The Irregular Appointment That Changed Everything: New Revelations About the Senzo Meyiwa Investigation

The latest disclosures emerging from the Madlanga Commission have reopened some of the most troubling questions surrounding the investigation into the murdєr of Senzo Meyiwa.

What initially appeared to be a long-running controversy over investigative authority has now crystallized into a far more serious institutional problem: the alleged irregular appointment of Brigadier Gininda as lead investigator, not by the South African Police Service, but by a private civilian, Paul O’Sullivan.

This revelation was placed firmly on the parliamentary record during testimony before Parliament’s ad hoc committee, delivered through a detailed affidavit by former acting National Police Commissioner General Pashani.

His evidence, running to hundreds of pages, has fundamentally altered the public understanding of how the Meyiwa investigation was structured, who exercised real power behind the scenes, and whether proper legal authority was ever respected.

For years, the question of whether Brigadier Gininda was legitimately the lead investigator in the Senzo Meyiwa case has divided courtrooms, investigators, and public opinion.

Some officers involved in the case, including Warrant Officer Maku, who opened docket 375—the parallel docket concluding that there were no intruders at the crime scene—testified before the Pretoria High Court that there was, in fact, no single lead investigator.

According to this testimony, all investigators were operating on the same level, making Gininda’s repeated assertions that he was “the lead investigator” both puzzling and controversial.

General Pashani’s testimony has now added a critical missing piece.

According to his affidavit, Brigadier Gininda’s appointment as lead investigator did not originate from any formal SAPS structure.

Instead, it came directly from Paul O’Sullivan, a private forensic investigator with no official standing inside the South African Police Service.

This alone raises profound constitutional and procedural concerns.

A civilian, no matter how influential or experienced, has no lawful authority to appoint senior investigators in a criminal case of this magnitude.

The situation becomes even more disturbing when examining how Gininda allegedly learned of this appointment.

Pashani’s evidence suggests that Gininda became aware of his role as “lead investigator” through a letter issued during his promotion—communicated to him by General Shadrack Sibiya.

In other words, at the moment Gininda was being elevated in rank, he was simultaneously informed that he had been appointed lead investigator by O’Sullivan, with General Sibiya acting as the conduit.

 

This chain of events raises an unavoidable question: how did a private individual like O’Sullivan come to exercise such influence within SAPS structures? And why was a serving general facilitating and formalizing what appears to be an irregular, possibly unlawful appointment?

Paul O’Sullivan, as emphasized repeatedly in the Madlanga Commission, is not a member of SAPS.

He is not subject to police command structures, internal disciplinary codes, or parliamentary oversight.

Yet, according to Pashani’s affidavit, he appears to have been deeply embedded within police investigative processes, exerting influence over appointments, promotions, and operational direction.

The affidavit paints a picture of a man who, despite being a civilian, was “all over” the SAPS, particularly in sensitive units and high-profile cases.

General Shadrack Sibiya’s role in this unfolding story is equally troubling.

Throughout the Madlanga Commission and in public statements, Sibiya has consistently denied any involvement in the Senzo Meyiwa investigation.

He maintains that on the day of Meyiwa’s murdєr, he arrived at the scene much later, like any other person who had heard of the tragedy, and that he played no official role thereafter.

He has pointed out that he never gave a formal statement in the Meyiwa investigation and was never called as a witness in the trial.

However, these denials stand in stark contrast to evidence that has emerged from court testimony.

Witnesses have stated that General Sibiya arrived at the crime scene shortly after the shooting and issued instructions that had a direct impact on the integrity of the investigation.

In particular, testimony has emerged that he ordered Warrant Officer Maku to have the crime scene cleaned.

If true, such an instruction would represent a catastrophic breach of investigative protocol, potentially contaminating or destroying crucial evidence.

This alleged conduct directly contradicts Sibiya’s claims of non-involvement and suggests a hidden, informal exercise of authority—authority that was never recorded on official documents but was nevertheless operationally decisive.

The same pattern appears to repeat in note after note: General Sibiya does not formally appear on paper, yet his influence surfaces repeatedly at pivotal moments, shaping outcomes without accountability.

The irregular appointment of Brigadier Gininda must be understood against this broader backdrop.

Gininda did not simply emerge as a lead investigator by coincidence or merit-based promotion within SAPS.

According to the evidence now before Parliament, his role was the product of an external civilian appointment, relayed and legitimized internally by General Sibiya.

This arrangement bypassed established SAPS hierarchies, internal checks, and legal safeguards.

For critics, this confirms long-held suspicions that the Meyiwa investigation was compromised from its earliest stages.

If the lead investigator was appointed unlawfully, then every decision flowing from that appointment becomes vulnerable to legal challenge.

Chain-of-command integrity, evidentiary decisions, witness handling, and investigative priorities all fall under a cloud of illegitimacy.

The implications extend far beyond Brigadier Gininda as an individual.

If a civilian could appoint a lead investigator in one of South Africa’s most high-profile murdєr cases, what does that say about institutional control within SAPS at the time? Who else may have been appointed, directed, or influenced through informal networks rather than lawful authority? And how many cases may have been similarly compromised without public knowledge?

General Pashani’s affidavit does not merely criticize individuals; it exposes a system that appears to have allowed external actors to penetrate its core.

His testimony suggests that O’Sullivan’s influence was not incidental but structural, enabled and reinforced by senior officers like Sibiya.

This creates a disturbing picture of blurred lines between state power and private influence, where accountability is diluted and lawful process becomes optional.

Equally concerning is the timing of these alleged actions.

At points when General Sibiya was no longer a serving member of SAPS—having been dismissed in 2015 and only reinstated in 2022—he nevertheless appears to have been involved in discussions and decisions relating to the Meyiwa investigation.

Court testimony indicates that in 2019, when Sibiya was a civilian, he met with investigators, including Constable Zungu, regarding the case.

This raises further questions about how and why a non-member of SAPS was permitted to participate in operational policing matters.

Wherever General Sibiya’s name appears, controversy follows.

His career trajectory—dismissal, reinstatement, and now suspension—reflects a pattern that has left many South Africans deeply uneasy.

The Madlanga Commission has now brought these issues into sharper focus, transforming what were once whispered allegations into sworn testimony and documentary evidence.

For the public, the revelation about Brigadier Gininda’s appointment is more than a procedural technicality.

It strikes at the heart of trust in the criminal justice system.

The Senzo Meyiwa case is not just another murdєr trial; it is a national trauma, watched closely by millions who want closure, truth, and justice.

Any indication that the investigation was manipulated or unlawfully directed undermines confidence not only in this case, but in SAPS as an institution.

As matters stand, the Madlanga Commission has opened a door that cannot easily be closed.

Parliament’s ad hoc committee is now in possession of evidence suggesting irregular appointments, unauthorized influence, and concealed involvement by senior figures.

Whether these revelations will lead to criminal charges, disciplinary action, or institutional reform remains to be seen.

What is certain is that the narrative surrounding the Senzo Meyiwa investigation has shifted decisively.

Brigadier Gininda’s repeated claims to be the lead investigator must now be understood in context.

According to the evidence, that title did not come from lawful SAPS appointment processes, but from the behest of a civilian forensic investigator, communicated through a senior general whose own role is under serious scrutiny.

This reality fundamentally alters how Gininda’s testimony and authority should be assessed.

In the coming weeks, the fallout from these disclosures is likely to intensify.

Calls for accountability will grow louder, legal teams will revisit old evidence with new questions, and the public will demand answers that go beyond technical explanations.

The Senzo Meyiwa case has already taken many turns.

The Madlanga Commission has now revealed one of its most unsettling yet: that those tasked with finding the truth may themselves have been appointed, guided, and influenced in ways that defy the rule of law.

What happens next will test the resilience of South Africa’s justice system.

It will determine whether irregular power can finally be confronted, or whether it will once again fade into obscurity behind closed doors.