A normal afternoon ended with a scream. A 12-year-old collapsed on the floor, killed not by illness or violence, but by a silent current no one could see. One miswired connection. One step. One life gone. Panic spread through the street. Sirens, tears, desperate attempts to revive a body already too da… Continues…

By the time the ambulance doors closed, the family’s life had already been split into a Before and After. The child’s empty room, the untouched schoolbag, the echo of their voice in every corner of the house now feel like accusations: why didn’t anyone know, why didn’t anyone check? Investigators move methodically from socket to socket, tracing cables, testing outlets, searching for the exact point where safety failed and death slipped in.

Around them, neighbours quietly book electricians, unplug overloaded extensions, and stare uneasily at frayed cords they once ignored. Authorities plead with the public to treat every flicker, every shock, every warm plug as a warning, not an inconvenience. The tragedy has become a brutal lesson: danger inside a home is not always visible, and love alone cannot protect a child from a risk no one bothered to see.