I very rarely buy or read tabloids. In early June 2017, however, there were not one, but *two* cover lines in that week’s edition of YOU magazine which piqued my interest enough to make me pick up a copy, whilst stuck in bumper-to-bumper trolley traffic in my local Woolies’ check-out queue.
The first, ‘Henri and Girlfriend Loved Up in the Park’, was an exclusive pictorial showing family axe murder accused Henri van Breda taking a break during his trial, cosying up to his better half in Cape Town’s public Company’s Garden. I have been fascinated by and speculated endlessly on this horrific case since the story broke in January 2015.
And the second, ‘Farewell, Top Cop: Piet Byleveld’s Moving Last Interview’, was an intimate conversation with the legendary detective who had lost his battle with lung cancer just a few weeks prior. He was 66 years old, with a career spanning almost four decades in the South African Police Service (SAPS). I have always been somewhat in awe of this softly spoken “man hunter”, with his Caesar haircut, hooded eyes, and fearsome reputation for being able to crack even the most challenging of cases, helping to bring dozens of notorious murderers, serial killers and rapists to book. It was a sad, yet heartwarming article about the inner peace and much longed-for happiness he had finally found over the past few years, in the arms of his second wife.
Just a few months later, I found a copy of ‘Byleveld: Dossier of a Serial Sleuth’ in my local library. It was a book I had been meaning to get my hands on since its release in 2011, the year following Byleveld’s retirement from SAPS. Originally written in Afrikaans by journalist Hanlie Retief, and translated into English, it is a gripping read. A retrospective on the most high profile cases on which Byleveld worked, as well as a window into his private life.
From humble beginnings as a self-confessed “wimpy farm boy from the Waterberg” (page 24), who had plans to go to varsity and then dedicate his life to serving God, Byleveld did an about-turn after completing his national service in the Defence Force, and chose to join SAPS instead. He became a workaholic early on in his police career to escape the stress of a loveless, emotionally abusive marriage, which he endured for most of his adult life. He was also a chronic asthmatic, who chain-smoked, and swore by a cocktail of Grand-Pa headache powder and Coke, to get himself through long and grueling shifts.
Through Retief’s tight and fast-paced storytelling, we are taken on a thrilling, sometimes chilling, behind-the-scenes tour of Byleveld’s world. We become privy to the machinations of his razor sharp mind, the old skool investigative techniques he employed, and his uniquely empathetic style of interrogating suspects, which enabled him to gain their trust, and then extract a confession.
This book shines a light on the dark and depraved underbelly of society, populated by violent psychopaths and sexual deviants, and offers an insight, through Byleveld’s eyes, on what makes this type of criminal tick. He believes the perpetrators of these heinous crimes cannot be rehabilitated. Something inside them is broken, damaged beyond repair. It is obvious to me that many of them suffer from undiagnosed and/or untreated mental illness and/or personality disorders, the catalysts for which can often be traced back to early childhood trauma. Frequently, though not always, the compulsion experienced by a man to rape and/or kill seems to stem from a highly dysfunctional relationship with his mother. Asserting dominance over and inflicting pain and humiliation on his victims becomes a way for him to gain a sense of autonomy and power and control. Byleveld believes if these men, who show no remorse for their actions, are released back into society, it’s just a matter of time before they re-offend.
This view is backed up by police forensic psychologist Prof. Gerard Labuschagne who, during the trial of Sipho Dube, testified that serial killers are not candidates for rehabilitation. He matter-of-factly informed the court that “no rehabilitation programme exists for serial killers and rapists”, and that “no serial killer has ever been released from a South African jail.”
This is as much a dossier on Byleveld’s illustrious career as it is a cautionary tale about the reality of serial killers and rapists who will continue to quietly hunt amongst us until they get caught. Sadly, it is doubtful we will see another SAPS detective of Byleveld’s calibre for many years to come. I loved the inclusion of colour photos throughout. It really helped bring some of the characters and crime scenes to life. Apart from a typo on page 89 - the date should read 1998, not 1988 - it was a good, solid read. Highly recommended for fans of the true crime genre.
PS. If anyone can tell me what an “upright white hearse” (page 261) is, I would be most grateful! I suspect it may be one of those ‘lost in translation’ foibles between Afrikaans and English, but I stand to be corrected.