Crime Immemorial

In the Midwestern United States, in the summer of 1981, an extraordinary case would make headlines around the nation, a crime that would explore the uncomfortably gray area between the arguable breakdown of the rule of law and the conspiratorial actions of an alleged group of fed-up vigilantes.

Residents of the tiny town of Skidmore, Missouri had, in the early 1980s, been under siege for more than twenty years, the long-suffering victims of a one-man criminal onslaught going by the name of Ken Rex McElroy. He had been born to migrant farm workers, and had only reached the tender age of fifteen years before he clearly decided that tormenting the innocent was to be his sole mission in life. Starting out as a petty thief and cattle rustler, Ken soon graduated to stalking, arson, assault, and statutory rape.

He was also a notorious womanizer, having fathered at least ten children by different mothers, and in fact was still married to his third wife when he met the girl who would become his fourth and final: twelve-year-old Trena McCloud. Two years after meeting Ken, fourteen-year-old Trena was pregnant, had dropped out of school, and had gone to live with Ken and his wife Alice, who he subsequently divorced in order to marry Trena, all the better to avoid a statutory rape charge.

Shortly after Trena’s child was born, though, she and Alice joined forces and fled McElroy’s home, going to stay with relatives. But Ken found them in record time, and forced them back into his clutches. He then burned down the home of Trena’s parents, and shot their dog dead.

Despite the numerous accusations levied against Ken McElroy—including allegedly shooting a farmer named Romaine Henry, threatening the biological child of a foster family who briefly took in Trena and her baby, and myriad other crimes large and small—no charges ever seemed to stick, likely because Ken was known to intimidate witnesses into silence, sometimes sitting outside their homes with his pickup truck every day for weeks at a stretch, and making sure the townsfolk got a good look at the guns he was always waving around.

In mid-1980, though, it finally seemed that the so-called “town bully” might be getting some comeuppance at last. At around that time, one of his daughters was reportedly caught stealing candy from a Skidmore grocery store, and was thereafter confronted by a clerk named Evelyn Sumy. Just following this incident, Ken McElroy began stalking the owners of the store, seventy-year-old Ernest “Bo” Bowencamp and his wife, and in July, actually shot the elderly grocer in the neck with a shotgun as the old man waited on the loading dock behind the store.

Bo survived his injuries, but it seemed that this crime was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Ken was arrested, and was shockingly not able to wriggle his way out of charges this time around, though to residents’ dismay, he was only handed a two-year sentence.

And even worse was to come, for the judge then released Ken on bond pending the appeal of his conviction. Ken seemingly delighted in rubbing salt in the wound, striding into the D&G Tavern after his release, carrying a rifle and openly threatening to finish off Bo Bowencamp.

The town of Skidmore had had just about enough of Ken Rex McElroy. Because the stunt with the rifle was a violation of Ken’s bond, several townsfolk approached the sheriff deputy and told them they would testify against Ken at the anticipated hearing. Arrangements were made for these residents to receive a protective escort to the courthouse, but then Ken’s attorney, Richard McFadin, was able to get the hearing postponed.

Skidmore inhabitants were livid. From their perspective, they had been cowering under threat from this man for decades, and it appeared that there was nothing that law enforcement could do to prevent him from running roughshod over the entire town and doing essentially whatever he liked. Even Ken’s own lawyer admitted defending Ken from three or four felony charges every year, and getting him off scot-free.

A large number of the townsfolk held a secret meeting at the Legion Hall on the morning of July 10th, 1981, in order to decide what to do. Though the content of their discussions remain a mystery, some residents later reported that the best idea the county sheriff could offer was encouraging the angry citizens to form a neighborhood watch. In their opinion, though, this was not going to cut the mustard.

As the meeting took place in the center of town, an oblivious Ken McElroy was making his way to the D&G Tavern, accompanied by his wife Trena. They both sat drinking at the bar for a little while, and then Ken bought some beer to take home. His lawyer, perhaps sensing that something was in the air, had purportedly warned Ken to lay low for a while, but Ken was not a man to be told what to do.

Meanwhile, word of Ken’s whereabouts reached the people at the meeting, and slowly, residents began trickling out of Legion Hall and toward the tavern, until the bar was nearly full. Before they had left the meeting, the sheriff had allegedly reiterated his suggestion about the neighborhood watch and discouraged anyone from confronting Ken. He then left town, perhaps to wash his hands of the event that he must have suspected was about to go down.

Ken and Trena, evidently not noticing the ominous buildup of citizens inside the bar, finished up their drinks and then headed out to the street, climbing into their pickup truck that was parked outside. Moments later, shots began ringing out.

Amid the hail of gunfire, Ken McElroy was shot twice, once in the head and once in the neck, though at least four other shots missed their mark. One of the bullets came from an 8mm Mauser, while the other issued from a .22 Magnum. It was believed that one of the shooters had been about halfway down the block, while the other had been somewhere behind the truck.

Despite the presence of between thirty and sixty people on the street when Ken was shot, no one called an ambulance, and when police questioned the witnesses, every single one of them said they hadn’t seen a thing. In fact, the only person to identify one of the potential shooters was Trena, who had been seated next to her husband in the truck when he was shot, but was unharmed.

It appeared that the town of Skidmore had finally taken some form of revenge against the man who had terrorized them for years, and their tight lips ensured that no one would ever be indicted for the crime. Though Trena filed a wrongful-death lawsuit against the town in 1984, it was eventually settled out of court for less than twenty-thousand dollars, with no one willing to admit any guilt.

To this day, the residents have kept their secret, and the broad daylight murder of forty-seven-year-old Ken McElroy remains unsolved.