Bleeding at my typewriter

Annus horribilis

This will be my last column for 2017. And no, it is unfortunately not on a high note that I am ending. This year was crazy and emotional in so many ways, but one thing that hung over the year like a dark spectre was the Marthinus Pelser case. It became a part of my life that bordered on unhealthy. It touched and affected me on a personal level. First off, I know the mother and grandmother of the baby who was allegedly murdered in the cruellest fashion by his father, who was then 21. Secondly, my own little baby boy was born one week after the murder.

I was also there when Pelser was arrested after a member of the public tipped me off that she had seen his vehicle close to Clearwater Mall. To date, I have written about 32 articles on the case, and my colleague Michelle Swart and I have attended every one of Pelser’s court appearances. We became so well known at the Roodepoort Magistrates’ Court that we were greeted in the corridors and were on first name terms with court police officers who always kept us a front row seat. Our staple food during the long lunch times was slap tjips, Cokes and a shameful number of cigarettes. Every time this man stood a few metres away from me, I grappled with the reality that he had possibly murdered his six-month-old son Deon.

I experienced every emotion from sadness and anger to confusion. For the first time in my career, I would wrestle at night with this evil and my faith in humanity has corroded, I guess. As I am writing this (11 December), we are about to go to court for the case once again. Hopefully by the end of the week everyone affected will know Pelser’s fate and will finally be able to get closure. Including me. So anyway. For what it’s worth. Have a happy festive season. Not everyone’s going to.