Krause and Gooch both grew up with the Mennonite faith but didn’t know each other, said the prosecutors. They linked Gooch to her disappearance and death by using cell phone records, Gooch’s financial reports and receipts, and surveillance videos from the Air Force base, they said. A report from the state crime lab showed that a bullet made from Krause’s skull was fired from a .22-caliber rifle owned by Gooch.
Gooch’s cell phone was the only one that communicated with the same cell towers as Krause’s cell phone before hers left West of Farmington, authorities said. Prosecutors aren’t sure why he targeted Krause, but they argue that he didn’t like Mennonites.
Gooch’s attorney Bruce Griffen tried unsuccessfully to prevent a prosecutor from testifying about the cell phone data, which he called “weak science”. He also tried to limit mentions of text messaging conversations Gooch had with his brothers that related to Mennonites, saying the news was not evidence of murderous malice.
Gooch grew up in a Mennonite community in Wisconsin but never officially became a member, he told investigators. He said he joined the military to escape what he believed to be a difficult, sheltered and constrained life, the sheriff’s records indicate.
He was stationed at the air force base in October 2019 and worked in equipment maintenance.
Krause belonged to a group of conservative Mennonites in which women wore headgear and long dresses or skirts. She moved from Texas to Farmington, where she taught at school.
On the one year anniversary of their disappearance, the Mennonite community sent memories of Krause’s parents. Krause’s students said she was a good teacher who read to them and played with them. Krause preached hard work, even if it went unrecognized, others said.
She spoke Spanish and French, studied books often, and could easily quote scriptures. Recalling her deep, dancing brown eyes and calm mannerisms, the congregation said her time in Farmington was short but her influence was lasting.
Paul Kaufman, general manager of Lamp and Light Publishers, where Krause worked, said that as the process began, emotions began to emerge that were slowly healing. He said the community wanted to feel safe and whoever was responsible for Krause’s murder in order to repent.
“We didn’t see who showed up at church that night and kidnapped Sasha,” he said. “We didn’t see who did this terrible act. We didn’t see that. But God saw that.”
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