In a candid and emotional interview, Tebogo Thobejane has finally spoken out about her relationship with Vusi Cat Matlala and the harrowing shooting incident that left her wheelchair-bound.
After months of speculation and silence, Tebogo’s revelations shed light on a complex and disturbing story involving power, influence, and a lack of accountability within South Africa’s justice system.
Tebogo opens up about the devastating impact the shooting has had on her life.
She reveals that she has not been able to walk for two years and is currently undergoing physiotherapy to regain mobility.
Despite the trauma, she does not harbor blame toward Vusi Cat Matlala or his family, emphasizing that no one would want to end her life without reason.
However, she admits that the end of their relationship was far from amicable due to undisclosed events linked to the case.
The shooting left Tebogo severely injured, and her life has been irrevocably altered.
Yet, the most painful part of her ordeal seems to be the lack of support from government institutions.
“Not one government institution, not anything has come up to us and checked if we’re okay,” she says.
Instead, she has witnessed infighting and finger-pointing among officials, with little regard for the victims’ safety or well-being.
Tebogo expresses frustration at the slow progress in cracking the case.
She believes the police had solved it long ago but were hindered by influence and power, which delayed arrests and justice.
This delay has left victims feeling vulnerable and unprotected.
She also addresses the chilling effect of political leadership on victims coming forward.
Following statements made by the president, Tebogo fears that many victims might retract their testimonies due to a lack of confidence in the system.
“He did not fulfill any confidence that he actually made us more afraid,” she states, underscoring the ongoing climate of fear surrounding the case.
Public opinion has not been kind to Tebogo.
She acknowledges that some people blame her for the incident, suggesting she was associating with the wrong crowd.
She challenges this narrative, explaining that in her industry, it is common for women to interact with men who may be compromised in some way.
“Our culture is so used to women being killed, women deserving this,” she says, highlighting the pervasive victim-blaming mentality in South Africa.
Tebogo recounts how she mingled with policemen, businessmen, and security personnel, believing she was in safe company.
The betrayal she feels is compounded by the fact that the man who attacked her was involved in the security business, a sector that should guarantee safety.
One of the most alarming aspects of Tebogo’s story is her mistrust of the state and its institutions.
She reveals that the deeper authorities investigate, the more complicated and dangerous the situation appears.
This has forced her to take her own security measures, which she finances herself, as she feels abandoned by the state.
Being made a “poster child” for the crimes committed by Vusi Cat Matlala places Tebogo in a precarious position.
She lives in constant fear because of the extensive criminal network and police ties linked to Matlala.
Many people connected to him might suspect she knows incriminating information, placing her in further danger.
Tebogo hints at the dark and disturbing nature of her relationship with Matlala and others involved.
She refrains from disclosing details on air, citing the fragility of the case and the need to wait for court proceedings.
However, she does not hesitate to describe the people behind the case as “very, very dark,” accusing them of sleeping peacefully despite having caused immense harm.
Her concern extends to Japan, a young woman who was with her during the shooting and is now wheelchair-bound.
Tebogo speaks passionately about the lack of support for Japan and her family, who struggle to cover medical bills and living expenses.
She advocates for the state to compensate victims of such violent crimes, similar to how road accident victims receive support.
Tebogo’s story is not isolated but part of a broader crisis of violence against women in South Africa.
The country grapples with high rates of femicide and gender-based violence, often exacerbated by systemic failures in law enforcement and social support systems.
Her experience exposes the chilling reality that even women who are connected to influential circles or security sectors are not safe.
The culture of victim-blaming and the slow wheels of justice create an environment where perpetrators operate with impunity.
The public has been eager for Tebogo to speak, as many found the circumstances surrounding the shooting suspicious from the start.
Commentators note that such violent acts rarely happen without underlying causes or connections.
However, because those involved often belong to shady or powerful networks, the full truth remains obscured.
Many South Africans express frustration that these cases are frequently hidden or brushed aside, leaving victims without closure.
The anticipation builds as the courts prepare to reveal more details about the shooting and the people involved.
Tebogo’s decision to speak out is a courageous step toward breaking the silence around this case and the broader issue of violence against women.
Her call for accountability and victim support highlights critical gaps in South Africa’s justice and social welfare systems.
She has also taken the initiative to start a foundation aimed at helping victims who have nowhere else to turn.
This foundation seeks to provide financial and emotional support to those affected by violent crimes, filling a void left by the state.
Tebogo Thobejane’s story is a stark reminder of the dangers women face in South Africa and the urgent need for systemic change.
Her experience with Vusi Cat Matlala reveals a tangled web of crime, corruption, and neglect that continues to threaten the safety and dignity of victims.
As the legal process unfolds, the nation watches closely, hoping for justice and reform.
Tebogo’s voice adds a powerful perspective to the conversation, demanding that victims be heard, protected, and supported—not forgotten.
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