The horrific murder of 10-year-old Sara Sharif shocked the world, sparking outrage against her father, Urfan Sharif, who later confessed to the brutal killing of his young daughter.
However, the tragic story did not end with the horrifying abuse that led to Sara’s death. The disturbing details continue, as justice took an unexpected turn behind bars.
Once imprisoned, news of Urfan’s crimes quickly spread among fellow inmates. The convicted child killer soon found himself the target of vigilante justice at the hands of other prisoners.
On August 8, 2023, the world was devastated by the heartbreaking news of Sara Sharif’s death. The young girl had endured a two-year-long “campaign of torture” before her body was discovered at the family home in Woking, Surrey. According to BBC reports, she had been hooded, burned, and beaten.
Upon arriving at the scene, police found Sara’s lifeless body on a bunk bed alongside a handwritten confession from her father, which read: “Whoever sees this note, it’s me, Urfan Sharif, who killed my daughter by beating. I am running away because I am scared.” He further claimed, “I swear to God that my intention was not to kill her. But I lost it.”
Shockingly, the day before Sara’s body was discovered, Urfan, along with two other family members, fled to Pakistan.
Following a weeks-long international manhunt, Urfan Sharif, 42, his brother Faisal Malik, 29, and his wife, Beinash Batool, 30, were arrested and charged in connection with Sara’s tragic death.
‘She Died Because of Me’
During court proceedings, it was revealed that Sara had suffered over 70 injuries, including fractures to her ribs, shoulder blades, and spine, a puncture wound to the head, traumatic brain injury, burns from a domestic iron, and human bite marks.
Initially, all three suspects denied involvement. However, in court, Urfan Sharif changed his stance and admitted, “She died because of me.”
On December 17, 2024, Sharif was sentenced to life in prison with a minimum term of 40 years. Batool received a life sentence with a minimum of 33 years. Malik was sentenced to 16 years for causing or allowing the death of a child. During sentencing, Mr. Justice Cavanagh condemned their actions as “a campaign of torture” marked by “almost inconceivable cruelty.”
Sara’s mother, Olga Domin, described the perpetrators as “sadists” and “executioners” in a statement read in court. Addressing her daughter, she said, “She is now an angel who looks down on us from heaven. She is no longer experiencing violence.”
Prison Justice
Once inside South London’s HMP Belmarsh—dubbed “Britain’s Guantanamo Bay”—Sharif quickly became a marked man. In prison, crimes against children are considered the lowest offense, and Urfan’s reputation made him a target.
According to sources, Sharif attempted to keep a low profile, but his past soon caught up with him. On New Year’s Day, just weeks into his life sentence, he was ambushed by two inmates wielding a makeshift weapon— a jagged tuna can lid.
“Urfan was badly sliced up in his cell,” an insider revealed. “The attack was planned, and he suffered serious wounds to his neck and face. He was lucky to survive, required stitches, and will have permanent scars as a reminder of the attack.”
Prison guards had been trying to protect him, knowing he had a target on his back due to the high-profile nature of his case. “An attack was only a matter of time,” the source added. “Many inmates feel justice was served.”
One of Urfan’s suspected attackers is reportedly Steve Sansom, a convicted murderer serving a life sentence for killing and dismembering 38-year-old Sarah Mayhew in 2024. Sansom was previously convicted in 1999 for the murder of cab driver Terrence Boyle, 59.
What are your thoughts on the attack against Urfan Sharif in prison? Share your opinions and let us know what you think!
My Neighbor Kept Hanging out Her Panties Right in Front of My Son’s Window, So I Taught Her a Real Lesson
My neighbor’s undergarments became the unlikely stars of a suburban show, taking center stage right outside my 8-year-old son’s window. When Jake innocently asked if her thongs were some kind of slingshots, I knew the “panty parade” had to stop, and it was time for a lesson in laundry discretion.
Ah, suburbia—where the lawns are pristine, the air smells of fresh-cut grass, and life rolls along smoothly until someone comes along to shake things up. That’s when Lisa, our new neighbor, arrived. Life had been relatively peaceful until laundry day revealed something I wasn’t prepared for: a rainbow of her underwear flapping outside Jake’s window like flags at a questionable parade.One afternoon, I was folding Jake’s superhero underwear when I glanced out the window and almost choked on my coffee. There they were: hot pink, lacy, and very much on display. My son, ever curious, peered over my shoulder and asked the dreaded question, “Mom, why does Mrs. Lisa have her underwear outside? And why do some of them have strings? Are they for her pet hamster?”
Between stifled laughter and mortified disbelief, I did my best to explain. But Jake’s imagination was running wild, wondering if Mrs. Lisa was secretly a superhero,with underwear designed for aerodynamics. He even wanted to join in, suggesting his Captain America boxers could hang next to her “crime-fighting gear.” It became a daily routine—Lisa’s laundry would wave in the breeze, and Jake’s curiosity would stir. But when he asked if he could hang his own underwear next to hers, I knew it was time to put an end to this spectacle. So, I marched over to her house, ready to resolve the situation diplomatically. Lisa answered the door, and before I could say much, she made it clear she wasn’t about to change her laundry habits for anyone. She laughed off my concerns, suggesting I “loosen up” and even offered me advice on spicing up my own wardrobe. Frustrated but determined, I came up with a plan—a brilliantly petty one. That evening, I created the world’s largest, most garish pair of granny panties out of the brightest fabric I could find. The next day, when Lisa left, I hung my masterpiece right in front of her window. When she returned, the sight of the massive flamingo-patterned undergarments nearly knocked her off her feet. Watching her fume while trying to yank down my prank was worth every stitch. She eventually caved, agreeing to move her laundry somewhere less visible—while I quietly relished my victory. From then on, Lisa’s laundry vanished from our shared view, and peace was restored. As for me? I ended up with a pair of flamingo-themed curtains, a daily reminder of the day I won the great laundry war of suburbia.
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