The attractions at September’s Lonoke County Fair in central Arkansas felt, for the most part, typical. There was a Ferris wheel, spinning teacups, a livestock pavilion full of award-winning chickens, rabbits, goats, and pigs. For those seeking a slightly more obscure fair activity, there was “Mutton Bustin’,” a rodeo event where kids between the ages of 4 and 8 simulate bull-riding on top of pint-size sheep.

Then there was a more peculiar draw, stationed reliably at a table for local and state Republican candidates in this November’s midterm elections: Aaron Spencer, a 38-year-old Army veteran who is running for sheriff of Lonoke County. Spencer was one of the few candidates attending the fair in person, and everyone knew who he was. Even I recognized him from his interviews on CNN and local television, a rugged man with a thick dark beard and “FREEDOM” tattooed down his right forearm.

“Oh, it’s actually you!” a woman exclaimed as she approached, somewhat in awe. Spencer offered her and other visitors yard signs reading: “Aaron Spencer. Lonoke County Sheriff.Together WE can build a safer and stronger Lonoke County.”

Unless you knew the backstory—and most everyone in Lonoke County does—there was nothing in the candidate’s outward appearance that would have suggested that just four months prior, Spencer had nearly been put on trial for murder.

One by one, fairgoers approached, shaking Spencer’s hand. “Bless you,” and “I prayed for you,” and “You’re my hero,” they said. Spencer handed out rows of stickers to the kids, and some people purchased pink campaign shirts.

Less than two years earlier, Spencer had been arrested for shooting a 67-year-old man 15 times after there were disturbing charges involving Spencer’s 13-year-old daughter. A shocking series of events had brought him here, standing in front of me a free man on the verge of possibly becoming an elected county official. I wanted to know why people here seemed intent on voting for him, despite it all.

When I visited, I learned there was a deeper reason for all of this love for Spencer that I had not yet grasped. Beyond the horror of Spencer’s personal tale, it turned out that Lonoke County had been home to one of the country’s most prolific child predators. And, now, here was Spencer, promising a new kind of lawman. The people liked what they heard.

Ask Spencer why he decided to run for sheriff, and he’ll jump straight to the dangers of child sexual abuse, specifically accused perpetrators who are let out on bail pending their trial. “Protecting our children was my big motivation to run,” he told me, explaining the many ways that the system had failed his family. “That’s why in the primary, my slogan was ‘Rape a child in Lonoke County, you can get out of jail for the price of a lawn mower.’ ”

The slogan may not have been catchy, but it was based in truth.

Here’s what happened.

On the afternoon of July 7, 2024, Sgt. John Ingram and Deputy Brian Duke from the Lonoke County Sheriff’s Office arrived at the Spencer property, a three-acre turkey farm in rural Arkansas about 30 miles from Little Rock. They came to the Spencer home to discuss a report they’d received: that Spencer’s 13-year-old daughter had allegedly been sexually abused by a man old enough to be her grandfather:  Michael Fosler.

Fosler did not appear to have a prior criminal record. He was a veteran, a former police officer in Indiana, a widower, and a truck driver. At the time, he was dating a family friend of the Spencers’; his daughter was also friends with the sheriff.

Spencer, a handgun tucked into the back of his pants, was displeased and accused the deputies of “creeping around.” His demeanor only worsened as police implied that they were concerned Spencer would take matters into his own hands. Fosler had allegedly met Spencer’s daughter at the home of that family friend, and they had regularly communicated online before the abuse began. This had apparently been going on for months; everyone else was just finding out on this day. Spencer had allegedly found out earlier that day, before the police arrived, and had been out seeking information about Fosler, which prompted the suspicion that he might act as a vigilante. It didn’t help that Spencer began the exchange by asking who had called the sheriff’s office.

Ingram appeared to anticipate how Spencer would react. He issued an ominous warning, an exchange which was recorded on his bodycam. “We still don’t live in a country where you can take the law into your own hands, OK?” he told Spencer. The sergeant then posed a “hypothetical” question about a father who might get arrested for vigilante violence. Spencer responded, “Well, hypothetically, maybe that rapist and that father can share a jail cell, and maybe that rapist could be that father’s fucking bitch.” Eventually, Spencer and his wife sat down with the two lawmen for an hour, and Spencer concluded by saying, “I know what I’m allowed and not allowed to do according to the law.”

Officers arrested Fosler a few days later, and the indictment listed 43 counts, including, among other things, sex with a child under 15 and multiple counts of possessing child sexual abuse material. Judge Barbara Elmore set his bail at $50,000. Fosler paid the typical 10 percent bond—or $5,000, the cost of a lawn mower—and was released with a vague order not to have contact with children. He received no ankle monitor or other restrictions.

Spencer’s fury was evident. On Aug. 11, the turkey farmer posted a disturbing Facebook meme, showing a pen of hogs with the caption: “FUN FACT: A PACK OF HOGS CAN CONSUME AN ENTIRE PEDOPHILE IN LESS THAN 10 MINUTES.”

Months passed with Fosler a free man. Spencer remained, as he told police later, “vigilant” because “nobody else is watching him.”

Then, on Oct. 8, Spencer woke up late in the night to the barking of his dog. He found his daughter’s bed empty. He suspected that she was with Fosler—it appears he had continued to contact the 13-year-old after bonding out of jail—and decided........

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