By Elsie Kamsiyochi
Six months after two police officers were shot dead on a rural property, the small alpine town of Porepunkah remains suspended between grief, frustration and unanswered questions.
The man accused of killing them, Dezi Freeman, vanished into the surrounding bushland moments after the shooting and has not been seen since. Despite one of the most extensive manhunts in the region’s history, authorities still do not know whether he is alive, dead, or long gone — and that uncertainty continues to weigh heavily on a community desperate to move forward.
Freeman disappeared last August after allegedly opening fire on officers who had arrived at his property with a search warrant linked to a child sexual abuse investigation. Detective Senior Constable Neal Thompson, who was from the local region, and Senior Constable Vadim de Waart were killed.
Another officer was seriously injured. Almost immediately, Freeman fled into the dense, mountainous bushland that surrounds the town, triggering an enormous search operation that would transform a normally quiet tourist destination into the center of a national manhunt.
Porepunkah is usually known for river swims, wine tasting, and family getaways beneath the slopes of Mount Buffalo. In winter, visitors arrive for snow play, skiing and tobogganing. But last winter was anything but normal.
Roads were closed, helicopters thundered overhead, and armed police flooded the area as hundreds of officers combed steep cliffs, thick forest and snow-covered tracks in pursuit of a man authorities warned was armed and dangerous.
Over the following months, the search expanded dramatically. Specialist units, interstate police, federal authorities and international advisers joined local officers. Caves were explored, rivers searched, abandoned mining huts checked and remote bush camps inspected.
Police examined more than 2,000 tips from the public and announced a record A$1 million reward for information leading to Freeman’s arrest. Still, there was no sign of him.
Early in the investigation, police suggested Freeman may have received help escaping, a claim that unsettled many locals. Freeman — whose legal name is Desmond Filby — was widely reported to be linked to the sovereign citizen movement, an extremist ideology rooted in deep distrust of government and rejection of the law.
Residents say his beliefs were well known in the area, and several people with similar views had lived on his property. But the suggestion that locals may have aided his escape left bitterness in a town already reeling from tragedy.
This month, police announced another intensive five-day search in the rugged terrain beneath Mount Buffalo National Park, revealing they now strongly believe Freeman may be dead — possibly since the day he fled.
The renewed operation followed a report from a member of the public who said they heard what sounded like a gunshot less than two hours after the officers were killed. Investigators corroborated aspects of that account and searched a relatively small area dozens of times, yet still found no physical evidence to confirm Freeman’s fate.
Since then, police have released no further updates and declined interview requests, leaving a vacuum filled by speculation.
Experts remain divided. Survival specialists say Freeman knew the terrain intimately and possessed bushcraft skills that could have allowed him to move quickly and avoid detection, possibly traveling far beyond the region.
Heavy snowfall at the time may have erased tracks and masked scent, making the search far more difficult. But those same conditions could also have been deadly without proper gear, raising the possibility that he succumbed to the elements shortly after disappearing.
Criminologists note that fugitives who remain alive for long periods typically surface in some way — stealing food, breaking into buildings, or being spotted by members of the public. The absence of such sightings has fueled the belief that Freeman may not have survived.
Even so, authorities are unlikely to formally end the search without definitive answers. The killing of police officers ensures the case remains among the highest priorities for Victoria Police, regardless of how much time passes.
For residents, each new police operation reopens old wounds. Long-time locals describe the emotional toll as evolving from shock to numbness, then anger and exhaustion.
Sirens and helicopters that once filled the valley are remembered vividly, as is the eerie quiet that followed. While many initially felt reassured that Freeman’s anger was directed at authorities rather than the community, the prolonged uncertainty has made closure elusive.
The economic impact has also been severe. With police advising tourists to stay away, visitor numbers collapsed. Businesses struggled, staff were laid off, and even enterprises that survived bushfires and the pandemic found themselves on the brink.
Government assistance helped cushion the immediate blow, but many owners say it cannot fully undo the damage to the town’s reputation.
In response, residents have tried to reclaim a sense of normalcy. Community markets, street parties and local events have been organized to draw people back and shift the narrative away from violence.
Yet the story continues to follow them. Visitors still ask questions. Reporters still arrive. And the delayed coroner’s inquest — which could formally detail how the officers died — means official answers may be years away.
Many locals now avoid discussing the case altogether, saying the constant attention has deepened their trauma rather than brought understanding.
They want Porepunkah to be known again for its scenery, its food, and its warmth — not for a man who disappeared into the bush and left a town suspended in uncertainty.
Six months on, the mystery remains unresolved. Whether Freeman lies hidden somewhere in the vast alpine wilderness or escaped long ago, his absence has become a presence of its own. Until that question is answered, Porepunkah remains caught between remembrance and recovery, longing for the day when it can finally put this chapter behind it.
Source BBC
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