An Eye for an Eye: When Justice Becomes Cruelty

“Justice without mercy is cruelty.” — Thomas Aquinas

Skidmore, Missouri — July 10, 1981

A man sits enjoying a drink with his wife at the D&G Tavern. The bartender is not overly fond of the gruff, loud, obnoxious man, but he is a regular — and his money spends just like everyone else’s — so he tolerates him.

After paying the bill, the man and his disturbingly younger wife stumble out to their beat-up old Chevy truck. It’s the kind of truck every hard-working, salt-of-the-earth Midwestern man owns. The doors creak in protest as they open them and plop down in their seats.

Swearing, the man fumbles with his keys before finally finding the right one. Just as he straightens up, he notices a large group of townsfolk approaching.

Scowling, and with a growl, he slams the truck into gear. Before he can move, however, the mob quickly surrounds the vehicle. His eyes flare with fire, and his wife grabs his arm so tightly that her fingernails dig into his flesh, drawing blood.

Her eyes dart back and forth — wide and terrified — as the mob presses against the truck. Each face is familiar. Every person someone she knows. All of them good people who had always treated her kindly. But today, their expressions are hard and cold.

“What the hell do you want?” the man slurs, his face twisted with rage. “Get away from my truck or I’ll run every one of you over.”

Normally, the townsfolk might have simply given the man a rude gesture and walked away. But not today.

Today, they had finally had enough.

Gunshots. Shouts. Screams.

Echoes that would haunt not only the little town, but the entire nation.

The man was shot multiple times, struck by at least two different firearms, and died in his truck. No one called for help. No one came to his aid.

Even though it was clear he had been murdered, no one was ever prosecuted for his death.

The Death of Ken McElroy

What I just described is the true account of the death of Ken McElroy.

He was a horrible man who had terrorized his fellow citizens since he was a boy. With a laundry list of crimes — theft, arson, child molestation, statutory rape, and eventually murder — his cruelty was well known.

To the frustration of his victims, the justice system had failed them again and again, allowing him to continue to walk free and victimize them further.

Allegedly, Ken had raped a 12-year-old girl — his current wife — and divorced his former wife to marry the younger one when she was just 14, avoiding statutory rape charges. When her parents protested, he allegedly killed their dog and burned down their house.

After many such incidents, including shooting a fellow farmer, he eventually murdered a 70-year-old town grocer.

If any man deserved to die, it was Ken McElroy.

But did he?

The Question of Vigilante Justice

That’s the real question, isn’t it?

Is vigilante justice ever truly justice? It’s an age-old question humanity has been asking since we first gathered into organized groups.

Most anthropologists trace the roots of law back to Hammurabi’s Code — inscribed on a basalt stele by the Babylonian king who lived around 1792–1750 B.C. It is one of the progenitors of modern legal systems.

The concept of “an eye for an eye” — known as lex talionis — can be found there, though it’s often attributed to the Bible.

Even the Hebrews recognized this philosophy. In response, they created six cities of refuge, places where those who had accidentally killed someone could find asylum until a fair trial determined guilt or innocence.

Even today, traditional societies retain this view.

The Maasai Father and the Spear

While in Kenya, I heard a story about a Maasai man whose son wandered into a busy street and was struck by a car. The authorities ruled it an accident — the child had walked out too quickly, and the driver couldn’t stop in time.

The father was livid. He had lost his son, and no one was being held accountable.

According to ancient belief, if a life was taken, recompense was required — an eye for an eye.

So, the father returned to that same city. He walked down a busy sidewalk with his spear held out in front of him, skewering anyone who had the misfortune of being in his way.

When arrested, he said, “It’s not my fault. I was simply walking — they walked into my spear.”

To him, it was the same as the car hitting his son. In his mind, it was just.

To our modern minds, this reasoning seems absurd. But to the Maasai father, it was fairness. If justice was no longer fair, there could be no justice at all.

But that’s the danger of fairness without compassion: it can justify cruelty.

When Society Loses Faith in Justice

Just like that father, the townsfolk of Skidmore, Missouri, felt the legal system had failed them. In their anger, they took matters into their own hands.

And many of us, if we’re honest, can sympathize with them.

What do we do when we feel our justice system fails us?

In the 1950s and ’60s, America faced the same question through the Civil Rights Movement — led by men like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. Both responded to injustice in different ways: one through peace, the other with militancy.

History celebrates King’s peaceful resistance, but can we truly fault Malcolm X or the Black Panthers for fighting back?

If it were my children suffering injustice, and my government was silent — I might have done the same.

If it weren’t for my faith in Christ, I know I absolutely would have.

Justice and Storytelling

Today, many people once again feel that justice is absent — not just socially, but in the courts. Loopholes, corruption, and broken systems make us angry and disillusioned.

You can see this reflected in our pop culture.

When a society loses faith in its institutions, it turns to vigilantes — cultural archetypes like The Punisher, Red Hood, Taken, or Death Wish.

As a writer, I explore these same ideas. My character Jared Cadrette — the protagonist of The Justice Cycle — is literally the embodiment of justice on earth.

He wields Tzedakah, a sentient sword that is the spirit of Justice itself — cold, absolute, and unsympathetic. It sees only guilt or innocence. Nothing in between.

Jared, however, is human. A detective who understands that life is never purely black and white. Through the sight given to him by the sword, he sees every sin a person has committed and feels the pain of every victim.

And yet, he knows this truth: justice without mercy is cruelty.

When Does Cruelty Become Acceptable?

Were the townsfolk of Skidmore cruel?

They murdered Ken McElroy without mercy — and many would call that justice. But when does justice become cruelty?

According to Hammurabi’s Code, an eye for an eye is fair. A death for a death is fair. But what if the man who stole did so to feed his starving family?

Is it justice to take the rest of what his family has because of his transgression?

Fairness is not always righteousness.

If the Maasai father demanded the life of another child, would that make him whole?

If The Punisher kills murderers because the system failed him — is he healing the world, or perpetuating its cruelty?

As Batman so eloquently put it,

“If you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same”

The True Meaning of Justice

You begin to see the problem with this line of thinking. It justifies cruelty in the name of fairness. It leaves no room for repentance, no path to redemption.

All of us have caused pain. Perhaps not like Ken McElroy — but to the one we hurt, it might have felt just as devastating.

Do we deserve to die for our sins?

I’ve made mistakes. I’ve hurt people I loved. I still wrestle with that guilt. Do I deserve to die?

Even when death feels justified, cruelty never is.

When we lose empathy and reduce the world to fair or unfair, we build a world ruled by cruelty.

The Bible says in Romans 5:8

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

And in Luke 23:34:

34 Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

If Jesus had lived by an eye for an eye, none of us would be redeemed.

We all need redemption. Our justice system — and our stories — should remind us that forgiveness must triumph over judgment.

Because without mercy, justice is just another name for vengeance.

Jay

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