of 1958 was supposed to be the start of the next chapter of her life. Adulthood. She enrolled at Florida A & M University — also known as FAMU — a storied Historically Black College in Tallahassee, Florida. It was the Jim Crow South. But she was around her people. And she thought she was safe. On the night of May 2, 1959, Betty attended the Orange and Green Ball with three friends. She wore a white gown with gold flowers, white gloves, and gold-heeled shoes. She danced. She laughed. She let herself be a college girl for one beautiful night. After the dance, Betty and her friends drove to Gaither Park. Just to sit. Talk. Enjoy the night air. They had been there fifteen minutes when four white men pulled up.
The Pact of Violence
The men were: Ted Collinsworth, 24, a telephone lineman. Patrick Scarborough, 20, an Air Force airman. David Beagles, 18, a high school senior. Ollie Stoutamire, 16, a pipeline worker. These four men made a pact with one another. A brutal one. One rooted in racism. It would be the night they went out and got a Black girl — and had fun with her. They had driven through the Black side of town earlier that night looking for victims. They had already tried to attack another group of Black teens but were scared off by a mother who came outside. But when they found Betty and her friends, they tried again.
The Abduction
But when they saw Betty and her friends, they decided to try again. The men approached with guns and knives. Scarborough pressed a weapon to the driver’s face and ordered everyone out. Betty cried. Beagles slapped her and told her to shut up. They forced the two young men to kneel. Then they made them get back in the car and drive away. Betty and her friend Edna were left alone. Edna saw an opportunity to escape. She got away. Betty did not.
Edna ran toward a nearby park, leaving Betty alone with the four men. Betty screamed out for Edna not to leave her. This only angered the men more. Betty asked them what they were going to do. David Beagles took his knife and pressed it against Betty’s throat. He told her they would let her go if she lay down and let them do what they wanted. They forced her to get on her knees. Then they slapped her as she cried out in fear and horror. One of them was going to do the act right there — but another stopped him. Not here, he said. Not because he had a conscience — but because he wanted to take his time. And he couldn’t do that there.
The Escape and the Search
Even though Betty’s friends Richard and Thomas drove away — they did not leave. They didn’t abandon Betty and Edna. They drove around the corner and waited. When they saw the blue Chevy leave, they quickly drove back to where they’d left the girls. Once there, they looked for them. Edna was hiding — and saw them. She called out to them and ran to their car. She told them the men had driven off with Betty. The three of them rushed to the police station to get help.
Three Hours of Horror
That night, 19-year-old Leon County Deputy Sheriff Joe Cooke Jr. was on duty. He was a student at Florida State University — interning with the sheriff’s office — and it was his first solo shift. The three teens saw Deputy Cooke and flagged him down. They told him what happened. Told him that four white men had taken Betty. They didn’t think he’d believe them. They didn’t think he’d do anything. But to their surprise — he immediately agreed to help them find her.
Meanwhile, as the police were looking for Betty — she was being driven to a remote part of town off Orange Avenue. She was beaten and raped. Repeatedly. For hours. She begged them to stop. To let her go. But they didn’t do that. Instead, they laughed. Cheered each other on. Acted as if Betty wasn’t even there.
Confessions and Arrests
Three hours later — after the men were done with Betty. After they’d had their fill — they blindfolded her with a cloth diaper, gagged her, bound her hands, and threw her on the floorboard of the car. Then they drove off. Deputy Cooke, Richard, and Thomas were still looking for Betty. It was around 4 a.m. when one of them spotted the blue Chevy. The four men were arrested and Betty was taken to the hospital. As the men were being taken into custody, they laughed and joked about what they had done. Once they got back to the station, each of them wrote out confessions — admitting to kidnapping Betty Jean, pulling weapons on her, and then having sex with her.
The Trial Begins
The four men would be tried just one month later. Under Florida law, their crime was punishable by death — by electrocution. But it remained to be seen whether a Florida jury would be willing to hand down that punishment to four young white men. At the time, no white person had ever been executed for violating a Black woman. One white man had been electrocuted for violating a white woman. And in the previous 25 years — 37 Black men had been electrocuted after being convicted of violating a white woman. And that doesn’t even count Black men lynched in Florida. So this was a real question: What would this jury do? What would justice look like for Betty Jean Owens?
Betty Jean Takes the Stand
The trial began on Wednesday, June 10, 1959 — just over a month after Betty was attacked. The state was represented by State’s Attorney William Hopkins. The four men were represented by Attorneys S. Gunter Toney, John Rudd, and Harry Michaels. As you can guess — the jury was all white. And all male.
The prosecution’s star witness was Betty Jean. She had a story that only she could tell. She knew what happened. She knew the truth. And once again — she braved her fear. She braved the shame. And the humiliation that was never hers to carry. She came to court to testify.
Betty told the jury exactly what happened. How she was kidnapped. Terrorized. Violated — for hours. She told them she was afraid. Told them about the pain. Told them how she was injured. She testified that she couldn’t use her arm or leg for days after the attack — because of the position she was forced to stay in for hours on the ground. She described the bruise that had been left on her breast — where the bodice of her dress had dug into her skin over hours of the men pressing their bodies on her. She told them everything. Every horrific detail. She told them. She held nothing back.
The Defense’s Attack
And neither did the men’s attorneys. Their defense was simple: Betty wanted it. She was never violated. She consented. They cross-examined Betty on why she never tried to flee. Why she didn’t run. And Betty told them plainly: Where was I supposed to go? They had weapons. They had beaten her. She was afraid for her life. There was nowhere to run.
After that — they accused her of wanting it. Of consenting to be with four men she had never even met. The defense cross-examined Betty for over an hour. They asked her: Didn’t you enjoy it? Didn’t you get pleasure from it? They even questioned her about her virginity.
Deliberation and “Mercy”
When it came to the closing arguments, the prosecution put it simply to the jury. Prosecutor Hamilton said: “Suppose two colored boys and their moron friends attacked a white girl. Had taken her from a car and forced her into a secluded place— and regardless of whether they secured her consent or not— had intercourse with her seven times, leaving her in such a condition that she collapsed and had to be hospitalized?” He said Betty never had a chance against those four armed men.
Defense attorneys went the opposite direction. They blamed outside agitators. They blamed Betty. One of the attorneys used a racial slur. He told the jury: “Are you going to believe this nigger wrench over these four boys?”
The jury got the case at 11 p.m. on Saturday, June 13. They deliberated for 2 hours and 39 minutes. And at 1:31 a.m., they reached their verdict: Guilty as charged. But with a recommendation of mercy — meaning they did not want the men to be sentenced to death.
Let’s talk about that “mercy” the jury gave. They granted it because they said there was no brutality involved. They said she hadn’t been beaten or hurt physically — except for the repeated violations. They must’ve forgotten about the foot-long switchblades. The firearms. The violence. And the violation. This was nothing but brutality.
The Sentencing and Its Limits
The men were sentenced to life in prison. But this guilty verdict did not mean justice. The four men did go to prison. But all four were paroled within eight years. And three of them would return to prison on other charges.
The youngest — 16-year-old Ollie Stoutamire — was paroled in 1965. 20-year-old Patrick Scarborough — paroled in 1966. He would go in and out of jail until 1993 — when he was finally convicted of attempted murder. Only then was he sentenced to life in prison. 23-year-old Teed Collinsworth — was paroled in 1967. But he went back to prison in 1975 — and was paroled again in 1976.
As for David Beagles — he was paroled in 1965. Four years later, he took the life of another Black woman named Betty Jean Houston. He did it as revenge for being convicted of raping Betty Jean Owens. He was convicted for this crime. But an appeals court overturned this conviction. At his second trial, he was found not guilty. But the parole board decided to revoke his parole for the 1959 Betty Jean Owens conviction — because he fled the county after Betty Jean Houston’s body was discovered. He would spend another 16 years in prison before being paroled in 1990.
Why We Tell Her Story
This story cannot be told just as a courtroom rarity. It must be told as a mirror to the system that made the crime possible. A system that said Black women don’t matter. That their bodies are not their own. That no one will believe them. That no one will protect them. Betty Jean survived. But she should never have had to. Her name should be known for her dreams. Not her pain. We carry her story now. With care. With courage. With reverence. We remember Betty Jean Owens. Because forgetting is what allowed it in the first place. And memory is justice.
