In the dense, unforgiving wilderness of Victoria’s Mount Buffalo National Park, search teams have stumbled upon a chilling discovery: a remote, well-equipped campsite that investigators believe was used by fugitive Dezi Freeman—the accused double cop killer who has eluded capture for more than five months. The site was loaded with survival gear, non-perishable food supplies, water filtration tools, and other essentials designed for long-term bush living—clear evidence that the 56-year-old self-described “sovereign citizen” had meticulously prepared to disappear into the high country after allegedly gunning down two police officers in a deadly ambush.

Yet despite this bombshell find, Freeman himself is nowhere to be seen. No body. No fresh tracks. No sign of recent occupation. The camp stands abandoned, a frozen snapshot of a man who vanished like smoke, leaving authorities and a stunned public asking the same explosive question: Did Dezi Freeman outsmart the biggest manhunt in Victorian history… or did the bush finally claim him?

The breakthrough came during a targeted five-day operation launched on February 1, 2026, in a rugged 1.3-square-kilometer section of Mount Buffalo National Park, near the tiny town of Porepunkah where the nightmare began. More than 100 officers, specialist cadaver dogs, drones, and volunteers combed caves, old mine shafts, rivers, and thick bushland—guided by intelligence including reports of a single gunshot heard roughly 90 minutes to two hours after the August 26, 2025, shootings.

That gunshot—potentially the sound of Freeman taking his own life—has become the linchpin of the investigation. Victoria Police Detective Inspector Adam Tilley stated flatly that authorities “strongly believe” Freeman is deceased, with no evidence of life since the day he fled. The campsite discovery reinforces that theory: stocked for survival but clearly unused for months, it suggests Freeman either perished soon after setting up or abandoned it in haste.

The camp’s contents were nothing short of professional-grade prepper gear. Sources close to the search describe non-perishable rations, water purification systems, tarps for shelter, basic medical supplies, and possibly cached ammunition or tools—items consistent with Freeman’s off-grid lifestyle. He lived in a bus on his 20-hectare property, surrounded by makeshift defenses and known to stockpile for self-sufficiency. Experts had long warned Freeman could survive weeks—or longer—if he had “caches of food, weapons, ammunition, water, money, everything he may need to survive for a period in the wilderness.”

But the wilderness is merciless. Mount Buffalo’s alpine terrain features steep ravines, extreme cold snaps even in summer, venomous wildlife, and vast areas where a body could remain hidden for years. The lack of a corpse despite cadaver dogs and ballistic tests in the area has only deepened the mystery. Police wrapped the search on February 6 without recovering remains or the stolen police weapons Freeman allegedly took during his escape.

The saga began on August 26, 2025, when officers arrived at Freeman’s Porepunkah property to execute a search warrant related to historic sexual offenses. What should have been routine turned deadly: Freeman allegedly opened fire, killing Constables Neal Thompson and Vadim de Waart-Hottart and seriously wounding a third officer. He seized weapons and fled into the bordering bushland of Mount Buffalo National Park.

What followed was unprecedented: the largest manhunt in Victorian history, involving hundreds of officers, helicopters, armored vehicles, thermal imaging, interstate support, and even Australian Defence Force assistance. A record $1 million reward—the biggest ever offered in the state—was posted for information leading to his arrest. Freeman, a known conspiracy theorist and sovereign citizen who rejected government authority, became Australia’s most-wanted man overnight.

Early searches focused on his knowledge of the area—he was said to know the bush “better than any of the police.” Theories swirled: hiding in hundreds of old mine shafts to evade thermal detection, using rivers to mask his trail, or even being harbored by sympathetic locals. Police publicly accused some community members of aiding him. Comparisons to New Zealand’s Tom Phillips case—where a family survived months in the bush—fueled speculation Freeman could still be out there.

But as months dragged on without sightings, the narrative shifted. No proof of life. No confirmed sightings. No demands, no communications. By late 2025, the active manhunt scaled back to intelligence-led monitoring. The February 2026 renewal—triggered by the gunshot intelligence—aimed to close the chapter.

The campsite find is the strongest physical link yet to Freeman’s post-shooting movements. It proves he didn’t flee blindly—he had a plan, supplies, and a location. Yet its abandonment raises terrifying possibilities: Did he succumb to injury, exposure, or starvation? Did he deliberately end it with that lone gunshot? Or—most unsettling of all—did he relocate to another hidden cache, still alive and watching?

Public reaction has been electric. On X and Facebook, threads explode with theories: “He planned this for years—probably has multiple sites,” “Cops found the camp but no body? Cover-up?” “Sovereign citizen martyr or just a killer who got lucky?” TikTok videos recap the manhunt with dramatic music, while Reddit’s r/australia debates bush survival odds. Some hail Freeman as an anti-system folk hero; most condemn him as a “cop killer” whose actions shattered families.

For the families of Constables Thompson and de Waart-Hottart, the discovery offers no closure—only more questions. Police vow the investigation remains active: “This will not finish.” The $1 million reward stands. But with no body, no weapons, and a campsite that screams preparation yet yields no answers, Dezi Freeman’s ghost continues to haunt Victoria’s high country.

Is he dead in the bush he loved? Or is the most-wanted man in Australia still one step ahead?

The wilderness keeps its secrets. And somewhere in Mount Buffalo’s shadows, the truth waits—buried, perhaps, forever.