Nearly two years have passed since Samantha Murphy, a devoted 51-year-old mother of three, stepped out for what should have been a routine morning run in the bushland near her Ballarat home. On February 4, 2024, the vibrant accounts manager kissed her husband Mick goodbye and headed into the Canadian State Forest, dressed in black leggings, a maroon top, and her trusty Apple Watch. She never came back. What followed was one of Australia’s most gripping missing persons cases—a relentless search, a shocking arrest, and an agonizing wait for closure that continues to torment her family and captivate the nation. As we enter 2026, with Patrick Orren Stephenson’s murder trial set for April 8 in Ballarat’s Supreme Court, fresh questions swirl: Why hasn’t her body been found? What evidence ties the 24-year-old accused to the crime? And how much longer must the Murphys endure this limbo?

The disappearance unfolded like a nightmare in slow motion. Samantha, known for her fitness routine and unbreakable family bonds, was captured on CCTV at 7:16 a.m. near Yankee Flat Road, jogging with purpose. Her phone last pinged in the Buninyong area, about 14 kilometers south. By afternoon, Mick raised the alarm. What started as a hopeful search—volunteers, helicopters, drones, and SES teams combing the dense eucalyptus trails—quickly turned grim. Police declared it suspicious within days, shifting focus to foul play. The community mobilized: #FindSamantha trended nationwide, vigils lit up Ballarat’s streets, and posters begged for tips. Yet, weeks yielded nothing but frustration.

Then, on March 6, 2024, a bombshell: Police arrested 22-year-old Patrick Orren Stephenson at his Scotts Creek home, charging him with murder. The son of former AFL player Orren Stephenson, Patrick was an apprentice electrician with no known connection to Samantha. Prosecutors alleged he intentionally struck her with his Toyota HiLux in Mount Clear that morning, then concealed her body. He pleaded not guilty, and the case exploded into the headlines. Suppression orders initially hid his identity, but they lifted, revealing a “quiet” young man whose life now hung in the balance.

Evidence against Stephenson has been described as “unprecedented” in volume, causing multiple court delays. Phone data placed his vehicle in the area. Witnesses spotted a muddied ute matching his. Searches of his property uncovered potential links—damaged items, forensic traces. In a major breakthrough, police recovered Samantha’s smashed iPhone and wallet from a dam near Buninyong in May 2024, miles from her run. Her Apple Watch data hinted at a sudden halt, consistent with impact. Twice—once in 2024 and again in May 2025—Stephenson was escorted to bushland sites, handcuffed and under guard, in bids to locate remains. Each time, he remained silent, staring at the ground as excavators dug fruitlessly.

The Murphys’ pain has been raw and public. Mick, a steadfast tradesman, has fronted press conferences with quiet desperation: “We just want Sam home for a proper goodbye.” Their children—Jess, Hannah, and Zach—have channeled grief into advocacy, supporting missing persons causes. In February 2025, marking the first anniversary, Samantha’s mother Pam made a heartbreaking plea for her daughter’s body, begging anyone with information to ease their suffering. “She deserves a funeral,” Pam said, voice breaking. The family attended court hearings, glaring at Stephenson via video link as he appeared unshaven and changed by prison life.

Ballarat, a historic gold-rush city of resilient locals, has been scarred. Women run in groups now; trails feel haunted. “Sam was just like us—a mum staying fit,” says local organizer Emily Carter, who led searches. The case spotlighted violence against women, coinciding with national outrage over femicides. Podcasts, documentaries, and Reddit threads dissect every detail: Was it random? Road rage? Something premeditated? Online sleuths pore over timelines, vehicle sightings, and Stephenson’s pre-disappearance motorcycle crash that left him hospitalized.

Court proceedings reveal a complex build-up. An “unprecedented” evidence brief—thousands of pages, including digital forensics and witness statements—delayed committals. Stephenson faces a six-week trial in Ballarat, with pre-trial arguments slated for November 2025. His defense argues the case is circumstantial; prosecutors insist it’s ironclad. He’s been convicted separately for unrelated driving offenses, fined $2,500. Behind bars in Melbourne Assessment Prison, he maintains innocence.

Searches persist. November 2025 saw renewed digs in Enfield State Park based on “new intelligence”—perhaps cellmate tips or reexamined data. Cadaver dogs, divers, and machinery scoured gullies and dams, but no breakthrough. Victoria Police vow the investigation remains priority, treating it as homicide despite no body. Detective Inspector Sarah Langley has urged patience: “We’re committed to justice for Samantha.”

Criminologists weigh in on the enigma. “No body cases are tough but winnable,” says Dr. Marcus Hale. “Prosecutors have convicted on less—phone pings, vehicle damage, motive inference.” Yet the absence fuels doubt. Why hide so effectively? Was there help? Stephenson’s family ties—his father’s police and sporting connections—spark unfounded conspiracies online, quickly debunked but persistent.

For the Murphys, hope flickers amid exhaustion. Mick attended hearings, seeking answers in Stephenson’s eyes. The children post tributes: Jess sharing memories of baking with Mum. Community support endures—fundraisers, memorials. Nationally, Samantha’s story resonates: A reminder of vulnerability in everyday routines.

As April 2026 approaches, anticipation builds. Will the trial unearth buried truths? Could a plea deal reveal her location? Or will no-body precedents—like convictions in similar Australian cases—secure justice without remains?

Samantha Murphy’s legacy is one of love and loss. She was the heart of her family, a woman who ran for joy and strength. Two years on, her disappearance haunts, but her spirit endures in pleas for closure. Ballarat waits, Australia watches—praying for answers in a case that refuses to fade. Will 2026 finally bring peace? Only the courts, and perhaps a hidden secret in the bush, will tell.