On a quiet November afternoon in 1969, the Pattee Library at Penn State was the last place anyone expected violence. Students were scattered among the shelves, absorbed in their studies. Among them was 22-year-old Betsy Aardsma, a graduate student known for her intelligence, kindness, and quiet ambition. But that day, Betsy’s life was brutally cut short—stabbed once, fatally, in the dimly lit stacks of the library’s basement. What followed was a baffling investigation that has left more questions than answers for over five decades.
Betsy was from Holland, Michigan, a town known for its charm and tradition. Thoughtful, artistic, and driven, she dreamed of making a difference in the world. After attending Hope College and the University of Michigan, she transferred to Penn State for graduate studies. She was loved by friends, respected by professors, and devoted to her work, quietly navigating the turbulent era of the late 1960s.
It was the day after Thanksgiving, and while most students were still home, Betsy returned early to finish a research paper. After briefly speaking with friends and a professor, she went alone to the library’s basement stacks—a maze of shelves where books and secrets alike could disappear. Minutes later, witnesses heard a metallic crash and saw a man fleeing the scene, his face unreadable and his right hand hidden. Nearby, Betsy lay on the floor, a single stab wound to her chest concealed beneath her red dress and white sweater.
Bystanders rushed to help, but with so little visible blood and no screams, it initially seemed like a medical emergency rather than a crime. Paramedics performed CPR, unaware of the fatal injury beneath her clothes. Betsy was pronounced dead less than an hour later. The crime scene, however, was tragically compromised as the library staff cleaned and reshelved books before investigators could secure it, erasing vital evidence.
Investigators found no obvious motive. Betsy came from a good family, had no known enemies, and was in a steady relationship. The case became a haunting mystery with only one sketch of a man seen fleeing, a face so ordinary it could have been anyone’s. Forensic tools were limited, and despite efforts, the case quickly grew cold.
Over the years, many theories emerged. Some believed the killer was a man whose romantic advances had been rejected by Betsy. Others speculated about infamous serial killer Ted Bundy’s involvement, though no evidence supported this. Author David DeKok, who grew up in Betsy’s hometown, made a compelling case against Richard Haefner, a Penn State student who had known Betsy and exhibited strange behavior after her death. Haefner was never officially named a suspect and died in 2002, leaving unanswered questions.
Betsy’s murder shook the Penn State community and beyond. Her funeral in Holland was a somber reminder of a bright life cut short. At Penn State, her death spurred the creation of a dedicated campus police force to protect students—a legacy born from tragedy.
More than fifty years later, Betsy Aardsma’s case remains one of the most haunting unsolved murders in college history. The quiet library stacks where she died still hold their secrets, and the hope for justice endures. For Betsy, for her family, and for every student who walks those aisles, her story is not forgotten.
