Father who killed his 10-year-old daughter attacked in prison

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!

I Invited My Colleague to Secretly Introduce Her to My Single Grandson – My Heart Stopped as They Saw Each Other

Elsie just wants Josh, her grandson, to meet someone with whom he can consider settling down. When a young new teacher enrolls at her kindergarten, she thinks that she has hit the jackpot. But when Josh meets Allison, Elsie learns that they already have a connection.

I’m a meddling grandmother. Not in a bad way — I just want my grandson Josh to move along with his life. He’s 27 and spends most of his time at work or gaming.

During weekends, he stays at home, working on something around the house, or gaming.

“You need to get out more, Josh,” I said. “I want you to live your life to the fullest! Don’t you want to meet someone?”

“I get it, Gran,” he would say, pausing his game. “But I’m just not interested in that at the moment. Work is taking up all my time and energy, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“You’re not getting any younger,” I said, handing him chips to snack on.

“It’s because you’re surrounded by kids all day, so you just want great-grandchildren,” he laughed.

Josh wasn’t wrong. I was a kindergarten teacher, and I loved every moment of it. But I was done with the life of raising children away from their homes. Now, at 70, I wanted a quiet life of knitting and baking — a soft life, as Josh put it.

I’m leaving my position at the school at the end of the year. And maybe it’s just maternal instinct, but I wanted to know that Josh would be okay and not so alone.

A few months ago, we welcomed a new teacher at the kindergarten, Allison.

She was a few years younger than Josh, and I loved having her around during the day. So, of course, I thought about setting her up with him.

But I knew my grandson — Josh would never agree to an arranged date. He probably wouldn’t even show up.

The next best thing was to invite Allison over for dinner, where Josh would be forced to meet her.

“Alli,” I said to her one day during school. “Would you like to come over for dinner?”

“Yes! Of course, I would, Mrs. Barnard,” she said. “Since moving here, I’ve really missed family dinners. This will be great.”

I arranged for Allison to come over for dinner on a Friday evening. She went on and on about coming early to help with the cooking or bringing things over.

“Please just let me help, Mrs. Barnard,” she pleaded, as she helped me put the toys away one afternoon.

“You can bring dessert,” I told her. “And call me Elsie.”

I loved her.

And I knew that she would complement Josh well.

But nothing on earth could have prepared me for the connection between Josh and Allison.

That evening, as I was setting the table, Josh walked in.

“What’s this about?” he asked, nodding to the table.

“We’re having a new teacher over for dinner, okay?” I said, putting the cutlery in place.

“Sure, do you need me to help you?” he asked.

Allison arrived, her presence a breath of fresh air, carrying a cake with her.

She hugged me at the door and made herself at home — while Josh was still in his bedroom.

And then, the entire evening was turned upside down.

“Allison?” Josh’s voice came from the doorway, a mix of disbelief and an inexplicable hint of recognition.

“Josh?” Allison answered, her eyes wide. “Mrs. Barnard, this is your grandson? Josh?”

Confusion wrapped the room like a thick fog.

“Wait, you two know each other?” I asked, my heart racing at the possibilities of their connection.

“Yeah, Gran,” Josh said, sitting down.

“How?” I pressed on. We were past the niceties; I needed to know more.

“Allison is my sister,” he declared, each word resonating with the weight of a thousand unspoken stories.

The room fell silent.

“Explain, please,” I told Josh.

Josh isn’t my biological grandson. In fact, I had spent years of my life wanting a child, but I struggled with personal relationships. So, when I was 48, I took the plunge and went to an orphanage.

That’s where I met Josh. He was 5 years old and was a survivor of an accident in which his parents had died.

“Elsie,” Mandy, the social worker, said. “He’s a great kid! He’s curious, charming, and polite as ever. He just needs a chance to get out of here and live.”

When I met him, he was a scared little boy who had lost the most important people to him.

“What about the rest of his family?” I asked. “Wouldn’t they come looking?”

“There isn’t anyone else,” Mandy said. “We’ve searched. Which is why he had to be separated from his sister, too. She was adopted three weeks ago.”

“And the family didn’t want to take Josh?” I asked.

“Sadly, no,” Mandy admitted. “They just wanted the youngest child we had, so that they could have as much of her childhood as possible.”

In the end, despite my asking for more information about Josh’s sister, there was just no way such confidential information could be given out.

I adopted Josh as his grandmother because I was already going gray, and I didn’t want anyone to ask him why his mother was so old.

Eventually, on his 15th birthday, I told him the truth about the adoption — but nothing about his sister because I just didn’t have the information.

So, Josh has known the truth — or as much of the truth as possible.

“Tell me,” I pressed on.

“Gran, after you told me the truth about me being adopted, I felt settled. I mean, you had chosen me, after all. But I just felt that there was more to the story, you know?”

I nodded. I didn’t want to interrupt him. But I would choose this boy every single time.

“So, a few months ago, I went back to the orphanage, and I was told about a sister — Allison. And they were able to give me information because we were biological siblings.”

“And then, Josh found me on Facebook,” Allison chimed in. “We’ve been talking for a while. Although, he didn’t tell me the truth at first.”

“Well, I didn’t know if you knew the truth or not,” Josh retorted. “I couldn’t just say that I found your details in an old file at an orphanage.”

“I didn’t think that our first meeting would happen here, in your home,” Allison said.

“I think we need some dinner,” I said, waking up to get the food.

As we sat down at the table, I silently observed Josh and Allison’s reunion. I had absolutely no idea that there was a possibility that they could have known each other, let alone be siblings.

Josh ate quietly, processing his thoughts while he chewed. Allison’s eyes were glazed over — I wondered what she was thinking, and whether she was okay.

“Gran, why did you invite Allison over?” Josh asked, pouring more wine.

“Because I wanted to play matchmaker,” I said honestly.

Allison started giggling, and soon the room echoed with laughter.

The sense of awkwardness that had initially overwhelmed me transformed into a profound joy — I had hoped to bring love into Josh’s life, never imagining it would come in the form of a sister’s bond long severed by fate.

But their roles in each other’s lives were restored.

Later, when Allison took it upon herself to do the dishes, Josh and I stood outside.

“I can’t believe this,” Josh whispered, his voice cracking with emotion as he turned to me.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” I said, looking at the night sky.

“You’ve given me so much,” he said. “And now, you’ve unknowingly brought Allison back. We’ve been talking, but neither of us had the courage to actually meet.”

The rest of the night unfolded with stories of childhood memories lost and found, of heartaches and hope, and the unshakeable bond of family.

As I lay in bed that night, the house quiet once more, I couldn’t help but feel that their meeting was predestined by some other force.

At least now, Allison will be in Josh’s life, in some capacity or another.

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