Warning: This article contains references to sexual assault and drugging.
As Mama Hooch rapist brothers Danny and Roberto Jaz fight the length of their jail terms and some convictions, a third victim has successfully waived her right to name suppression. Alice Lichtnecker speaks to Katie Harris about surviving the attack, the brothers’ appeal and her hope for change.
Alice Lichtnecker knew she had to leave Christchurch after a supermarket trip in 2018 where she bumped into Danny Jaz, the Mama Hooch bar manager who had drugged and sexually assaulted her.
“He literally ran over to me and gave me a hug and was like, ‘we haven’t seen you in so long, you never come in anymore’,” she told the Herald as the two brothers fought against the length of their jail terms this month.
“It was shocking that they were still out and about like that.”
It was the second time she’d encountered the man who had abused her after she reported his actions to police.
Five years later, at his 2023 trial, Lichtnecker would learn the true extent of Jaz’s crimes, and how she, along with 22 other women, were targeted by him and his brother, Roberto Jaz.
Lichtnecker, who by then was living in Melbourne, would also learn an image of herself and a friend was sent to a group chat, she said, with words along the lines of: “These two in tonight, who wants it?”
Today, she joins fellow Mama Hooch survivors Sophie Brown and Danielle Gare in legally removing her automatic right to name suppression to tell her story publicly with the Herald.
Lichtnecker, Brown and Gare travelled to Christchurch last week to attend the brothers’ appeal.
The men are appealing some of their convictions and sentences; however, they are not disputing the charges they pleaded guilty to.
In 2023, the brothers were convicted of 69 charges between them, including rape, sexual violation, indecent assault, stupefying, disabling, making intimate recordings of women without their knowledge or consent and supplying illicit drugs.
Danny was sentenced to 16 and a half years in prison for drugging and/or violating 19 women.
Roberto was sentenced to 17 years behind bars for offending against eight women.
During last week’s hearing, the defence argued the judge failed to remain neutral, favouring the Crown’s case over the men’s right to present a defence.
The Crown opposed the appeal, saying while the trial was not perfect, the outcome was solid and right.
Auckland defence lawyer Ron Mansfield KC outlined a number of issues with the way the trial was handled, including Judge Paul Mabey “shutting down” evidence and not allowing the defence or Crown to deliver closing statements.
“This was a long, complex trial involving a number of defendants, a very large number of alleged victims or complainants, and a significantly large number of charges,” Mansfield said at the appeal.
Senior Crown counsel Charlotte Brook disagreed with the defence appeal argument and submitted that Judge Mabey’s process and final decision was sound and right.
While the Crown accepted that the decision not to allow closing addresses may have been erroneous, she argued the error did not give rise to a risk of a miscarriage of justice.
Lichtnecker said the hearing was overwhelming, but she felt fortunate to have the other survivors by her side.
“Last time around obviously we did it all not knowing anyone else involved. So having the support of the other girls there [at the appeal] was really lovely.
“I wasn’t as scared this time around.”
Lichtnecker was a “naive small town girl” when she initially visited Mama Hooch with friends in 2016.
She’d recently moved to the “big smoke” from Blenheim and loved to go out with her friends on Saturday nights to dance.
“I was just like any other poor student... I was just a normal girl in her early 20s.”
That first trip to Mama Hooch is still vivid in her mind.
“Something was off about the place. The feeling I woke up with, that unease in the morning, the fragmented memories.
“The whispers in my head were like, ‘mm-mm, not this place’.”
So she didn’t go back for a long time, maybe a year, she said.
But when Lichtnecker did return in 2017, Mama Hooch was the place to be, and Danny, whom she’d met at her earlier visit, recognised her “straight away”.
“I got to jump the line, I got to go straight in, drinks were flowing. I loved it. [I was] so poor, could not afford anything and getting handed free drinks, like, yeah, this is the dream.”
Over those nights out she began to view Danny as a friend, someone she could trust.
“I knew he had a wife and a family, and I knew I had no reason not to think that this was a safe person and I was going into a safe environment.
“This guy can have no hidden agenda, no intention. I can just come here and enjoy myself,” Lichtnecker had believed.
She can’t recall the exact night the assault Danny pleaded guilty to happened. It, like many of her nights at the venue, was blurry.
“I remember feeling super heavy and tired.”
She bee-lined to a booth, curled up in a ball and recalled something warm like a blanket being draped over her.
That, she said, was her last memory of the evening.
From then on, she began drinking excessively, in her view, trying to prove to herself she was responsible for the sexual assault she later learned had occurred.
“I became more promiscuous than I maybe ever had before, thinking that that was me taking control of a situation that I obviously had no control over. My self-worth was completely eroded.”
Besides one of Lichtnecker‘s best friends, and a supportive manager, she struggled to know whom she could talk to.
“Anytime I would talk about it with anyone else, there was a lot of blame put on me, a lot of shame. I remember I had to call in sick to work one day and I nearly lost my job over it for being unprofessional and taking it too far. The shame that I was carrying was huge.”
There was a lot of victim blaming, and questioning why she would take free drinks, she said, and she wished someone said to her at the time that what happened was a crime.
Lichtnecker ultimately came forward after seeing a Facebook post from Canterbury police seeking to speak to women who had negative experiences at the bar.
Later, she moved to Melbourne and her behaviour “flipped”.
“The effects isolated me. I completely stopped drinking. I never ever went out. I hated talking to men or strangers or being approached in any way.”
It’s taken years of therapy to help her understand her reaction to what happened.
Despite all the inner work she’s put in, the ramifications of the abuse is still there.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be that same girl and I don’t mourn her anymore. I don’t mourn the life that I maybe thought I wish I had in my 20s, had this not all been taken away from me. But definitely, it changed the trajectory of what I thought I was going to be doing.”
“It’s taken me a long time to use my voice,” Lichtnecker said.
In speaking up, she wants others to know they are not alone and that their voice has more power than they can understand.
“I want to stand in solidarity with the other women that were involved [in the case] that maybe don’t want to talk about it, but be there for them and be there for other survivors that are looking to find the confidence to come forward about their story too, whether that results in justice or it results in just being heard by someone.”
In coming forward publicly, she hopes just one person will find the strength to talk.
“I’m not here thinking, ‘I’m going to change the world’. I’m not here thinking, ‘I’m going to have this huge impact on everyone’s life’. But if I can help just one person, that will be more than enough.”
Katie Harris is an Auckland-based journalist who covers issues including sexual assault, workplace misconduct, media, crime and justice. She joined the Herald in 2020.
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