Spinoff:Skidmore's idyllic pattern twice shattered by violence

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To the world outside, this Nodaway County community seems almost doomed to periodic heartache. Thursday’s nightmare on Elm Street did nothing to diminish that view.


Skidmore's idyllic pattern twice shattered by violence

By KEN NEWTON
kenn@npgco.com


SKIDMORE, Mo. — Most streets in Skidmore have the names of trees, and a drive through the town of 342 residents takes you past Willow and Locust, Spruce and Pine.

Such an arbor-inspired pattern serves the convention of idyllic small towns. The folks are friendly, the neighbors are helpful and the front doors are locked sporadically.

Many Skidmore residents see their town that way.

To the world outside, this Nodaway County community seems almost doomed to periodic heartache. Thursday’s nightmare on Elm Street did nothing to diminish that view.

In broad daylight, a killer strangled the life from 23-year-old Bobbie Stinnett and cut the unborn daughter from her eight-months-pregnant body.

Not even the news Friday afternoon that the baby survived the ordeal, found alive in Kansas in the company of those implicated in the crime, exorcised the melancholy of what appears too often a haunted town.

Every autumn, the community holds its Freedom Fest, a red, white and blue celebration that has gained national notice as a welcome-home salute to America’s veterans. Organizers say it provides a positive association for a town with a history.

But once another sensational crime occurs, once the TV uplink trucks roll in and unload reporters from bigger places, the townspeople know what’s coming. Most brace themselves for the question. Some dare not speak its name.

On July 10, 1981, a reputed town bully named Ken Rex McElroy was gunned down on Elm Street, just a few blocks from where Thursday’s crime took place. More than 40 Skidmore residents stood by as this happened. No one spoke up to name a shooter.

The town became synonymous with American vigilantism and fodder for a best-selling book and made-for-television movie.

“Every time a tragedy occurs, that comes up again. It’s always going to be there,” said Cheryl Huston, a Skidmore resident who grew up in the small town. “What I really wish is the news media would reflect how the town pulls together.”

For Ms. Huston, the evening after the killing allowed little sleep. At Nodaway-Holt High School and after graduation, she was inseparable from Becky Harper, the mother of Mrs. Stinnett and the person who discovered the crime scene at 3:38 p.m. Thursday.

“I talked to her this morning. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through,” said Ms. Huston, who was maid of honor at Ms. Harper’s wedding and who gave her a baby shower before Bobbie’s birth.

In addition to grief, the town felt fright. Carla Wetzel, who lives on the eastern end of Elm Street, heard the sirens screaming past about the time schools got out.

“My first thought was there had been a bus wreck,” she said, never dreaming the reality would exceed that fear. “It’s very scary. People are keeping their doors locked.”

The horror led residents, normally taciturn with visiting journalists, to grow even more close-mouthed. A neighbor who lives directly across the street from the Stinnett home asked to be identified only as Tracy, declining to give her last name.

“It’s insane,” she said, looking at the white, single-story house across the way, its territory marked by yellow crime-scene ribbon. “I haven’t been out in the town today. We’re probably all in shock.”

The shock did not restrict itself to the town limits. Steve Henkle of Chapman, Kan., met Mrs. Stinnett and her husband, Zeb, last March at a canine conference in Abilene, Kan. They shared an interest in raising rat terriers, and the Stinnetts bought a dog of the same lineage as one owned by Mr. Henkle.

“Her and her husband both, they were just great people, very pleasant to be around,” he said. “I was twice as old as they were, but for their age they were very mature.”

On the Internet, a message board for people who raise rat terriers proliferated Friday with notes about the Skidmore killing and the eventual discovery that a killer had used the Stinnetts’ dog interest to get into the Elm Street home.

“It’s scary to think she was tracked (over the Internet). You don’t know who’s on the other end of what you’re writing,” the Kansan said. “My stomach’s still in knots.”

Elsewhere in Nodaway County, the impact of the events also hit hard.

“It’s sad, sad, sad,” said Sherrie McEnaney, owner of Main Street Coffee across the street from the courthouse in Maryville. “I didn’t know them, but when it happens nearby, it really affects you. I heard about it last night and I couldn’t sleep.”

If the anguish remained abstract to most, family members knew more intimately the hardships.

Jo Ann Stinnett of Skidmore is grandmother of Zeb. One of her other grandchildren, Branson Perry of Skidmore, vanished on April 11, 2001, at age 20. He is presumed dead, the suspected victim of a man subsequently imprisoned for federal child pornography charges.

In addition, Jo Ann saw her son, Branson’s father, die in March at age 49, and lost two siblings to cancer this year.

With this next suffering, she talked Friday of dealing with adversity.

“You just have to keep busy and take care of the rest of the family,” she said.

The Rev. Harold Hamon has ministered at the Skidmore Christian Church the last five years. Just more than a year ago, he presided at the wedding of Zeb Stinnett and Bobbie Harper.

On Friday, he tried to comfort Zeb and Bobbie’s mother.

“We have to trust that God’s wiser than we are,” the pastor said on his front porch, a block north of the crime scene. “It’s impossible to explain or understand. We are living in a world where people are doing awful things.”

Ms. Huston said she will reach out to Becky Harper, her hurting friend.

“‘I’m sorry’ are the only words there are,” said Ms. Huston. “They just seem inadequate.”

But the woman remains convinced Skidmore will rally after this dark event.

“Everybody knows everybody else in town,” she added. “There’s a big support system. That’s what small towns do.”

Others have their own method.

“I’ll say a lot of prayers,” said Tracy, the Elm Street neighbor. “I’ll hug my babies a little tighter.”