But, as Ginzberg tells us in Legends of the Jews, He held back, specifically because the people were leading God-fearing lives during the reign of Jehoiakim.

But even the righteous couldn't save Jehoiakim. After eleven years on the throne, Nebuchadnezzar came knocking, ready to end his rule.

Imagine this scene: Nebuchadnezzar, the mighty Babylonian king, arrives with his army at Daphne, near Antioch. There, he's met by the Sanhedrin, the Jewish high court, from Jerusalem. What do they want? They need to know if he’s planning to destroy the Beit Hamikdash, the Temple. Nebuchadnezzar assures them that all he wants is Jehoiakim, who had rebelled against him.

So, the Sanhedrin returns to Jerusalem and tells Jehoiakim the news. And here's where things get ethically sticky. Jehoiakim asks the elders: is it right to sacrifice one life to save many? They point him to a story about Joab, who, acting under David's direction, saved the city of Abel of Beth-maacah by surrendering a rebel named Sheba.

The Sanhedrin, despite Jehoiakim's objections, decides to follow Joab's example. They lower Jehoiakim down from the city walls in chains, right into the hands of the Babylonians.

What happens next is brutal. Nebuchadnezzar takes Jehoiakim in chains through all the cities of Judah. Then, consumed by rage, he kills him, throws his corpse to the dogs after sticking it into the carcass of an ass. According to Legends of the Jews based on various Midrashim, the dogs devour everything but his skull, on which a disturbing inscription appears: "This and something besides."

Centuries later, a rabbi finds this skull near the gates of Jerusalem. He tries to bury it, but the earth rejects it. Concluding it must be the remains of Jehoiakim, he wraps the skull in a cloth and puts it in a closet.

Then comes the final, bizarre twist. The rabbi's wife finds the skull. Thinking it belongs to her husband's deceased first wife, whom he still cherishes, she burns it in a fit of jealousy.

What does it all mean? This story, pieced together from various sources like Kings II 24, the Babylonian Talmud, and retold by Ginzberg, is a stark reminder of the consequences of leadership, rebellion, and the enduring power—and horror—of the past. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What burdens do we carry, even unknowingly, and what will future generations make of our stories?