‘Chilling’ moment that rocked reporter during Dezi Freeman hunt

Australia’s most wanted man was on the run, the Victorian town of Porepunkah had been placed in lockdown, and we were getting text messages telling us to stay safe as there was an active shooter at large.

Despite all of that, I went doorknocking for answers, because when you’re a journalist trying to piece together the reality of what’s happened in the moments after chaos and confusion, that’s the job.

But as I held my 7NEWS microphone in one hand, my notebook in the other, and my hand on my pregnant belly, I knocked on one door and came face-to-face with a man I’ll never forget.

A farmer, in a beanie, holding a gun.

He wasn’t pointing it at me, but he was holding it, at the ready, standing only centimetres in front of me, asking who I was and what I wanted.

In hindsight, fair enough, really.

Dezi Bird Freeman, a double cop killer, could have been hiding anywhere.

All I could muster up was, “I don’t want anything. We’re going”. My cameraman and I hot-tailed it out of there.

I had never felt so defenceless in my life.

Later that same day, a special operations group member pulled us aside.

He was dressed in full army gear, a helmet and a bulletproof vest.

He took off his mask and looked me in the eyes and told me something that sent chills down my neck.

“I’ve got protection. You’ve got nothing. And this man is unhinged. He could be out there in the bush right now. He could be watching us right now,” he warned.

“Look, I know you’re doing your job and we’re doing ours, but you guys are sitting ducks here. I’d move back to the roadblock.”

He was right. We were sitting ducks. The words kept ringing around my head.

Everything felt surreal.

The confidence that can come with being a crime reporter used to asking colourful characters tough questions drained from my face.

I told my camera operator, “I’m not going any further. I’ll wear it if we miss something”.

I had a baby in my belly, and my priority was getting home.

This wasn’t like any normal story.

That was day two of what became a 216-day investigation. It was the longest and most expensive manhunt Victoria Police has ever run.

What I saw across those seven months, from the very first hours to the moment it ended, changed how I think about this job, my life and my home.

There were things about covering this story that I don’t think people on the outside fully understood.

The police went to Freeman’s home in the first place not because of his anti-authoritarian beliefs, but because of allegations of historical sexual offences involving a minor.

They were there with a warrant. After Freeman’s death, forensic analysis discovered hundreds of files containing child exploitation material on his computer.

Those police were there in the name of child protection. And they died.

Despite all of this, many in the sovereign citizen community that supported Freeman are sceptical and defend him.

Some didn’t just share his beliefs – they actively made life harder for the officers trying to find him and continue to make their lives hard online.

Freeman had posted on Facebook that any “good cop is a dead cop”, labelling police “terrorist thugs”.

During the operation, Victoria Police officers knew there was some businesses they were not welcome in.

In contrast, others provided free food and a hot coffee, fuel, support, and a friendly smile: a simple gesture that meant so much as the days turned into weeks and months.

The mental load of officers pursuing justice for two dead colleagues amid grief and hostility is something most of us will never understand.

Behind this tragedy were two men whose lives mattered: police officers Neal Thompson and Vadim De Waart.

There are stories behind their badges.

This is part of the reason why I wanted to work on 7NEWS podcast The Hunt and spend hours, not minutes, going over key elements from this case.

There have been so many pieces of information spinning in my mind that I wanted to put on record, so that the full story can be understood.

Neal was a 37-year veteran, days out from retirement. He was there at Dezi’s front door to execute a search warrant, because he had previously dealt with him, and offered to help his team.

He led his team in, and he was the first to be shot.

Vadim was 34, on a secondment in Wangaratta. Originally from Belgium, he was someone who’d come to Australia and fallen in love with the idea of being a police officer.

At both their funerals, it was apparent both men were held in the highest regard.

Neil’s partner Lisa, words have stayed with me. “Neil taught me how to love when I was my most scared. And I’m so scared right now.”

Vadim’s brother remembered him as his personal superhero.

As weeks went by and Freeman’s trail ran cold, even I thought he was dead.

I went on maternity leave believing that.

When I spoke to police contacts over Christmas, I asked if they thought I’d be coming back to work early. They said no. We all thought a bushwalker would eventually find something like a bone, some remains and that would be it.

But then the tip-off came on March 30, and it all changed. Dezi was hiding in a shipping container, and police had killed him.

When news of the shooting broke, a lot of the officers involved messaged me.

They cried in relief.

It’s those officers, a small team of them, who just kept digging and digging and digging to find Australia’s most wanted man.

They never gave up.