Woman Chased Social Media Fame—Now She’s Facing Years Behind Bars

It started with frogs. Then chickens. Pigeons. Rabbits.

One by one, they appeared on a YouTube channel that racked up over 20,000 subscribers—not for cooking tips or pet care tutorials, but for something far more sinister. Anigar Monsee, a 28-year-old living in Delaware but originally from Liberia, posted video after video of animals being t*rtured, m*tilated, and k*lled. All on camera. All with a smile.

Now she’s been found guilty—four felony counts of aggravated cruelty to animals. She faces up to seven years in prison and a $15,000 fine. And yes, deportation is on the table too.

Let’s pause for a second.

Because what’s maybe more unsettling than the acts themselves is that thousands watched. Some donated. Others submitted “requests.” As if it were a playlist, not a graveyard.

Her defense? That it was “traditional food prep,” misunderstood by outsiders. That line didn’t survive ten minutes in court. Prosecutors and the jury alike saw it for what it was: deliberate, sadistic ab*se. No cultural context can excuse boiling an animal alive while engaging your audience like it’s some twisted Q&A.

I remember reporting a video once—something minor by comparison, just a guy chasing a raccoon. YouTube auto-replied within seconds. “No violation.” So how did Monsee slip through the cracks for months?

Turns out, volume is the enemy. With over 500 hours of content uploaded every minute, reports from regular users rarely make it far. As data analyst Nicolas Vasquez put it, NGOs get priority. The rest? Lost in the shuffle. That’s why PETA stepping in made all the difference. Their emergency response team flagged the content, followed up, and wouldn’t let go.

And still—it shouldn’t have taken that long.

Monsee’s GoFundMe, where she pleads to be spared for the sake of her daughter, sits at $337 of a $10,000 goal. She paints herself as a misunderstood single mother, cornered by a culture clash. But cruelty isn’t cultural. It’s personal.

“This case only came to light because good people spoke up,” said Upper Darby Police Superintendent Tim Bernhardt. He’s right. If nothing else, this trial reminds us of what silence enables.

The sentence comes in July. But the verdict? It’s already loud and clear.

No more views. No more animals. No more excuses.