The High Cost of a Missing Handset: A Story of Murder, Remorse, and the Shadow of the Unseen
PRETORIA – In the dim evening light behind a Virgin Active gym in Wonderboom, a gathering that began with the clinking of bottles and the rhythmic shuffling of playing cards ended in a tragedy that would take three years to reach its final, somber conclusion in a Pretoria courtroom. On Wednesday, 23 April 2026, Leonard Khoza, a 42-year-old Zimbabwean national, stood before Magistrate Pieter Nel in the Pretoria North Magistrate’s Court to hear his fate. He was sentenced to 15 years for the murder of his fellow countryman, Aluwisi Verengere, a man he once shared drinks with but whose life he ended over a missing mobile phone.
The case, which has drawn attention to the often-volatile living conditions of the Zimbabwean diaspora in South Africa, highlights a lethal intersection of petty theft, desperation, and deeply held traditional beliefs. For Khoza, the sentence was not merely a decade and a half behind bars; he received an additional two years for contravening immigration laws, having been in the country illegally. The court ordered these sentences to run concurrently, with a final decree: upon completion of his time, Khoza is to be deported to a homeland he has not seen since his arrest nearly three years ago.
A Night of Cards and Consequences
The fatal encounter took place on the evening of 4 February 2023. Behind the modern facade of the Wonderboom Virgin Active, a group of Zimbabwean migrants had created a makeshift social space. It was a common scene in the urban fringes of Pretoria—men seeking a moment of respite from the grind of informal labour, finding solace in the familiar company of their compatriots.
However, the atmosphere soured when Aluwisi Verengere realised his mobile phone was gone. In a community where a handset is often a lifeline to family back home and a tool for securing work, the loss was more than a financial blow; it was a personal violation. Verengere demanded a search of everyone present. While some in the group consented, hoping to clear their names and continue the evening, Leonard Khoza and his two brothers flatly refused.
What followed was not just a physical confrontation, but a clash of spiritual stakes. Following their refusal, Verengere indicated that he would consult a traditional healer to identify and bewitch the person responsible for taking his phone. In the Shona culture of many Zimbabwean migrants, the threat of ngozi—an avenging spirit—or the use of a n’anga (traditional healer) to cast a restorative curse is taken with profound seriousness. It is a form of justice that bypasses the slow wheels of the South African legal system, promising a spiritual retribution that many fear more than a prison cell.
The Fatal Blow
The mention of bewitchment turned a tense standoff into a violent altercation. “This led to an altercation between Khoza and the deceased,” said National Prosecuting Authority (NPA) spokesperson Lumka Mahanjana. As the argument escalated, Khoza reached for a stone—a weapon of opportunity in the rough terrain behind the gym.
“During the altercation, Khoza picked up a stone and threw it at Verengere, striking him on the head. The deceased collapsed and was later declared dead at the scene,” Mahanjana said. The man who had been seeking his missing phone was silenced forever, his body left on the ground as the group scattered into the Pretoria night.
Khoza managed to evade justice for five months, disappearing into the vast, often undocumented migrant population of Gauteng. It was not until 4 August 2023, that police finally caught up with him. He has remained in custody ever since, a period that did little to soften his stance or elicit a confession.
A Trial of Denial
Throughout the proceedings, Khoza maintained a mask of innocence that the prosecution described as a total lack of remorse. He pleaded not guilty, offering a bold but ultimately flimsy alibi: he claimed he was not even in South Africa at the time of the murder.
However, the state’s case, led by regional court prosecutor Lufuno Manena, was built on the bedrock of direct testimony. Two eyewitnesses, who had been part of that fateful card game, stood in the witness box and identified Khoza as the man who threw the stone. Their accounts were consistent and harrowing, successfully proving the state’s case beyond a reasonable doubt.
The defense attempted to find a middle ground during sentencing, pleading with Magistrate Nel to deviate from the prescribed minimum sentence of 15 years. They argued that Khoza was a first-time offender and that the court should show leniency.
The NPA stood firm. Mahanjana noted that the state opposed the request, arguing that the offence was serious and that Khoza had shown no remorse, as he continued to deny responsibility even after conviction. The magistrate agreed. In his judgment, Magistrate Pieter Nel found that Khoza had demonstrated no remorse and that there were no “substantial and compelling circumstances” to justify a lighter sentence.
The Broader Shadow
The death of Aluwisi Verengere is not an isolated incident but part of a troubling pattern of violence within migrant communities in South Africa. In recent years, the Pretoria North Magistrate’s Court has seen a steady stream of cases involving Zimbabwean nationals, both as perpetrators and victims. Just last month, another 27-year-old Zimbabwean appeared in the same court facing multiple charges, including the murder of six patrollers in Soshanguve.
Life for many of the estimated 178,000 Zimbabweans living in South Africa is a precarious balancing act. Often residing in informal settlements or “Little Zimbabwe” pockets of Pretoria, they face not only the threat of xenophobic violence from the outside but also the internal pressures of a community living under the constant threat of deportation.
The use of traditional healers in disputes—the very spark that ignited the Khoza-Verengere fight—remains a potent force. For many migrants, the South African police are seen as a source of danger rather than protection, leading them to turn to traditional justice. As one researcher noted, the concept of ngozi serves as a “restorative justice” mechanism, but as this case proves, it can also be a catalyst for further bloodshed.
No Way Home
As Leonard Khoza begins his 15-year term, the echoes of that night in Wonderboom remain. The NPA has welcomed the judgment, viewing it as a victory for the rule of law in a sector of society where justice is often elusive.
“Magistrate Pieter Nel agreed with the state, finding that Khoza had demonstrated no remorse and that there were no substantial and compelling circumstances to justify a deviation from the prescribed minimum sentence. The court accordingly imposed the sentence of 15 years’ imprisonment,” Mahanjana reiterated.
For the family of Aluwisi Verengere, the sentence brings a legal conclusion, but it cannot replace the life lost over a piece of plastic and glass. For Leonard Khoza, the future is a long wait in a South African cell, followed by a one-way trip back to a Zimbabwe he tried to leave behind. In the end, the phone was never found, leaving only a trail of broken lives and a stark reminder of how quickly a night of camaraderie can turn into a lifetime of regret.