Teen Killers Who Murdered Their Own Friend Over Just £25 Debt | The Sarmad Al-Saidi Case 

Teen Killers Who Murdered Their Own Friend Over Just £25 Debt | The Sarmad Al-Saidi Case 

play war. It’s a heavy ass charge that if you get caught, bro. Yeah, bro. If I get nicked on this, bro, all the text is going to come up, man. Bro, I’ll get about 10 year, bro. Bro, just delete all these texts I speak to you when I see you in person. That wasn’t just teenage talk. That was panic pure and real.

 These weren’t random words. They were recorded right after one of the most brutal attacks Preston had seen in years. An ambush, a betrayal, and a setup that turned deadly. At the center, three boys, all teenagers, all once connected by school, social circles, and petty deals. But that connection shattered when revenge came into play.

 And one of them didn’t make it out alive. It didn’t start with violence. After a few days, it was just another teenage argument that usually blows over. Sarmad Alsadi and Jaime Dixon had known each other for years. They weren’t best friends, but they moved in the same circles, hung out with the same people. Nothing about their history hinted that things would ever turn deadly, but something changed.

 No one remembers exactly what sparked it. A petty insult, a misunderstanding, maybe just ego. Whatever it was, it stuck. Words were exchanged. Tension built and one day things went too far. During a confrontation, Sarmad pulled out a knife. In the chaos, he slashed Jaime across the wrist, deep and messy. Then he ran.

 That one moment turned everything upside down. Jaime could have called the police. He didn’t. Instead, he made a choice. He would handle it himself. And for him, that meant one thing, payback. Not right away. Not in a rage. Jaime was patient. The injury on his arm started to heal, but his anger didn’t.

 In fact, it only grew colder, more calculated. And the deeper that scar got, the more focused his plan became. He wasn’t going to forget, and he definitely wasn’t going to forgive. Weeks passed, then months, but for Jaime Dixon, time did nothing to soften the blow. He wasn’t healing, not mentally, at least. That cut on his wrist had scabbed over, but every time he looked at it, it reminded him of what happened.

Of how in front of others he’d been wounded and made to look weak. For someone like Jaime with a reputation to protect, that wasn’t something he could let slide. He didn’t talk much about it, but those close to him noticed the shift. He was more guarded, always looking over his shoulder, and most of all, always preparing.

 Jaime began collecting weapons, blades, machetes, anything that gave him an edge. He talked less and watched more. He started keeping tabs on Sarmad, trying to figure out where he was going, who he was hanging with, and when he might be vulnerable. But Jaime wasn’t the only one feeling the tension. Sarmad had heard the rumors, too.

 Friends warned him that Jaime wasn’t over it, that he was angry, and that he was coming. Sarmad listened. He understood what Jaime was capable of and he wasn’t about to take any chances. So he started carrying a knife of his own. Every time he left home, it was with him just in case. Both boys knew the score now. This wasn’t just a lingering feud.

 It was a countdown. The only question left, who would make the first move? It all came to a head over something as small as a 25 debt. Assad Hussein, just 17, wasn’t a major player, but in their world, he was known. A low-level dealer who drifted between friend groups, including both Jaime and Sarmad. He wasn’t close to either of them, but he was connected, and that made him useful.

Weeks earlier, Assad had fronted Sarmad £25 worth of cannabis. Nothing big, but the money hadn’t been paid back. Created tension, small, but noticeable. And when Assad and Jaime started talking, Sarmmed’s name came up again. First, it was just venting, but then Jaime saw a window. He pitched an idea.

 What if Assad lured Sarmad into a meetup under the pretense of settling the debt? Somewhere casual, somewhere familiar? While they talked, Jaime would be nearby waiting. It sounded extreme. Too much for a 25-lb dispute. But Assad didn’t ask questions. Maybe he was angry, too. Maybe he just didn’t care. Either way, he agreed. With that, the trap was set.

Sarmad had no idea what was coming. He thought it was just a talk, a way to resolve a minor issue. When Assad messaged him to meet at a friend’s place, supposedly just to hang out, maybe play some PlayStation. Sarmad didn’t hesitate. He even suggested the location himself. A friend’s house where he felt comfortable. Familiar territory.

Assad passed that exact location to Jaime and just like that, everything was in motion. Petty debt, a casual meetup, a false sense of safety. What Sarmad didn’t know was that this wasn’t about money anymore. It was about revenge. It was just 2 days before Christmas. Sarmad left his house thinking it was a normal afternoon.

 He was headed to a friend’s place, the same one he’d told Assad about earlier. The plan was simple. Hang out, play some games, maybe settle the small debt that had been floating between them. Nothing unusual. But outside, something was already waiting for him. Jaime Dixon and his close friend, 16-year-old Lamar Forbes, were moving into place.

 Both armed, both ready. They had received the location from Assad and wasted no time. Each of them grabbed a weapon. One took a machete, the other a hunting knife, and they made their way toward the house. By 5:20 p.m., they were already there. CCTV footage from nearby homes later captured them pacing back and forth in the driveway and around the neighboring property.

 Dressed in black, they looked restless. They kept drawing and re-shathing their knives, checking windows, watching the entrance. But Sarmad wasn’t coming outside. He’d already been at the house for 2 hours. That’s when the next part of the plan clicked into place. Assad Hussein arrived right on time. Sarmad let him in without hesitation.

 After all, they were just supposed to talk. Inside the house, they made their way to the conservatory where Sarmad and a few friends were chilling. But something about Assad felt. He was tense, jittery. Sarmad noticed it. Everyone did. What he didn’t realize was that Assad had one more job to do.

 He had to get Sarmad to put his knife down. Somehow, Assad pulled it off. With a calm voice and a few casual words, he convinced Sarmad to set his weapon aside. Maybe it was trust. Maybe it was confusion. Either way, it worked. That was the signal. Seconds later, the door burst open. Jaime and Lamar charged inside. Blades raised.

 What followed was chaos. A blur of screams, blood, and confusion. Sarmad was sted 12 times chest, legs, back. By the time they fled, the house was soaked in panic. And Sarmad, he was barely hanging on. The house fell silent for a split second. Then panic exploded. Sarmmed’s friends, frozen just moments before, now scrambled, screaming, calling for help, trying to process what had just happened. Blood covered the floor.

 The attackers had already vanished, but their violence lingered in every corner of the room. Someone dialed 999. The call was frantic, disjointed. All the dispatcher could make out was that someone had been stabbed badly and there was blood everywhere. Outside, sirens began to slice through the cold December evening.

 Police units and paramedics raced to the scene. Inside, Sarmad was slipping away. He was unconscious, pale, barely breathing. Paramedics wasted no time. Right there on the living room floor, they performed emergency surgery. One medic opened Sarmmed’s chest and began manually massaging his heart, trying anything to get it beating again.

It was desperate, but it wasn’t over yet. Meanwhile, police officers had begun questioning everyone in the house. Among them was Assad Hussein. He didn’t run. He didn’t panic. Instead, he stayed at the scene, blending into the confusion, pretending to be just another shocked bystander. When asked what happened, he played innocent, claimed he knew nothing, that two boys just ran in and attacked out of nowhere.

 He even pointed to where it happened, acting like a witness. But behind the calm face, he knew exactly what had just taken place and exactly who was responsible. What no one realized yet was that one of the key people involved in setting the trap was standing right in front of them. Jaime stripped off his bloodied clothes and burned them, thinking the fire would erase everything. No evidence, no case.

But while the flames swallowed the fabric, something far more damaging remained untouched, their own words, because neither of them could keep quiet. Lamar, still holding the knife he used in the attack, recorded a video on his phone. In it, he proudly showed off the weapon, blood still visible, and said, “I starmad with this.

 His flesh is still on it.” The video didn’t stay private. Later that night, the pair began sending voice notes over Snapchat, laughing, ranting, replaying what they had done. They spoke about the consequences, even joked about the jail time they could face. They warned each other to delete texts, to stay quiet, but kept talking anyway.

 It was arrogance disguised as confidence. What they didn’t realize or maybe didn’t care to think about was that Snapchat isn’t as temporary as it seems. Those voice messages, those videos, they don’t just disappear. Digital footprints don’t burn like clothes do. And soon, everything they said in those private moments would become public evidence and the very thing that turned this case against them.

The night of the attack left police with chaos and few answers. Despite interviewing everyone at the scene, there were no clear suspects. No one had come forward with names. No one wanted to talk. And with Sarmad still in critical condition, unable to speak for himself, detectives had little to go on, so they turned to the public.

 A media appeal went out the next day asking for anyone with information to come forward. It didn’t take long. Two names arrived anonymously. Jaime Dixon and Lamar Forbes. Investigators moved fast. A background check confirmed both boys were known to police and that all three, including Sarmad, had once attended the same school.

 Now the pieces are starting to come together. CCTV footage from the area was reviewed again, this time with faces to match. And there it was, just before the stabbing. Surveillance from a nearby convenience store showed Jaime and Lamar walking in casually. Lamar even pulled down his mask to buy two energy drinks.

 Unaware of how clearly the camera was capturing his face. That footage put them in the area, but it wasn’t enough on its own. Then came the bigger discovery. A security camera from a neighboring house just steps away from where the attack took place caught a small but critical moment. It showed Assad Hussein approaching the property.

As he neared the house, he turned his head and looked directly at Jaime and Lamar, who were standing nearby, armed. No words were exchanged, just a glance, a nod. It was subtle, but unmistakable. When police pulled phone records, it confirmed what they suspected. A call had been made between Assad and Lamar just seconds before the attack.

 This wasn’t random. It was coordinated. And now the full scope of the setup was beginning to unfold. Assad Hussein thought he had fooled everyone. He stayed calm during police interviews, stuck to his story, and even acted like he was traumatized by what had happened to his friend. For a while, it worked. He wasn’t on anyone’s radar.

Not seriously. But the police weren’t relying on just words. They wanted data. So, they pulled Assad’s phone records, searching for anything unusual in the hours surrounding the attack. What they found changed everything. At 5:35 p.m., just moments before the stabbing, Assad received a call from Lamar Forbes.

 It lasted 13 seconds. Then 5 minutes later, Lamar was standing over Sarmad holding a knife. Investigators kept digging. They retrieved messages, app activity, deleted content, and then came the voice notes from Snapchat. In one, Assad said to Lamar, “You got him good, bro. You got him good, but if I go down for this, I swear you’re coming with me.

 That wasn’t the voice of a witness. That was someone involved. It became clear Assad hadn’t just been there. He had orchestrated the ambush. He was the one who invited Sarmad to that house, knowing full well what was going to happen. He made sure Sarmad was alone and vulnerable. He gave the signal when Lamar and Jaime were in position.

 He played both sides, pretending to be a friend while setting Sarmat up for a violent attack. When confronted with the evidence, Assad’s story began to unravel. He changed his timeline, claimed he forgot the call, denied recognizing the attackers, but it was too late. Police had what they needed, and now Assad, the quiet one, the one who stayed behind pretending to help, was officially a suspect in the setup that ended in near murder.

Sarmad Alsadi had been holding on for days. He was rushed to hospital with multiple stab wounds, including to the chest, abdomen, and legs. Surgeons worked through the night to stop the bleeding. He was placed in a medicallyinduced coma. His body too damaged to survive without full support. For a while, it looked like he might make it. Doctors were hopeful.

 His family stayed by his side, refusing to leave the hospital. His mother prayed over his bed, holding his hand and telling him to keep fighting. Friends lit candles outside. Community members sent messages of support. But then on December 29th, 4 days after the attack, everything changed. Sarmid’s condition took a sudden turn.

 His organs began to fail. The trauma from the stab wounds was too severe. Despite every effort by the medical team, Sarmad Alsadi was pronounced dead in the early hours of the morning. He was just 16 years old. The case that had started as attempted murder was now a full homicide investigation. That changed everything. Charges against Lamar, Jaime, and Assad were immediately upgraded.

 Detectives reclassified the case as premeditated murder. Prosecutors began reviewing every bit of evidence under a new light, knowing now that this wasn’t just a violent attack. It was a calculated killing. And Sarmmed’s final hours added weight to the case. Because before he slipped into unconsciousness, he had managed to whisper one thing to his mother, a name.

 She shared it with the police. And that quiet word from a dying teenager helped lock in the truth. Sarmad knew who had done this to him, and he didn’t leave this world without making sure they were held responsible. Once Sarmad passed away, everything moved quickly. The Crown Prosecution Service officially charged Lamar Forbes, Jaime Dixon, and Assad Hussein with murder.

 All three were teenagers, but they were tried as adults due to the severity and planning behind the attack. The courtroom was tense. Families from both sides sat just feet apart. Sarmmed’s mother wept silently everyday, clutching her son’s photo. The defendants, dressed in suits, showed little emotion as the trial began. The prosecution painted a clear picture.

They laid out the timeline, the text messages, the CCTV footage. They showed the jury how Assad lured Sarmad to the house under false pretenses, how Lamar and Jaime were already waiting, and how the attack was not spontaneous. It was planned. The Snapchat voice notes were played out loud. You got him good, bro.

That line hit the courtroom hard. You could feel the weight of it. cold, casual, as if they had just pulled a prank, not ended a life. The defense tried to argue that Assad didn’t know the stabbing would happen, that he was just caught in the middle. But the evidence said otherwise, the phone calls, the timing, the messages.

 And then there was the moment Assad stood over Sarmad after the stabbing, pretending to help while quietly pocketing Sarmad’s phone, deleting messages that could link him to the others. After weeks of testimony, the jury returned their verdict. Lamar Forbes and Jaime Dixon were both sentenced to life in prison with a minimum of 18 years to be served before parole could be considered.

 Assad Hussein, the so-called friend, was also sentenced to life with a minimum of 15 years. None of them showed remorse. And for Sarmad’s family, it wasn’t closure, but it was something. The people who set him up, stabbed him, and left him to die would now spend their futures behind bars.