In South Africa, the murdєr of a public figure can reveal more than just a tragic loss – it can expose the very failures of the justice system.

This is exactly what happened when DJ Waras, a beloved figure in the South African entertainment industry, was gunned down in broad daylight outside a restaurant in Johannesburg.

His death raised many questions that still remain unanswered, but it also revealed a deeply concerning reality about the intersection of fame, betrayal, and systemic corruption within law enforcement.

DJ Waras wasn’t just a radio presenter or a popular podcaster.

He was a mentor to young musicians, a businessman who understood the complexities of contracts and royalties, and someone who had the foresight to protect his financial interests.

But it was this business acumen that may have ultimately led to his death.

Nathi, as Waras was known in his personal life, was involved in more than just music.

He ran a private security company and had become deeply involved in the high-stakes world of reclaiming hijacked buildings in Johannesburg’s central business district.

These buildings, taken over by criminal syndicates, generated massive illegal income through rent extortion and other illicit activities.

His attempt to wrest control back from these criminals put a target on his back.

The evening he was killed, Waras had been at a recording studio in Durban.

He was relaxed and excited about his upcoming projects
.

Later that night, he was supposed to meet someone at a restaurant in the Morningside area.

Surveillance footage shows him arriving and sitting in his car for several minutes, apparently on his phone, before a second vehicle – a white VW Polo – parked beside him.

What happened next is still a mystery.

Witnesses say they saw Waras approach the car, but after that, he was found dead between the two vehicles, bleeding heavily from multiple stab wounds.

At first glance, this might seem like a robbery gone wrong, but a deeper investigation quickly revealed that this wasn’t the case.

Waras’s phone was missing, but his wallet and cash were left untouched.

The missing phone was the key to unraveling what had happened.

It became evident that Waras wasn’t just a random victim – he was specifically targeted.

When investigators examined Waras’s phone records, they found that in the days leading up to his death, he had been in constant contact with his former business partner, Zenil Kimalo.

Their relationship had been fraught with tension.

They had co-founded a music production company that managed Waras’s career, but their romantic relationship had soured.

The pair had recently been in legal talks regarding a buyout of Zenil’s share in the company.

This business disagreement had escalated into a bitter conflict, and Waras had even consulted an attorney about it.

The night before the murdєr, Waras texted Zenil about the buyout, stating, “Tonight we end this one way or another.

Bring the real books or I bring my lawyer Monday.

” This message, along with others accusing Zenil of financial misconduct, established the motive for her to act.

She had been stealing money from the company, and if Waras followed through on his threat to involve lawyers or the police, Zenil faced not only losing the company but also potential criminal charges.

When investigators interviewed Zenil, her alibi started to fall apart.

She claimed she had received a text from Waras saying he needed to reschedule their meeting, but when asked to show the message, she admitted to deleting it.

Further investigation revealed that her phone had pinged near the restaurant at the time of the murdєr, contradicting her claim that she had never gone.

She later adjusted her story, claiming she had driven near the restaurant but had turned back after receiving a call from another client.

DNA evidence also placed Zenil at the scene.

A single hair recovered from Waras’s defensive wounds matched Zenil’s DNA profile.

Though she argued the hair was transferred innocently, investigators pointed out that it was more likely that Waras had grabbed his attacker during the struggle.

The defense, however, tried to downplay this evidence by claiming the DNA could have been contaminated.

The final blow came when forensic investigators discovered that Waras’s phone had been backed up to iCloud shortly before his death.

This cloud backup revealed escalating conflict between Waras and Zenil, including texts accusing her of embezzling money.

These messages painted a clear picture of Zenil’s financial motive and provided critical evidence of premeditation.

The physical evidence, combined with the financial irregularities, led to Zenil’s arrest.

A search of her apartment revealed clothes with blood stains, a journal detailing her anger toward Waras, and further evidence linking her to the crime.

Despite her claims of innocence, the mounting evidence made it clear that she had a significant role in Waras’s murdєr.

During the trial, Zenil’s defense team tried to argue that the prosecution’s case was based on circumstantial evidence.

They pointed out the lack of a murdєr weapon and the inconsistencies in the cell phone location data.

However, the prosecution countered with overwhelming evidence that connected Zenil to the crime.

They highlighted the threatening messages, the forensic evidence, and the financial motive that Zenil had to silence Waras.

The trial’s outcome was a landmark moment for South Africa’s criminal justice system.

Zenil was found guilty of murdєr, with the court recognizing the financial motive and premeditation behind the crime.

She was sentenced to 25 years in prison, with the possibility of parole after serving two-thirds of her sentence.

The public reaction was mixed.

While many celebrated the conviction as a victory for justice, others expressed concern about the way the case was handled, particularly the role that gender dynamics played in the trial.

Some critics argued that the case reflected a deeper societal issue of gender-based violence and the need for a more nuanced approach to understanding how violence manifests in intimate relationships and business partnerships.

The case also brought attention to the vulnerabilities of South Africa’s music industry, where financial disputes and personal conflicts can escalate into violence.

Several organizations have called for better safety protocols and support systems for artists navigating these complexities.

In the wake of Waras’s death, his family established a foundation to provide legal and financial literacy education to emerging artists, hoping to prevent future conflicts like the one that led to his murdєr.

The murdєr of Waras also highlighted the weaknesses in South Africa’s legal system.

Despite the conviction, many questions remain about how the system failed to intervene before the violence occurred.

Nathy had sought legal help, he had warned Zenil about her actions, but the system couldn’t protect him until it was too late.

The case serves as a grim reminder that, even when everything seems to be in order, the justice system often fails to act before it’s too late.

Nathy’s death could have been avoided if the signs had been taken seriously earlier.

His story is a tragic example of how unresolved financial disputes and personal grievances can spiral into violence, with devastating consequences for everyone involved.

As we watch the aftermath of this trial, the question remains: how can South Africa’s justice system better address these issues before they escalate? Can it learn from this case and implement reforms that protect people like Nathy? Or will the cycle of violence, betrayal, and impunity continue unchecked?