The murder trial of Senzo Meyiwa has long been one of South Africa’s most emotionally charged and closely watched legal proceedings.

Since the national football captain was shot and killed in October 2014, the case has been surrounded by public grief, intense media scrutiny, and lingering questions about what truly happened inside a house in Vosloorus that night.

More than eleven years later, the trial continues to unfold in dramatic fashion.

During a recent court session at the Pretoria High Court, attention shifted away from eyewitness accounts and toward something far less emotional but potentially just as powerful: digital phone records.

These records were presented during the cross-examination of accused number two, Bongani Ntanzi, by state prosecutor George Baloyi.

What emerged from that questioning was a revelation that immediately electrified the courtroom.

Investigators had discovered 1,718 calls between Ntanzi’s phone number and the number belonging to his girlfriend, identified in court as Lebo.

At first glance, frequent communication between partners might not seem remarkable.

But the timing of the calls made the discovery explosive.

The calls took place between June 17, 2020, and November 29, 2020.

Ntanzi had been arrested on June 16, 2020.

That meant every single one of those calls occurred after he was already in police custody.

The timeline instantly raised a troubling question.

If Ntanzi was locked in a prison cell, how could his phone number be making or receiving hundreds of calls?

Prosecutor Baloyi pressed the issue directly in court.

He pointed out that the massive volume of communication between the two numbers could not simply be dismissed as coincidence.

Yet there was another strange detail.

Despite the thousands of interactions, Lebo’s number was not saved in Ntanzi’s contact list.

When confronted with this, Ntanzi gave an explanation that some observers found unusual but not impossible.

He told the court that he knew her phone number by heart.

According to his testimony, Lebo would often call him after noticing his number appearing active on Facebook, because she wanted to know where he was.

But this explanation did little to resolve the deeper mystery.

If Ntanzi no longer had access to his phone after his arrest, how could the phone appear active on social media or be used to make hundreds of calls?

The defense has remained firm on one key point.

Ntanzi insists he never touched the phone after his arrest.

According to him, police officers confiscated the device on the day he was detained.

He testified that officers, including Sergeant Moane and Sergeant Mabuina, took possession of the phone and kept it.

In his version of events, the last time he physically held the phone was the day he was arrested.

He also denied sending any “please call me” messages during the months that followed.

Prosecutors referenced one such message allegedly sent to Sergeant Mabuina on October 22, 2020.

Ntanzi rejected the claim outright.

His defense essentially presents a bold alternative explanation: if the phone records show activity during that time, then someone else must have been using the phone.

That claim carries serious implications.

If it were proven that investigators themselves used the device after confiscating it, it could raise questions about the handling of evidence in the case.

But proving such a scenario would be extremely difficult.

In modern criminal trials, cell phone data has become one of the most powerful forms of evidence available to investigators.

Unlike human testimony, which can change or become inconsistent, digital records often provide precise timelines of communication.

Investigators frequently describe these records as “silent witnesses.”

They do not forget.

They do not reinterpret events.

They simply record when a phone connected with another device, where it was used, and how long the communication lasted.

In the Meyiwa trial, a Vodacom employee has already testified about the call records associated with Ntanzi’s number.

According to that testimony, the phone repeatedly contacted Lebo’s number during the months following Ntanzi’s arrest.

The pattern of calls moved both ways—outgoing and incoming—over a period of more than five months.

For prosecutors, this pattern strongly suggests that the phone was actively used by someone connected to the accused.

The records revealed additional activity beyond the calls to Lebo.

Court documents show the same phone made 33 outgoing calls to another contact saved under the name “Go.”

Those calls occurred between June 26 and November 11, 2020.

On November 11 alone, the phone reportedly placed two calls, one lasting about 160 seconds.

The device also received several incoming calls from Ntanzi’s mother during that same period.

Taken together, the data paints a picture of a phone that remained consistently active, communicating with multiple people for months after the accused was taken into custody.

For prosecutors, the implication is clear.

The phone was being used.

And someone connected to the accused likely had access to it.

For Ntanzi and his legal team, however, the central argument remains unchanged.

They insist the phone was no longer under his control.

This dispute is unfolding within a trial that has captivated South Africa since the death of Senzo Meyiwa, one of the nation’s most admired sports figures.

On October 26, 2014, Meyiwa was shot inside the Vosloorus home of his girlfriend at the time, singer Kelly Khumalo.

Initial reports suggested that armed intruders had entered the house and that Meyiwa was shot during a robbery.

The explanation sparked widespread debate and speculation.

As captain of Bafana Bafana and goalkeeper for Orlando Pirates, Meyiwa was not just an athlete—he was a national icon.

His death shocked millions of fans.

Across the country, tributes poured in from teammates, supporters, and ordinary citizens who admired his leadership and talent.

But as years passed without arrests, frustration began to grow.

For nearly six years, the investigation appeared stalled.

Then in 2020, five men were arrested and charged with murder and related offenses.

All five accused have pleaded not guilty.

Since the trial began, it has been marked by dramatic developments.

Some accused individuals initially made statements that were later withdrawn.

Defense lawyers have claimed that confessions were obtained through torture.

Prosecutors and defense attorneys have repeatedly clashed over the admissibility of evidence.

Presiding over the proceedings is Judge Tshifhiwa Maumela, who must carefully weigh every piece of testimony and documentation presented before the court.

Ultimately, the judge must decide whether the state has proven its case beyond a reasonable doubt.

In that process, credibility becomes crucial.

If the court determines that an accused person has been dishonest about important details, it can influence how the rest of their testimony is interpreted.

That is why the question surrounding Ntanzi’s phone activity carries such significance.

If the court believes he did have access to the phone, it could undermine his credibility.

But if his claim that police controlled the device is somehow supported, it could raise serious questions about the investigation itself.

Beyond the courtroom, the revelations have reignited debate about prison security in South Africa.

Contraband cell phones have long been a problem in correctional facilities.

Authorities regularly conduct raids to confiscate illegal devices smuggled into prisons.

In some cases, these phones have been used to coordinate criminal activities from behind bars.

If Ntanzi was somehow able to communicate through a phone while detained, it would highlight the ongoing difficulty of preventing inmates from accessing mobile devices.

On the other hand, if investigators mishandled or misused the phone after confiscation, that would present an entirely different and equally troubling issue.

For the family of Senzo Meyiwa, each new twist in the trial brings a mix of hope and pain.

More than eleven years have passed since the night their son, brother, and hero was killed.

They have attended court sessions for years, waiting for answers and justice.

Across South Africa, millions of people continue to follow the trial closely.

Every revelation has the potential to reshape public understanding of what happened that night in Vosloorus.

And now, a single question echoes louder than ever.

If Bongani Ntanzi truly did not have his phone while sitting in prison…

Who made the 1,718 calls?

The answer to that question could influence not only Ntanzi’s credibility but the entire direction of a trial that seeks to finally uncover the truth behind the killing of one of South Africa’s most beloved football legends.