Cherrie Mahan's mom feels closer than ever to finding her daughter's abductor, remains

Cherrie Mahan’s mother and a team of friends are preparing to search a largely unexamined plot of land where they suspect the girl, who disappeared Feb. 22, 1985, from a school bus stop in Winfield, may be buried.

The area is part of a 26-acre parcel across from where Cherrie’s grandmother lived in Clinton Township.

“My mother, god rest her soul, she always felt that Cherrie was close by,” Cherrie’s mother, Janice McKinney, told TribLive in an exclusive interview.

Her belief is based on a new wave of tips that came in after a February event marking the 40th anniversary of Cherrie’s disappearance.

McKinney and Cherrie’s Angels, a group started last year by Bailey Gizienski and Alyssa Dietz, both of Butler, also have deemed another area in West Winfield as worth another look. It was part of the original 5-mile search radius.

While McKinney wouldn’t disclose her leads, she feels closer than ever to learning how her 8-year-old daughter disappeared about 100 yards from her home and where she ended up.

At the recent commemoration for Cherrie, she told the crowd she knows who abducted her daughter. And just this week, Cherrie’s Angels revealed that the person they suspect is incarcerated.

“It’s kind of a new person,” McKinney elaborated Wednesday. “He probably should have been looked at and just wasn’t because we didn’t have all of the right people to give us the right answers.”

The new information also has led her to believe Cherrie was sexually abused by her abductor before her abduction. Data cited by Cherrie’s Angels claims 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys were sexually abused in the 1980s, often by someone they knew and trusted.

McKinney was vague about these breakthroughs, not wanting to risk the supposed perpetrator covering their tracks.

“If we make a mistake, we could lose this and we could not get an answer we’re happy with,” she said.

McKinney, 64, has been relentless in seeking closure. A string of state police detectives assigned to Cherrie’s case has stubbornly stood by her side, keeping the case active all these years and looking into every workable tip that comes through.

“This is one of those cases that I don’t think will ever go cold,” said Cpl. Max DeLuca, who has been assigned Cherrie’s case since the late 2010s. “For whatever reason, this case has really captivated a large audience ranging from the U.S. to across seas, where people always seem to be calling about this case, whether the tips are good or not.”

At least 50 tips have come through in the last few months. None, so far, has changed the complexion of the case, from DeLuca’s perspective.

Police still do not have a prime suspect or specific areas they think might hold Cherrie’s remains.

It’s McKinney and company who are leading this latest charge.

Cherrie’s Angels organized the anniversary event, launched an online tip form and coordinated the hiring of a private investigator in late February. It also runs the “Find Cherrie Mahan” Facebook and Instagram pages with McKinney’s blessing.

The group hopes to secure ground-penetrating radar and cadaver dogs to scan the aforementioned sites, though that’s easier said than done.

Most companies won’t lend dogs to an investigation without police approval, Gizienski said.

“The radars are different,” she added. “We just need a licensed person who can read the equipment.”

Though eager for answers, McKinney said she’s deferring to DeLuca’s judgement on how state police should proceed.

“I don’t want to step on police’s toes, because we’re going to need them in the end,” she said. “Trooper DeLuca has a way of doing certain things so that he does not get screwed up, and I just think we have to be patient.”

Time will tell whether true progress is afoot. There have been plenty of hopeful moments in the past — supposed sightings of the van with a skier mural reported to have been in the area at the time of the girl’s disappearance, or several women who’ve come forward claiming to be Cherrie.

To McKinney, this time feels different. It feels like the end of a painful chapter she feared may never close.

“I have spent a lot of my life looking for Cherrie,” McKinney said. “I just want an answer. I want to lay her to rest knowing she is going to be at peace, knowing that we know what happened to her.”