Shortly, McElroy decided it was time to go. He got a six-pack for the road and gestured Trena toward the door. Most of the men followed him outside, joining some who had not gone into the bar. In all, 45 potential witnesses were on the scene.

Witnesses said the corners of McElroy's mouth curled into a defiant smile as he sat there. He theatrically withdrew a Camel and put it to his lips. He did not get a chance to light it.
Two rifle shots rang out from the left, followed by four more from the rear, and perhaps others from directions unknown. Some men hit the ground. A few ran.
Trena, with blood splattered on her clothing, scrambled out of the truck screaming. One of the men hustled her to safety.

It was a murder in broad daylight on a small-town
Skidmore citizens bid good riddance.

The postmaster, Jim Hartman, said McElroy's killers should get a medal, not a noose. He likened them to the inventors of penicillin. "Nobody tried to hang them for finding a way to kill a germ," Hartman said.



