It is a terrible irony that, as we lit candles last week for the 11 women whose bodies were found dumped along the R21 and near rivers and roadsides in Ekurhuleni, the country’s second-most powerful police officer was sitting in a holding cell at the Randburg magistrate’s court.
On 21 September 2026, while forensic teams were still combing the grass in Clayville for clues in the women’s murders, the Commission’s Recommendations Task Team (CRTT) arrested its own deputy national commissioner for crime detection, Lieutenant-General Shadrack Sibiya, at The Grand Club in Sandton.
The man who was supposed to lead the country’s detectives, the man responsible for catching killers — now stands accused of predatory conduct himself. This is one reason GBVF remains so stubbornly prevalent in South Africa.
According to the state, Sibiya faces five charges: three counts of sexually grooming a 16-year-old girl, one count of human trafficking and one count of raping an 18-year-old woman in a Sandton hotel in May, after she was allegedly given alcohol until she lost consciousness. This week, a sixth charge was added: unlawful possession of a firearm found in his vehicle at the time of his arrest. Detective Nokukhanya Ndlovu testified that teenage girls were pressured into drinking games and twerking and were supplied with alcohol until one of them collapsed.
Sibiya, 59, denies all the allegations. In his affidavit, read by advocate Estelle Kilian SC, he says the sex was consensual and that the charges are “trumped up” and part of a “diabolical plan to target me and oust me from my ambition to become National Commissioner”. We have heard this before. When powerful men are confronted with allegations of wrongdoing, they often try to deflect attention from their conduct by blaming a conspiracy. This is a textbook manifestation of toxic masculinity.
That defence is as old as patriarchy itself. It is the same defence we hear from men who kill women: “She wanted it.”
But let us leave it to the courts to determine his guilt. What we cannot leave to the courts is the meaning of this moment.
1. This is not just about one man. It is about a leadership that has lost moral authority to lead the fight against GBV.
Sibiya had already been suspended before this arrest, after KwaZulu-Natal police commissioner Lieutenant-General Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi accused senior leaders of interfering in investigations, disbanding the KZN Political Killings Task Team and removing more than 120 dockets involving politically connected figures. Sibiya denied the allegations in Parliament.
Then, on 29 September, President Cyril Ramaphosa stood before the nation and announced a 90-day emergency plan to tackle gender-based violence: a national case-recovery operation for all unresolved murders and rapes of women and children, a plan to address the forensic backlog, municipal safety audits and stronger alcohol-law enforcement. The plan depends entirely on a competent, trusted detective service.
How can that plan work when the deputy national commissioner for crime detection, the very person who should be leading that recovery operation, is himself on trial for rape and the grooming of a child? Whom will women trust enough to report these crimes to?
In Ekurhuleni, 17 women have been reported missing in Kempton Park alone since January. Families waited days to report their loved ones missing because they did not trust that the police would act. When the perpetrator is the one in uniform, or when the country’s top detective is seen as a predator, that trust collapses completely.
2. This juxtaposition exposes two systems of justice.
In the past 90 days, the bodies of 11 women have been found across Ekurhuleni. Police have confirmed arrests in only three of those cases. The other eight bodies remain at the Germiston mortuary, waiting to be identified.
Yet, when it came to Sibiya, the CRTT, born out of the Madlanga Commission of Inquiry, moved swiftly: surveillance, arrest at a club, a search of his home that same day and opposition to bail on the grounds of possible witness intimidation.
Why cannot the state act with the same urgency for Tsontso Moselakgomo, who went for a run and never returned? Why is there a funded, multidisciplinary national team for a senior police officer, but only under-resourced detectives for ordinary women?
The President said: “These cases will not be allowed to go cold.” Women heard that in 2019. They heard it again last week. They will believe it when they see investigations led by detectives who are not themselves accused of grooming 16-year-olds.
3. Sibiya’s case is a textbook example of the sexual exploitation of vulnerability that the South African Police Service (SAPS) is meant to guard against.
Consider the details the state has placed before the court: a 16-year-old girl who is the daughter of an associate; WhatsApp messages between them; and an 18-year-old woman who was taken to a nightclub and given alcohol. This is not about sex. It is about power. It is about a man who believes his rank gives him access to young women’s bodies with impunity.
This is the same abuse of power that kills women in Ekurhuleni and elsewhere in our country. The killings along the R21 are not random. Some bodies were found naked and bound with cable ties. Some showed signs of sexual assault. This is power exerted over women’s bodies — the power to use them and discard them on a roadside. It is the reality faced by women who live in fear of becoming the next victim. This is a grave indictment of men in our country.
We cannot separate gender-based violence in the community from gender-based violence within the institutions meant to protect us. It is for this reason that many women are sceptical about even reporting abuse to the police.
What must happen now?
First, the acting minister of police and the acting national police commissioner must not allow SAPS to close ranks. Sibiya must face both criminal prosecution and the two disciplinary notices already served on him. There must be no special treatment and no manoeuvring for medical parole. Justice must be seen to be done if public confidence is to be rebuilt.
Second, the 90-day plan must include the vetting of all SAPS members who work on GBV and sexual offences cases. How many detectives handling rape dockets have themselves been accused of sexual offences? We need an audit, and we need it now.
Third, the Madlanga Commission’s work must be completed and its recommendations made public. If senior officers are interfering with dockets for political reasons, as alleged, women will never get justice because the dockets themselves may disappear or the investigations may be compromised.
Finally, we must stop treating GBV as a women’s issue that can be solved through policing alone. As Sonke Gender Justice has said for 20 years, this is a men’s issue. The fact that a man who rose from student constable to the verge of becoming National Commissioner can allegedly see nothing wrong with sending explicit videos to a 16-year-old girl shows that we have failed to socialise men — even those in uniform — to understand consent and power.
Last Sunday, we prayed for the women of Ekurhuleni. This Sunday, we must also pray for the soul of the police service, and for its cleansing of predators who embody toxic masculinity.
Because when the protector becomes the perpetrator, the road does not merely become unsafe, it becomes ungovernable.
Bafana Khumalo is the co-founder and co-executive director of Sonke Gender Justice and a former commissioner of the Commission for Gender Equality. He writes in his personal capacity.