Detective Zandile Cele sweats profusely at the spaza shop outside the Umlazi Magistrate’s Court. She looks at the unmarked police car in the distance and dreads the walk she has to take to get to it.

Since the shooting of a prosecutor here two months ago, a mere few steps from where Zandile is standing, cars have been barred from entering the vast parking area of the court. Zandile wipes the sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief. Today it is so hot that the tar at the far end of the parking lot gives off shimmering heat mirages. Zandile turns and looks into the spaza shop.

“What can I get you?” asks the young woman running the shop. 

“How cold is your water? It’s hot out here!” says Zandile.

“I have exactly what you need,” the woman says as she opens a big cooler box on the floor and swirls her hand in the ice inside the cooler box. She fishes out a litre bottle of water and hands it to Zandile.

Zandile gulps down half the bottle in one go and exhales cool relief. She has just finished giving testimony in a home invasion case that happened in G Section late last year. She glances at the car once more. Visions of the home invasion fills her mind, so now she sees them through ripples emanating from the hot tarmac.

Zandile found pure terror in the eyes of all the family members who were victims of the home invasion. Terror plus shame in the eyes of the family patriarch. Zandile has often seen this shame where fathers feel they have failed to protect their families. The three young men had bound and gagged all family members for two full days – torturing them, taking turns to withdraw cash from their bank accounts and smoking a lot of rock cocaine with that money.

The criminals were too high from the rock cocaine, so they were traced quickly. They had used the family car to go to an ATM near the home. They were so high they forgot to disguise their faces – all three are clear in the photos from the ATM camera.

Zandile sips more water, then buys another litre bottle of water and steps outside. Her partner, Detective Gloria Ngcobo, is waiting there, sweat glistening on the bare scalp between her fresh cornrows.

“There’s no other way, Zee, we have to brave this heat to get to the car,” says Gloria.

Zandile hands Gloria the bottled water. “Let’s go,” she says.

Zandile quickly starts the engine, and moves the air-con dial to full blast. For a few seconds it feels like fire is coming through the air vents, then the cool air kicks in. 

“Yoh! It’s hot!” says Gloria, taking a gulp of water.

Zandile puts the car in first gear and glances at the side and rear-view mirrors. Both their cellphones buzz. The women glance at each other. Gloria checks her phone. A WhatsApp message from their boss, Station Commander Ncube.

“What does Station Commander want now?” says Zandile, frowning.

Come to the station ASAP reads the message. Gloria reads it out loud for Zandile.

This message is followed by a video. Gloria holds out her phone so Zandile can also see the screen.

The person shooting the video is walking inside a house packed with teenagers. Loud music is playing. When the teenagers look at the camera their eyes are soulless. The person taking the video walks through the house. There are just too many people inside the small rooms, people are chest to chest in places.

“This has the setup of a banger house,” says Gloria.

“Definitely. These kids are high out of their minds,” says Zandile.

The person taking the video is now in the kitchen. There are many teenagers sitting on the kitchen table, bobbing their heads to loud music. The lights are on in the house and the curtains are drawn, so it is a surprise when the kitchen door opens to reveal a bright blue sky.

“Stop it Anele! Leave her alone!” someone suddenly shouts in the video.

“Stop it Anele! Stop it!” more voices shout.

The cellphone drops to the ground. For a moment the only thing on the video is grass. 

“Leave her alone Anele! Stop it!” more voices scream.

The cellphone is picked up. What appears now, makes both Gloria and Zandile gasp.

A teenage girl is straddling another girl and pummelling her face with a rock. 

“Anele stop it!” says a teenage boy. 

He grabs hold of Anele’s hand but she has such strength that she pushes the boy away with ease. Anele continues to hit the other girl with such force, such violence, that Zandile and Gloria both literally move their heads back from the cellphone screen.

The girl beneath Anele has grotesque gashes on her face. Boys try holding Anele from doing further damage but she just pushes them away and continues with the assault. 

A few older men jump over the fence and pull Anele off the other girl. Anele is enraged, blood covers her yellow T-shirt and runs down her arms. The video shifts, focusing on the assaulted girl. The stillness of her body makes Zandile and Gloria let out a collective breath. 

“Call an ambulance!” says one of the men holding back Anele.

“Oh no! No! Wake up Ayanda! She’s not breathing!” screams a boy kneeling next to the girl bleeding on the ground.

Tell us: What do you think happened between Anele and Ayanda?