
Netflix’s “Beauty & The Bester” Sparks Outrage: Why Did Pearl Thusi Refuse to Call the Police?
Netflix’s latest documentary, “Beauty & The Bester,” has ignited a storm of controversy across social media and public forums, drawing viewers into a tangled web of crime, complicity, and the blurred lines between victimhood and accountability.
At the center of this heated debate is the high-profile figure Pearl Thusi, whose refusal to call the police during a critical moment in the saga has left audiences questioning her motives and the documentary’s intentions.
But as the details unravel, a deeper story emerges—one that exposes uncomfortable truths about justice, media framing, and the overlooked suffering of the real victims.
The documentary attempts to chronicle the notorious relationship between Dr. Nandipha Magudumana and the convicted criminal Thabo Bester, a man whose crimes have shocked South Africa.
From the outset, “Beauty & The Bester” positions itself as an investigative deep-dive into a case that has captivated the nation.
Yet, as viewers quickly realized, the narrative takes a controversial turn by casting Nandipha in a sympathetic light, even as mounting evidence points to her active involvement in Bester’s criminal activities.

Social media exploded in response, with many accusing the filmmakers of manipulating the audience’s emotions and downplaying Nandipha’s agency in the unfolding tragedy.
One particularly vocal commenter, @Peachcobler22, encapsulated the public’s frustration: “I was so annoyed by this docu.
The attempt to frame Nandipha as some sort of victim, when she knowingly allowed a convicted unaliver and grapist around her kids for close to a year, when she went to the mortuary multiple times to secure corpses, when she was willing to flee the country with her convict and leave her kids behind.
But the most hurtful thing is how the Bereng family, whose son was unalived and his body later burnt, is not even centered in this matter. It’s absolutely heartbreaking.”
This comment, echoed by dozens of others, highlights the documentary’s most glaring omission: the sidelining of the Bereng family, whose son’s murder and subsequent desecration form the dark heart of the entire case.
Instead of focusing on the unimaginable grief and injustice suffered by the Berengs, the film appears to divert attention to the more sensational aspects of the story—celebrity involvement, dramatic escapes, and ambiguous moral choices.
Nowhere is this ambiguity more evident than in the actions of Pearl Thusi.
A respected actress and media personality, Pearl’s refusal to call the police when confronted with evidence of Thabo Bester’s continued criminality has become a lightning rod for criticism.
Many viewers are asking: Why did she hesitate? Was it out of fear, misplaced loyalty, or a deeper mistrust of law enforcement?

The documentary offers little in the way of answers, instead leaving the audience to speculate and debate.
Some argue that Pearl’s actions reflect a broader societal issue—a lack of faith in the justice system, or perhaps a reluctance to become entangled in a case with powerful and dangerous figures.
Others, however, see her inaction as indefensible, especially given the stakes involved and the suffering of innocent victims.
“There was absolutely no need for Pearl to involve herself in this,” wrote one commenter, while another added, “Aiy naye uPearl I’m not surprised by her actions…she always has to be isterring.”
The controversy has only intensified following Netflix’s decision to release the documentary despite widespread calls for reconsideration.
Critics accuse the streaming giant of prioritizing sensationalism and viewership over ethical storytelling and the dignity of those most affected by the crimes.
The Bereng family, in particular, has been left feeling invisible—a painful reminder of how media narratives can erase the humanity of victims in favor of more marketable storylines.
At its core, “Beauty & The Bester” is not just a story about crime and punishment; it is a mirror held up to society’s deepest anxieties about justice, complicity, and the power of narrative.
The film’s attempt to humanize Nandipha, while sidelining the bereaved and traumatized, has forced viewers to confront uncomfortable questions: Who gets to be seen as a victim?
Whose pain is worthy of attention? And what responsibilities do public figures like Pearl Thusi bear when faced with evil?
As the debate rages on, one thing is clear: the real story is not just about Thabo Bester’s crimes or Nandipha’s choices, but about the enduring impact on the families left behind and the society that must grapple with the fallout.
In the end, “Beauty & The Bester” may be remembered less for its revelations and more for the conversations it has sparked—a reminder that in the pursuit of truth, the voices of the most vulnerable must never be drowned out by the noise of spectacle.