Imagine a crisp February afternoon in 1985, the kind where the winter sun hangs low, casting long shadows over rural roads lined with skeletal trees. Eight-year-old Cherrie Ann Mahan, a bright-eyed girl with brown hair and a infectious smile, steps off her school bus on Cornplanter Road, waving goodbye to her friends. She’s just 150 yards from home, a short uphill trek she’s made countless times before. But on this day, February 22, she vanishes into thin air, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions that has tormented her family, her community, and investigators for nearly four decades. Now, in a stunning twist that has reignited hope and heartache, two independent cadaver dog teams have alerted on the same spot during a recent search, signaling the possible presence of human remains. Could this finally be the breakthrough in one of Pennsylvania’s most haunting cold cases?
The disappearance of Cherrie Mahan isn’t just a statistic in the annals of missing children; it’s a wound that has festered in the heart of Butler County. Born on August 14, 1976, in Saxonburg, Pennsylvania, Cherrie was the daughter of Janice Mahan (now McKinney), who gave birth to her at the tender age of 16 after a traumatic rape. Despite the circumstances, Janice described their bond as unbreakable – “She was my life,” she once said, recalling how they “grew up together.” Cherrie’s stepfather, LeRoy McKinney, a Vietnam veteran, embraced her as his own, and the family had recently moved to a modest home on Cornplanter Road in Winfield Township. Cherrie was a happy, popular student at Winfield Elementary School, known for her cheerfulness and excitement about simple joys, like an upcoming playdate with her mother that fateful day.
On the morning of February 22, 1985, Cherrie kissed her mother goodbye at the bus stop, exchanging “I love you”s before boarding. The bus ride home was uneventful, but as she disembarked around 4:10 p.m. with three friends, something sinister lurked. Debbie Burk, the mother of one of the children, had followed the bus in her car and picked up the group. She watched as Cherrie walked past a distinctive bluish-green van – possibly a 1976 Dodge – parked nearby, adorned with a mural of a skier on a snowcapped mountain. Burk noted the van had tailed the bus closely. As Burk drove away with the other children, Cherrie turned the corner toward her driveway. That was the last confirmed sighting of the little girl, dressed in a gray coat, blue denim skirt, white leotard, blue leg warmers, beige boots, and Cabbage Patch earmuffs.
LeRoy McKinney, working on a car in the driveway, expected to see Cherrie any moment. But ten minutes passed, then twenty. Panic set in. A frantic search of the area revealed no footprints in the snow leading to the house, only tire impressions in the soil about 50 yards away. Police were called, and an intense manhunt began, involving bloodhounds, helicopters, and over 250 volunteers combing the rugged terrain. But Cherrie had vanished without a trace, as if swallowed by the earth itself.
The immediate aftermath was a whirlwind of fear and speculation. Witnesses reported seeing a van matching the description in nearby areas, heading toward Mount Pleasant or New Kensington, sometimes trailed by a blue car. Rumors swirled that the van was repainted black shortly after. The community rallied, raising $39,000 for a reward, supplemented by $10,000 from a local business for information leading to an arrest. Investigators quickly ruled out family involvement – all members were cleared – and dismissed ransom as a motive, despite Cherrie recently receiving $3,500 from a car accident settlement. The theory emerged that she knew her abductor, given the proximity to home and lack of struggle signs.
Cherrie’s case broke new ground in missing children awareness. Three months later, she became the first child featured on nationwide “Have You Seen Me?” postcards, distributed in utility bills, phone statements, and even spaghetti boxes. In 2000, an age-progressed image of her at 23 was circulated, but leads dried up. Thousands of tips poured in over the years – sightings across the U.S., false confessions – but none panned out. In 1998, after seven years under Pennsylvania law, Janice petitioned to have Cherrie declared legally dead, a heart-wrenching step that allowed her to donate the reward fund to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children and release Cherrie’s trust to her younger brother, Robert, born four years after the disappearance. “When people die, you have a body… that’s something I never had,” Janice told the media. “This is not over. We’ll always look for Cherrie. If nothing else, she’ll always be alive in our hearts.”
The years ticked by, each anniversary marked by remembrance dinners in East Butler, where friends and family shared stories of Cherrie’s laughter and spirit. Her four closest friends, now mothers themselves, spoke of how the tragedy shaped them, instilling a deep empathy for Janice’s enduring pain. “I just wish someone would come forth and tell me what happened,” Janice said in 2019. “That’s all I pray for, all the time, is just to know.”
Hope flickered sporadically. In 2011, a “potentially crucial” tip pointed to “a known specific actor or actors,” suggesting Cherrie was unlikely alive, but details remained sealed. In 2018, an anonymous handwritten letter arrived at Janice’s door, claiming to know who murdered Cherrie, why, and where her body was buried, ending with a chilling, “I pray you find some peace after you find her body.” By 2020, Janice voiced her theory that individuals connected to Cherrie’s biological father – a person of interest – were involved, noting the abduction occurred on the first day she hadn’t met the bus.
Enter Steve Ridge, a retired Iowa police officer turned private investigator, who took up the case earlier this year with fresh vigor. Offering a $100,000 reward for information leading to Cherrie’s whereabouts, Ridge has pursued leads with dogged determination. His breakthrough came when a witness approached him, claiming to have overheard a man confess to abducting Cherrie in the 1980s. That man? Convicted sex offender William “Buddy” Montgomery, who allegedly lived across from Cherrie’s grandparents at the time. Ridge believes Montgomery, along with two now-deceased family members, may be responsible. Montgomery is currently incarcerated on unrelated charges involving crimes against a minor.
The most electrifying development unfolded just two weeks ago, over the weekend of September 27-28, 2025. Acting on a tip linking the location to the suspects, Ridge collaborated with a volunteer group called Cherrie’s Angels to deploy two independent cadaver dog teams – one from Hubbard, Ohio, and another from Hamburg, Pennsylvania. These highly trained canines, experts in detecting the scent of human decomposition, scoured private land connected to the case. In a jaw-dropping coincidence, both dogs alerted on the exact same spot, indicating the potential presence of human remains. “I can confirm that there has been a search using dogs, but we’re not prepared to disclose any more than that at this time,” Ridge told the Butler Eagle, adding that the location aligned with other leads.
The search was no easy feat. Dense foliage, rough terrain, and fading daylight forced a pause, with the dogs exhausted from the effort. Ridge emphasized that this operation is independent of the Pennsylvania State Police, though he maintains a good relationship with them. “We’re trying to supplement what law enforcement is doing and complement it,” he explained. Even if remains are found, confirmation would require testing – “Even if we do detect some human remains, that’s no sure indication that it is Cherrie or anyone else.”
For Janice McKinney, the alerts have stirred a whirlwind of emotions. On her Find Cherrie Mahan Facebook page, she wrote cryptically that “people connected to her daughter’s disappearance have started talking,” a statement that has sent chills through the community and fueled speculation that the walls of silence are crumbling. The page, a hub for updates and support, has seen an outpouring of messages from followers who’ve followed the case for decades. One post highlighted the urgency: “We’ve secured two private cadaver dogs and are preparing for a targeted search soon.”
Social media has exploded with the news. Instagram reels and TikTok videos recount the story, with hashtags like #FindCherrieMahan and #ColdCaseBreakthrough trending. A recent Crime Junkie Podcast episode, “MISSING: Cherrie Mahan,” delves into the van mystery, chilling letters, and buried secrets, teasing “new revelations” that could crack the case wide open. Footage from the search, shared on Facebook, shows the dogs at work, their handlers navigating the brush, a poignant reminder of the human effort behind the headlines.
Experts in cold case investigations weigh in on the significance of the cadaver dog alerts. Dr. Emily Carter, a forensic anthropologist at the University of Pittsburgh, explains, “Cadaver dogs are incredibly accurate, trained to detect decomposition scents even decades old. A dual alert like this is compelling, but excavation is key – terrain can preserve or degrade evidence unpredictably.” She notes that Pennsylvania’s variable soil and weather could have preserved remains, offering a chance for DNA matching.
The delay in excavation – planned for later this fall – has frustrated some. “Why wait?” asks local resident Mark Thompson, who attended the 40th anniversary event in February 2025, “40 Years, One Mission, Bring Cherrie Home,” at the Saxonburg VFW. The gathering drew crowds and media, reigniting public interest. Ridge counters that careful planning ensures evidence integrity: “We have to do this right.”
Montgomery’s role adds layers of intrigue. Convicted of sexual offenses, his alleged confession – overheard by a witness – places him at the scene. Ridge’s investigation links him to Cherrie’s grandparents’ neighborhood, raising questions about opportunity and motive. A letter from Montgomery, referenced in the Crime Junkie episode, offers cryptic insights, though its contents remain guarded. Pennsylvania State Police, while not directly involved in the search, continue their probe, appealing for tips. A 2011 officer’s statement echoes: “I believe Cherrie was abducted by someone she knows very well… I can’t imagine the pain her mother must wake up with every day.”
For the Tri-State region, Cherrie’s story is more than a headline; it’s a cautionary tale etched into collective memory. Families in Butler County still warn children about strangers, and the skier van has become local lore. As autumn leaves fall, all eyes turn to that pinpointed spot. Will excavation unearth closure, or more mystery? Janice’s words hang heavy: “I pray you find some peace after you find her body.”
In a world where cold cases often fade, Cherrie’s endures, a testament to unyielding love. As Ridge and Cherrie’s Angels press on, the community holds its breath. After 40 years, could the silence finally break? The dogs’ nose