Skidmore is a tiny speck on the map of Northwest Missouri. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows your business before you even do. But in 1981, this quiet farming town became the epicenter of a legal and moral puzzle that still keeps people up at night. We’re talking about the murder in Skidmore MO—the broad-daylight killing of Ken Rex McElroy.
The sun was high.
Nearly 45 people surrounded a silver and blue Chevy pickup truck parked right on the main drag. Two different guns fired. McElroy, the town bully who had terrorized the community for decades, sat dead behind the wheel. His wife, Trena, was sitting right next to him. And yet, when the police showed up and started asking questions, forty-five people suddenly developed the most convenient case of amnesia in American history. Nobody saw a thing. Or rather, nobody was willing to say they saw a thing. It’s been decades, and the case remains "unsolved" in the eyes of the law, even though the whole town knows exactly what went down.
Why the Murder in Skidmore MO Still Haunts the Midwest
To understand why a whole town would stay silent, you have to understand who Ken McElroy was. He wasn’t just some petty thief or a guy with a bad temper. He was a predator. For over 20 years, he lived a life of absolute impunity. He was accused of everything from livestock theft and arson to child molestation and attempted murder.
McElroy had a rhythm. He’d commit a crime, get arrested, and then his high-priced lawyer from Gallatin, Richard Gene McFadin, would find a way to delay the trial or intimidate the witnesses until the case fell apart. It happened over and over. People in Nodaway County were terrified. They saw the law as a revolving door that just kept spitting a monster back into their front yards.
The breaking point wasn't a single event, but a series of escalations that felt like a slow-motion train wreck. In 1980, McElroy shot 70-year-old grocer Ernest "Bo" Bowenkamp in the neck after a dispute over a piece of candy. Even after being convicted of assault, McElroy was out on bond pending appeal. He showed up at the local tavern with an M1 Garand rifle, sporting a bayonet, just to remind everyone he wasn't going anywhere.
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The town was desperate.
They held a meeting at the American Legion hall to discuss how to protect themselves since the sheriff's office and the courts clearly weren't doing the job. While they were meeting, McElroy was sitting in his truck outside the D&G Tavern, sipping a beer and waiting. The men in that meeting walked out, surrounded the truck, and seconds later, the town of Skidmore changed forever.
The Silence of Forty-Five Witnesses
The most fascinating part of the murder in Skidmore MO isn't the shooting itself. It's the aftermath. The FBI came in. The Missouri State Highway Patrol grilled every able-bodied man in town. They knew the shots came from behind the truck and from a distance. They knew multiple calibers were used.
But talk to any local today, and they’ll give you the same shrug their fathers gave the feds in '81.
"I was bending over to tie my shoe."
"I heard a pop and ran the other way."
"I didn't see who pulled the trigger."
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It was a collective pact. It’s what historians and true crime buffs often call "frontier justice." In a small town, the social contract had broken. When the state failed to protect the citizens, the citizens decided to protect themselves. Honestly, it's kinda chilling when you think about the discipline it takes for 45 people to keep a secret for over forty years. Even on deathbeds, the story hasn't cracked.
The Role of Trena McElroy
Trena was the only one who pointed fingers. She claimed she saw Del Clement fire the shot. She was adamant. However, a grand jury refused to indict. Why? Because without any other corroborating witnesses, it was her word against a town full of people with "bad eyesight." Trena eventually settled a wrongful death lawsuit against the town and several individuals, but the criminal side of the case stayed dead in the water.
Beyond the Headlines: The Dark Legacy of Skidmore
People often think the story ends with McElroy’s death, but Skidmore has been cursed by a string of tragedies that make the murder in Skidmore MO feel like the start of a dark chapter. You’ve got the 2004 disappearance and murder of Bobbi Jo Stinnett, which was one of the most gruesome crimes in Missouri history. Then there was the 1987 disappearance of Wendy Gillenwater.
Some people say the town is haunted. Others say it’s just a run of incredibly bad luck. But there’s a segment of the population that believes the silence regarding McElroy left a stain on the town's soul. When you decide as a community that it’s okay to kill a man—even a bad man—you change the DNA of the place.
The Legal Ripple Effect
The McElroy case is actually studied in law schools. It’s used as a case study on the failure of the judicial system. If the courts had actually kept McElroy in jail, he’d likely be alive today (or would have died in a cell), and the people of Skidmore wouldn’t be known as the town that got away with murder. It’s a perfect example of what happens when the legal system loses its "teeth."
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What Most People Get Wrong About the Case
You’ll hear some folks say it was a coordinated "hit" organized by the mayor. That’s probably a bit too cinematic. Most experts who have spent years on the ground, like Harry N. MacLean who wrote In Broad Daylight, suggest it was more of a spontaneous explosion of pent-up rage. The town was a powder keg. McElroy was the match.
- Myth: Everyone in town participated.
- Fact: Only about 45 people were in the immediate vicinity of the truck, though hundreds were in the loop about the tension.
- Myth: The police were in on it.
- Fact: Sheriff Danny Estes wasn't in town when it happened. Some say that was by design, others say it was just luck.
It’s also worth noting that McElroy wasn't some Robin Hood figure. There is zero evidence he did anything good for the town. He was a bully, plain and simple. He reportedly bragged about his crimes. He used his many children—he had over a dozen by different women—as shields and accomplices.
Actionable Insights and Moving Forward
If you are researching the murder in Skidmore MO, either for a project or out of morbid curiosity, don't expect the locals to open up. If you drive into Skidmore today, you won't find a plaque. You won't find a museum. You'll find a town that wants to be left alone.
How to research this case properly:
- Read the source material: Harry N. MacLean’s In Broad Daylight is the definitive account. He spent months living in the area and talking to people. It’s as close to the truth as we’ll ever get.
- Look at the court transcripts: The civil suit documents provide more detail than the criminal files, which are notoriously sparse.
- Understand the context of 1980s rural Missouri: Farming was in a crisis. People were losing their land. Tensions were already high before McElroy started his reign of terror.
- Visit the Nodaway County records: If you’re a serious researcher, the physical archives in Maryville hold the dry, legal bones of the story that the documentaries often skip over.
The story of Skidmore is a cautionary tale about the fragility of the law. It's a reminder that when a community feels abandoned by the systems meant to protect it, they might just take matters into their own hands. Whether you call it justice or a crime, the fact remains: in a town of 400 people, a man was executed in front of a crowd, and to this day, the "official" killer is a ghost.
To truly understand the weight of this event, look into the 1991 movie starring Brian Dennehy. It's a bit dramatized, but it captures the oppressive atmosphere of a town pushed to its limit. Then, compare that to the actual news footage from the early 80s. The discrepancy between the Hollywood version and the cold, hard silence of the real-life witnesses is where the real story lives. Skidmore didn't just kill a man; they buried the evidence in their own silence, and that silence has lasted a lifetime.