A Belarusian model got into a dispute with a sheikh in Dubai and paid for it with her life!

ABelarusian model got into a dispute with a sheikh in Dubai and paid for it with her life!x

PART1

The 24-year-old model from Minsk disappeared in Dubai in July 2019 after a private party at the mansion of an influential person. Her agency officially announced that she had spontaneously left the country and lost contact. But three years later, evidence emerged that the girl had been drugged, stripped, and placed in a clear glass cube in the middle of the desert, where she died of thirst and heatstroke over several days while being monitored on cameras.

The body was burned along with the Cube so that no traces remained.  This is a story about how a public insult in a culture of honor can cost lives and how money and power make crimes possible.  without consequences. Victoria Sergeevna Kostyukevich was born on March 23, 1995 in Minsk, Belarus.  She grew up in an ordinary middle-class family.

My father worked as an engineer at a factory, my mother as a school teacher.  Since childhood she was tall and beautiful.  At the age of 16, she was spotted on the street by a modeling agency scout. He suggested that I try myself in the modeling business. Victoria agreed and began going to castings and shooting for local clothing brands.

By the age of 20, she had become one of the most sought-after models in Minsk. She posed for magazines, participated in fashion shows, had contracts with several Belarusian and Russian companies, earned well by local standards, but dreamed of more: an international career, filming in Paris, Milan, and New York.

In 2017, she signed a contract with the international agency Elite Models, which promised to promote her in Western markets.  The first 2 years of working with the elite were successful. Victoria traveled to Turkey, Greece, and Spain for photo shoots, worked with renowned photographers, and appeared in international publications.

But the real big money in the modeling business was not in studios and on catwalks, but at private events for wealthy clients.  The agency offered its models additional income by working as hostesses at private parties, on yachts, and in villas in Dubai, Monte Carlo, and on the islands.  Officially, it was just a job.  Be present at the event, communicate with guests, create an atmosphere.

Unofficially, everyone understood that more was sometimes expected of models .  Victoria initially refused such offers, but when filming contracts began to come less frequently and the money ran out faster, she agreed to give it a try.  In June 2019, the agency offered her a week-long trip to Dubai to work as a hostess at a series of private events.

They paid generously, $5,000 a week, plus all expenses paid.  Flight, accommodation in a five-star hotel, meals.  Victoria agreed and flew to Dubai on June 7.  The first few days passed calmly.  She attended parties on yachts, in skyscraper penthouses, socialized with wealthy businessmen from different countries, drank champagne, smiled, and took selfies.

The work was easy, although unpleasant at times when the men became too intrusive. But the agency warned that it was necessary to behave in a friendly manner, not to be rude to the client, and to be professional.   On June 14, Victoria and three other models from the agency were invited to a private party at a country villa in the desert, approximately 60 km from the center of Dubai.

The organizer was an influential person from the local elite, whose name the agency did not disclose.  They only said that this is a very important client.  You need to make a good impression. The models warned that there would be about 20 guests at the party.  All men. The atmosphere is relaxed, the dress code is evening.

On the evening of June 14, a black minivan with tinted windows arrived to pick up the girls.  The driver didn’t speak English, he just nodded and gestured for me to get in.  They drove for about an hour on the highway, then turned onto a dirt road, and then shook through the desert for another 20 minutes until they arrived at a large villa surrounded by a high wall.

The gates opened automatically and the car entered the area.  The villa is luxurious.   A two-story building made of white stone with large panoramic windows, a swimming pool with lighting, palm trees, fountains, and marble paths.  Inside, everything was furnished expensively.

Furniture made of dark wood and leather, Persian carpets, crystal chandeliers, paintings in gold frames. Guests had already gathered on the terrace by the pool: men in white djedashi, traditional Arab clothing, and Western suits, talking, smoking hookah, and drinking drinks.  The owner of the villa met the models personally.

A man of about soro years old, tall, of strong build, with a short beard and dark eyes, dressed in a white dizhdasha and a black bisht, a cloak worn by people of high status.  He spoke English with an accent and introduced himself simply as Mohammed.  He invited the girls to come in and said that the evening was just beginning. He ordered the servants to show them a room where they could leave their things and change clothes if necessary.

The party went on as usual .  The models chatted with guests, drank champagne, and danced to music that was played later. The atmosphere was relaxed, but Victoria felt the tension. Men looked at the girls openly, as if they were merchandise.  They discussed their appearance among themselves in Arabic, thinking that they did not understand.

One of the models, a girl from Ukraine, spoke a little Arabic and translated for Victoria what they were saying. The comments were rude, sexual, and derogatory. Around midnight, the owner of the villa approached Victoria, sat down next to her on the sofa, and started a conversation.  I asked her where she was from, how old she was, whether she liked Dubai, and what her plans were for the future.

Victoria answered politely but briefly, trying to keep her distance.  Muhammad poured her more champagne, said that she was very beautiful, that he would like to get to know her better.  He put his hand on her knee and squeezed it lightly.  Victoria removed his hand, said that she was only here for work, for communication, nothing personal.

Mohammed smiled, said that everything could be discussed, that he was ready to pay well for the company, and named the sum of 10,000 dollars per night.  Victoria firmly refused, saying that she was not a prostitute, that he was wrong about her.  She stood up to walk away.  Mahamed grabbed her wrist.  squeezed hard.

PART2

His face became hard.  He said quietly, so that others wouldn’t hear, that she didn’t understand who she was talking to, that here he decided who was who . Victoria tried to pull her hand away, but he held it tightly.  She raised her voice, telling him loudly to let her go, that she would not tolerate such treatment. Several guests turned around and the conversation died down.

Muhammad let go of her hand and stood up.  His face was impassive, but his eyes burned with malice.  Victoria, angry and scared at the same time, could n’t hold back and said loudly in English so that everyone could hear that he was a pervert who bought women because he couldn’t get them any other way, that she wasn’t something that money could buy, that he and his friends were disgusting, and she regretted agreeing to come here.

There was complete silence.  All the guests looked at Victoria and Mahamed.  Nobody moved or spoke.  In Arab culture, public insult, especially concerning a man’s honor, masculinity and dignity, is one of the most serious sins.  Victoria, without fully knowing it, had just dealt Mahamed a blow that could not go unanswered.

Muhammad stood motionless for a few seconds, then nodded slowly, as if he had made a decision.  He gestured to one of the servants and said something briefly in Arabic.  The servant nodded and quickly left the room.  Mahammed looked at Victoria with a cold gaze and said in English quietly but clearly that she had made a big mistake and that now she would have to pay for her disrespect.

He turned and went inside the villa.  Victoria stood there confused, the other models ran up to her, asking what had happened, and advising her to leave immediately. But there was nowhere to go.  They were in the desert, 60 km from the city, without a car, without contact with the agency.

Victoria took out her phone and tried to call, but there was no signal .  Either they jammed it on purpose, or there was simply no fishing in that area.  A few minutes later the servant returned with a tray on which stood four glasses of a drink that looked like juice. He said in broken English that the owner apologized for the misunderstanding and suggested that the girls freshen up before the trip back.  The car will be here soon.

The models exchanged glances.  Victoria hesitated, but one of the girls took a glass and drank, saying that it was better not to aggravate the situation, just drink and leave.  The others also took glasses and drank.  The drink was sweet, fruity, with a slight aftertaste of something bitter, but not repulsive.

After a few minutes, Victoria felt dizzy.  My legs felt like cotton wool, my vision blurred.  I tried to sit up, but fell onto the sofa.  The body did not obey.  I heard the other girls start to fall too.  Someone screamed, but the sound was distant and muffled. Then everything went dark and she lost consciousness.

I woke up from a bright light shining in my eyes.  My head was splitting, my mouth was dry, my body was aching, I opened my eyes, squinted from the unbearable sun, tried to cover my face with my hand, but my hand moved slowly, clumsily. Gradually her vision cleared and she saw where she was.  She lay on the bare concrete floor inside a small room with glass walls.

The walls were completely transparent, without frames or joints, as if they were a solid glass cube.  The size is approximately 3 m by 3 m, the height is also about 3 m. The ceiling is also glass. Through it one could see the blue sky and the merciless sun.  Around Cuba there was a desert of sand and rocks for many kilometers.

not a single plant, not a single sign of life.  In the distance, mountains were visible , blurred by the haze of heat.  Victoria sat up and looked at herself.  She was completely naked.  There was not a single item of clothing, jewelry, or anything on the body.  Her skin had already begun to turn red from the sun, although she didn’t know how long she had been unconscious.

In the corner of the cube stood a small video camera on a tripod.  The red light was on, indicating that it was working. Nothing more.  no water, food, things. She jumped to her feet, rushed to the glass wall, began to pound on it with her palms, scream, and call for help. The glass was thick, the impacts were almost inaudible.

The voice was swallowed up by the emptiness of the desert.  She tried to break the glass with her fists, but only broke her knuckles .  Blood smeared across the transparent surface. The glass didn’t even crack.  I walked around the cube’s perimeter, looking for a door, a crack, any way to get out.  The walls were perfectly smooth, without a single seam.

It was a solid glass box, sealed on all sides.  Half concrete, cold despite the heat outside, apparently massive so that the cube would stand steadily. The ceiling is also glass, but too high to reach even if you jump. Victoria returned to the camera, stood in front of it , looked into the lens, screamed, demanded to be let go, explained that it was a mistake, that she regretted what she said, and asked for forgiveness.

The camera stood motionless, recording silently.  She kicked the camera.  The tripod wobbled but did not fall.  Screwed to half bolts.  The sun rose higher and the heat intensified.  The glass cube worked as a greenhouse.  The temperature inside rose rapidly.  Victoria felt sweat appear all over her body and drip onto the floor.  It was becoming difficult to breathe.

The air is hot and stuffy.  She lay down on the concrete floor, which was a little cooler, and tried to breathe slowly, to conserve her strength.  Time dragged on painfully.  Victoria didn’t know how many hours had passed.  There were no landmarks.  Only the sun, which moved slowly across the sky.

Thirst began to torment her after a few hours.  My mouth was completely dry, my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my lips were chapped.  She licked her lips, but there was almost no saliva.  My head was spinning from dehydration and heatstroke.  By the evening of the first day, the sun began to set.  The temperature dropped.

Victoria lay on the floor, exhausted, burnt, and tormented by thirst.  Her skin was red.  Valdyri began to appear on the shoulders and chest, where the sun burned most.  She tried to think what to do, how to survive, but her thoughts were confused, her head didn’t work.  It got cold at night. The temperature in the desert drops sharply after sunset.

And in the glass cube, without clothes and without the possibility of shelter, Victoria was freezing. She curled up in a ball on the floor, shaking, her teeth chattering.  I couldn’t sleep, the cold didn’t let me, and neither did fear.   She lay and looked at the stars through the glass ceiling, bright and countless, indifferent to her torment.

On the morning of the second day the sun returned and the torture began again.  Heat, thirst, pain from burns.  Victoria tried to get up, but her legs wouldn’t hold her up, she had no more strength.  She crawled towards the glass walls, scratched them with her nails, leaving bloody marks, and begged someone to save her.

The camera continued to record everything.  Somewhere far away, in a villa in the desert, Mahamed sat in a darkened room in front of a large screen that was broadcasting an image from a camera in Cuba.  He looked at Victoria, watched her suffer, watched her slowly die. For him, it was a ritual, an act of restoring the honor she had insulted.

In his culture, honor is more important than life, and public humiliation cannot go unpunished. Next to him sat two of his closest friends, also men of influence and wealth, who shared his views on justice and punishment.  They watched in silence, sometimes commenting that she deserved it, that Western women don’t understand respect, that this is a lesson for anyone who dares to insult them.

The broadcast was conducted in closed mode through an encrypted channel accessible only to the three of them.  Mohammed set aside an hour a day for viewing, usually in the evening when he returned from work or meetings.  For him, it was like meditation, a way to cleanse himself of anger and restore inner balance.

On the third day, Victoria was barely moving, lying on her side, breathing shallowly, her lips were swollen and cracked to the point of bleeding, her tongue was swollen and blackened, her skin was covered in blisters and began to peel off in places.  The eyes were deeply sunken, dehydration had reached a critical stage.

She no longer screamed or scratched the walls, she just lay there and stared into space.  Sometimes she moved her lips, trying to say something, but there was no sound.  Maybe she prayed, maybe she called for her mother, maybe she asked for death.  The camera recorded every movement, every breath.

By the evening of the third day, Victoria began to write on glass.  She used blood from the broken fingers she had scratched on the concrete while trying to find a way out.  The letters she wrote were crooked, uneven, and smudged.  I wrote a few words in Russian, then in English.  Help me, please, mom. Then the name Mahamed and the word killer.

Muhammad saw this on the screen, grinned, and told his friends that she still didn’t understand that no one would come, that no one would know that the desert was huge.  The cube stands in a place where even the Bedouins do not go, because there is nothing to look for there. That even if someone accidentally sees the cube from afar, they won’t approach it, thinking it’s a mirage or someone’s strange installation.

On the fourth day, Victoria stopped moving completely.  She lay motionless, her breathing was barely noticeable, her chest rose and fell weakly.  Her skin turned grey, covered with a crust of dried blood and dirt.  The eyes were open, but they saw nothing.  The look was empty, glassy.   The cube was equipped not only with a camera, but also with sensors that monitored vital signs: body temperature, heartbeat, and respiration.

The information was transmitted to the same screen where Mahamed watched the broadcast.  He saw that her pulse was falling, her breathing was becoming less frequent, her body temperature was dropping. On the evening of the fourth day, at about 9 o’clock, the sensors showed cardiac arrest.  The pulse dropped to zero.  Breathing stopped.

Mohammed stared at the screen for a few more minutes, making sure it was all over.  Then he turned off the broadcast, stood up, left the room, and told the servants that it was time to clean up.  An hour later, a truck with a crane pulled up to the Cube.  Workers hired specifically for this task and paid huge sums of money to keep quiet hooked the cube with cables, lifted it from the ground along with its concrete base, and loaded it onto the flatbed of a truck.

The cube was heavy.  The glass is thick, specially reinforced, weighing about 2 tons.  The truck took him back to the villa, but not to the villa itself, but to a large hangar located a kilometer away. The hangar was built specifically for the disposal of waste and unnecessary items.  It contained an industrial waste incinerator capable of heating up to 1 degree Celsius.

The stove was rarely used, but was kept in working order. The workers rolled the cube into the hangar, opened the oven door, and with the help of a crane placed the cube inside entirely, without opening it or touching the body.  We closed the oven door and started heating.  The temperature rose slowly.

First up to 500, then up to a thousand, then up to 1 half degree. The glass began to melt, turning into a viscous mass, enveloping the body from the inside. The body burned along with the glass.  The bones were charred and crumbled.  Organic tissues evaporated. The process took several hours.  By the morning of the fifth day, only a molten lump of glass and a handful of ash mixed with concrete fragments from the foundation remained in the furnace.

The workers waited for the oven to cool, removed the remains, crushed them with hammers into small crumbs, and poured them into bags.  The bags were loaded onto a truck, taken to the desert, to another place, far from the villa, and buried in a deep hole, which was then filled with sand and stones. No traces remained.

No body, no DNA, no clothes, no personal belongings.  Everything burned and was completely destroyed. Even the cube chamber was melted along with the rest.  The memory card was removed in advance and destroyed separately, smashed and burned.  While this was happening, the Elite Models agency in Dubai began to worry.

Victoria hasn’t been in touch for 4 days.  The phone was unavailable. She did not return to the hotel.  The agency manager called and wrote messages, but there was no answer.  Contacted other models who were at the same party.  They returned to the hotel on the morning of June 15, the day after the party, and reported that Victoria had quarreled with the owner of the Villa, and they all passed out after drinking.

They woke up in the hotel, in their rooms, without remembering how they got there.  Victoria was not with them.  They thought that she had left separately or had stayed at the villa of her own free will.  They didn’t pay any attention to it right away, because this happened sometimes.

Models would stay with wealthy clients for a day or two if they agreed on additional payment.   The agency manager tried to contact the party organizer, but the contact information he had was fake. The phone was not answered and the email address did not exist. He contacted Dubai police on June 18 and filed a missing person report. The police accepted the statement and began an investigation.

They requested information about Victoria’s movements.  We checked the recordings from cameras at the hotel, at the airport, and on the streets.   The final footage showed Victoria getting into a black minivan on the evening of June 14 near the hotel.  The car’s license plate was visible on the recording, but when they checked it, it turned out that the car was registered to a non-existent person with forged documents.

Police questioned other models.  They talked about the party, about the villa in the desert, about Victoria’s quarrel with the owner.  They described the villa and the direction they were going, but they didn’t know the exact address.  Everything was organized through an agency that received an order from an anonymous client.

The police tried to find the villa and sent patrols into the desert in the direction the girl had been told .  The desert is huge.  There are hundreds of villas and private residences there, belonging to wealthy people, sheikhs, and businessmen.  Without an exact address, it is almost impossible to find a specific villa .

The police checked several and questioned the owners. Everyone denied having parties or seeing the model from Belarus.  No evidence, no witnesses, no body. The police were unable to continue the investigation actively.  Two weeks later, at the beginning of July, the police received information from an unknown source.

An anonymous email stated that Victoria Kostyukevich left the United Arab Emirates on June 15 on a private flight to Turkey.  They provided the flight number of a private airline that operated charter flights. The police checked the information. The airline confirmed that the flight actually took place.

The private jet took off from Dubai Airport’s private terminal at 11:00 a.m. on June 15.  Direction Istanbul.  Passenger, one woman. Documents in the name of Victoria Kostyukevich. Passport details match.  The police requested copies of documents and video recordings from cameras in the terminal.  The documents were genuine.  Victoria’s passport.

The video showed a woman wearing sunglasses and a headscarf walking through the terminal and boarding a plane.  The face was not clearly visible, but the build and height coincided with Victoria. Police assumed it was indeed her, that she had left voluntarily, perhaps after receiving an offer from a client or deciding to leave for personal reasons.

We contacted the Turkish authorities and requested information about the flight’s arrival. Türkiye confirmed that the flight landed in Istanbul on June 15.  The passenger passed through passport control and left the airport. Further traces were lost. Dubai police closed the case as requiring no further investigation, believing that Victoria had left the country of her own free will and lost contact with the agency for personal reasons.

In fact, it was all a set-up.  Mohammed used his connections and money to create a false trail.  He had Victoria’s passport .  He took it from her things after he drugged her at the party.   A woman of similar build, who passed through the terminal using Victoria’s passport, boarded the plane.  The woman was an accomplice and received a lot of money for this work.

The plane was indeed flying to Istanbul.  The woman passed through passport control, then quietly returned to Dubai on another flight using her real documents. Victoria’s passport was destroyed.  The entire operation cost more than $100,000, but for Mohamed it was pennies.  It was important to create the appearance that Victoria was alive and had left the country.

Victoria’s family in Minsk became concerned even earlier.   Her parents called her every day when she was in Dubai.  But after June 14 the phone was unavailable.  They contacted the agency.  The agency said Victoria was out of touch, but may have gone to another country for work.  The parents filed a complaint with the Belarusian police, asking for help in finding their daughter.

Belarusian police contacted Dubai police and requested information. We received a response that Victoria Kostyukevich left the UAE on June 15 and flew to Turkey. Further whereabouts unknown. Belarusian police asked the parents to contact Turkish authorities to try to find traces of their daughter.  There, the parents tried, wrote requests, called the embassy, ​​but without result.

Nobody has seen Victoria in Turkey.   There   was no record of her stay after passing through passport control.  It was as if she had vanished into thin air. The parents hired a private detective in Turkey.  He searched for several months, interviewed people, checked hotels, hospitals, morgues, and found nothing.

By the end of 2019, the search ceased. Victoria’s family had come to terms with the fact that she was missing, possibly dead, but without a body, without evidence, they could do nothing.  She was officially declared missing.  Victoria’s mother became depressed.  The father tried to continue searching, but his strength ran out.

They never knew what really happened to their daughter.  3 years have passed.  Mohammed continued to live his life.  Rich, influential, untouched by anyone. continued to throw parties, invite models, run his business, and meet with important people.  No one suspected him of murder because officially there was no murder.

There was only a missing girl who flew to another country and disappeared. But in 2022, something unexpected happened. One of Makhamed’s friends, those who watched the broadcast from the camera in Cuba, had a falling out with him over business.  The conflict was serious and concerned the division of profits from a joint venture.

The friend, offended and angry, decided to take revenge.  He contacted an international journalistic organization that investigates crimes against women.  I gave them information about Victoria’s death, told the whole story, how it happened, who was the organizer, how the body was destroyed, and didn’t provide evidence because there was none.

All electronics were destroyed.  Witnesses among the servants and workers were intimidated and paid huge sums of money to remain silent.  But journalists started digging.  We contacted Victoria’s family, the agency, and the Dubai police.  They opened a case about her disappearance and began to check the version provided by the informant.

We found a discrepancy in the official story about the flight to Turkey.  We examined the video footage from the terminal more closely with the help of facial recognition experts.  Experts said the woman in the recording was not Victoria.  The facial features do not match, despite the glasses and scarf.

The investigation was published in 2022 in an international publication. They named Makhamed, although with the caveat that this was unconfirmed information from an anonymous source. described the whole story as the informant told it. This caused a great stir, especially in Belarus and Russia, where many girls work as models in Arab countries.

The UAE government responded harshly, denying all accusations and calling the publication slanderous and an attempt to denigrate the country.  They stated that the Dubai police investigation was conducted properly, that Victoria Kostyukevich left the country voluntarily, and that there was no evidence of a crime.

Mohammed issued a statement in which he denied all accusations, stated that he had never met the girl, that parties were held regularly at his villa, but that he was not responsible for all the guests.  They tried to reopen the case.  International human rights organizations demanded a new investigation, but without a body.

Without direct evidence, without witnesses willing to speak, nothing has changed. Muhammad was too powerful, too protected. The case was closed again, this time permanently. Victoria’s family never received justice.  Her mother died of grief in 2023, never knowing the truth.  The father continues to live, but is broken by the loss of his daughter and wife.

Elite Models stopped sending models to Dubai for private events following the scandal.  Too much risk to reputation. Victoria’s story has become a warning to thousands of girls who dream of a modeling career and easy money in rich countries. showed that behind the glamour and luxury there can be danger, that cultural differences can cost lives, that insulting honor in some cultures is punishable by death, and that money and power allow one to commit crimes without consequences.

Mohammed continues to live in Dubai, runs his business, and throws parties.   The cube in which Victoria died was destroyed long ago.  The place in the desert where he stood is no different from the rest of the desert.   There is nothing to remind us of what happened there.  Only sand, stones, sun and wind that carries dust across the endless expanses.  M.