Suspect Allegedly Arrested Over Brutal Mu8der of Two Cousins
The township of Mamelodi, a vibrant yet violence-scarred community east of Pretoria, is reeling from the gruesome killing of two young women whose lives were cut short in a moment of unimaginable brutality. The victims — 22-year-old Tshiamo Moramaga and her cousin, 21-year-old Baleseng Moramaga — were found shot dead in their rented apartment in Mamelodi East Extension 17 on Sunday, October 26, 2025.
Their deaths, now classified by authorities as a double homicide, have not only shaken their families to the core but have reignited fierce national conversations about intimate-partner violence, the policing of gender-based crime, and South Africa’s recurring epidemic of femicide — one of the highest in the world.
Within twenty-four hours of the discovery, Gauteng police announced the arrest of a 38-year-old suspect, identified as Tebogo Mnisi, at a filling station in Pretoria. According to law enforcement sources, Mnisi — reportedly a nightclub bouncer and boyfriend to one of the slain cousins — was found attempting to flee when plainclothes officers intercepted him.
The arrest, swift and surgical, came after a multi-agency investigation involving detectives from the Gauteng Provincial Serious and Violent Crime Unit, Provincial Crime Intelligence, and Mamelodi East Detectives. Police spokesperson Captain Tintswalo Sibeko confirmed the development in a statement on Monday, describing the case as “deeply distressing and indicative of the kind of intimate violence that continues to plague communities across the province.”
“A 38-year-old man was arrested on Monday, October 27, 2025, in connection with two counts of murder and attempted murder that occurred in Mamelodi East Extension 17,” Sibeko said.
“A third victim, who sustained gunshot injuries during the same incident, is receiving medical treatment at a local hospital.”
Neighbours recall being jolted awake by gunfire around 11:45 p.m. on that fateful Sunday night. Some initially thought it was fireworks or power-line explosions — a common confusion in Mamelodi where electricity surges often trigger loud pops. But the sharp rhythm of the shots quickly dispelled any doubt.
“When I heard the first one, I thought it was a car backfiring,” said a local woman, Martha Phiri, who lives two houses away. “Then came two more, then silence. I knew something terrible had happened.”
By the time the police arrived, drawn by frantic calls from residents, the narrow gravel road outside the rented compound had already filled with curious onlookers. Inside the small one-room dwelling, the bodies of Tshiamo and Baleseng lay motionless — victims of gunshots fired at close range. The small living space, shared by the cousins since early 2025, was splattered with evidence of struggle.
A neighbour, who requested anonymity, described seeing one of the women earlier in the day arguing with a man later identified as Tebogo. “He came here a lot. They argued sometimes, but she always forgave him. We didn’t think it would end like this,” she said.
The brutality of the attack shocked even seasoned detectives. “It wasn’t a random crime,” said one investigator who spoke to this writer on condition of anonymity. “This was personal. There was rage, jealousy, and possession all over the crime scene.”
Hours before her death, Tshiamo reportedly sent a WhatsApp message to a friend that would later become a chilling clue. The message read:
“Tlaa go Tebogo ashuu wa actor moh,”
a Setswana phrase loosely translating to “Come, Tebogo is acting up.”
The message, investigators say, places Mnisi at the center of the confrontation that led to the fatal shootings. “We are analyzing the phone data, timestamps, and call records,” said a police source. “What we know so far is that the message was sent shortly before 10:00 p.m., less than two hours before the shooting.”
Friends of the deceased said the couple had been experiencing tension for weeks. Mnisi, they allege, was controlling and had accused Tshiamo of “disrespecting” him by attending events without informing him. Some also claim he was jealous of her cousin, Baleseng, whom he believed was influencing her to end the relationship.
When police traced Mnisi’s movements after the murder, they found that he had driven north toward Pretoria shortly after midnight. Using cellphone triangulation and number plate recognition cameras, detectives tracked his vehicle — a silver VW Polo — to a filling station along Solomon Mahlangu Drive.
Officers surrounded the area quietly, waiting for him to exit the vehicle. “He didn’t resist,” said a member of the arresting team. “He looked surprised, maybe resigned. He knew the game was over.”
At the time of his arrest, Mnisi reportedly had a loaded firearm matching the caliber of bullets recovered at the crime scene. Forensic analysis is underway to confirm whether it is indeed the murder weapon.
Word of the killings spread like wildfire through Mamelodi and neighboring Tembisa, where the victims’ families live. As news broke of Mnisi’s identity, emotions boiled over. Later that same day, angry residents stormed the suspect’s family home, pelting it with stones before setting it ablaze.
“It was chaos,” said Tshepo Nkadimeng, a local shopkeeper. “People were shouting that they will not allow him to live freely after what he did. By the time police arrived, the house was already on fire.”
The act of vigilantism has divided public opinion — with some condemning it as lawlessness, while others view it as an eruption of long-suppressed anger against gender-based violence and the perception of judicial leniency.
For Itumeleng Moramaga, 41, the mother of Tshiamo, the news came as a devastating phone call she will never forget. “My eldest sister called me in the morning and told me the kids got hurt,” she recounted tearfully. “When I arrived in Mamelodi, they were already gone. I saw them inside the forensic vehicle. They were shot… both of them. I can’t describe that pain.”
The two cousins, she explained, were inseparable. They grew up together in the same extended family household in Tembisa before moving to Mamelodi earlier in the year. Tshiamo was a hair stylist; Baleseng worked part-time at a clothing boutique. They shared dreams of opening a joint fashion business.
“They were like twins,” Itumeleng said. “They did everything together. Now they are gone together.”
Police confirmed that a third individual — a friend who had been visiting the cousins that evening — survived the shooting but sustained gunshot wounds. The survivor, now under police protection, has reportedly provided critical information about the events leading up to the attack.
According to investigators, the survivor’s testimony places Mnisi at the house minutes before the shots were fired. “He came in angry, shouting,” the survivor told police. “He accused them of embarrassing him. Then he pulled out the gun.”
The survivor’s identity has been withheld for safety reasons, but sources within the investigation describe the person as a “key witness” whose evidence could solidify the case in court.
This double murder has re-energized public outrage against South Africa’s alarming rates of gender-based violence (GBV). According to the South African Police Service’s 2024/2025 crime statistics, over 1,300 women were murdered by intimate partners in the preceding year — roughly one every seven hours.
Civil society groups argue that despite numerous government campaigns and awareness drives, enforcement remains weak and societal attitudes largely unchanged. “Every week, we bury women who are killed by men who claim to love them,” said Nomfundo Radebe, director of the Gauteng Women’s Justice Forum. “We are living in a war zone disguised as normal life.”
Radebe’s organization has been instrumental in pushing for tougher bail conditions for GBV suspects and faster court processes for victims’ families. “Justice delayed is trauma multiplied,” she said. “Families like the Moramagas deserve closure.”
Public records and testimonies paint a complex portrait of Tebogo Mnisi — a man described by acquaintances as “charming in public but aggressive in private.” Originally from Soshanguve, Mnisi worked as a nightclub bouncer and occasional bodyguard. He was known to frequent Pretoria’s nightlife scene and often posted photos of himself with celebrities.
Friends say he met Tshiamo at a club in 2023, and the two began dating soon after. “He was protective to the point of obsession,” said a former colleague. “He didn’t like her talking to other men, not even cousins sometimes.”
Police sources reveal that Mnisi had a prior record — a 2021 assault charge that was later withdrawn after an out-of-court settlement. Investigators are now reviewing his history for patterns of violence.
Mnisi is expected to appear before the Mamelodi Magistrates’ Court on Tuesday, October 29, 2025. Prosecutors are preparing to oppose bail, citing flight risk, the gravity of the offence, and community outrage.
Legal experts say the case will likely hinge on ballistic evidence, digital communications, and eyewitness testimony. “This is a strong circumstantial case,” said Advocate Lindiwe Motaung, a Pretoria-based criminal lawyer. “If the gun is matched to the bullets and the WhatsApp message is authenticated, conviction is almost certain.”
The National Prosecuting Authority (NPA) is also exploring the possibility of upgrading the charges to premeditated murder, which carries a life sentence under South African law.
In Mamelodi, grief has turned into reflection. Churches have organized prayer vigils. NGOs are conducting trauma counselling for affected families and residents. At the scene of the crime, candles, flowers, and handwritten notes form a makeshift memorial.
One message reads: “Justice for Tshiamo and Baleseng. No woman should die for saying no.”
Community activist Vusi Makhubela, who attended one of the vigils, told this writer that Mamelodi is tired of burying its daughters. “We have to confront this culture that treats women as possessions,” he said. “Until we change the mindset, we will keep repeating these tragedies.”
South Africa’s ongoing femicide crisis has drawn global concern. Studies by the University of Cape Town’s Gender Health Unit show that South Africa’s female homicide rate is five times higher than the global average.
Experts blame a combination of socio-economic inequality, cultural normalization of male dominance, substance abuse, and weak enforcement. “The cycle of violence is systemic,” says Professor Thandeka Mokoena, a criminologist at the University of Pretoria. “From toxic masculinity to police apathy, every institution contributes to women’s vulnerability.”
Mokoena notes that even when perpetrators are caught, conviction rates remain low — often below 30%. “We need a radical overhaul of how gender-based crimes are investigated and prosecuted,” she added.
For the Moramaga family, the pain is compounded by the sense that the system failed to protect their daughters. Friends claim Tshiamo had previously reported Mnisi for threats but withdrew the complaint after pressure from relatives to “give him another chance.”
This is a familiar story across South Africa, where victims of domestic threats often receive little meaningful protection until it is too late. Police unions acknowledge that under-resourced stations and poor victim support services contribute to repeat tragedies.
“We respond after blood is spilled,” lamented a senior SAPS officer. “We are reactive, not preventive. That must change.”
In Tembisa, the Moramaga household has become a place of mourning. Family members wear black ribbons and gather nightly to share memories. “They were full of life,” said Itumeleng softly. “They had dreams, plans, laughter. I don’t want them remembered just as victims. I want them remembered as bright young women who deserved better.”
The family has announced that both cousins will be buried side by side this weekend — a symbolic gesture that mirrors their shared life journey. “They came into this world together, they leave it together,” said their uncle, Mpho Moramaga, during a candlelight vigil.
As the suspect awaits trial, the country watches yet another femicide case unfold in a justice system already burdened by backlog and public distrust. But amid despair, there is a growing chorus of voices calling for systemic change — voices that refuse to let the deaths of Tshiamo and Baleseng fade into another statistic.
Their story, brutal as it is, represents the lived reality of thousands of South African women who navigate daily threats under the shadow of gendered violence.
In Mamelodi’s dust and grief, one truth remains clear: the fight for justice is not only for the dead but for the living — for every woman who still fears that love could one day turn lethal.