Between 1967 and 1969, a shadow fell over Washtenaw County. It wasn't just the typical late-sixties tension or the political upheaval at the University of Michigan. It was a literal predator. People call them the Michigan Murders, and honestly, the details still feel like a punch to the gut even decades later. John Norman Collins became the face of these killings, though if you talk to locals who lived through it, the "Co-ed Killer" label doesn't even begin to cover the sheer terror that paralyzed Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor.
Young women were disappearing. They were found later, discarded in fields or abandoned buildings, their bodies showing signs of a brutality that felt personal. It was a chaotic time for law enforcement. They didn't have DNA profiling. They didn't have interconnected databases. They basically had shoe leather and intuition.
The Timeline of Terror
It started with Mary Fleszar. She was only 19. When her remains were found in an abandoned farm area, the community was shocked, but nobody quite realized a pattern was forming. Then came Joan Schell. Then Jane Mixer. The list grew, and each name added a layer of frantic energy to the police investigation.
The victims were mostly students. These were bright, ambitious women like Alice Kalom and Maralynn Skelton. If you look at the crime scenes, the MO varied just enough to keep investigators guessing, but the common thread was the location—the "Washtenaw Triangle."
Collins wasn't some shadowy figure hiding in the woods. He was a student at Eastern Michigan University. He was a frat brother. He was "clean-cut." This is the part that always gets people—how someone so seemingly normal could be linked to such visceral violence. He rode a silver motorcycle. He was charming. He was exactly the kind of guy a young woman might trust for a ride.
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Who was John Norman Collins?
He wasn't a criminal mastermind. Honestly, he was kind of a mess, but he had that terrifying "boy next door" mask down to a science. Born in Windsor, Ontario, and raised in Michigan, he seemed like your average EMU student. But underneath that, there was a history of theft and a weird, aggressive streak with women.
When you dig into the evidence that eventually took him down, it wasn't a "smoking gun" in the cinematic sense. It was laundry. Specifically, the basement of his uncle's house, who happened to be a Michigan State Police corporal. While his uncle was away on vacation, Collins had the keys.
After Karen Sue Beineman went missing, witnesses reported seeing her get on the back of a motorcycle with a man matching Collins' description. The police found hair clippings in the basement of that house that matched Karen Sue’s. They found her blood on the floor. It was a sloppy mistake by a man who thought he was untouchable because of his family connections to the police.
The Trial and the Missing Answers
The 1970 trial focused almost entirely on the murder of Karen Sue Beineman. Why? Because the evidence was strongest there. Prosecutors knew that if they could get one conviction to stick for life, they could stop the bleeding. They did. Collins was sentenced to life in prison.
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But here’s what bugs true crime historians: he was never technically tried for the other six murders in Michigan.
There's also the California connection. While Collins was visiting family out West, a young woman named Roxie Ann Jeeves was murdered. The similarities are jarring. Many experts believe he killed her too, but since he was already serving life without parole in Michigan, California authorities didn't see the point in an expensive extradition and trial. It leaves a lot of families without that final, legal "guilty" verdict for their loved ones.
The Jane Mixer Outlier
For years, Jane Mixer was grouped into the Michigan Murders. But in 2004, DNA evidence pointed somewhere else entirely—to a man named Gary Leiterman. It’s a weird twist in the narrative. It suggests that while Collins was active, he wasn't the only predator in the area. That realization makes the late sixties in Ann Arbor seem even more dangerous than we originally thought.
Why We Still Talk About These Murders
These crimes changed how universities handle safety. They changed how women moved through the world in Michigan. Before Collins, "co-eds" (a term we don't even use much now) felt a sense of freedom on campus that vanished overnight.
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You also have to look at the psychological impact. Collins never confessed. He’s still in prison, now an old man, still maintaining he’s innocent despite the mountain of physical evidence found in that basement. That lack of a confession keeps the mystery alive for some, even if the legal reality is settled.
The investigation itself was a masterclass in the limitations of 1960s forensics. If this happened today, he would have been caught after the second victim. The delay allowed him to keep hunting.
Actionable Insights and Modern Context
If you're researching this case or visiting the areas involved, keep these points in mind:
- Visit the Archives: The Bentley Historical Library at the University of Michigan holds extensive records and period newspapers that give a much better "vibe" of the era's panic than any modern blog post.
- Understand the Geography: Most of the sites are now developed, but the proximity between EMU and UM campuses explains how he moved between social circles so easily.
- Read "The Michigan Murders" by Edward Keyes: While it uses some pseudonyms, it’s widely considered the most detailed account of the investigation and the atmosphere of the time.
- Acknowledge the Victims: Often, the focus remains on Collins. When studying the case, look for the stories of the women—their ambitions and lives—to get a full picture of what the community actually lost.
The case of John Norman Collins serves as a grim reminder of the "pre-DNA" era of policing and the terrifying reality that sometimes, the most dangerous person in the room is the one who looks like he belongs there. The Michigan Murders remain a scar on the state's history, a period of lost innocence that hasn't quite faded.