In the latest jaw-dropping turn in the vanishing of Gold Coast game-fishing legend Ashley “Ash” Haigh, authorities are grappling with an explosive anomaly: his Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon (EPIRB)—a personal safety device designed to scream for help in emergencies—pinged inactive and adrift a staggering 25 kilometers (about 14 nautical miles) off Ballina, far south of where his unmanned boat was first discovered. The device, registered directly to the 44-year-old father and experienced mariner, was found floating silently on Saturday, February 7, 2026, after his black half-cabin vessel Grey Ghost drifted empty 46 kilometers offshore near Burleigh Heads the previous day.

That single, inexplicable detail has sent shockwaves through the investigation. Why would a life-saving beacon, typically mounted securely on the boat and set to activate automatically upon submersion or manual trigger, detach itself and travel independently to a separate location? Police sources now whisper the unthinkable: the EPIRB may have been deliberately set on a timer or manually released by Haigh himself—potentially as part of a calculated misdirection to throw rescuers off his trail.

“Investigators are examining whether the device could have been programmed or handled in a way that suggests intent,” a senior Queensland Police source told reporters under condition of anonymity. “EPIRBs don’t just float away on their own. This ping location doesn’t align neatly with drift patterns from the boat’s last known position. It’s unusual—highly unusual—and we’re not ruling out that Mr. Haigh activated or deployed it intentionally before whatever happened next.”

The revelation has transformed what was already a baffling disappearance into a full-blown enigma. Haigh, a “very loved” backbone of his family and the local fishing scene, set out alone from The Spit on Thursday, February 5, at around 6:30 a.m. for what friends described as a routine solo game-fishing run. Calm seas prevailed—no storms, no rogue waves. He was expected back at Runaway Bay Marina by evening. When he didn’t return or respond by 7 p.m., panic set in.

By 2 a.m. Friday, February 6, water police found the Grey Ghost adrift and unmanned. The boat was in “generally good condition,” keys out of the ignition on a seat, wallet left in his parked vehicle ashore, phone missing. One life jacket was unaccounted for among four normally aboard—fueling hope he might have donned it and survived overboard. But no distress call, no activated signals from the boat-mounted gear.

Then came the EPIRB bombshell. Located late Saturday afternoon about 14 nautical miles (roughly 25 km) off Ballina in northern New South Wales—well south of the boat’s discovery site—the device was inactive. No emergency transmission. No strobe light flashing. Just drifting, silent, as if placed there on purpose.

Maritime experts are stunned. Standard boat EPIRBs are bracket-mounted and hydrostatic—designed to release and activate automatically if the vessel sinks. Personal locator beacons (PLBs) or detachable EPIRBs can be carried or manually deployed, but why would an experienced skipper like Haigh separate his from the boat? And how did it end up so far afield without triggering?

Online forums and fishing communities are ablaze with theories: Was Haigh staging a disappearance? Did he suffer a medical event, fall overboard, and somehow release the beacon in confusion? Or—more darkly—did he plan to mislead rescuers while heading somewhere else entirely?

One chilling speculation gaining traction: the EPIRB could have been set on a timer or manual delay before Haigh entered the water voluntarily. If true, it points to premeditation—perhaps personal troubles, financial strain, or something family members haven’t disclosed. Haigh’s social media painted a picture of a content family man passionate about the ocean, but investigators are digging deeper into his life ashore.

The search, which ballooned into a massive cross-border operation involving Queensland and New South Wales marine units, aircraft, and volunteer vessels, covered over 1,800 square nautical miles. It shifted to “recovery phase” on Sunday, February 8, and was fully suspended at last light Monday, February 9—leaving Haigh’s devastated wife, children, and sister clinging to fading hope.

His sister’s emotional tribute went viral: “Very loved. The backbone of our family and the local fishing community. We pray for answers.” A GoFundMe to support the family has seen donations flood in, with messages urging: “Don’t give up—he’s a survivor.”

Yet the EPIRB anomaly refuses to let the case close quietly. Police continue analyzing GPS data from the beacon’s recovery, cross-referencing currents, wind patterns, and possible human intervention. If deliberate, it could reclassify the disappearance from accident to something far more sinister—potentially triggering a criminal probe.

Friends reject any notion Haigh would abandon his loved ones. “Ash was solid, experienced, safety-conscious,” one longtime angling buddy told 7NEWS. “If that beacon was tampered with or timed, something forced his hand—or someone did.”

As the Gold Coast sun sets over quiet marinas where Haigh once docked proudly, the question burns hotter than ever: Did Ashley Haigh vanish into the deep… or did he engineer his own vanishing act?

The ocean keeps its secrets, but this ping—25 kilometers out of place—may be the crack that finally breaks them open. Police appeal for any information, no matter how small. If Ash is out there, alive or otherwise, time is running out.

For his family, every unanswered question is torture. For investigators, it’s a puzzle with a piece that doesn’t fit.

And for the world watching, it’s proof that even in calm waters, the truth can drift far from where you expect.