Editor's note: This story contains descriptions of sexual assault that may be disturbing to some readers.
Calling an Uber or Lyft at the end of a night of drinking is the responsible thing to do. It's what at least 12 women in Denver did between 2018 and 2022 before they were kidnapped by one man who posed as the driver they thought they called.
On Oct. 24, John Pastor-Mendoza was found guilty of 30 charges related to the kidnapping, sexual assault and attempted sexual assault of 12 women. He would either sexually assault the women in his car or take them to another location, according to the Denver District Attorney's Office.
Of the 12 women Pastor-Mendoza was convicted of kidnapping, a jury found him guilty of sexually assaulting two women and attempting to sexually assault seven others.
For the first time, six of the Denver women at the center of this case are sharing their stories publicly.
Watch an extended clip of the women as they share their stories below.
Rachel Perry
Rachel Perry was having a girls night in March of 2019. The night was a "blast" but when it began to get late, Perry decided it was time to go home. She called a rideshare.
“Asked if it was for myself. They said yes. And then a few minutes later, I got a notification that my actual rideshare had canceled. And I then realized that I was in a situation that was pretty precarious, a situation that I did not want to be in," Perry explained. "From there, the man took me to a location that was not my home. He had tried his best to convince me that we were going to a party and that it was my idea, although that was not the case at all. All I wanted to do was go home.”
By that time, Perry said she had lost the ability to move on her own.
"I'm not sure if I was drugged or what, but I didn't have full control anymore, like I did when I had first gotten into the car. And he took me inside of this residence. There was not a party going on," Perry said. “There was nobody else in the home, and I realized even more so that I needed to get out of this situation. So when people say fight or flight kicks in, and you don't know what's going to happen, that's exactly what happened to me.”
Her flight or fight response kicked in — and Perry learned she's a fighter that night.
“I fought this man off, and I eventually scared him more than he could scare me, to the point where I got him back in the car, sat behind him and made him drive me home to where I wanted to go," Perry recalled. “He was terrified. He was screaming at me. He was threatening me, and I just held my own the whole time. I made sure that he knew that if we were going down, we're going down together."
She did not report the incident to police.
“I didn't come forward because I fought so hard that I thought I was going to be the one that was getting in trouble," Perry said. "I thought I would catch a charge against this person, so I just talked it up as, 'Oh well, I lost my phone, or somebody stole it, and something bad happened to me, but oh well, it's my fault. I'm going to move on and continue about my life.' Until three years later, when the truth all came out.”
Perry, sitting alongside the other five women who decided to share their stories, said they are all survivors.
“We all survived the same monster."
Erika Rinnert
Eight days after Perry encountered Pastor-Mendoza, Erika Rinnert was out in downtown Denver celebrating St. Patrick's Day with friends.
“Around 7:30, 8 o'clock, I was incredibly intoxicated, and I called a friend to come get me. She lived about 10 blocks from where we were out drinking downtown, and I sat down on a curb to wait for her, and she was on her way," Rinnert remembered. “But in those 10 minutes from her coming to get me and actually getting there, somebody ushered me into a car, and I remember seeing the Lyft sign and thinking, 'Oh, okay, this is a rideshare. I can pay him money and and get there.'”
Rinnert continually asked to be driven the ten blocks to her home. She passed out while inside the car, and when she woke up they were on the highway.
“I tried to get out of the car while we were on the highway. I was in the passenger seat. He grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me back in," Rinnert said. “I don't know if I'd been drugged. I certainly was intoxicated, but I have very spotty memory. He helped me inside a residence where there was nothing inside the house except a mattress on the floor of one room.”
She said Pastor-Mendoza pushed her down to the mattress, and she began fighting back.
“I started kicking and screaming and just hoping one of the neighbors would hear. I fought with everything I could. In my memory, I'm flailing around a lot, but I landed enough punches that he left me there and I passed out," Rinnert said. “Something in my brain kicked in and said, 'You have to get out of this situation. If you stay here, you will die.'”
Rinnert seized an opportunity when she did not see Pastor-Mendoza in the home. She crawled outside and called her parents, but she had no idea where she was. Eventually, she called an ambulance.
“I didn't find out who or what had happened to me for about three years, until I then found out that I was one of many, many women that this happened to, and he was a terrible, terrible person," Rinnert said.
According to Rinnert, Aurora police arrived on the scene.
“They pressured me to not pursue it at that time, and when you've gone through something as traumatic as this, and you're that raw, of course, I'm not going to pursue it without that support and encouragement. And I didn't believe anything had happened to me," Rinnert explained. "I had a detective then who didn't care, and so I didn't pursue it. But how many women suffered because Aurora Police didn't take it seriously?”
Over the years, each of the women have dissected how they responded to Pastor-Mendoza's actions.
“However we each reacted in the moment, we did what we had to to survive," Rinnert said.
Katie Duvall Davis
In August of 2019, Katie Duvall Davis went to grab dinner and drinks with friends. Since she had been drinking, she called a rideshare.
“As I was standing there waiting, a car pulled up, and I leaned over and said, 'Are you here for Katie?' And he said, 'Yes.' So I got in, I knew kind of immediately that there was something off, because there was a driver and a passenger," Davis said. “I was in the back seat, and then they said that it looked like I wanted to go party more, and that they were going to take me somewhere. And I insisted, no, I really just want to go to sleep. And anyone who knows me knows once I get tired, that's the end, you better get me to sleep real quick.”
Instead, Davis said they did not drive in the direction of her home. They ended up in a residential area and she refused to get out of the car.
“They said that they would take me home if I kiss them first. So, they made me basically make out with them, both of them, and then I threw myself down in the back seat and just started crying and yelling my address," Davis remembered. “I don't think I stopped yelling my address until I was out in front of my apartment, and luckily, I still had my keys.”
When she arrived at her home, Davis realized she did not have her phone.
“I didn't have my phone, and again, didn't know that I had much of a case until three years later, when my phone was found," Davis said.
Her phone was one of 22 eventually found in Pastor-Mendoza's apartment on Leetsdale Drive.
“I reported my phone being missing and my phone being stolen. That's what I thought the extent was," Davis said. "I got into the car. I didn't check the license plate. Oh my gosh — I blamed myself. I thought it was something stupid that I had done. I didn't want to be so dramatic to say like, 'Oh, that was really, really scary. That was terrifying.' I just put it away and was like, 'Well, gotta get a new phone.' And I thought that would be the end of it, and I would be done.”
Through time, therapy and getting to know the other women who experienced similar situations, Davis is working through blaming herself for what happened.
“Getting to know each other and realize how strong and amazing all of these women are, and knowing like, 'I don't blame you. I don't think you did anything wrong.' So why would it be any different for me?" Davis said. “This is a club no one wants to be a part of, but you definitely don't want to be alone in, and it's so nice not to be alone in it.”
Cassie
Editor's note: Cassie did not want to have her last name published for privacy reasons.
A few months later in November of 2019, Cassie was with friends at a nightclub in Denver. They had been out for a few hours and she decided to call a rideshare to get home.
“I don't remember getting in the car. I was then taken down to Aurora, and there's about five hours of time that I don't remember," Cassie said. “When I fully came to, he had let me out of the car near some warehouses in Aurora, and I found my way to a truck stop eventually, and the truck stop attendee had called the police. So, they came and picked me up and took me about 30 minutes north, back to my house.”
Cassie said that night, she reported her phone was stolen to the police.
"The next morning, I woke up and I did not report my assault. I was ashamed and I was embarrassed," Cassie explained. “I called my family to come pick me up, and I spent the next few days with them. And then, actually this time last year, I received a call from the detective on the case, and he had linked me to it from my phone, and I've just been a part of it ever since. So now, processing and healing from it.”
That has been a years-long process.
“I think this has probably been the loneliest experience in most of our lives, and it's been years going and it's really easy for me to think back to myself in 2019 and still blame myself," Cassie said. “I didn't report it, I didn't go get tested, and I really have to hold space for who I was back then. I did what I had to do, and everybody respects each other's decisions here.”
When investigators contacted Cassie, they showed her photos Pastor-Mendoza took of her unconscious in the back of his car.
Katie McGhee
Jumping to May of 2022, Katie McGhee was with her then-boyfriend at a club. The two began arguing, and McGhee called a rideshare to leave.
“I don't really remember that much about getting into the car, but I just remember I must have passed out in the back seat, and I woke up and he was trying to climb on top of me with pretty clear intention to what he was trying to do," McGhee said. “I had on these big goth boots, and I just started kicking his face as hard as I could, as much as I could.”
McGhee is unsure of exactly what happened next, but she ended up in the King Soopers parking lot in Capitol Hill without her purse, phone or shoes. She screamed for help, and another woman came to her aid.
“She called the police for me, and the police came and did a sexual assault report and drove me back to my house. I didn't think they would ever find him, because my vision was just, I just don't remember that much of the evening," McGhee said. “Then I got a phone call, I think, in August of 2022, saying that they had a lot of evidence that tied me to a lot of other cases, and they think they found the perpetrator.”
As McGhee learned who else was connected to Pastor-Mendoza, she realized how different all of the survivors are.
“It can happen to anyone. All of us were just going out, trying to enjoy an evening," McGhee said. “We were just going out, having a good time. I don't even really go out that much, and even if I did, I still don't deserve that to happen to me.”
In October of 2022, a Lyft spokesperson confirmed Pastor-Mendoza drove for the company, but they did not say for how long. The spokesperson said he was permanently barred from using Lyft moving forward.
“The behavior described is absolutely appalling, and the driver has been permanently removed from the Lyft community,” the spokesperson said at that time.
McGhee, along with the other women, want to see changes made within rideshare companies as a result of Pastor-Mendoza's case. Some of the attainable changes mentioned were continuous background checks for drivers, increased signage on cars and a code to enter on the phone to confirm it is the correct driver.
Specifically, McGhee said she would like to see drivers become actual employees of the companies, instead of independent contractors, so that the companies could be held liable in cases such as this.
Juliana Garcia
Juliana Garcia was assaulted by Pastor-Mendoza in July of 2022, after a night out with friends in Denver. Garcia lived in Boulder at the time, and began to feel sick while they were out drinking.
“The rest of my friends were still in the nightclub, but I thought they were going to stay. I didn't want to put a damper on their night," Garcia said. “I decided to order a rideshare, and as I'm waiting with my roommate, I am waved down by a white car, white SUV, and it is a Hispanic male, maybe in his 30s, right? I am Hispanic myself, so I felt a sense of comfort knowing that he was Hispanic, feeling safe.”
Garcia pointed out that all of the women in this case were trying to do the right thing by calling for a rideshare after drinking, but were subsequently put into a situation that was incredibly dangerous.
“Thinking this was my rideshare, I got into the car and remember having small talk and then him giving me a water. And I very much remember the feeling of being very glad that there was water," Garcia said. “Then I remember thinking to myself, I am really sleepy. I, you know, that usually doesn't happen. I don't just fall asleep in a rideshare, just like that.”
She estimates she got into the car just after midnight. Her roommates did not see her until the next morning.
“The next day, I remember waking up, feeling very foggy. Feeling like like I was hung over, but not an alcohol hung over. It was more of a brain fog that I couldn't snap out of. And I slept a lot, which is also not typical," Garcia said. “I didn't have a headache, which is typical to a hangover, right? I didn't have a headache. So, that makes me believe that water bottle had drugs in it. I don't know what type. We were never able to prove that he drugged us, but a lot of our stories are very similar.”
Garcia's roommates urged her to go to the hospital for a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner exam, known as a SANE exam.
"I didn't want to do it at first, because there's a stigma behind it. It is violating on its own, and to not remember if you were sexually assaulted, if you were raped, if you don't mind me using that word — raped — if you don't have an idea of what happened to you, I felt like I just needed to do anything in my power to make sure that I was okay," Garcia said.
A couple of days later, Garcia realized she was missing an undergarment. She also noticed the shirt she was wearing that night was dirty in a strange location.
“That's when I decided to go to the police and report this, because I didn't know what happened to me," Garcia said. “My shirt had to have been off, even if I don't remember actually being violated. My shirt was off and I have no recollection of it, so I wanted to get to the bottom of it.”
A detective called Garcia and asked about the report she made. A DNA profile was gathered from Garcia's SANE exam, which linked her case to the others.
The detective asked Garcia to come in and identify the perpetrator.
“I had to write down why I thought this was the person who had attacked me. It was traumatizing on its own to have to look through these pictures and and think to yourself, 'Oh my gosh. I don't know. They all look the same. They all look so similar. How am I going to do this?'" Garcia remembered. “But it is incredible what your mind and your body can do. And I just had a feeling. I had a feeling. I said that one looks familiar, you know, and I chose him. I made my decision.”
Since Garcia identified Pastor-Mendoza, he has been behind bars.
The trial
Going through the court process was both empowering and traumatizing for the women. They all testified, and many had their character called into question by defense attorneys while on the witness stand.
“I was told recently that it's called the criminal justice system, not the victims justice system, and I feel that so hard. I felt re-victimized through this a couple of times," Rinnert said.
Davis said the trial would not have been possible without the hard work of the Denver detectives who worked the case.
“In our case, we had a detective who believed us and who sought justice on our behalf. And that was incredibly validating. To have someone look you in the eyes and say, 'I believe what happened to you,'" Davis said. “It's so uncomfortable to come out and talk about something that maybe, like me, I blamed myself for. For years I thought was my fault, my stupidity, and then to come out and have a switch flip and see someone else who is actually responsible. But then to tell a jury, a judge, attorneys and then defenders who want to make you look bad. It's hard to navigate.”
Perry saw victim shaming and blaming happen throughout the court process as well.
"It silences people, and it makes victims feel like their voice will not be heard, and if it is heard, that it will be brushed aside," Perry said about the consequences of blaming a victim. "Victim shaming is real. And I think the biggest thing that everybody needs to remember, no matter your gender, no matter your pronouns, whatever it is, if something happens to you, speak up. Speak up, because the person you tell initially may not believe you, but we will always believe you.”
The women have slowly but surely taken their power back, culminating in their victim impact statements they are preparing for Pastor-Mendoza's sentencing in March. They also acknowledge, that day will be heartbreaking having to listen to all of the survivors share how this crime has impacted them.
“We will forever be changed. But truly, I think that we have all come out stronger at the end, not because we needed to be, but because we had to be, because someone else took our choice away," Garcia said. “Anyone who has experienced this, who has been sexually assaulted, who has been abused in the past, give yourself grace. It is never, never your fault. Ever.”
Denver police said it's possible there are more victims of Pastor-Mendoza who have not filed a report. DPD encourages anyone who may have been assaulted to call the department at 720-913-2000.
If you or someone you know is experiencing sexual assault, help is available through the Colorado Coalition Against Sexual Assault or The Blue Bench.