Malaysia True Horror Series – Episode 2

In the humid air of Malaysia’s tropical nights, where cicadas shrilled endlessly and shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally across every corner, there lived a woman whose name would one day chill the nation: Mona Fandey, born Maznah Ismail. Once a young girl with dreams of stardom, Mona’s early life in the small town of Kangar was unremarkable, marked by the rhythms of rural life and the quiet ambitions of a family just trying to get by. In her youth, she believed music could take her far, her voice carrying her hope for fame. She even pursued a brief pop career in her twenties, recording songs and performing locally. But as her songs faded from the radio and applause gave way to silence, Mona’s dreams crumbled, leaving a void that would later be filled by something far darker than mere ambition.

Frustration and desire intertwined with her sharp intelligence. Instead of surrendering to failure, Mona reinvented herself. She claimed access to hidden powers, presenting herself as a bomoh, a witch doctor capable of influencing fate, fortune, and success. Her husband, Mohamad Nor Affandi, became her devoted accomplice, managing the logistics of their growing enterprise, while Juraimi Hassan, an assistant, handled errands and served as her silent enforcer. Together, they crafted a terrifying combination of spiritual authority and calculated deceit, offering wealthy and influential clients solutions that went beyond the ordinary — promises of supernatural protection, political advantage, and mystical success. It was a world where superstition and greed collided, and Mona was its undisputed queen.

By 1993, her reputation had spread beyond her village. Rumors of her powers reached the ears of Datuk Mazlan Idris, a rising politician in Pahang whose ambition burned hotter than reason. Mazlan was desperate to secure a position that would guarantee his influence, a man willing to do anything to ensure his ascent. Hearing whispers of Mona’s abilities, he sought her out, drawn by tales of a mystical talisman — a cane and headgear she claimed had once belonged to a powerful figure in history. Mona told him that with this object, his path to power would be clear, that misfortune would flee, and success would inevitably follow. For this favor, he was told to pay RM2.5 million, offering RM500,000 upfront and several land titles as collateral.

On a thick, humid afternoon, Mazlan arrived at Mona’s compound. The house appeared ordinary from the outside, yet stepping through the gate felt like entering a different world. Candles flickered against walls adorned with strange idols, incense smoke curled into the shadows, and the faint, damp smell of the tropical night clung to everything. Mona greeted him with a bright smile, her eyes calm but calculating, as if she could see every hidden fear in his mind. Juraimi stood silently nearby, an ever-present shadow, watching and waiting. The stage was set for a ritual that promised divine favor — and yet, it was designed to bring death.

The ritual began slowly, almost hypnotically. Mazlan lay on the cool, tiled floor as Mona arranged flowers on his body, chanting softly in a voice that was soothing yet unsettling. The candles cast flickering shadows that danced across the walls, making the idols seem almost alive. Outside, the insects continued their relentless chorus, a background hum that contrasted with the tense stillness inside. Mazlan closed his eyes, trying to focus on the promised guidance from the spirits, unaware that this night would mark the end of his life.

Hours passed, or so it felt. Mona’s words lulled the room into a strange quiet, a tension so thick it pressed against Mazlan’s chest. Then, without warning, Juraimi rose with an axe. The movement was almost silent, precise, and horrifying. The first strike fell with a suddenness that left no room for struggle or plea — Mazlan’s life ended instantly. The sound echoed faintly off the walls, a single, dreadful note in a room of otherwise perfect silence. Mona remained calm, observing, her expression unchanged, as if the moment had been inevitable.

What followed was methodical and terrifying. Mona, her husband, and Juraimi began to dismember Mazlan’s body. Each cut was deliberate, precise, and careful, as if following some unspoken ritualistic order. Forensic evidence later confirmed that Mazlan had been cut into eighteen separate pieces, each hidden beneath the concrete floor of a room in the house. The acts themselves were executed with an almost chilling efficiency, leaving behind little trace except the ominous arrangement of ritual objects, knives, and the thick air still scented with incense.

After the crime, Mona displayed an almost surreal composure. She continued to live openly, flaunting her wealth with a new Mercedes-Benz, extravagant clothing, and even undergoing cosmetic surgery. She was no longer a woman of faded ambition; she was a queen of deception, living in plain sight. But her confidence could not hide the trail of suspicion that grew quickly. Police began to investigate Mazlan’s disappearance, noting the unusual financial transactions and the sudden prominence of Mona’s household.

The break in the case came when Juraimi was arrested for an unrelated crime. Under questioning, he confessed to the murder and led authorities to the hidden remains beneath the concrete floor. The discovery of Mazlan’s body shocked the nation: eighteen pieces meticulously buried, ritual objects scattered around, and the dark atmosphere of Mona’s home laid bare. Mona and her husband were promptly arrested, their empire of fear and deceit crumbling with terrifying swiftness.

The trial that followed was among Malaysia’s most sensational. Seventy-six witnesses testified over sixty-five days, detailing the ritual, the payments, and the gruesome murder with clinical precision. Observers were captivated and horrified by Mona’s unnerving demeanor — she smiled, posed for cameras, and wore bright, flamboyant clothing, a stark contrast to the horrific events being recounted. The jury needed less than seventy minutes to return a unanimous guilty verdict. Death sentences were imposed on Mona, her husband, and Juraimi. Appeals and petitions for clemency were denied.

On November 2, 2001, the executions were carried out at Kajang Prison. Mona, her husband, and Juraimi were hanged. Witnesses reported Mona’s calm composure until the end, her final words chilling: “Aku takkan mati” — “I will never die.” Those words would echo long after, cementing her legacy as a name synonymous with greed, superstition, and the terrifying capacity of human ambition.

Even decades later, the story of Mona Fandey continues to fascinate and terrify. Her compound has become the subject of ghost stories; documentaries and films, including Dukun, retell the tale. She is remembered as a cautionary figure, a reminder that the pursuit of power without morality can lead to darkness and horror. The Witch Doctor’s curse is more than legend — it is a story of ambition, deception, and a human heart willing to embrace the macabre in pursuit of wealth and influence.