by Mandy Wiener
While Oscar was in London for the Olympics and he and Taylor had broken up, Samantha went on several dates as well as an overseas trip with Van der Burgh. Batchelor claimed Oscar was fuming when he found out and confronted Van der Burgh at a race day at the Kyalami track, while the millionaire was entertaining clients.
‘Oscar runs right up to Quinton and says, “Hey, you fucking cunt! You fucking asshole! You fucking sleeping with my girl while I’m fucking running for my country!” all this “f-” and “f-” … “I’ll fuck you up.” This that and the next thing, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Quinton says he stood there. He just didn’t know what to do ‘cause, first, he’s with all his clients and this is like a multibillionaire. Oscar turned and said, “You better watch where you go, you better watch your back,” as they left and then Quinton got hold of me and he said, “Listen, I’m nervous now.” So I said, “Do you want me to sort it out?” and he said, “Please.”’
Batchelor claims he tried to get hold of Francois Hougaard who was on tour with the Springboks in Ireland. He knew that Oscar and the rugby player were friends, so he left a message with the scrumhalf’s roommate. ‘”Just tell Hougaard, tell him that,” I said, “I’m looking to speak to him and I want to get hold of Oscar because Oscar is threatening people and if Hougaard wants to get involved in this shit then he must be very careful what he’s dealing with because he must play rugby, he mustn’t get involved with this.”’
The message reached Oscar and when the runner bumped into a mutual friend of his and Batchelor’s at a party at the Vaal Dam, the situation escalated.
‘I was at a braai in the south with Mikey [Schultz] – and my friend was at this house party at the Vaal. I see on my phone he’s phoning so I answered the phone and I say, “Hey, what’s up?” and he says, “It’s fucking Oscar, what’s your fucking problem, boy?” So I said, “Listen, don’t fucking call me boy,” and he went off. No, he’s going to break my legs and he’s got bats and this and that … he was just screaming, for like 30 seconds about he’s not scared who I am and who I know … and I swore back at him, I said, “Now listen here, you cunt. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” So he says, “Hold on, Marc.” Now he’s quiet, hey. As long as he’s in front of people, he’s trying to show off. So he goes up into an area where it’s quiet and he says, “Come on, can’t we sort this out?” and “What’s wrong?”’
The phone cut out but Batchelor says Oscar called back two minutes later. And it’s “Fuck you! It’s Oscar, you cunt. Who the fuck are you?” He went from screaming to “Please can we sort this out?” So I said, “Listen, you little cunt, where are you? I’ll come there now and I’ll fuck you up,” and he says, “You can come here now and I’ll fuck you up, I’m ready for you!” So Mikey actually heard the second part of the conversation. With the second call he came outside and was like “Jeez”. I laughed it off. So we were laughing.’
Oscar took the matter to the police’s special crime-fighting unit the Hawks and Batchelor was summoned to a meeting with three high-ranking police ‘colonels’. The unit investigates serious, complex, organised crime, and some would argue that Oscar’s course of action was an excessive show of force and influence for so minor an incident. Batchelor claims the meeting was only arranged because of Justin Divaris’s connection with Gauteng Hawks head Shadrack Sibiya, a claim that Divaris has consistently denied.
Batchelor claimed that Oscar had a bad temper and that at the meeting with the police officials, he had a black eye because he had been involved in a fight.
‘So I walk in there, and I say, “What’s happening, guys?” and there’s colonels and lieutenant-colonels and I’m taking pictures with the cops. Then Justin and Oscar walk in. Fuck. So I go, “You’ve got to be shitting me. I’m here for this?” and I got cross. So the one colonel said to me, “General Sibiya can’t be here. We take these kind of threats in our society very high.” So I said, “What do you okes do here?” so he said, “We do hits … the organised crime, we do big drug deals, murder, robbery.” So I said, “What is this that I have done? Or he’s done or this one?” Oscar couldn’t look at me, he was shaking. He had a black eye and he had stitches in his head from the party. He was so pissed, he fell and cut his head. He was dancing with his gun … So he admitted to phoning me, swearing at me, he says, “I swore back at him.”’
It emerged that Oscar had laid a charge of intimidation against Batchelor, who in turn charged the runner with defamation.
Hawks spokesperson Paul Ramoloko had to address questions raised by the media about the bizarre meeting at the police office. “We are not investigating any case, or anyone,” said Ramoloko.
Oscar made no comment to the media at the time of the incident, but his version of events was different, as he alluded to in an interview with Afrikaans magazine Sarie, published in the February that Reeva died but which was conducted in November 2013. He intimated that the media had got him wrong. ‘You can’t – or won’t – give your side of the story because you want to keep your private life private. Many of the details in the newspapers have been heartbreaking. You trust someone and then they go and do something very unexpected. You learn,’ Oscar told the magazine.
‘You are just never too sure in a relationship. You take a chance every time you meet someone. But you can’t be too cynical about anything in life. All you can do is hope the person you’re with has integrity. It is difficult to find the right person, one who is trustworthy, who will keep your private stuff private. It requires a very special person to be in a relationship with a sportsman. I know it. It is not an easy life. I travel so much. You need someone who can travel with you or who is super accommodating. Is it a challenge? Yes. I haven’t found the right person yet, but it’s okay.’
In the interview he spoke of how he dealt with negative publicity and the importance of humility in life.
‘When I was younger, I wanted to call the journalist and get things off my chest. At the end of the day (he sighs) … If I comment on a story, it just becomes bigger. (He keeps quiet and thinks.) Fame isn’t that great. Like anything in life, it has its pros and cons, its highlights and lowlights. The best thing you can do is not to let it go to your head when you achieve things. Because it is only a matter of time before you are cut down. Just live life and be nice to people.’
Oscar would be involved in two further incidents in late 2012 and early 2013 that ordinarily would have lit up the headlines. But he managed to keep them both hushed and they only emerged when all his dirty laundry and baggage were being up-ended after his arrest. In late September 2012, while driving back from the Vaal River about an hour from Johannesburg, Oscar was in a car with Taylor and his friend Darren Fresco when they were pulled over by a Metro police officer. The athlete got into a confrontation with the officer over his firearm. Later on during the journey, he allegedly fired his gun through the sunroof of the car in which they were travelling.
Then, in January 2013, Oscar accidentally discharged Fresco’s Glock firearm while they were sitting at Tashas, a restaurant in Melrose Arch in Johannesburg. Remarkably, Oscar was successful in keeping both incidents out of the press at the time. In April 2014, the Sunday Times newspaper also revealed how the athlete successfully dissuaded it from running an article about another incident in which he was assaulted at a club in Sandton in December 2012. The paper claimed the athlete denied being assaulted in order to save his image as Mr Clean, and also lied about his love affair with Reeva.
‘The athlete was so obsessed with maintaining his squeaky clean public image and lucrative sponsorship deals that he repeatedly lied to try to cover up an assault during December 2012, for which he had to receive medical attention. He also lied about his relationship with Reeva Steenkamp in an interview on January 14 last year, denying he was in a serious relationship.’
When Sunday Times reporter Gabi Mbele approached Pistorius with information related to the assault, he pleaded with her not to run the story because it could ‘r
uin’ him. After speaking with her editors, the reporter informed Oscar of their decision in a text message on 26 January. ‘Editors have decided they won’t be running anything about this, we think these guys are making up stories just to try get to you. So rest assured we not going with this. Thanks 4 calling me back. Gabi.’
The athlete was grateful, but persisted with this version: ‘Thank you Gabi. I appreciate you asking me and I’d like to have things that are positive and open with you instead of hearsay and rubbish. If you could let me know who it is that is spreading stories I’d appreciate it. Let me know if you need anything. Oz.’
Mbele was clearly taken in by Oscar’s version of events. ‘Was also worried about this but Werner [Swart – colleague] said someone has the wrong end of the stick here hence we called you too. Don’t stress about it, we wouldn’t run anything without letting you know. Now focus on the good forget this, we not buying into people’s maliciousness! Gab.’
A different public image of Oscar Pistorius was lurking, waiting to emerge. There were hints of it in the reports around his boat accident, murmurs when he stormed out of the radio interview, suggestions of it when there were claims of his promiscuity, and real recognition of its potential following his outburst at the Paralympics. But his poster-boy image still remained intact. Perhaps the South African media chose to ignore the indicators, unwilling to be party to the tarnishing of something so wonderfully successful and patriotic.
Despite the rumblings of negativity, Oscar continued to do much good, reaffirming his public image. He was an ambassador for Laureus, a global charity that promotes social change through sport. He was also an ambassador for the Mineseeker Foundation, which distributes prosthetic limbs to victims of landmines in Africa. In addition, Oscar was on the verge of launching his own new charity foundation and, just two days before he was arrested, he tweeted about it: ‘In a run up to the launch of my foundation in July, I will give at least 10 kids mobility!’
The future was rich with possibility. He was training hard for a new season of racing, hoping to gain on his success in London in 2012; he was midway through the process of buying a new house in Atholl and moving back to Johannesburg; and sponsorships and endorsements continued to roll in. He had been invited to appear on the Jay Leno show and the Piers Morgan show amongst others; he featured on the covers of various local and international magazines; and he was to be the face of M-Net’s February Academy Awards campaign.
Oscar had also fallen madly in love, again. He was smitten and had great plans for the future with his new blonde girlfriend.
But his words to Sarie magazine proved to be prophetic. Fame isn’t that great. It has highlights and lowlights and it was only a matter of time before he was cut down. And the Icarus-like fall was incalculable, devastating, beyond anyone’s comprehension – including his own.
Breaking News – Barry Bateman
It was Valentine’s Day and my wife had given me one of those cheesy cards. I was feeling ill and had a nasty cough and a stuffy nose. At about 6:30am I called the news desk at Eyewitness News to discuss my diary for the day with Lynne O’Connor who was reading bulletins that morning. I explained that I was ill and wasn’t prepared to be out and about, but promised I’d work on a Tshwane Metro Police report I’d been sitting on for several weeks, so she pulled me off the diary for the day.
But I still had to get my daughter to school, so I continued getting her ready. It was shortly after 7am that I received a call from a police contact at the Cullinan police station.
‘Are you in Silver Woods, at the scene there?’ he asked.
‘What scene?’ I responded.
It quickly became evident that I should have known what was happening.
‘Oscar has shot someone at his home. Oscar Pistorius.’
‘Shot dead or shot injured?’ I asked, needing clarity.
‘No, he shot someone dead. Apparently before five this morning,’ he said.
The policeman provided me with the name and number of a captain from the Boschkop police station who was on the scene.
Shit! I thought. I quickly told my wife about what had happened and immediately called the cop on the scene.
‘Good morning, Captain, this is Barry Bateman from Eyewitness News. I understand that there’s been a shooting at Oscar Pistorius’s home. Can you confirm?’ I needed facts fast.
She was clearly nervous. ‘I can’t say anything at this stage; the police are still investigating at the scene.’
‘Captain, I understand there has been a shooting. Please confirm whether someone is dead or someone has been injured.’
Her response was ambiguous. ‘I can’t say; we’re still investigating.’
I ended the call. Although the captain had provided no information she had made it clear that something was happening.
I called the news desk back and explained the situation to O’Connor. It was early, there was no confirmation and we didn’t know who the victim was. I asked to speak to sports editor Cindy Poluta.
‘No. Fucking. Ways!’ she exclaimed when I broke the news to her. I needed contact numbers and she undertook to text me the cellphone number of Oscar’s manager, Peet van Zyl.
Then it occurred to me that I did, in fact, have Oscar’s phone number from a job I had done a few years earlier. From my landline I called his cellphone, but the user was unavailable. It was 7:19am.
I rushed outside and loaded my daughter into the car – fatherly duties trump all others. My four-year-old was strapped in and ready when I received the text from Poluta. I immediately called Van Zyl, the athlete’s manager. In my best diplomatic and professional ‘please help me, I’m desperate’ tone, I explained that I’d heard there’d been a shooting, could he confirm this?
‘All I can confirm is that there has been an incident, but I don’t have any details. I am being denied access to Oscar,’ Van Zyl said.
It was a mad dash down Atterbury Road to the crèche. The traffic, as it usually is during rush hour, was not sympathetic to my emergency. Neither was the routine of dropping off a child at playschool. Within minutes of stopping at the school, I had unbuckled her car seat, signed her in and kissed my little girl goodbye.
From the school, it was on to the N1 highway and then on the N4 to avoid the traffic down Solomon Mahlangu Drive to the east. The office was still frantically tracking down details and as I navigated morning highway traffic my phone rang. It was O’Connor and she had information. Oscar had shot dead his girlfriend. What’s her name?
I remembered seeing Oscar pictured with a woman on the front page of local magazine Sarie. As it turned out, the woman in the picture had been Oscar’s sister, Aimee, but at the time I thought she was his girlfriend. I knew the man as an athlete but very little about his private life, his hobbies or love life.
A few minutes later O’Connor called back, this time to confirm that Beeld newspaper had just tweeted that Oscar had shot dead his girlfriend and that he was apparently telling the police he had mistaken her for a burglar.
O’Connor wanted to go live on air. Being just minutes from Oscar’s house, I gave her the green light.
I was the first of the media to arrive at the luxury estate, which like most had two entrances: one for residents and another for visitors. I tried my luck and joined the queue of about three cars to get in.
A guard with a clipboard approached the car. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
I wasn’t going to lie. ‘I’m going to Oscar Pistorius’s house.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m a reporter.’
The guard told me management wasn’t allowing anyone except the police and authorised people into the complex. So I parked my car near the entrance, slid my driver’s seat back to convert it into an office and started working. As I looked up I spotted Beeld reporter Fanie van Rooyen – who had minutes earlier broken the story with the tweet – and photographer Alet Pretorius. A polite wave and a smile were all time allowed as I started throwing to
gether a few lines for the breaking news at the half-hour bulletin.
It was mere minutes before the studio called to do the live crossing, and while I was holding to cross into the bulletin, at 8.32am, I tweeted:
#OscarPistorius paralympian Oscar Pistorius has allegedly shot dead his girlfriend at his Pretoria home. BB
Within minutes of going live, reporting that Oscar had apparently shot dead his girlfriend, my phone started ringing. Fellow hacks on their way to the scene wanted to confirm the address. Each call was a quick exchange of details, and it wasn’t long before the entrance to the luxury estate was swarming with journalists from just about every South African publication.
‘What have your contacts told you?’ was the question being thrown around. ‘The cops are saying fuck all,’ was the most frequent response.
My silver Honda Jazz, parked closest to the entrance, had become a gathering point, the communal car to lean on and from which to listen to the radio. We waited. As the breaking news story gathered momentum, we needed official confirmation, a statement, a briefing – anything.
The Police Briefing
The boom at the exit of the terracotta, faux-rock Tuscan complex rose steadily to allow the white mortuary van to drive through. The van bore the distinctive yellow-and-blue reflector tape, with the stencilled lettering of the Gauteng Forensic Pathology Services running across its flank. In the back lay Reeva Steenkamp’s body. It was close to 9am. Journalists were still gathering at the estate’s main gate as the mortuary vehicle drove out, an indication of how late reporters were to get to the story. In South Africa, it is not uncommon for the dead to lie at a crime scene for hours as teams of forensic experts comb the area for clues, take pictures and document evidence.
Reporters milled around outside the estate, filing reports with the little information they had gathered from unofficial sources. Just before 11am, a large convoy of police and private vehicles sped out of the complex. Journalists scrambled to establish whether Oscar Pistorius was in one of the cars in the cavalcade and some gave chase, others remaining behind to await a briefing from the police.