‘I know he’s still alive’: Dezi Freeman’s wife reveals final distress message.

In a stunning public declaration that has reignited controversy surrounding one of Australia’s most protracted and emotionally charged manhunts, Amalia “Mali” Freeman — the wife of fugitive Dezi Freeman — has categorically rejected Victoria Police’s assessment that her husband perished in the wilderness of Mount Buffalo National Park. Speaking exclusively in a heartfelt interview on February 10, 2026 — just days after police wrapped up a major five-day search operation without recovering a body — Amalia insisted: “I know he’s still alive.”

The 42-year-old Filipino-Australian mother of three described the official conclusion as “premature and heartbreaking,” claiming that authorities are ignoring critical evidence from the day of the shootings on August 26, 2025. At the center of her bombshell revelation is a final text message Dezi sent to her moments before vanishing into the bush: “They’re coming for me — hide the kids, meet at the old mine shaft.” Those seven words, she says, point to a specific, remote location deep in the woods — a disused mining shaft on the fringes of Mount Buffalo that the family once explored together during bushwalks.

Amalia claims the message, timestamped shortly after the initial gunfire erupted at their Porepunkah property, was Dezi’s desperate plea for her to protect their children and rendezvous at the shaft — a place he knew well from his years living off-grid in the high country. “He wasn’t saying goodbye,” she told reporters outside her temporary residence near Bright. “He was giving instructions because he planned to survive and come back for us. The police searched everywhere except where he told me to go.”

The revelation has sent shockwaves through the Australian public and law enforcement community. Victoria Police, who have repeatedly stated they “strongly believe” Freeman died shortly after fleeing — likely from exposure, injury, self-harm, or a combination — dismissed the new claims as unsubstantiated. In a statement released hours after Amalia’s interview aired on local news, Detective Inspector Adam Tilley reiterated: “There has been no verified proof of life since 10:45 a.m. on August 26, 2025. Extensive searches, including cadaver dogs, acoustics analysis of the reported gunshot, and ground teams covering hundreds of hectares, support our view that Mr. Freeman did not survive the initial flight into the terrain.”

The Day Everything Changed

The saga began on a crisp winter morning in Porepunkah, a quiet town nestled in Victoria’s northeast alpine region. A team of 10 officers, including Detective Leading Senior Constable Neal Thompson and Senior Constable Vadim De Waart-Hottart, arrived at the Freeman property to execute a search warrant linked to historical allegations of child sexual abuse — charges Dezi vehemently denied and which his family maintains were fabricated as part of a broader persecution against sovereign citizens.

What unfolded was chaos. Gunfire erupted almost immediately. Thompson and De Waart-Hottart were fatally shot, and a third officer was wounded in the lower body. Dezi, armed with multiple firearms (including allegedly an illegal homemade weapon and items seized from the officers), fled westward across the Buckland River into the dense bushland leading to Mount Buffalo National Park. Amalia, present at the scene with their two younger children, fled across a paddock to meet their eldest son Koah before going into hiding.

In the frantic hours that followed, Amalia received the 7-word text from Dezi’s phone. She says she forwarded it immediately to authorities but claims it was downplayed. “They focused on the gunshot locals heard 90 minutes later,” she said. “But Dezi knew that area like the back of his hand. He could have made it to the old mine shaft — it’s hidden, has water nearby, and he had survival skills from years in the bush.”

The “old mine shaft” refers to abandoned prospecting sites scattered throughout Mount Buffalo’s western slopes — remnants of 19th-century gold rushes. Some are deep vertical drops, others horizontal tunnels prone to collapse. Police did search several known mine entrances during earlier operations, but Amalia insists the specific one Dezi referenced was never thoroughly explored due to its remoteness and instability.

A Family Torn Apart

Amalia Freeman has largely stayed out of the spotlight since the initial days after the shootings. In late August 2025, through her lawyer, she released a statement expressing “deep sorrow” for the officers’ deaths, offering condolences to their families, and urging Dezi to surrender: “Please Desi if you see or hear this call Triple Zero and arrange a surrender plan with police.” She affirmed full cooperation with Victoria Police at the time.

However, as months dragged on without resolution — and with police shifting focus to body recovery rather than live capture — her stance hardened. Arrested briefly alongside her 15-year-old son during a raid two days after the incident, she was released without charges related to the shootings (though obstruction inquiries lingered). Family photos from happier times — including footage of Amalia visiting extended relatives after the birth of a grandchild in late 2025 — show a woman who once appeared joyful now visibly strained.

In her February 2026 interview, Amalia painted a picture of a husband under immense pressure in the weeks leading up to the warrant. “He was withdrawn, talking about ‘trouble catching up,’” she recalled. “But he loved his kids more than anything. He wouldn’t just give up and die in the forest. That message was him fighting to stay alive for us.”

The Manhunt’s Legacy

The search for Dezi Freeman has been monumental. Victoria Police launched one of the largest operations in state history: hundreds of officers, helicopters, drones, sniffer and cadaver dogs (including interstate reinforcements), and a record A$1 million reward. Renewed efforts in February 2026 — prompted by intelligence tied to the reported gunshot — involved a five-day push into targeted zones of Mount Buffalo. Cadaver dogs alerted in several areas, but no human remains were located. Police wrapped the operation on February 6-7, 2026, reiterating their belief in Freeman’s death.

Critics of the sovereign citizen movement — which Freeman openly embraced, using pseudolegal tactics and rejecting government legitimacy — point to the Porepunkah incident as a tragic escalation of anti-authority extremism. A February 2026 Lowy Institute report described the movement as having grown “beyond a nuisance,” citing Freeman’s case as an example of how encounters can turn deadly.

Conspiracy theories abound online: some claim Freeman was extracted by sympathizers, others suggest he crossed state borders or even left the country. Amalia rejects these as distractions. “He’s not a criminal mastermind,” she said. “He’s a father who believed he was protecting his family from what he saw as tyranny.”

What Happens Next?

Amalia’s insistence on Dezi’s survival has prompted fresh calls for an independent review of the search. Supporters have launched online petitions urging police to revisit the mine shaft coordinates she provided. Victoria Police have not ruled out further targeted searches but emphasize resource constraints and the terrain’s dangers — freezing temperatures, steep drops, and wildlife make prolonged survival unlikely without supplies.

For the families of Neal Thompson and Vadim De Waart-Hottart, the ongoing uncertainty compounds grief. Belgian relatives of De Waart-Hottart traveled to Australia for memorials and expressed gratitude to search teams.

As the case enters its sixth month, Amalia Freeman’s words hang heavy: a wife’s unyielding belief clashing with official conclusions. Whether the “old mine shaft” holds answers — or merely echoes of a desperate final message — remains unknown. But in the shadow of Mount Buffalo, one thing is clear: the story of Dezi Freeman is far from over.