Do people mark their first year of appearing in court for CBT with a social media post? Vivy Yusof does

Vivy Yusof and her husband Fadzarudin Shah Anuar: vivyyusof/Instagram

In the influencer calendar, December is no longer just about hari Natal (Christmas), year-end sales, and New Year resolution-making. It’s also the season to mark the first anniversary of being charged in court. Forget ulang tahun perkahwinan (wedding anniversaries) or hari lahir (birthdays). The blogger-again, Vivy Yusof, has pioneered not a new e-commerce platform, but a new genre of commemoration: Happy Court‑iversary! For the KOL class, it seems, personal reputation is merely inventory, and the darkest hour is always ripe for an illuminating post.

A year ago, Vivy Yusof and her husband Fadzarudin Shah Anuar were charged in court for “the common intention to commit CBT (criminal breach of trust)”, as Malaysian media reported. It was one of the most-followed cases at the time. One year on from her debut in the dock, Ms Yusof took to her favourite platform Instagram, in her usual girlfriend-to-girlfriend candour, not to address the RM8 million allegations, but to curate a post dripping with melodrama. Pain, disbelief, disappointment, all packaged neatly for her many followers.

For the KOL class, it seems, personal reputation is merely inventory, and the darkest hour is always ripe for an illuminating post

She revisited that fateful December day with overwhelming detail, listing every intrusion, and creating a sense of total violation. “Going in and out of MACC to give statements for days, printing out my bank statements for the past 10 years and explaining each transaction—how much I give my family, how much I spend on my home, how much I spend for anything, everything they wanted to know about me was all laid out to all the officers.” And then the domestic encroachment. “My house was raided, along with my parents and my inlaws. My belongings taken. For reasons unbeknownst to me. They took my phone, read every conversation, even private ones between husband and wife. They went through my photos, private ones included.” She also claimed that the freezing of both their company and personal accounts left she and her family with “no access to money”.

She heightened the pathos: “But you have all my bank statements! Why do you need to freeze my accounts?” She then shifts the attention from financial misconduct allegations to maternal vulnerability. She invoked “kids to feed” and, later, “fear” of “not being able to see my children”, inviting her followers to empathise with her as a mother rather than scrutinise her as a defendant. And nothing garners support faster than the image of a mother threatened with losing her children. Ms Yusof has consistently involved her brood in her influencer persona, from family‑centric posts to lifestyle branding that blends motherhood with entrepreneurship. When the allegations involve millions, invoke the kids. Nothing says innocence like a mother denied her frozen accounts.

Fadzarudin Shah Anuar and Vivy Yusof (centre) arriving at the Kuala Lumpur Sessions Court in December 2024. Screen shot: NST Online/Youtube

Recalling the court appearance (5 May 2024), she wrote: “It was a painful day of disbelief and disappointment for us – that we were made into a spectacle for the nation.” But no one made her a spectacle. The charges themselves—serious financial allegations—naturally drew national and regional attention. A defendant appears because of alleged wrongdoing. The process is procedural, factual, and public by design. Her post turned a courtroom appearance into a narrative of unjust exposure. Instead of acknowledging the allegations, she emphasises the ordeal of being investigated. In her world, everything is content. Even a courtroom appearance becomes a milestone to narrate, dramatise, and commemorate. While she accuses others of turning her into a spectacle, her own post is the spectacle.

One point that is perhaps worth noting: After her December 2024 court appearance, Ms Yusof publicly said she was entering a period of “un‑influencing”, admittedly a clever coinage. She added, “I shut the door for people to know about my last life.” We assume she meant the previous existence as a famed serial entrepreneur. On the surface, this sounded like a retreat from the spotlight, an act of self-protection, even a recognition that her influencer persona had become entangled with scandal. But in practice, her long Instagram posts, anniversary reflections, and emotional storytelling are the opposite of “un‑influencing”. They are a maximalist form of influencing, where legal distress is the new content. A sympathy play for the masses.

In her world, everything is content. Even a courtroom appearance becomes a milestone to narrate, dramatize, and commemorate

The “un‑influence” claim now appears to be less a genuine withdrawal than a rebranding gesture. It signals humility while still fervently playing the influencer game. For a social media star, a re-blogger, silence can mean irrelevance. Even in crisis, maintaining visibility is a form of brand preservation. It’s the digital age’s most cynical trade: bartering credibility for continued airtime. With emotionally-charged posts, she controls the frame, but it is undeniably ironic: She narrated her retreat through the very medium of influence. “Un‑influence” is, in fact, a rhetorical shield, while the actual practice is hyper‑influence.

The pièce de résistance came below her post, in the comments. One of fervent followers wrote, “An anniversary is the yearly recurrence of a date marking a significant past event… It signifies a milestone, often marking love, commitment, or historical importance, and can involve parties, special messages, or renewing vows. Happy anniversary.” In the photo that accompanied the Instagram post, Vivy Yusof and Fadzarudin Shah Anuar were dressed in what looks to be identical—she in all-white and he in a dark suit—to what they wore in that appearance in court, as if arraignment day were a vow-renewal ceremony. One almost expects Hallmark to roll out a new line of cards: Congrats on your Court‑iversary. Here’s to many more years of frozen accounts and confiscated phones.