The life that little girl could have lived has been taken from me forever
In a Nevada courtroom in April 2026, a man who had built his identity around spiritual healing was sentenced to at least 37 years in prison for the calculated sexual assault of Indigenous women and girls over nearly two decades. Nathan Chasing Horse, once known to audiences as a young Sioux warrior in Dances With Wolves, had turned the sacred trust of a medicine man into an instrument of predation — telling at least one victim, who was 14 when the abuse began, that the spirits themselves demanded her compliance. The sentence names what was done, but as the victims themselves have said, the law can close a chapter without restoring what was written over.
- A man entrusted with the spiritual welfare of Indigenous communities used that sacred role as cover for nearly 20 years of calculated sexual abuse.
- One victim was 14 when the assault began — told that surrendering herself was a spiritual obligation required to save her dying mother.
- Three women came forward to testify, their accounts forming a pattern prosecutors described as a deliberately spun web of manipulation and exploitation.
- The jury convicted Chasing Horse on 13 of 21 charges; Judge Jessica Peterson sentenced him to a minimum of 37 years, calling out his exploitation of his victims' faith directly from the bench.
- For the women who testified, the verdict is a form of acknowledgment — but the childhoods, milestones, and futures that were taken from them remain irretrievable.
Nathan Chasing Horse arrived in Nevada courtrooms in April 2026 carrying a carefully constructed identity: a medicine man, a healer, a spiritual guide sought out by Indigenous communities across the United States and Canada. What prosecutors revealed was something else — a man who had spent nearly two decades using that reputation to sexually assault the women and girls who came to him for help.
Chasing Horse, who appeared in the 1990 Oscar-winning film Dances With Wolves, was convicted on 13 of 21 charges. Three women testified. One of them, Corena Leone-LaCroix, was 14 years old when the abuse began. He had told her that the spirits required her to surrender her virginity in order to save her mother, who was dying of cancer. In court, she described what had been taken from her: her childhood, her first experiences, a graduation she never had. "The life that little girl could have lived," she said, "has been taken from me forever."
Deputy district attorney Bianca Pucci described the abuse as methodical — a web spun across years, targeting women who came to Chasing Horse seeking spiritual or medical guidance. Judge Jessica Peterson, in handing down a sentence of at least 37 years, addressed him plainly: he had preyed on his victims' spirituality and manipulated their faith for his own gratification. The particular cruelty the judge named was not only the assault itself, but the corruption of the very frameworks these women had trusted.
Chasing Horse maintained his innocence throughout. The jury did not agree. He will be eligible for parole after 37 years — likely spending the rest of his life incarcerated. For Leone-LaCroix and the others who testified, the sentence is a form of reckoning. But it cannot undo what was done. The stolen years do not return simply because the law has finally spoken their name.
Nathan Chasing Horse walked into courtrooms across Nevada carrying a reputation that had taken decades to build. At 49, he was known to Indigenous communities across the United States and Canada as a medicine man—a spiritual guide, a healer, someone people sought out when they needed help. What the court heard in April 2026 was a different story entirely: a man who had weaponized that trust, using his position to sexually assault Indigenous women and girls over nearly two decades.
Chasing Horse, who appeared in the 1990 Oscar-winning film Dances With Wolves as a young Sioux warrior, was convicted of 13 charges out of 21 he faced. Three women testified about their assaults. One of them, Corena Leone-LaCroix, was 14 years old when the abuse began. She came forward publicly, and her words in the Nevada courtroom carried the weight of stolen time. "There is no way to get back the youth, the childhood loss, my first time, my first kiss, the graduation I never got to have," she said. "The life that little girl could have lived has been taken from me forever."
The pattern prosecutors laid out was methodical and calculated. Deputy district attorney Bianca Pucci described how Chasing Horse had "spun a web of abuse" across nearly two decades, targeting women who came to him seeking spiritual guidance or medical help. He told Leone-LaCroix that the spirits demanded she surrender her virginity to save her mother, who was dying of cancer. He framed sexual assault as spiritual necessity. The victims attended his ceremonies. They trusted him. They believed him.
Judge Jessica Peterson, in sentencing him to at least 37 years in prison, was direct about what she saw. "You preyed on women's spirituality," she told him. "You manipulated them for your own personal gratification." The judge's words cut to the particular cruelty of what Chasing Horse had done—he had not simply assaulted these women. He had corrupted the very spiritual frameworks they relied on, turning their faith into a weapon against them.
Chasing Horse maintained his innocence throughout the trial, but the jury did not believe him. The evidence and testimony were sufficient to convict him on 13 counts. He will be eligible for parole after serving 37 years, meaning he will spend the remainder of his middle age and likely his entire old age behind bars. For Leone-LaCroix and the other women who testified, the sentence marks an endpoint of sorts—a moment when the legal system acknowledged what had been done to them. But it does not restore what was taken. A childhood cannot be returned. A graduation that never happened cannot be rescheduled. The formative experiences that were stolen remain stolen.
Citas Notables
There is no way to get back the youth, the childhood loss, my first time, my first kiss, the graduation I never got to have.— Corena Leone-LaCroix, victim
You preyed on women's spirituality. You manipulated them for your own personal gratification.— Judge Jessica Peterson
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
What made him effective at this? Why did people trust him so completely?
He had built a real reputation over years. He was a medicine man—that's not a casual title. People came to him in genuine need, often at their most vulnerable. And he had the cultural authority to make spiritual claims that felt true to them.
So the spirituality wasn't fake on his part—he actually believed it?
The court didn't establish that. What matters is that he used it as a tool. Whether he believed it or not, he weaponized it. He told a 14-year-old girl that the spirits wanted her to give up her virginity. That's not spiritual guidance. That's predation dressed in spiritual language.
How does a community recover from something like this? The trust is poisoned.
It is. And it's particularly damaging in Indigenous communities where spiritual practices are already under pressure, already carrying historical trauma. He didn't just harm three women. He damaged the credibility of legitimate spiritual leaders and practices.
The sentence is 37 years minimum. Does that feel adequate to you?
He'll be 86 if he serves the full term. For Leone-LaCroix, who lost her childhood at 14, that's a long time but it's not time she gets back. The sentence acknowledges the harm. Whether it's adequate depends on whether you believe punishment can ever match what was taken.
What happens to his reputation now?
It's destroyed, and it should be. But the real question is what happens to the trust Indigenous women have in spiritual leaders going forward. That's the longer damage.