In an emotional gut-punch that has ripped through the Gold Coast community, the wife and children of missing fisherman Ashley “Ash” Haigh have made a desperate, tear-filled appeal: keep searching. Despite police suspending the massive operation and shifting to “recovery phase,” the grieving family refuses to let go, insisting their beloved husband and dad could still be out there—somewhere in the vast, merciless sea—fighting to make it home.

Ashley Haigh, 44, a revered game fisherman, loving husband to Jess, devoted father, and pillar of the local marlin-chasing scene, vanished on Thursday, February 5, 2026. He left Runaway Bay Marina just after 6:30 a.m. for what was meant to be a routine solo day trip chasing big fish in calm, inviting waters off the Gold Coast. He promised to be back for dinner. He never returned.

By 7 p.m., panic set in. His black half-cabin boat was spotted unmanned around 2 a.m. Friday, February 6, drifting eerily intact 46 kilometers (25 nautical miles) offshore near Burleigh Heads. Keys on a seat, hull mostly dry, one life jacket missing from the four believed onboard—clues that scream he may have entered the water deliberately, perhaps donning the absent PFD in a bid for survival.

The search exploded into a cross-border frenzy: Queensland and NSW water police, AMSA helicopters and aircraft, volunteer rescuers, up to eight vessels combing over 1,800 square nautical miles from Point Danger to Yamba. Hope surged when Haigh’s EPIRB—his last lifeline—was found inactive Saturday, February 7, 25 kilometers off Ballina. But silence from the beacon, no new debris, no sightings. By Sunday, February 8, authorities called it: search suspended at last light, transitioned to grim recovery mode. No further signs of life located.

Yet for Jess Haigh and their children, that official end is unacceptable. In raw statements filtering through friends, community pages, and media, the family has begged for the hunt to resume. “We still hold hope,” sources close to them convey. “Ash is strong, experienced—he knows the water better than anyone. He’s out there somewhere. Please don’t stop looking.” Their plea echoes the unbreakable bond of a family clinging to the slimmest thread: a man who lived for the sea might still be battling it, waiting for rescue that hasn’t come.

Friends describe the agony. A GoFundMe launched Sunday to support Jess and the kids skyrocketed past $25,000 in hours, with organizer Amber Scherrenberg writing: “Losing Ash suddenly is unfathomable… We want Jess and the kids to not have the extra stress that comes with losing the main financial provider.” Tributes pour in: “pillar in his fishing club,” “incredible dad,” “loving partner,” “top bloke.” The Gold Coast Game Fish Club—where Haigh served as president—rallied with prayers for his safe return, calling search efforts “extraordinary” while extending support to the shattered family.

The wife’s and children’s refusal to accept closure has struck a nerve. In quiet defiance of the “recovery” label, they insist hope isn’t dead. Conditions over the search days were ideal—calm seas that could sustain a man in a life jacket far longer than statistics suggest. Haigh’s expertise, his familiarity with currents, his sheer grit as a fisherman who chased monsters in the deep—all fuel their belief he could be adrift, injured but alive, beyond where boats and choppers reached.

Community outrage simmers too. Why suspend so soon after three intense days? Why not push further south with drifting models? Online forums and social media buzz with calls to restart: “He’s a local legend—give him every chance.” Flags fly half-mast at marinas, stories of shared catches and laughs keep circulating. Haigh wasn’t just missing; he was family to hundreds.

Police maintain contact with the family, assuring them the case remains open for tips. But the shift to recovery signals the brutal reality: time is the enemy in open ocean. Without new leads—no clothing, no signals, no miracle sighting—the window narrows to nothing.

For Jess and the children, though, that window stays cracked open. Their plea is simple, powerful, heartbreaking: Don’t abandon him. Keep looking. He’s our everything—somewhere out there, holding on.

As the Gold Coast mourns one of its own, the family’s unyielding hope stands as a defiant beacon against the tide of despair. In the face of official silence, they scream what no statistic can drown: Ash Haigh is loved. And love doesn’t quit.