On a warm Thursday evening near the heart of the University of Arizona campus, three friends were crossing East Second Street at Euclid Avenue when tragedy struck. According to police, a white 2019 Porsche Boxster, driven by 19-year-old Louis John Artal, was speeding northbound on Euclid and slammed into the three pedestrians in a marked crosswalk around 11 p.m. The two young men, 21-year-old Sophia Akimi Troetel and 22-year-old Josiah Patrick Santos, were pronounced dead at the scene. The third friend, 20-year-old Katya Castillo‑Mendoza, was critically injured and later removed from life support after her family’s heartbreaking decision.
What makes this loss so wrenching is not just the youth of those involved, but the light they carried with them. Katya, described by friends and family as warm-hearted and full of joy, had been walking with her friends on what should have been an ordinary evening out. Instead it became anything but ordinary. Her friends remember her bright smile, her caring nature, the laughter she brought into rooms just by being there. In the wake of her passing, that memory now burns brighter because it’s gone too soon.
For the university community, the news hit like a thunderclap. An alert was sent at 11:09 p.m. warning students of road closures near the campus intersection. The suspect later turned himself in and was arrested, charged with two counts of second-degree murder, aggravated assault with serious injury, and leaving the scene of an accident resulting in death. Authorities say substances in his system may have played a role in the crash.
While Troetel and Santos’ families face the unimaginable finality of losing a child, Katya’s family has been forced into the unbearable waiting and then the final letting-go. Reports say her loved ones made the decision to remove her from life support after doctors told them there was no meaningful recovery. For many who knew her, the sense of “if only” hangs heavy — if only the driver had slowed, if only they’d waited a moment longer, if only Katya’s laughter could still echo in the halls of her life.
In moments like these we’re forced to slow down and reckon not only with loss, but with how precious every moment truly is. Katya, in her short years, had already woven warmth and kindness into the lives around her. She had been the sister, daughter, friend who brought joy, who held others close, who made people feel seen. That’s the legacy she leaves behind — not a long life, but a deeply felt one.
As the campus and her community grieve, they’re also gathering to honor her memory. Candles, notes, and quiet gatherings have sprung up in her name. Her life, though far too brief, stands as a reminder: cherish the people you walk with, the moments you share, the smiles that greet the world. Katya’s story is not just about tragedy—it’s about the light she carried, and how that light refuses to be extinguished even in death.
Rest in peace, Katya Castillo-Mendoza — your warmth, your spirit, your laughter live on in every person you touched. And may the rest of us hold tighter to one another, slower in our steps, more mindful of how easily life can change.
