Toronto Murder Arrest: Nigerian-Canadian Man Charged in U of T Student’s Death

By: Abudu Olalekan

Yeah. So. It happened. Just like that.

A quiet trail near campus—Highland Creek, you know the one?—turned into a crime scene before anyone could blink. December 23, 2025. A Tuesday. Around 3:34 p.m. Someone called it in as “unknown trouble.” That phrase always chills me. Unknown trouble. Like, what is that? A fight? A fall? A scream swallowed by wind?

Turns out—it was a gunshot.

Shivank Avasthi—20, third-year, University of Toronto Scarborough—was found lying there. Not moving. Not breathing. Pronounced dead on scene. Just… gone.

And the shooter? Vanished. Into the trees. Into the afternoon. Gone before sirens even wailed.

Fast forward to January 7, 2026. Police headquarters. Fluorescent lights. Tired faces. Detective Sergeant Stacey McCabe steps up. Voice steady, but you can hear the weight behind it. She calls it “deeply tragic.” Understatement, honestly.

Shivank was from India. Bright. Studious. Had plans—big ones. Friends said he’d light up a room just walking in. Laughed loud. Asked questions no one else thought to ask. And now? His parents are halfway across the world, waiting for a son who’ll never come home.

They arrested him. Babatunde Afuwape. 28. Nigerian-Canadian. Toronto resident. Charged with first-degree murder. Not manslaughter. Not accidental discharge. First-degree. That means—according to them—it was planned. Deliberate. Cold.

Here’s the thing, though: police say the two didn’t know each other. At all. Zero connection. No beef. No history. Just… a stranger. On a trail. With a gun.

Why him? Why there? Still no motive. McCabe admitted it outright: “We have not yet found a motive for why Shivank was targeted.”

That’s the part that sticks in your throat, isn’t it? Random. Senseless. The kind of violence that makes students clutch their backpacks tighter walking home. Makes parents text “you okay?” three times a day. Makes you side-eye every shadow near campus paths.

The trail’s usually peaceful—students jog there, couples walk dogs, profs take thinking strolls between lectures. Now? People avoid it. Or walk in pairs. Or don’t walk at all. Fear’s like that. It spreads quiet. Fast.

Afuwape appeared for bail on January 6—at the Toronto Regional Bail Centre, Finch and… yeah, 2201 Finch Ave West. Standard address. No drama in the paperwork. Just another name on a docket. But this one? This one echoes.

Reportersroom reached out to U of T for comment. A spokesperson said counselling services were ramped up immediately. Vigils were held. Candles flickered in the snow. Someone left a copy of Sapiens by the memorial—Shivank’s favourite, apparently. Dog-eared. Highlighted. Full of margin notes.

Investigators are still asking: Did you see anything? Anyone near Highland Creek Trail that afternoon? A man acting odd? A car idling too long? A backpack dropped, then picked up again? They’re piecing it together—frame by frame—like a film missing half its reels.

Funny how life works. One minute, you’re texting your roommate about dinner. Next? You’re a headline. A case number. A “deeply tragic” footnote in someone else’s briefing.

We keep saying “thoughts and prayers.” But thoughts don’t stop bullets. Prayers don’t rewind time. What does help? Showing up. Speaking up. Paying attention.

If you saw something—even if it felt small, unimportant, probably nothing—call it in. Seriously. Because to Shivank’s family? There’s no such thing as probably nothing anymore.

This isn’t just a crime report. It’s a reminder: safety isn’t guaranteed. Not on campus. Not on trails. Not anywhere. And justice? It doesn’t happen by accident. It takes witnesses. It takes voices. It takes us—not looking away.