Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Shocking Case of Noela Rukundo Betrayed by Husband and Back From the Dead PART1 #68

Episode Date: October 26, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truecrime #realhorrorstories #betrayalstory #survivalhorror #truecrimetales  Part 1 introduces the shocking true case of Noela Rukundo, a woman whose own husband plotted to have her killed. What makes this story chilling is not only the betrayal by someone she trusted most, but also her miraculous survival. Against all odds, Noela returned from the dead to confront the man who tried to end her life, turning her personal nightmare into one of the most disturbing true crime stories ever told.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, betrayal, survivalstory, shockingcases, realhorrorstories, murderplot, backfromthedead, domesticbetrayal, survivalagainstodds, horrifyingtruecrime, truecrimetales, darkreallife, attemptedmurder, chillingbetrayal

The strange, twisted story of Noela Rukundo. Let's roll the tape back to January of 2015. At that point in time, a woman named Noela Rukundo was living what you could call a fairly ordinary life in Melbourne, Australia. She had a husband, she had kids, she had a household to manage, and, like a lot of immigrant families, she was juggling about a hundred responsibilities at once. Nothing out of the ordinary, until the kind of news that that drops like a bomb arrived, she was told that her stepmother had passed away back home in

Burundi, East Africa. Now, stepmother might sound like one of those distant relationships, the kind of family connection where you nod politely at Christmas but don't actually feel too close. But in Noelah's case, that word didn't even begin to capture it. This woman had raised her since she was little. She wasn't just the step version of a mother, she was the mother figure in Noela's life. So imagine the emotional punch. It wasn't just sad news. It was devastating, shattering news.

At that moment, Noela and her husband, Belna, were trying to figure out what to do. Flying from Melbourne all the way to Bujambura isn't just a quick hop. That's a massive trip. You're looking at long-haul flights, expensive tickets, hotel costs, meals, transport, the whole deal. And don't forget, Noela had a bunch of kids to look after. Money was tight, grief was heavy, and the decision wasn't easy. After talking it over, they agreed she'd go alone. It wasn't what she wanted, she would have loved her husband there for support, or someone to share the unbearable weight with, but practically, it was impossible. She'd travel by herself,

reunite with her brother and extended family once she landed, and try to make it through what was going to be one of the hardest weeks of her life. And you can picture the scene, right? A long flight filled with thoughts you don't want to think, stepping out into the humid air of East Africa, meeting relatives you haven't seen in years, and all of them grieving, all of them pulling you into conversations when all you want to do is curl up and cry. That's the nightmare she walked into. Day after day, she endured it.

She met cousins. She greeted neighbors who remembered her. She hugged her siblings. She listened to endless condolences, We're so sorry for your loss, She was a great woman, may she rest in peace. And even though those words were kind, they wore her down. Every sentence was another weight on her chest.

By the time January 21st, 2015 rolled around, she hit a breaking point. That day was relentless, up early, out with the family, sitting through wave after wave of sympathy, having her grief replayed over and over in different voices. By the time the sun dipped down, she was beyond exhausted, mentally fried, physically drained, emotionally running on fumes. All she wanted was to crawl into bed, shut out the world, pull the curtains closed and collapse into sleep. That was the plan. That was the lifeline she clung to.

But then her phone buzzed. And who was on the other end? Her husband, Belna, calling all the way from Melbourne. At first, it was a pretty normal check-in. He told her he'd been trying to reach her but her phone wasn't connecting earlier, maybe bad reception, whatever. Then he asked how she was doing.

And Noela, honest as always, told him the truth. She was drained, she couldn't take another moment of it, and she just wanted to be in a dark room, alone, away from everyone. Now here's where it gets, strange. Instead of saying, yeah, babe, you've been through a lot, rest up, sleep well, he told her the exact opposite. He insisted that staying in bed, in the dark, was the worst thing she could do. He gave her this whole little pep talk about how when people

are grieving, locking yourself away just makes things worse. What you really need, according to him, is fresh air. A walk. Movement. Let the breeze touch your face, keep your body in motion, don't let the sadness freeze you. At first, Noela pushed back. She didn't want to hear it. She wasn't in the mood for therapy by phone. But Bailnaa kept pushing. He was firm, almost unusually firm. Eventually, worn down, she gave in. She hung up, sighed, grabbed her purse, left the hotel room,

walked through the lobby, and out into the streets. Hours later, though, something bizarre happened. Bailna called again, wanting to check on her. Except this time, she didn't pick up. Not once. Not twice. Not at all. The hours rolled by, one, two, three, and he finally got a call.

But it wasn't from her. It was from her brother, back in Burundi, saying, we can't find noela. She left the hotel and vanished. Cue the panic. The family rushed to the police. trying to file a missing person's report. But here's the part that sounds like something out of a bad movie, the police and Burundi wouldn't even take the report without money. They demanded cash before they'd even pretend to look. And so Bailna, all the way in Melbourne,

wired over about $545 U.S. dollars to grease the wheels. On his end, he was doing everything. Calling her friends. Calling her contacts. ringing the embassy, reaching out to anyone who might know anything. And yet, nothing. It was as if the earth had swallowed her up. Then, weeks later, came another gut punch, the news that Noela had supposedly died in a car accident. Word spread. He was informed the body was badly damaged, unrecognizable, couldn't be reconstructed. The instructions were clear, the funeral would need to be closed casket. And Balna, grieving husband-mode in full swing, signed the papers, arranged everything, and tried to keep it together for their kids.

Fast forward to February 22, 2015. The house in Melbourne was filled with people. Friends, neighbors, family, all gathered to pay respects. Food was served. Speeches were made. people hugged and cried. At the center of it all stood Balna, playing the role of the bereaved widower, giving a solemn speech about his wife. And then, as the sun set in the evening began to wind down, he got the shock of his life. Because standing at the entrance, right there in the flesh, was none other than Noela herself. No bruises. No scars. No broken bone.

perfectly alive, perfectly intact, looking him straight in the eye. And what were the first words out of her mouth? Simple. Chilling. Unforgetable. Surprise. I'm still alive. That, my friend, is where the truly bizarre, twisted case of Noela Rekundo really begins.

Backstory. of Noela Rukundo. But to understand why this moment was so mind-blowing, you need to know who she was. Noela's life hadn't exactly been a walk in the park. In 2004, long before this whole nightmare, she had emigrated from Burundi to Australia as a refugee. At that time, she was a single mom with five kids to care for. Think about that for a second. Alone, broke, leaving behind everything familiar, and starting over in a country where she barely spoke the language.

She had dreams, sure. She wanted safety. She wanted a better future for her kids. She wanted to plant roots in a place where bullets weren't flying and warlords weren't ripping families apart. But she also had fear, and lots of it. She was stepping into the unknown, and the only thing keeping her from breaking was the thought of her children. because for them, she had to stay strong. In Australia, she connected with refugee services.

One social worker suggested she meet another refugee who had recently arrived, someone who might balance her out. He knew English but didn't have many friends. She was social and friendly but didn't know the language. A match made in heaven, right? That's how she met Bailna Kallawa. At first, it was simple. He helped her with English. She introduced him to people.

They became friends. Over time, they bonded. She learned about his tragic past, he, too, had escaped horror. Rebel soldiers had stormed his village in Congo, killing dozens, including his wife and child. Grief had broken him, leaving him quiet, closed off, almost unreachable. And yet, slowly, with Noela's warmth, he started to come back to life. They leaned on each other. They talked.

They built trust. Friendship turned into something more. And eventually, well, they got married. To be continued.