The disappearance of John David Gosh, known to family and friends as Johnny, remains one of the most poignant and enduring unsolved cases in American history.
On the morning of Sunday, September 5th, 1982, in the quiet suburb of West De Mo, Iowa, a 12year-old boy set out on what should have been a routine newspaper delivery route.
He never returned.
Johnny Gosh was born on November 12th, 1969.
At the time of his disappearance, he was a reliable carrier for the De Moines Register, having taken on the route for nearly a year.
He stood approximately 5′ 7 in tall with light brown hair and blue eyes.
He had a distinctive birthark on his left cheek and a horseshoe shaped scar on his tongue.
Details that would later be entered into national missing person’s databases.
On that early September morning, the routine began as usual, though with one small variation.
Typically, Johnny would wake his father, Leonard John Gosh, to assist with the deliveries.
This time, however, the boy left the house alone shortly before 6:00 a.
m.
, accompanied only by the family’s miniature dachshund, Gretchen.
He carried his canvas delivery bag and pulled his red wagon loaded for the Sunday edition.
Other carriers for the De Moines Register later reported seeing Johnny at the designated paper drop point where bundles of newspapers were left by the delivery van.
He and another boy sorted and folded the papers there.
This sighting corroborated by multiple witnesses marks the last confirmed moment Johnny was seen by several people in the normal course of his work.
From accounts documented in initial police reports and contemporary news coverage, witnesses described specific interactions that morning.
One paper boy, referred to in records as Mike, observed Johnny speaking with a stocky man near the paper drop.
The man was seated in a blue two-toned car, often described as a Ford Fairmont.
Another witness, John Rossi, also saw the man in the blue car speaking with Johnny.
Rossi noted that the interaction struck him as unusual.
Johnny reportedly told Rossi that the man was asking for directions.
Rossi himself assisted with directions and observed the vehicle’s license plate, though he could not immediately recall the full number.
Under later hypnosis, Rossi provided additional details suggesting the plate originated from Warren County, Iowa.
As Johnny proceeded north on foot to begin his deliveries, walking a block from the drop point, another paper boy reported noticing a second man following him.
Shortly afterward, a neighbor heard the sound of a car door slamming.
From a bedroom window, the witness saw what appeared to be a silver and black Ford Fairmont running a stop sign, turning left onto 42nd Street and heading north, possibly toward the interstate.
The vehicle sped away rapidly.
Crucial minutes passed in silence.
By around 7:45 a.
m.
, customers along Johnny’s route began teleoning the Gosh home to report that their newspapers had not been delivered.
Alarmed, Johnny’s father, John Gosh, set out to search the neighborhood.
Within minutes, he located his son’s red wagon two blocks from home.
The wagon remained full of undelivered Sunday editions, every paper still bundled inside.
Gretchen the dog returned home alone later that morning.
There were no signs of struggle, no ransom demand, and no immediate evidence of what had transpired.
The immediate aftermath of Johnny Gosh’s disappearance unfolded with a mix of urgency and procedural caution as documented in police logs and family accounts from the day.
By 8:30 a.
m.
on September 5th, 1982, Norin Gosh placed the call to the West De Mo Police Department.
In her later statements, preserved in official records and shared in interviews with outlets like the De Moines Register, she expressed frustration over the response time.
Police reports indicate that officers arrived at the Gosh residence approximately 45 minutes after the call.
Upon arrival, they conducted initial interviews with the family, focusing on Johnny’s habits, any potential history of running away, and the details of his morning routine.
The family confirmed that Johnny had no such history.
He was described in reports as a good kid.
who enjoyed his paper route and had recently won a sales contest for the newspaper.
The initial classification of the case was as a missing person with the possibility of a runaway not immediately ruled out.
This approach aligned with standard protocols of the era, which often required a 72-hour waiting period before escalating to an abduction investigation for minors.
Police logs from that day.
Note that officers canvased the neighborhood, speaking with residents and other paper carriers.
They collected statements from the witnesses who had seen Johnny at the paper drop site, including descriptions of the blue two-toned vehicle and the stocky man who had asked for directions.
By midday, the search effort expanded.
Approximately 30 officers from the West De Moines Police Department, supported by volunteers from the community, began a systematic grid search of the surrounding areas.
This included parks, wooded lots, and nearby streets.
Helicopters were not deployed immediately, but ground teams use bullhorns and foot patrols.
The Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation, DCI, was notified and they assisted in coordinating inter agency resources.
An all points bulletin, APB, was issued describing Johnny’s appearance, clothing, a white sweatshirt with Kim’s Academy on it, blue jeans, and black rubber flip-flops, and the potential vehicle involved.
FBI involvement came later that day.
Though initially in a consultative role, federal agents reviewed the witness statements and advised on potential leads.
No ransom demand was received, which complicated the classification, but did not halt the search.
Police reports detail that tips began coming in almost immediately.
sightings of similar vehicles or children matching Johnny’s description, but none panned out in the first 24 hours.
The Gosh family, meanwhile, took proactive steps.
John Gosh, Senior continued searching the neighborhood on foot while Norine fielded calls from concerned neighbors and the newspaper’s root manager.
By evening, the family had printed flyers with Johnny’s photo and description, distributing them locally.
These early efforts are noted in contemporary news clippings from the De Moines Register, which covered the story on its front page the following day, September 6th, 1982.
As the first full day drew to a close without resolution, the case’s profile rose.
Media outlets, including local television stations WH TV and KCCI, broadcast Johnny’s image and details.
Police held a press briefing where they shared the witness descriptions without speculating on foul play, emphasizing that all possibilities were being explored.
In the days that followed, the investigation intensified.
On September 6th, police conducted hypnosis sessions with key witnesses, including John Rossi, to refine details such as the vehicle’s license plate.
Under hypnosis, Rossi recalled partial plate information suggesting a Warren County origin, which led to checks on registered vehicles in that area.
Composite sketches of the man in the blue car were created based on multiple descriptions.
A white male in his 30s, stocky build, possibly with a mustache and dark complexion.
These sketches were distributed to law enforcement agencies statewide and featured in newspapers.
As the investigation moved beyond the initial days and weeks, the focus shifted to sustained efforts to gather and evaluate leads while the Gosh family increasingly sought ways to keep public attention on the case.
In the weeks following September 5th, 1982, police continued to follow up on the witness descriptions.
Composite sketches of the stocky man seen speaking with Johnny near the paper drop were refined through interviews and distributed to law enforcement across Iowa and neighboring states.
The vehicle, a blue two-toned Ford Fairmont, was entered into databases with particular attention paid to the partial license plate information recalled under hypnosis by witness John Rossi, indicating a possible Warren County origin.
Officers checked registrations matching the description, but these inquiries did not yield a suspect.
Additional tips poured in from the public spurred by media coverage.
Local television stations including WH TV and KCCI aired frequent appeals and newspapers published Johnny’s photograph alongside his description.
approximately 5′ 7 in tall, 140 lb, light brown hair, blue eyes, wearing a white sweatshirt with Kim’s Academy lettering, warm-up pants, and black rubber flip-flops.
A distinctive birthark on his left cheek, and a horseshoe-shaped scar on his tongue were noted in bulletins for identification purposes.
By late September, the search had involved hundreds of volunteers in coordinated efforts across suburban and rural areas.
Ground teams supported by local law enforcement examined wooded lots, river banks along the Raccoon River, and potential routes the vehicle may have taken toward the interstate.
Divers searched bodies of water, though no relevant evidence surfaced.
The absence of physical traces such as footprints, signs of struggle near the abandoned wagon, or forensic material on the newspapers complicated the inquiry.
The Gosh family, facing mounting frustration with the pace of the official response, began independent actions.
They printed and distributed thousands of flyers, organized community meetings, and maintained contact with the media.
Norine Gosh, in particular, spoke publicly about perceived delays in the initial classification and response, highlighting the 72-hour waiting period that had been standard for minor missing person’s cases at the time.
These concerns were echoed in contemporary reports from the De Moine Register which detailed the family’s appeals for reform.
One month after the disappearance in October 1982, Norine and John Gosh formally established the Johnny Gosh Foundation.
The organization aimed to fund private searches, raise awareness about child safety, and advocate for improved protocols in missing children cases.
Through the foundation, Norine began visiting schools, and speaking at seminars, sharing information about predator tactics, and emphasizing the need for vigilance.
These early efforts marked the beginning of her long-term role as an advocate.
The case gained further national visibility in 1984 when Johnny’s photograph appeared on milk cartons as part of an innovative awareness campaign.
The initiative originated locally in De Moine.
Following the disappearance of another De Moines register paper boy, Eugene Martin on August 12th, 1984, an employee at Anderson Ericson Dair proposed featuring missing children on packaging.
In September 1984, Anderson Ericson began printing black and white images and brief descriptions of Johnny Gosh and Eugene Martin on half gallon milk cartons.
Within a week, Prairie Farms Dairy followed suit.
The concept spread rapidly across the Midwest and eventually nationwide with over 700 dairies participating by 1985, distributing an estimated 1.
5 billion cartons.
The campaign, often credited with increasing public tips in missing children cases, helped embed Johnny’s image in the national consciousness and underscored the urgency of child abductions.
Legislative change followed closely.
Drawing on the Gosh’s experiences in similar incidents, Norin Gosh co-authored and lobbied for what became known as the Johnny Gosh bill.
signed into Iowa law on July 1st, 1984.
The legislation mandated immediate police investigation of suspected child abductions, eliminating any mandatory waiting period.
The bill served as a model for similar measures in at least eight other states.
Norine also testified before US Senate hearings on organized crime in August 1984, speaking about the broader implications for child safety.
Her advocacy contributed to the establishment of the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, NCMAC.
Funded by the Department of Justice in 1984 with an initial allocation of $10 million, President Ronald Reagan attended the cent’s dedication, and Norine was among those invited.
Throughout the mid 1980s, police pursued various leads, including interviews with individuals known to law enforcement for offenses against minors in the De Moines’s area.
The Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation coordinated with the FBI, which entered the case into national databases.
Tips were evaluated systematically, though many proved unsubstantiated.
No arrests were made in connection with Johnny’s disappearance, and the case transitioned into a longerterm investigative phase with periodic reviews.
The West De Moines Police Department has consistently described the investigation as active.
As recently as statements in the 2020, officials have noted that evidence is preserved.
Tips continue to be received and followed and resources remain dedicated.
The department maintains that the case is not classified as closed or inactive with archived materials, including witness statements and forensic reports available for re-examination.
This phase of the story reflects the procedural evolution of missing children investigations in the United States, influenced directly by the challenges faced in Johnny Gosh’s case.
The advocacy efforts of his family helped drive meaningful reforms.
While the core mystery of his disappearance endured, as the 1980s progressed into the 1990s, the Johnny Gosh case settled into a pattern familiar to many long-term missing persons investigations.
Periodic surges of public and media interest, fresh tips requiring evaluation, and ongoing commitment from law enforcement despite the absence of major breakthroughs.
The West De Moines Police Department maintained an open case file.
Officers assigned to the investigation conducted regular reviews of existing evidence, including witness statements, composite sketches, and the limited physical items recovered, the red wagon, undelivered newspapers, and the family dog’s return.
Forensic examinations conducted in the early days had produced no conclusive fingerprints, fibers, or biological material that could be linked to a suspect.
Advances in forensic technology during the 1990s, particularly improvements in fingerprint analysis and the emergence of DNA profiling were applied where possible, though the lack of direct crime scene evidence limited their utility in this instance.
Public tips continued to arrive, often in waves following media coverage.
Each credible lead was documented and followed.
For example, sightings of boys resembling Johnny were investigated in various states, including reports from truck stops, shopping malls, and rural areas.
In several instances, law enforcement conducted interviews, and when feasible, arranged for photographs or in-person comparisons.
None of these tips resulted in confirmation of Johnny’s whereabouts.
Norin Gosh remained the most visible public face of the case.
Through the Johnny Gosh Foundation and her personal outreach, she continued speaking engagements, appeared on national television programs, and participated in awareness campaigns.
In 1989, she published a book titled Why Johnny Can’t Come Home, which detailed the family’s experience, the investigation as they understood it, and their advocacy work.
The book, while containing personal reflections, was grounded in events as reported to authorities and documented in the media at the time.
In March 1997, Norine Gosh made a widely reported statement concerning an alleged visit to her home.
According to her account, given in interviews with local media and later reiterated in public forums, she was awakened around 2:30 a.
m.
by a knock at the door.
She stated that she opened the door to find a 27year-old man she believed to be Johnny accompanied by an unidentified individual.
She described a brief conversation in which the man lifted his shirt to reveal a birthark on his chest matching one Johnny had, spoke for approximately 1 to two hours, and then departed.
Norine reported the incident to the West De Moines Police Department.
Police records indicate that the department documented the report and conducted follow-up inquiries, including neighborhood canvases and checks for any related activity, but no corroborating evidence such as physical traces, additional witnesses, or independent confirmation was obtained.
John Gosh, Senior, who had divorced Norine in the late 1980s, publicly stated that he did not believe the visit had occurred.
This event, while significant in the family’s narrative, did not alter the official investigative stance.
The case remained classified as an open abduction investigation.
The late 1990s and early 2000s saw renewed interest through the lens of broader allegations of organized child exploitation.
In 1999, a man named Paul Bonacci filed a civil lawsuit in federal court in Omaha, Nebraska against Lawrence E.
King Jr.
, a former credit union executive implicated in the so-called Franklin Credit Union scandal.
Bonacci alleged that he had been a victim of a child trafficking network and claimed knowledge of Johnny Gosh’s abduction, including specific details about the boy’s physical characteristics, such as the horseshoe shaped scar on his tongue.
In 2000, a federal judge awarded Bonacci a default judgment of $1 million in damages after the defendant failed to appear or contest the claims.
The ruling was a civil matter and did not constitute a criminal finding of guilt or direct evidence linking anyone to Johnny’s disappearance.
The West De Moines Police Department and the FBI reviewed Bonacci’s statements as part of their ongoing investigation.
Investigators interviewed him and evaluated the claims against known facts of the case.
Official summaries from the department indicate that while certain details were noted, the information did not provide actionable leads sufficient to advance the investigation toward an arrest or recovery.
In 2006, Norin Gosh reported finding several Polaroid photographs left anonymously outside her home.
She stated that one of the images depicted a bound boy whom she believed to be Johnny and that others showed children in similar circumstances.
She provided the photographs to law enforcement.
The West De Moines Police Department took possession of the images and submitted them for forensic analysis, including age progression comparisons and attempts to identify locations or individuals.
Reports from the time, including statements from department officials, indicate that the photographs were determined to be older images, some linked to previously documented cases from the late 1970s in Florida, and were not conclusively connected to Johnny Gosh.
No further developments arose from this submission.
Throughout the 2000s and 2010s, the case received periodic media revisits.
Documentaries, including the 2014 film Who Took Johnny, explored the disappearance, the family’s advocacy, and the unanswered questions.
Podcast series and television programs revisited witness accounts, the milk carton campaign, and legislative changes.
Each wave of coverage typically generated new tips.
which police continued to evaluate systematically.
As of the most recent public statements available through 2025, the West De Moines Police Department reaffirms that the Johnny Gosh case remains an active investigation.
Evidence is preserved under proper chain of custody protocols, and the department welcomes new information through its tip line.
The FBI continues to list Johnny in national missing person’s databases with age progressed images periodically updated to reflect what he might look like in adulthood.
Norine Gosh, now in her later years, has continued to speak publicly when opportunities arise, maintaining that her son may still be alive and that the truth has yet to be fully uncovered.
The family’s enduring hope, coupled with the community’s memory of the bright, responsible boy who vanished on a quiet Sunday morning, keeps the case present in discussions of missing children in America.
More than four decades after Johnny Gosh vanished on September 5th, 1982, the case endures as one of America’s most recognized unsolved disappearances of a child.
As of 2025 and into early 2026, no arrests have been made, no suspect has been charged and no recovery of remains has occurred.
The West De Moines Police Department continues to classify the investigation as active, though it is widely described in public summaries as a cold case pending viable new leads.
Department officials in statements reported by local media such as KCCI in 2025 have affirmed that detectives and cooperating agencies, including state and federal authorities, remain committed.
They maintain a substantial volume of evidence in the file, evaluate incoming tips, and preserve materials under proper protocols.
The department does not publicly discuss specific theories or active lines of inquiry to protect the integrity of the process.
The FBI lists Johnny in national missing person’s databases with age progressed images periodically released to reflect what he might appear as in adulthood.
The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, NCMSSE, also maintains an active profile, classifying him as an endangered missing person.
NCMC officials have noted in public commentary that Johnny’s case, alongside others from the same era, contributed significantly to the establishment and refinement of national protocols for missing children investigations.
Norin Gosh has continued her advocacy work into the 2020s and beyond.
In August 2025, she spoke at a public event at the Alta Vista Public Library where she addressed a large audience on the topic of her son’s disappearance and the ongoing issue of human trafficking.
She emphasized the importance of tools like modern alert systems such as Amber Alerts, which did not exist in 1982, and shared her belief based on information she has verified over the years that Johnny was abducted and placed into what is now recognized as human trafficking networks.
She stressed the value of listening to survivors without judgment and encouraged community vigilance.
Norine has remained open to new information, often noting in interviews that she continues to receive tips and pursues private avenues when official resources are limited.
In 2024, an updated edition of her book, Why Johnny Can’t Come Home, was released, incorporating her reflections on the case, and reiterating her belief that individuals involved in child pornography distribution, including John David Norman and Philip Pasque, may have been responsible for the abduction.
These claims, as with earlier assertions, have been documented in her public statements, but have not resulted in charges or official corroboration from law enforcement.
Norine has consistently expressed hope that her son may still be alive, drawing from her accounts of the 1997 visit and other reported sightings.
The broader legacy of Johnny’s disappearance remains profound.
The Johnny Gosh bill passed in Iowa in 1984 set a precedent for immediate investigation of suspected child abductions nationwide, influencing protocols that evolved into today’s rapid response systems.
The milk carton campaign, which began locally in De Moines with Anderson Ericson Dairy and spread across the country, helped raise public awareness and generate tips in hundreds of cases.
Organizations like NCMEC, established in part due to the urgency highlighted by cases such as Johnny’s, have since assisted in the recovery of thousands of missing children.
The disappearance also prompted reflection on the limitations of early 1980s investigative practices.
Initial delays in classification and response as noted in family statements and contemporary reporting underscored the need for change.
Today, agencies emphasize swift action, inter agency coordination, and the use of advanced tools such as DNA databases, digital forensics, and public alerts.
Despite these advancements, the central question, what happened to Johnny Gosh on that quiet Sunday morning, remains unanswered.
The West De Moines Police Department continues to welcome information from the public through official channels.
Johnny’s case stands as a somber emblem of unresolved loss, the resilience of a family, and the ongoing commitment to protecting children from harm.
The disappearance of Johnny Gosh on September 5th, 1982 left an indelible mark not only on the city of West De Moines and the state of Iowa, but on the broader landscape of child safety, media awareness, and public policy in the United States.
Over more than four decades, the case has become a reference point in discussions of missing and abducted children, symbolizing both profound loss and the power of persistent advocacy.
One of the most tangible legacies is the transformation of law enforcement protocols.
Prior to 1982, many jurisdictions, including West De Moines, applied a 72-hour waiting period before treating a missing minor as a potential abduction.
The Gosh family’s public frustration with this delay, combined with similar experiences in other cases, directly influenced the passage of the Johnny Gosh bill in Iowa in 1984.
This legislation required immediate investigation of suspected child abductions, setting a precedent that spread to numerous other states.
These changes contributed to the development of today’s rapid response systems, including the nationwide Amber Alert program launched in 1996, which has since facilitated the safe recovery of thousands of children.
The milk carton campaign, which began in De Moines shortly after Johnny’s disappearance and the later abduction of Eugene Martin, represents another lasting cultural imprint.
By 1985, the practice of printing photographs and descriptions of missing children on dairy packaging had become a nationwide phenomenon, reaching millions of households daily.
While the campaign eventually phased out in the late 1990s with the rise of digital media and more efficient alert systems, it remains a powerful symbol of grassroots awareness in the pre-in era.
Johnny Gosh’s case is frequently studied alongside a small cluster of disappearances of newspaper delivery boys in the De Moines’s area during the early to mid 1980s, which have long invited comparison due to similarities in victim profile, time of day, and method of abduction, or presumed abduction.
The most notable related case is that of Eugene Martin, a 13-year-old De Moines register carrier who vanished on August 12th, 1984 while on his route in the early morning hours.
Like Johnny, Eugene left his bicycle behind and no ransom demand or physical evidence was ever recovered.
A third case, the disappearance of Mark Allen, a 13-year-old who vanished from De Moine on March 29th, 1986, has also been mentioned in discussions of possible patterns, though the circumstances differed somewhat.
Mark was last seen walking home from a friend’s house in the R evening.
Despite extensive investigation by the De Moines Police Department, the West De Moines Police Department, the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation, and the FBI, no definitive links between these cases have been established, and none has been solved.
The proximity in time and geography, however, has kept them connected in public memory and in the work of researchers and advocates.
Beyond Iowa, Johnny’s story has been referenced in broader examinations of child abductions during the 1970s and 1980s, a period that saw heightened public concern about stranger danger and organized exploitation.
Cases such as Eaton Pats, New York, 1979, Adam Walsh, Florida, 1981, and Jacob Wetling, Minnesota, 1989, helped fuel national momentum for child protection legislation.
including the Adam Walsh Child Protection and Safety Act of 2006.
While Johnny’s case is distinct, it shares a place in this historical arc of awareness and reform.
Culturally, the story of Johnny Gosh has been retold through documentaries, books, podcasts, and television segments for more than 40 years.
The 2014 documentary, Who Took Johnny? brought renewed attention to Norine Gosh’s perspective and the unanswered questions.
Online communities, true crime forums, and social media discussions continue to revisit witness statements, age progressed images, and the family’s hope.
These retellings, when handled responsibly, serve to keep the case in the public eye and remind audiences of the enduring pain of unresolved loss.
In closing, the disappearance of Johnny Gosh remains a heartbreaking reminder of vulnerability, the limits of early investigative systems, and the extraordinary resilience of those left behind.
The Gosh family’s tireless advocacy led by Norine transformed personal tragedy into meaningful change that has protected countless children since 1982.
Their story is one of grief, determination, and hope that one day answers may come.
To everyone who has followed this account, thank you sincerely for your attention and respect.
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