When Journalism Becomes Character Assassination
This article is written by a woman responding to what has been described in the media as a “serial rapist”—a label that is horrifying to assign to anyone. I question whether this kind of language even belongs in responsible journalism. Titles and narratives like this do not inform the public; they inflame emotions and shape opinions before facts are properly examined.
The man at the center of this story, Stephen Matthews, was convicted of alleged crimes, not proven beyond reasonable doubt. I strongly encourage readers to review the trial transcript—even ten minutes of it—to understand how weak and inconsistent much of the testimony was. What happened here was not justice carried out carefully; it was a story shaped by media pressure and amplified by anger, bitterness, and rejection.
According to reports, the allegations came from a group of women who appeared together—nine of them—many of whom were connected through dating apps and social circles. The lawsuit that followed focused heavily on money. Dating, rejection, and disappointment were reframed as felony-level misconduct. This should concern anyone who believes in fairness and due process.
Let’s be honest: these were adult women making adult decisions. Dating involves consent, risk, and personal responsibility. Rejection, while painful, is not a crime. Yet we are now living in a culture where a man can be accused, labeled, and destroyed socially and professionally based on claims alone. And then people ask why men no longer want to date. If I were a man today, I would not date either—it has become a legal and reputational liability.
False accusations harm everyone. They undermine real victims of sexual violence, whose suffering is very real and deserves justice. Those women are often not seeking media attention, lawsuits, or payouts—they are trying to heal. That is not what we are seeing here. The question must be asked: are these accusers seeking healing, or financial gain?
Do I believe Stephen made mistakes? Yes. He was naive. He believed casual dating and consensual relationships carried no consequences. He did not want commitment; he wanted to date freely and engage in consensual sex. That may be unwise, but it is not a crime. A successful professional—a doctor with a promising future—should not lose everything because he chose not to settle down.
I have worked with sex-related cases for over 30 years. I have seen countless wrongful convictions, cases driven by public outrage rather than evidence, and a system that too often presumes guilt—especially when the accused is a man. Statistics show that the vast majority of convictions in these cases fall on men, sometimes based solely on uncorroborated claims.
There are real victims of sexual assault, and their cases deserve careful, serious attention. But when allegations are weaponized through media, lawsuits, and public shaming, justice is not served. It is replaced by judgment, labels, and irreversible damage.
Journalism should inform, not prosecute. And justice should be based on facts, not narratives.
Media, Money, and the Shrinking Story Behind the Denver Post Lawsuit
On Tuesday, the Denver Post published an article titled “Six women targeted by serial Denver rapist sue Hinge, Tinder.” The lawsuit, filed in Denver District Court, names Match Group and its dating platforms, including Hinge and Tinder. The headline alone signals a troubling pattern: a conclusion presented as fact rather than allegation, wrapped in emotionally charged language that leaves little room for nuance or due process.
One detail stands out immediately. In the original criminal case, nine women were involved. Now, only six remain part of this civil lawsuit. What happened to the others? Why has the group grown smaller? These are reasonable questions that deserve examination, yet they are absent from most media coverage. If the narrative were as clear and unified as portrayed, the numbers would not continue to shrink.
This shift raises concerns about motivation. Civil lawsuits of this nature are fundamentally about financial compensation. The focus is no longer on criminal accountability but on extending liability—now targeting dating apps themselves. The framing suggests that this is less about “I met him on Hinge” and more about how much money can be extracted through litigation.
There are also rumors circulating about potential entertainment projects connected to this case, including possible streaming content. If true, this points to a deeply troubling trend: the monetization of alleged victimhood. Trauma should not be repackaged for profit. If someone has truly been harmed, the priority should be healing, privacy, and mental health support—not repeated public exposure through lawsuits and media campaigns that force the story to be relived again and again.
What has been noticeably missing from this coverage is accountability for the damage done to Stephen Matthews and his family. There have been no apologies, no acknowledgment of inconsistencies, and no serious reflection on how media narratives helped shape public perception long before legal processes were complete. Instead, journalists have amplified one-sided stories, reinforcing labels that permanently stain reputations.
This case was not built solely in a courtroom—it was built in headlines, interviews, and opinion pieces that blurred the line between reporting and advocacy. When journalists abandon skepticism and restraint, they risk becoming participants rather than observers.
Real victims of sexual violence deserve to be believed, protected, and supported. But false or exaggerated claims harm everyone. They erode trust in the justice system and make it harder for genuine victims to come forward. Justice depends on evidence, balance, and integrity—especially from the media.
At its core, this lawsuit is not about dating apps or public safety. It is about money, narrative control, and prolonging a story that should have been handled with far more care and critical scrutiny from the beginning.
The question remains: when does advocacy end, and exploitation begin?
When Stories Become Campaigns: Questions Raised by Media Narratives and Civil Litigation
A recent article describes an encounter in Denver’s Highland neighborhood in January 2023, recounting a woman’s claim that after two drinks she became “completely intoxicated,” lost memory, and later reconstructed the night through clothing, footage, medical testing, and online research. The account is emotionally powerful—but it also raises important questions about how stories like this are presented, amplified, and monetized.
One detail stands out immediately: the decision to withhold the accuser’s last name. While privacy is understandable, civil litigation—especially high-profile lawsuits—inevitably becomes public. Once a lawsuit is filed, names and records are often disclosed over time. Anonymity and publicity sit in tension with one another, and that tension deserves honest discussion rather than selective transparency.
Equally important is the absence of balance. Readers are offered a single narrative with little scrutiny of inconsistencies, context, or alternative explanations. Journalism should ask hard questions of all sides—not merely echo allegations. When emotionally charged accounts are presented without rigorous examination, reporting risks becoming advocacy.
This case also highlights a broader trend: the transformation of deeply personal experiences into coordinated legal and media campaigns. When civil claims expand beyond individuals to target corporations—such as dating platforms—the focus shifts from fact-finding to financial liability. That shift matters. Civil court is about damages, not guilt, and the incentives are fundamentally different.
The concerns deepen when legal advertising appears alongside or within related coverage. Promotional language such as:
“We represent women drugged and raped by Stephen Matthews… You deserve justice. They must pay.”
reads less like a call for careful adjudication and more like marketing. When law-firm messaging mirrors media headlines, it blurs the line between reporting, persuasion, and profit. This is not about whether attorneys may advertise—they can—but whether vulnerable people are being encouraged to relive trauma primarily to fuel litigation.
There is also a question of responsibility in online dating. Adults using dating apps assume certain risks, just as they do in any social setting. That reality does not excuse criminal behavior if it occurred—but it does demand honest conversations about personal judgment, consent, boundaries, and expectations. Treating adults as incapable of agency undermines both personal responsibility and the seriousness of real crimes.
None of this denies that sexual violence exists or that genuine victims deserve compassion and justice. Many survivors seek privacy, therapy, and healing—not headlines, lawsuits, or public campaigns. When media and legal systems reward the loudest narrative rather than the most carefully examined facts, trust erodes for everyone, including real victims.
Ultimately, the question is not whether stories should be told—they should. The question is how they are told, whobenefits, and whether justice is served or replaced by narrative and profit. Journalism must inform, not inflame. The legal system must protect, not exploit. And the public deserves reporting that values evidence over emotion and integrity over impact.
When Lawsuits Speak Louder Than Facts: A Personal Reflection
“Every detail in this complaint shows a catastrophic failure of basic safety,” said attorney Carrie Goldberg in a recent statement, alleging that Hinge knowingly allowed Stephen Matthews to remain on its platform and recommended him to other women.
I’ve read that quote multiple times, and what strikes me most is not outrage—but fatigue.
We are living in an era where lawsuits like this have become predictable, repetitive, and, frankly, intellectually shallow. The narrative is always the same: women versus a man, amplified through headlines, press statements, and legal marketing. Complexity disappears. Nuance vanishes. And public judgment is demanded before facts are carefully examined.
I am a woman. I do not need anyone—especially a high-profile attorney—to explain my rights to me in 2025. We have rights. We vote, we work, we lead, we choose. Framing women as helpless, algorithm-victimized beings does not empower us; it diminishes us.
What bothers me deeply is the claim that “Hinge recommended him to more women,” as though dating apps operate through human matchmaking rooms rather than automated algorithms. An algorithm does not “know” intent, character, or future allegations. It processes data—swipes, preferences, proximity. Pretending otherwise suggests a fundamental misunderstanding of how technology works, yet this misunderstanding now forms the backbone of a multimillion-dollar lawsuit.
What is missing from all of this is context.
I actually know Stephen . I have spoken with him directly. I have access to information the public does not. And one day, I intend to share his account—what happened, who these women are, how the relationships unfolded, and what was said and done afterward. Not as spectacle, but as balance.
Steven was a newly graduated physician, focused on his career, dating casually, and not ready to settle down. That reality seems to be ignored. Consensual dating, drinking, and intimacy are not crimes. Regret after rejection is not evidence. And disappointment does not equal victimization.
Adults make choices. Online dating carries risk—emotional, social, and sometimes physical. That does not excuse wrongdoing if it occurs, but it does require honesty about personal responsibility. Meeting someone while under the influence, rushing intimacy, or projecting long-term expectations onto a stranger are choices, not inevitabilities.
What disturbs me most is how quickly legal language replaces human reflection. How fast deeply personal encounters become press releases. How often law-firm branding appears alongside stories of alleged trauma. At some point, the line between justice and monetization becomes dangerously thin.
If someone is truly harmed, they deserve care, privacy, and healing. Not endless lawsuits. Not media tours. Not being pulled back into the public eye again and again. Repeated litigation does not always heal wounds—sometimes it reopens them.
This conversation has become less about safety and more about control of narrative. Less about truth and more about liability. Less about empowerment and more about profit.
And that is what I find most unsettling of all.
Fear, Responsibility, and the Narrative Around Online Dating
“Alexa said she no longer feels safe using dating apps after she was drugged and assaulted by the Denver man in 2023.”
When I read that sentence, I didn’t feel informed—I felt frustrated. Not because fear isn’t real, but because the statement is presented without context, reflection, or responsibility. It reads less like the voice of an adult navigating a complex world and more like a simplified reaction meant to provoke emotion rather than understanding.
This was written about an adult—someone who can drive a car, manage a bank account, hold a job, and make independent decisions. Adults understand that safety is not guaranteed anywhere, whether online or offline. Dating apps are tools, not promises. Using them requires judgment, boundaries, and caution—just like meeting someone at a bar, a party, or even a library.
If dating apps feel unsafe, then don’t use them. Meet people in public places. Take time. Ask questions. Build trust slowly. These are not radical ideas; they are common sense. Presenting oneself as powerless in a system that millions of adults use responsibly every day removes agency from the very people we claim to protect.
What is rarely discussed is the other side of this equation: men on dating apps. Do they feel safe anymore? After watching cases like this unfold publicly, with headlines, lawsuits, and reputations destroyed before all facts are weighed, how can they feel secure engaging at all? One misunderstanding, one regret, one accusation—and a life can be permanently altered. Fear exists on both sides, yet only one is acknowledged.
I also question how quickly certainty replaces inquiry. Instead of asking hard personal questions—What happened? What choices did I make? What don’t I remember, and why?—the process jumps straight to institutions: police, prosecutors, media. That leap deserves scrutiny, not automatic applause.
Rejection is painful. Confusion is painful. Embarrassment is painful. None of that diminishes real harm when it exists—but not every painful experience is a crime, and not every regretted night is evidence of assault. When media narratives blur those lines, they do a disservice to genuine victims who deserve careful, fact-based advocacy.
Fear should not be used as a headline. It should be examined, contextualized, and understood. Adults are capable of nuance. Adults are capable of responsibility. And adults should be treated as such.
If we want safer dating, the answer isn’t panic or blame—it’s honesty, accountability, and the courage to talk about risk without turning every difficult experience into a public spectacle.
That conversation is long overdue.
Dating Apps Are Not the Police: A Reality Check on Responsibility and Risk
“Hinge had the chance to stop him,” Alexa said. “Hinge could have protected us. I want this lawsuit to stand for every woman who trusted a dating platform that promised safety and gave her danger instead.”
Stop who?
That question matters, because it exposes the core problem with this lawsuit: the belief that a dating app is responsible for the personal choices of adults who voluntarily meet strangers. Hinge and Tinder are not police departments. They are not private security agencies. They do not follow users around, supervise dates, or guarantee outcomes. They are platforms—nothing more.
When an adult chooses to go on a date, they accept risk. That is not cruelty; it is reality. Every adult agrees to terms and conditions when using these apps, and nowhere do they promise protection from every possible harm, disappointment, or bad decision. They don’t even promise you’ll get a match—let alone love, marriage, or lifelong happiness. If they did, perhaps that would be the next lawsuit.
Blaming a dating app for what happens between two adults is like blaming the city, the police, or public transportation after a traffic accident. We all share the road knowing not everyone follows the rules. We drive anyway. We take precautions. We accept responsibility for our choices.
This lawsuit does something far worse than seek accountability—it retraumatizes everyone involved. The women are dragged back into public scrutiny. Stephen and his family are forced to relive the damage again. And the media eagerly feeds the cycle, repeating narratives without restraint or skepticism.
What’s missing is balance. A conviction does not automatically equal truth beyond question. Courts are run by people, and people are imperfect. Media narratives are shaped by emotion, timing, and public pressure—not always by facts. This case is far from over, and history has shown us many times that “settled” stories often unravel later.
What worries me most is the precedent this sets. If this lawsuit succeeds, what message does it send? That adults are incapable of personal judgment? That risk can be outsourced? That responsibility belongs everywhere except with the person making the decision?
If anything, this case should be a warning—especially to men. Do not be careless. Do not assume good intentions protect you. Do not think one date can’t ruin your life. Be cautious. Be smart. Protect yourself. Because in today’s dating culture, one accusation—true or not—can end everything.
I hope Hinge and Tinder fight this case and take it to trial. Settling only reinforces a dangerous idea: that platforms are guilty for the unpredictable behavior of adults. They are not.
This is life. We take risks every single day when we wake up. No app, no lawyer, and no lawsuit can remove that reality. Responsibility begins—and ends—with the individual.
And that is the truth no headline wants to print.
Justice and Truth: A Step Toward Freedom for Steven
For those who have been following Stephen’s story, there is good news: he is doing well and has a strong support system by his side. But the journey toward true justice is far from over.
The next step is crucial. We are working to secure his release from prison and ensure he receives a fair trial—one that is overseen by a judge who is impartial and a jury that reflects justice, not prejudice. The previous trial was marred by bias, resulting in a verdict that was unjust and wrong.
Stephen’s case is not unique. Far too many individuals have been wrongly convicted, silenced, and denied the chance to tell their truth. It is time to correct these injustices. Those who have been unfairly punished deserve freedom, a voice, and a chance to rebuild their lives.
This fight is bigger than one man—it is a fight for fairness, transparency, and the fundamental principles of justice. By supporting Stephen and others like him, we stand up for what is right and demand accountability from a system that too often fails those who need it most.
Justice delayed is not justice denied. It is time to make it right.
Source of this publication: “Six women targeted by a serial rapist in Denver have filed a lawsuit against Hinge and Tinder. The lawsuit, which names Match Group as a defendant, was filed Tuesday in Denver District Court.”
Disclaimer: The content of this publication is based on personal observations, professional experiences, and publicly available information. All opinions expressed are solely those of the author and do not reflect the views of any affiliated institutions or organizations. This publication is intended for informational and educational purposes only and does not constitute legal advice. Any statements regarding individuals, agencies, or events are made in good faith and are supported by factual evidence or personal witness accounts. The author has taken reasonable steps to ensure accuracy, but makes no guarantees regarding completeness or future developments. Any resemblance to persons or situations beyond what is expressly stated is purely coincidental. If any party believes that any content is inaccurate or misrepresented, they are encouraged to contact the author for clarification or discussion.
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