Ken Rex McElroy: The Day Skidmore Silenced Its Notorious “Town Bully”

Alright, fellow true crime fans, let’s take a look at the chilling saga of Skidmore, Missouri, and the man whose death became as infamous as his life: Ken Rex McElroy, the quintessential “Town Bully,” silenced forever on a hot July morning. This isn’t just a story of murder; it’s a stark tale of fear, frustration, and the lengths a community might go to when the law seems powerless.

A Name That Struck Fear In Skidmore

For decades, the name Ken Rex McElroy was synonymous with dread in the small farming community of Skidmore. Born in 1934, McElroy wasn’t just physically imposing — a large, often unkempt figure — he cultivated an atmosphere of menace that permeated every corner of the town. He was functionally illiterate yet possessed chilling street smarts and an uncanny ability to exploit the legal system. His rap sheet was staggering, though difficult to pin down precisely due to sealed records and dropped charges. Allegations piled up over the years: livestock rustling, burglary, arson, assault, and perhaps most disturbingly, multiple accusations of sexual misconduct and statutory rape involving underage girls.

Brazen Impunity

McElroy operated with brazen impunity. He carried firearms openly, often making direct, unambiguous threats against anyone who dared to cross him, report his activities, or testify against him. This wasn’t subtle intimidation but a raw, palpable fear tactic that proved brutally effective. Witnesses would recant their testimony. Victims would refuse to press charges. Jurors were reportedly approached. Despite being indicted numerous times — some sources claim over twenty, others upwards of forty — McElroy almost always walked free. Charges evaporated, and cases crumbled. For the residents of Skidmore, it felt like living under the thumb of an untouchable tyrant, abandoned by the very system designed to protect them. Justice wasn’t just blind; it seemed actively intimidated.

The Bowenkamp Shooting

The simmering resentment reached a boiling point following an incident on July 27, 1980. McElroy, accompanied by his young wife, Trena, confronted 70-year-old Ernest “Bo” Bowenkamp, the proprietor of the local grocery store. The dispute allegedly started over accusations that one of McElroy’s daughters had shoplifted candy. Words escalated, and McElroy, true to form, resorted to violence. He shot Bowenkamp in the neck with a shotgun. Miraculously, Bowenkamp survived, albeit severely injured.

This time, something felt different. Perhaps the sheer audacity of shooting an elderly shopkeeper in broad daylight was too much. McElroy was charged, tried, and, in July 1981, actually convicted of second-degree assault. It felt like a potential turning point for Skidmore, a sign that McElroy’s reign might finally be over. But the relief was short-lived. Pending his appeal, McElroy’s lawyer successfully argued for his release on bond.

Out On Bail

Ken Rex McElroy returned to Skidmore not chastened but emboldened. He swaggered back into town, frequenting the local tavern, often with firearms visible in his truck. He reportedly made threats against Bowenkamp and others involved in his conviction. His presence was a constant, terrifying reminder of the system’s perceived failure. The sentence felt hollow, and the freedom on bond was an insult. The fear wasn’t just that he’d escape ultimate punishment but that he’d exact revenge in the meantime. The townsfolk felt cornered, unprotected, and desperate.

The Murder or Swift Justice?

On the morning of July 10, 1981, the tension snapped. McElroy and Trena had been at the D&G Tavern. Around 10:00 AM, they returned to their Chevrolet Silverado pickup truck parked on the main street. As they sat inside, a crowd began to gather. Estimates vary wildly, from 30 to 60 people, primarily men, emerging from the tavern and nearby buildings surrounding the vehicle.

What followed was swift, brutal, and decisive. Gunfire erupted, shattering the truck’s windows. Ken Rex McElroy was hit multiple times by rounds fired from at least two different weapons — a centerfire rifle and a .22 caliber firearm. He died almost instantly, slumped in the driver’s seat. Trena, physically unharmed but witness to the horrific event, was left screaming amidst the carnage. As quickly as they had gathered, the crowd melted away, leaving behind a dead bully and an enduring mystery.

I Was Looking The Other Way

When Nodaway County Sheriff Danny Estes and his deputies arrived, they encountered a similar scene. A man was murdered in broad daylight on the town’s main street, surrounded by potential witnesses. Yet, cooperation was nonexistent. The code of silence descended immediately. “I didn’t see a thing.” “I was looking the other way.” “I ducked when the shooting started.” Despite dozens of people being present, no one could or would identify the shooters. Even Trena McElroy, the sole eyewitness beside her husband, either couldn’t or wouldn’t name names from the mob.

No Indictments

The Investigation hit a brick wall. The Investigation into the murder was stymied; after an intense investigation and Grand juries were convened, no indictments were ever returned for the murder of Ken Rex McElroy. The community's silence held.

Original 1981 CBS 60 Minutes Reporting

Conclusion

The Skidmore killing became a national media sensation, a modern folk tale debated in diners and newsrooms across the country. Was it vigilante justice, a necessary evil carried out by a terrorized community pushed beyond its breaking point? Or was it simply mob rule, a murder shielded by collective conspiracy? The case exposed the deep fissures that can form when citizens lose faith in law enforcement and the courts.

Decades later, the murder of Ken Rex McElroy remains officially unsolved. Skidmore carries that day’s weight, forever linked to the bully they couldn’t convict but somehow managed to silence. While his death brought a semblance of peace, it came at the cost of an unanswered question hanging heavy in the Missouri air: What happens when a town decides to take the law into its own hands? The shots that killed McElroy echoed far beyond Skidmore, serving as a grim testament to the power of fear and the extraordinary, chilling consequences of justice ignored and denied.

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