On the night before Thanksgiving 2021, Leslie Reeves drove about an hour from Troy, Illinois, to Farmersville to meet Chris Smith, expecting what she thought would be a first date. By the next afternoon investigators arrived at a scene described by crime‑scene technicians as among the worst they had seen: Leslie dead in the living room from a gunshot to the head, Chris critically wounded in the kitchen with a bullet lodged in his brain, and no obvious firearm at the house.
Leslie had sent texts that evening to a close friend, Nanette Stuiber — one saying everything was OK and another saying she felt “a little bit off.” When Leslie stopped responding, Nanette went to the house and later watched emergency workers carry out a covered stretcher. Chris was taken to a Springfield hospital in critical condition and underwent emergency surgery; Leslie’s body was recovered inside. Investigators recovered two silver 9mm casings at the scene but did not find a gun, leading them to consider that a third person might have been involved or that a shooter had left with the weapon.
Chris Smith, a 48‑year‑old father and local musician known in his community, bled for many hours before help reached him. Family members later said his dog, Tiki, stayed near him through the night. Surgeons removed part of his skull to relieve pressure and extracted some bullet fragments, but a hollow‑point bullet remained lodged in a dangerous location and could not be removed. He was placed in a medically induced coma, spent months in recovery, and when he awoke had no memory of the attack. He continues to live with long‑term physical impairments and faces ongoing rehabilitation.
Leslie, a divorced mother with a master’s degree who taught Pilates and ran self‑defense classes, had told friends she was afraid of a former boyfriend, Robert “Bobby” Tarr. She had described instances of him showing up at dates and had said she wanted no contact. When news of the killing spread through her circle, several people gave detectives Tarr’s name.
Tarr, a divorced contractor and father of three, agreed to go to the sheriff’s office to speak with deputies, initially without a lawyer. His accounts of that night changed over time. He first told investigators he had been home and did not know where Farmersville was. Phone‑based license‑plate reader data and a gas‑station receipt placed his car near his home area shortly after midnight, but other surveillance footage showed a vehicle registered to him leaving the Troy area and traveling north toward Farmersville. His 17‑year‑old daughter later told detectives he had left the house twice that night and returned in the early morning appearing upset. Faced with conflicting evidence, Tarr altered portions of his story.
Deputies searched Tarr’s property twice. In the first search they found metal deck brackets and related items; a recorded jail call in which Tarr allegedly told a friend to retrieve “some aluminum brackets” prompted a broader second search. Days after the shooting, family members found and turned over a Ziploc bag recovered from Tarr’s yard; inside was a Springfield Hellcat 9mm pistol and silver‑colored ammunition. The Illinois State Police matched the ammunition to the casings recovered at Chris’s home and concluded the Hellcat was the weapon used in the shooting.
Investigators said the Ziploc bag bore Tarr’s fingerprint. Prosecutors pointed to other evidence they argued undermined Tarr’s denials: discrepancies in his statements about his whereabouts, the gas receipt that contradicted those statements, the license‑plate reader trail placing his vehicle near the area, and phone searches Tarr made for Chris’s name and about masking a location using a VPN. Prosecutors presented a narrative in which a jealous man followed Leslie to her date and ambushed the pair in the early morning hours.
Tarr denied committing the killings and told 48 Hours he believed he was being framed. He said the gun was not his, claiming at different times that he had sold the pistol to Leslie or that it had been planted. He also denied allegations that he tried to solicit an inmate to kill the lead detective and Chris, which investigators pursued after a recorded call and a jailed man’s claim that Tarr had offered money to carry out a hit. Defense attorneys emphasized the lack of Tarr’s DNA on the gun and the absence of blood or clear forensic traces tying him to the kitchen where Chris was found; prosecutors countered that extensive blood loss at the scene and the possibility the weapon had been wiped could explain those gaps.
At trial, state crime‑scene technicians described a chaotic interior: a broken back door, shattered glass, furniture in disarray and blood throughout the kitchen. Leslie had been shot in the head, with a silver 9mm casing near her body; Chris had been shot and left in the kitchen. Investigators introduced phone and surveillance records, the recovered firearm and ammunition, and testimony about Tarr’s inconsistent statements.
In April 2024 a jury convicted Bobby Tarr of first‑degree murder and attempted murder. The jurors concluded the circumstantial evidence, including the gun and matching casings found on Tarr’s property, the timeline from camera and receipt records, and his conflicting accounts, met the standard of proof beyond a reasonable doubt. Tarr was sentenced to 85 years in prison.
For Chris Smith, survival came at great cost. He underwent major brain surgery, lost part of his memory about the night and the victim, and lives with lasting physical limitations, including partial paralysis in one leg. He has faced the loss of his home and vehicle and continues intensive rehabilitation. Despite the trauma, he has returned to performing with his band when able, proposed to his partner onstage, and begun writing about his experiences as he rebuilds his life.
Friends and family remember Leslie Reeves as an advocate for women, a Pilates teacher and self‑defense instructor who worked with women in abusive situations. Those who loved her say her death is a painful reminder to take stalking, harassment and boundary violations seriously. The case left difficult questions for some observers — defense counsel pointed to gaps and inconsistencies in the physical forensic links, while prosecutors argued that witness testimony, phone and surveillance data and the discovery of the firearm created a coherent picture of guilt. The jury sided with the prosecution.
In the months and years since the shooting, family and friends have balanced grief with efforts to honor Leslie’s memory and support Chris as he continues the long road of recovery.