He was tried in October, convicted in November, and last week, he was sentenced to 16 years in prison for attempted murder.
The sentence of Brandon Carelse, 35, of Humboldt was handed down in Saskatoon's Court of Queen's Bench on January 15.
He was given credit for the 22 months he spent on remand since his arrest, leaving him with 14 years and two months left to serve.
He was also banned from having any contact with his former wife and their children during the term of his sentence, except through a lawyer.
The South African native faces deportation upon his release from prison.
Carelse had been on probation for a previous assault against his then-wife, Elvircia, when he went to her home on April 7, 2011. The couple was legally separated at the time.
After an attempt to convince her not to leave him, he beat her and kicked her, then stabbed her 40 times with a kitchen knife.
She nearly died in the attack. The knife had damaged her windpipe and kidney - lifethreatening injuries. She was rushed to the hospital in Humboldt, where it took 90 minutes for medical personnel to try and stop the bleeding.
After the attack, Carelse claimed he could not remember anything about it, but then shared details with police about how he got the knife from the kitchen, and started stabbing the floor "to scare her," then realized he was stabbing her.
He also said he didn't remember going to the basement and attempting to hang himself with an electrical cord after the attack. That's where RCMP officers found him after responding to a 9-1-1 call about the stabbing.
At the trial, Carelse said he was not himself when he attacked his wife.
His lawyer argued that he was in a state of "mindless fury" when he attacked her, and did not mean to kill her.
Justice Richard Danyluik disagreed. When reading the guilty verdict on November 19, he said "The court does not believe him."
The accused, he said, "could have retreated entirely.... He chose to take a knife from the kitchen and return."
That showed clear intent, the judge said, as did the location of the wounds.
"The court finds beyond a reasonable doubt the accused formed the intent to kill the complainant," Danyluik said.
Sentencing hearings were held December 19. The Crown argued for a life sentence, while Carelse's attorney argued for a term of eight or nine years.
The judge reserved his decision until January 15. That day, he sentenced the South African immigrant to 16 years, one of the longest sentences delivered in Saskatchewan in a contested sentencing hearing, Danyluik claimed.
"It is the view of this court that these circumstances merit such a sentence," Danyluik was quoted as saying. "A clear message must be sent, not only to Mr. Carelse, but to society in general, that his unthinkable behaviour toward his spouse is absolutely unacceptable and will not be tolerated," he stated.
This was not a case for light sentencing, Danyluik continued, as it has several features that he called "aggravating" and "highly troubling."
Though Carelse apologized in court to Elvircia for hurting her, and for the effect his actions had on their children, Danyluik said his statement rang hollow and was self-centred.
"While he did utter words of apology several times, the court paid careful attention to his words, the manner in which he delivered them, and the overall context," Danyluik said. "His statement did not impress the court. It lacked the ring of sincerity."
The judge also pointed out that this was not an isolated incident. Evidence brought throughout the trial told the tale of an abusive marriage in which violence occurred not only when they were in Canada, but in South Africa as well.
Violence directed at a spouse is considered a separate aggravating factor in sentencing under the Canadian Criminal Code.
"Elvircia Carelse would not do what Brandon Carelse wanted her to do. As a result and in the course of a dispute, he decided to kill her, and did his best to do exactly that," Danyluik stated.
Danyluik called the attack ferocious and prolonged, and stated that it left Elvircia and her children with lasting psychological trauma.
And if released, the court heard he was very likely to try it again. A pre-sentence report showed that in a test, Carelse scored in the 93rd percentile in the area of risk for re-offending toward his spouse. That means no men score higher, and 93 per cent score lower on that test.
This was another aggravating factor when it came to his sentence. The judge wrote that even now, he remains a danger to his former wife.
Her story
Elvircia Natlazo, 28, hadn't planned to attend the sentencing of her ex-husband, convicted of trying to kill her with a kitchen knife nearly two years ago.
Listening to the sentencing arguments in December had been so difficult for her, she wasn't sure she wanted to go back into that courtroom, she told the Journal last week.
"For me, it was like listening to my ex-husband when the defence lawyer was speaking," she said. "I felt worthless, destroyed, that my life was worth nothing."
She had an opportunity to say something at that hearing, she said, but couldn't stop crying long enough to speak.
Some counselling she received after that point showed her that she was falling into old patterns, letting words hurt her and not standing up for herself. So when the time came, she went to court, and heard what the judge had to say.
"Listening to the whole thing, what the judge picked up, was just like listening to conversations I had with friends," she said.
The judge said that even the Bible verses Carelse chose to use in his statement to the court showed he was thinking about himself, and showed that he felt wrongly accused, Natlazo noted.
"I felt like my voice was then heard. The judge didn't believe him."
When the sentence was handed down, Natlazo's reaction was shock.
"I expected less because of how (Dec.) 19th went," she said. "The Crown did, too. When I heard from the judge '16 years,' everything felt surreal. No one expected that."
Carelse is still angry at her about what happened, Natlazo believes.
"I knew he was obsessed with me," she said, and that he would never let her leave him.
"He always said, 'What God has put together, we can never break apart'," she said.
Death was the only thing that was going to separate them, as far as he was concerned, she said.
That he was deemed by the courts likely to re-offend against her wasn't a big surprise to Natlazo.
But it still frightens her.
"That there is a chance to be hurt by him again is the scariest. It sticks with me," she said. "It really scares me, the fact that I'm still playing on his mind."
But for now, she knows she and her kids are safe.
Her children said after the sentencing, "We can be happy now and move on with our life. We don't have to worry," Natlazo said.
But she does, a bit.
"I know he's not going to be out for a long time, but it's still there. It's really still there."
The abuse she suffered by her husband began in South Africa, Natlazo said, before they were married, when she was still a teenager.
They separated a few times because of it, but eventually reconciled.
"I gave a lot of chances," Natlazo said. "I'd feel sorry for him.... He promised it won't happen again, and then it would."
She didn't know what to do, she said; domestic violence wasn't talked about in South Africa, and there weren't many resources available for women being abused.
The violence carried on when the family moved to Canada in 2008, after Carelse promised her things would change in a new country.
"My family was blamed for everything that went wrong in our home," she said. When they came to Canada, "I said to him, if this is really going to work, I'm not going to be quiet anymore."
When she started to make new friends and a support system in Canada, that's when things went sour between them again, she said, and Carelse started talking about moving.
When she wasn't at home, making her husband the centre of attention, that's when there were problems, she said.
Her saving grace, it seems, is that she continued to work.
"Since day one, since the first slap in the face, I decided I was going to get a job, be an independent person," she noted.
When she left Carelse, she lived in fear. She didn't sleep.
"When I was with him, I waited for things to happen. He had said to me, 'I'm going to go to jail for you'," she stated.
He would accuse her of infidelity if she was two minutes late, and treated her more like an object than a person, she claims.
He would threaten to kill himself if she left him, she said, which convinced her time and again to stay with him.
Finally, a phone call to Mental Health Services about those threats convinced her to leave.
"I knew I needed to get out," she said.
And she did.
The day of the attack, Carelse came over to her house to talk to her, she thought, about the licence plates he had taken off her car, and about a bike belonging to one of her children.
She didn't expect him to attack her, but he did - first with his fists and feet.
Her nose was broken when he kicked her in the face.
Then he went to the kitchen to get a knife, came back and attacked her with it.
He stabbed her about 40 times - they even found three or four stab wounds on her head - and she remembers everything about it, about how she wouldn't lie down, worried about choking on her own blood.
She remembers every emergency responder, every person who came to the house that day, she said.
She does not remember worrying about dying. She never doubted she would live through it.
"There wasn't one doubt that I was going to die," she stated. "I just thought about my kids.... It always played on my mind, he's stabbing me and my kids are right there. I was worried about them."
Natlazo has nothing but praise for the Canadian justice system and those whom she met while working her way through it.
"Everything that happened, since day one, they supported me through it all," she said of the police, the special investigators, and the Crown prosecutor.
She understands that proper procedure had to be followed, giving Carelse a chance to defend his actions.
Going through the trial was difficult for Natlazo. She tried to mentally prepare herself for the day she had to testify in court. But when she was being questioned by the Crown, she just couldn't stop crying, she said.
But she answered all questions directed at her as truthfully as she could.
And finally, in the end, the truth came out, she feels.
Natlazo has had amazing support throughout this ordeal from her family and friends, she said.
"I made it through by them holding me up."
Healthwise, she has mostly recovered from her near-death experience, though a third of her kidney does not function, she has some numbness on her right side, some nerve damage, and some of her scars aren't healing. Her nose is crooked now, she said, so her breathing is difficult and her hands and fingers are different now than they were before the attack.
"I don't look at my scars at all. I try not to, but it's there," she said. Sometimes, her children point them out, and she sees sadness on their faces.
But the bad memories are lessening, she said.
Her children have so much excitement in their lives now, involved with different groups and sports.
"Though some nights, we have to wipe tears, we are all getting there, slowly but surely," she smiled.
Her children are clearly Natlazo's world.
"I'm happy, because I look at my kids and I see the young, amazing boys they are today. It's all my work I see - the loving, the caring. They learn from your behaviour, and not one day do they remind me of him. They are remarkable boys."
Their life is different now.
"We're not on guard," she said.
Natlazo wanted to speak about her experience to encourage women in similar relationships to seek help.
There are more resources in Canada for those in violent home situations.
"Being in a domestic violence relationship, we are isolated. We believe it is all our fault," she said. "But if you really confide in someone you trust, and find help, it is one of the biggest steps to a brighter future for yourself," she said.
There are many things out there in terms of support, she said - counselling, local agencies dedicated to helping. Even the police take things very seriously and show sincere concern, she said.
"We always think we owe that abuser everything," she said. "But you can get out if you want to. There is a lot of help out there."
Natlazo had friends who had been in the same situation, who could understand and could tell something wasn't right.
"Deep down, I needed someone to talk to, to say how concerned I am....For me, it was a big thing to see what amazing people are here to help."
She lost friends, she said, especially in the South African community, who tried to make her see Carelse as a good person even after the attack.
"I couldn't. I cut ties with them," she said.
Humboldt has been a huge part of her healing process, though.
"I always felt I belonged here. They put together so much for me and my kids (after the stabbing). It was the most amazing, overwhelming thing I ever experienced... It was the most amazing blessing I ever received, except for my kids," she said of funds raised while she was in hospital, to help her and her children financially.
Now that the trial is over, Natlazo is looking ahead.
"I am moving on with my life," she said.
