In Broad Daylight (56 page)

Judge Monty Wilson was reelected circuit judge without opposition in 1982, but decided not to seek another term in 1988.

Q Goslee retired from farming in 1985, and now Kirby works the land under a sharing agreement with his parents. Margaret still serves as the Nodaway County probate clerk, and Kermit sells real estate and calls auctions in Maryville.

Red Smith quit bartending at the tavern not long after the killing and now works as a hand for a farmer west of town. Red seldom talks about McElroy or the killing, but, in the right mood, he will display the bullet that McElroy gave him from his pistol that afternoon in the tavern.

Richard Dean Stratton was promoted to sergeant in July 1982 and transferred to Bethany as the new zone commander. Every once in a while, his thoughts wander back to Ken McElroy and the murder. Still unsure of how it all came about, he wonders if there might not have been some way he could have headed it off.

David Baird was reelected prosecuting attorney without opposition in 1982 and 1986. Baird considers the killing an open case, and says that he would welcome any new evidence that could lead to a prosecution.

After five or six years of estrangement, Tim McElroy now gets along well with most of his neighbors, although he doesn't patronize the businesses in Skidmore. Regarding what happened to his brother, Tim feels "that was between him and the people of Skidmore."

Alice Wood separated from Jim and moved into an apartment in St. Joe with Juarez, Tonia, and Ken, Jr. Juarez married a St. Joe girl and had a son. The three of them lived with Alice until Juarez got a job as a construction worker. Ken, Jr." continued to have trouble in school; in Alice's view, the teachers had the attitude that since his dad was a troublemaker, he was one, too. Finally, Alice transferred him to another school.

Del Clement nearly died from injuries suffered one night when he was driving home from St. Joe and his pickup jumped a barrier on the interstate. The short, wiry, hot-tempered cowboy denies any involvement in the killing. "I was wrongly accused. That's all I have to say."

I sat with Trena and her husband, Howard, at a picnic table under tall cottonwood trees in a park on the edge of a small town in the Ozarks. The August air was hot and sticky, but the shade and a soft breeze made it barely comfortable. The woman across from me, dressed in a red blouse and dark slacks, seemed a little nervous. Her long blond hair had been cut short and it lay in waves close to her head, accentuating the roundness of her face. Her skin was soft and her complexion clear. Her striking gray-blue eyes were open and friendly.

At her request, we had met at a convenience store in this small town, not far from where she lived, and then driven to the park. I was late in arriving, having misjudged the narrow, hilly roads of southern Missouri, and feared that she might have left. I knew she had wanted to break the appointment the previous day. On the drive, I wondered whether I would find the abandoned child of the early years, the tough, hard woman of the McElroy years, or somebody totally different. McFadin had told me that she was still very loyal to Ken. She could break into tears at any minute, the lawyer had warned. From the beginning, I had felt she was perhaps the most fascinating, surely the most tragic, character in the story. Over the years, my feelings toward her had gone full circle, from sympathy and pity to distaste and distrust, several times.

Trena had not given any personal interviews in nearly five years, and at first she seemed shy, her answers tentative. Her voice was neither the shaky falsetto of the TV interviews and court testimony, nor the harsh monotone of Mrs. Ken McElroy. She spoke firmly, but gently, with the slightest lilt.

As we talked, she seemed to relax. Her stories of life with Ken McElroy seemed like distant memories, as if she were no longer connected to them. She told of the time the man came to the farm claiming he had been hired to kill Ken, and the time Ken went up to Pete Ward's porch to ask him about the affidavit. She described the day of the killing in great detail, noting her thoughts and emotions, and even drawing a diagram with the locations of everyone, including the killer.

"It's over for me," she said, looking me in the eye. "I don't really hurt anymore."

But she was still bitter, still certain that the entire community, including Sheriff Estes, was in on the killing. She believed their day would still come.

"I would never go back to Skidmore," she said. "People who would kill a man in broad daylight don't deserve to live. They would have shot him even if the kids were in the pickup. I could never live around people like that. It amazes me that Timmy can live among people that killed his brother."

She no longer sees Ken as the perfect human being. "He maybe shouldn't have done what he did, but they shouldn't have either."

When asked about her life today, Trena relaxed further and leaned forward on her elbows.

"I've changed," she said confidently. "I don't have to hold my head down to nobody anymore. I can look up at people and not have to worry about looking at the wrong person and getting in trouble over it."

She turned to her husband several times with affectionate looks or pats on the thigh. Thin, about average height, with slightly graying brown hair, Howard had a pleasant countenance. He was soft-spoken and genial.

"I've got a pretty good man right here," she said, smiling.

She still worries about her children. "They don't talk about Ken much anymore," she said softly. "Howard is real good to them, and they have a lot of love for him. They're starting to see him as their daddy. But once in a while, I can see one of them is hurting inside and not expressing it."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away.

"When they grow up, what will they think of me? Will they think I didn't do enough to punish their father's killer?"

I asked her about the time she had pointed a shotgun at Kriss Goslee and Dave Dunbar in the drive outside the tavern. "Yes, I did it, but I never knew why. I was told to get the gun out and I did it. I always did as I was told." I thought of the incident when Trena and McElroy held guns on Beech Vogel, and McElroy explained to Beech that if his women didn't shoot when he said shoot, he would shoot them.

Trena explained that although her mother had always told her she had no idea where Trena's father was, Trena had heard in 1974 that he was still alive and had been paralyzed in a car accident. When Ken found out, he had taken her to the Social Security office in Kansas City to see if she had any money coming to her, but they couldn't track her father down.

She has had no contact with any of the McElroys since 1982. The price for her new life with Howard has been cutting all ties with her former one. Her life has always seemed to be separated into compartments.

Trena was full of questions. Had Alice married Jim? What did the farm look like? How was Timmy? Did Vicki get married? How many kids did she have? How was Juarez? (Ken had let him get away with too much, in her opinion.)

After three and a half hours, Howard turned sideways on the bench, a signal that he was ready to go.

She leaned forward slightly on the table. "I'm happy," she said. "The kids are happy. I love Howard.

"There's some things I could tell you, but I won't because of the kids. But, you know, I wish I had listened to Ginger and the others back then. It was a mistake to go back. I just had nowhere else to turn. If I had it to do over, he wouldn't be in my life."

She stood up, and the interview was over.

The south Missouri sun beat down on us as we walked back to c vehicles. She apologized for having given me mixed-up directions to the small town, and Howard described the quickest route to Kansas City.

"Have a nice trip back," Trena said. We shook hands, then she smiled and said good-bye. Howard was in the van waiting, and I watched for a moment as she walked away. After a few steps, she stopped and turned toward me. In the afternoon sunlight, her hair shone brightly above a red blouse.

"If you see Vicki," she said, "would you say hello to her for me?