the lesser of the evils, he told detectives
In an Auckland courtroom, a father stands trial for the death of his five-year-old daughter — a killing he carried out in the belief he was sparing her from suffering, though the suffering he imagined was never real. Mukesh Prashad, 38, does not deny taking Tulsi Amola's life; he asks instead that the law recognise his mind as the place where the true catastrophe first occurred. The trial turns on one of jurisprudence's oldest and most difficult questions: where does delusion end and culpability begin.
- A child's final words — 'Papa, no,' spoken three times — frame a killing that her father described to police as an act of mercy, carried out on a false premise that no doctor had ever confirmed.
- Medical evidence established that Tulsi never had herpes; the sores her father feared were insect bites, a diagnosis her GP had already given and Prashad had refused to accept.
- Prosecutors point to a trail of deliberate preparation — a pillow smuggled out a window, internet searches for sleeping pills and the police number, a chosen location — as proof of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
- After killing his daughter, Prashad drove to an estuary and beat his own head with rocks, then walked into a police station and reported the body in his boot — a sequence that complicates any simple reading of his state of mind.
- The trial now pivots to psychiatric testimony, asking whether a disease of the mind had so consumed Prashad that the wrongfulness of his actions was, in any meaningful sense, invisible to him.
The last words Tulsi Amola spoke were a child's simple refusal — 'Papa, no' — repeated three times as her father carried out what he had convinced himself was an act of mercy. On the evening of January 5th last year, Mukesh Prashad drove his five-year-old daughter to a quiet industrial area of South Auckland and suffocated her with a pillow. His reason: he believed she had contracted herpes from him, and he wanted to spare her from a life of pain and isolation.
The belief was unfounded. An autopsy confirmed Tulsi never had the virus. The sores Prashad had fixated on were insect bites from a Christmas visit to Maraetai Beach — infected from scratching, and already diagnosed as such by the family GP, whose assessment Prashad had refused to accept.
In the High Court at Auckland, Crown prosecutor 'Aminiasi Kefu told the jury that Prashad's own words to police told the story plainly. He had planned the killing, rejected overdose as a method, chosen suffocation as 'the lesser of the evils,' smuggled a pillow out of the house so his wife wouldn't see, and driven to a location he knew well. Internet searches in the days prior captured the arc of his thinking: herpes, sleeping pills, children's pain medication, the police phone number.
After the killing, Prashad walked into an estuary and beat his head with rocks in an attempt to take his own life. He failed. After midnight, he drove to Manukau Police Station and called 111. 'I've killed my daughter,' he told the operator, 'and her body's in the boot.'
Prashad has pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. His defence lawyer, Sharyn Green, does not contest that he killed Tulsi — only that a disease of the mind had, at the time, made him incapable of understanding that what he was doing was wrong. Psychiatric testimony is expected from both sides. The jury, presided over by Justice Pheroze Jagose, must now determine whether the legal threshold for insanity is met — a question that carries the full weight of a child's life and a father's fractured mind.
The last words spoken by Tulsi Amola, five years old, were a child's simple refusal: "Papa, no." She said it three times as her father, Mukesh Prashad, carried out what he had decided was an act of mercy. On January 5th of last year, in a parked car in a quiet industrial area of South Auckland, he suffocated her with a pillow.
Prashad's explanation to police, delivered within hours of the killing, was that he believed his daughter had contracted herpes from him—a virus he had picked up while working in Melbourne. He wanted to spare her, he said, from the pain and isolation of living with the infection. An autopsy would later establish that Tulsi never had herpes at all. The bug bites the child had developed after a Christmas Day visit to Maraetai Beach were exactly what the family doctor had said they were: insect bites, scratched raw and infected. Prashad had brought her to the clinic insisting otherwise, but the GP was unmoved by his conviction.
The details emerged in the High Court at Auckland as prosecutors laid out their case against the 38-year-old father, who has pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. Crown prosecutor 'Aminiasi Kefu told the jury that the first phase of the trial would focus on a single question: did Prashad kill his daughter, and did he do so with intent to murder? The answer, Kefu suggested, lay in Prashad's own words to police. "He told police this was his plan and he did it intentionally," the prosecutor said. "He was fully aware of what he was doing and he carried it out."
The sequence of events was methodical. Prashad had returned to his Takanini home over Christmas to visit his wife and daughter, having relocated to Australia for work while they remained in New Zealand. After deciding that killing Tulsi was necessary, he considered overdosing her on children's pain medication but rejected that approach. Suffocation, he told detectives, was "the lesser of the evils." On the evening of January 5th, he left the house around eight o'clock to collect the child from a friend's home. He had smuggled a pillow outside the bedroom window beforehand so his wife would not see him take it. He drove to the industrial area where he used to work, parked, and killed her. Later that night, he returned to the same location and walked into a nearby estuary, where he bashed his head repeatedly with rocks in an attempt to end his own life. He failed.
After midnight, Prashad drove to the Manukau Police Station and called 111. "Hi there," he said when the operator answered. "Actually, I've killed my daughter and her body's in the boot." Officers who rushed outside found him in the driver's seat, covered in mud and blood from his self-inflicted injuries. He had been treated at a hospital before agreeing to a recorded police interview at six in the morning.
Detectives who examined his internet activity in the days before the killing found searches for herpes, sleeping pills, Pamol, and the police phone number—a digital record of premeditation. Yet the central question now before Justice Pheroze Jagose and the jury is not whether Prashad committed the act, but whether he was capable of understanding that what he was doing was wrong. Defence lawyer Sharyn Green made clear during her opening statement that she would not contest that her client killed the child. The insanity defence, she suggested, hinges on whether Prashad was suffering from a disease of the mind at the time that prevented him from grasping the wrongfulness of his actions. The defence will call a psychiatrist who interviewed Prashad three months after Tulsi's death. The Crown may present its own psychological expert. Ultimately, the jury will decide whether the legal threshold for insanity has been met. The trial continues with the full weight of that question hanging over the courtroom.
Notable Quotes
He told police this was his plan and he did it intentionally. He was fully aware of what he was doing and he carried it out.— Crown prosecutor 'Aminiasi Kefu
The main issue jurors will have to decide is if her client was suffering a disease of the mind at the time of the killing to the extent that he didn't understand what he was doing was wrong.— Defence lawyer Sharyn Green
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why would a father believe his daughter had herpes when a doctor had already told him otherwise?
That's the puzzle at the heart of this. Prashad was convinced despite clear medical judgment. It suggests something had shifted in how he was processing reality—whether that was delusion, obsession, or something else is what the psychiatrist will be asked to explain.
He confessed immediately. He called the police himself. Doesn't that suggest he knew what he'd done was wrong?
It does suggest awareness of the act itself. But the insanity defence doesn't require someone to not know they committed an act. It requires that they didn't understand the act was morally wrong—that they couldn't grasp its wrongfulness because of a disease of the mind. Confessing doesn't rule that out.
He considered other methods first—overdosing her on medication. He chose suffocation as "the lesser of the evils." That sounds like reasoning.
It does sound like reasoning. But reasoning about which method is "less evil" when the entire premise is false—that his daughter has a virus she doesn't have—that's where the question becomes whether his mind was operating in reality or in a constructed world.
What happens if the jury decides he was sane?
Then he's convicted of murder. If they decide he was insane, he's found not guilty by reason of insanity, which typically means indefinite commitment to a psychiatric facility rather than prison.
Does it matter that he tried to kill himself afterward?
It might. It could suggest remorse, or it could suggest he was acting on the same distorted logic—that death was preferable to living with what he believed he'd done. The psychiatrist's testimony will try to make sense of the whole pattern.