Grand jury clears New Jersey officer in fatal backyard shooting in Pemberton.
Pemberton Township woke up today with the kind of headline that shakes a community to its core: no charges for the officer who fired the shots that ended 57-year-old Marvin Taylor’s life in the woods behind his home. What the grand jury framed as a legally justified shooting is now ricocheting across Burlington County with force, stirring grief, tension, and hard questions that won’t fade quietly.
A BACKYARD STANDOFF THAT WENT FROM SMOKE TO GUNFIRE
It started on an October night last year—one of those fall evenings when the Pine Barrens seem almost too still. Firefighters rolled up to Taylor’s Woodland Avenue home after reports of heavy smoke billowing through the property. What they stepped into wasn’t a typical house fire but the prologue to a deadly confrontation.
Investigators say gasoline had been poured inside the home, igniting the flames. As first responders worked to assess the danger, Taylor appeared in the tree line behind the house, rifle in hand. A firefighter spotted him. Shouted to him. Taylor pointed the weapon.
That single movement flipped the situation from tense to lethal.
Police officers rushed into position, including Pemberton officer Kyle McQueen, whose body-camera audio captured the increasingly desperate commands:
“Marvin, put the gun down! We want to help you!”
Seconds later, a gunshot cracked through the woods. Officers say it came from Taylor’s rifle. McQueen fired four rounds. Taylor fell. A bolt-action rifle and two spent casings were later found beside him.
The entire encounter—from smoke to standoff to fatal volley—lasted only minutes.
THE GRAND JURY’S DECISION: “NO CRIME HERE”
After reviewing the footage, the forensic findings, and testimony from first responders, the state grand jury delivered its decision: McQueen will not face criminal charges. Under New Jersey’s use-of-force standards, the jurors determined the officer acted within the law.
A man with a rifle. A firefighter threatened. A shot fired before officers returned fire. For the panel, the facts aligned too neatly to support an indictment.
Case closed—legally, anyway.
BUT LEGAL DOESN’T ALWAYS MEAN EQUAL
The reaction in Pemberton didn’t fall into neat categories.
Some neighbors openly supported the grand jury’s finding, arguing the officer had “no choice” in the split-second chaos of that night. For them, McQueen’s clearance wasn’t a surprise—it was an inevitability.
But others bristled with a different kind of certainty: that Marvin Taylor’s death was avoidable, tragic, and mishandled. That a man already facing personal crisis didn’t need bullets—he needed help.
Taylor’s family, still grieving, now faces the grim reality that they won’t see criminal accountability. Their questions—why negotiations didn’t last longer, why less-lethal options weren’t used, why a man in distress couldn’t be approached differently—have no courtroom to land in.
Justice, to them, feels unfinished.
WHERE POLICING MEETS PUBLIC PRESSURE
New Jersey has spent the last few years under a microscope when it comes to police use of force. Every officer-involved shooting is automatically reviewed by the Attorney General’s Office, a safeguard meant to rebuild trust in a system under national scrutiny.
Yet cases like this one show how complicated that mission remains.
A backyard in Pemberton became another chapter in the Garden State’s ongoing struggle with mental-health crises, armed encounters, and the razor-thin line officers walk when danger spikes suddenly. But behind the legal frameworks and procedural reviews, there’s a deeper truth communities keep wrestling with:
THE ROAD AHEAD: REPORTS, REVIEW BOARDS & RESTLESS HEARTS
While criminal charges won’t be filed, the process isn’t over.
- The AG’s Office is preparing a full public report detailing every piece of evidence examined.
- Civil lawsuits remain on the table, and Taylor’s family could push for one.
- Mental-health advocates are calling for improved crisis-response protocols, especially in towns where resources are stretched thin.
- Pemberton officials are expected to face the public in community forums—some supportive, some seething—where trust will be tested.
Meanwhile, Officer McQueen returns to a department wrestling with scrutiny from all corners. Cleared in the eyes of the law doesn’t mean shielded from public judgment.
A TOWN HOLDING ITS BREATH
On Woodland Avenue, the house is quiet now. The smoke is gone. The fire scars have faded. But the memory of that night—the flashlight beams slicing through the trees, the crack of gunfire, the shouted commands that dissolved into chaos—still hangs over the neighborhood.
The grand jury may have closed the legal book, but for Pemberton, the story is still being written. It’s a story about fear, force, heartbreak, and the impossible decisions made in the dark.
And in true New Jersey fashion, the community isn’t staying silent. Not today. Not ever.