The remote Murray River Road property in tiny Thologolong was never meant to be the final chapter in one of Australia’s most dramatic manhunts.

Yet it was here, in a half-shipping container, half-caravan makeshift camp surrounded by overgrown bush and scattered debris, that double cop killer Dezi Freeman met his violent end on Monday morning after 216 days on the run.

Now, the owner of that very property – 75-year-old Richard “Ricky” Sutherland – has proactively come forward to police, insisting he had no idea the state’s most wanted man was squatting on his land.

Speaking through his brother Neil Sutherland, the family has been at pains to distance themselves from the fugitive, declaring emphatically that Ricky “wouldn’t harbour a murderer” and had “never even met” Freeman.

But as fresh details emerge, friends of the dead 56-year-old sovereign citizen have begun revealing Freeman’s surprising, long-standing connection to the remote high country area around Thologolong – a link that may explain how he ended up in this isolated spot, just 150km northeast of the Porepunkah property where he allegedly gunned down two police officers in cold blood last August.

Police sources have told Daily Mail Australia that while Freeman’s stay at the Thologolong hideout was relatively short – perhaps only days or a week at most – the location was no random choice. It offered the perfect off-grid bolthole: converted shipping containers with fresh air vents, basic camping gear, and enough seclusion to evade the massive dragnet that had been scouring the Victorian bush for seven long months.

“Those three camp chairs and the open box of beer we saw at the scene weren’t just random junk,” one detective close to the investigation revealed. “They pointed to recent visitors. Someone was helping him. And now we’re piecing together exactly how Freeman knew about this place and who in his circle steered him there.”

The dramatic developments come as Victoria Police turn their focus squarely onto Freeman’s alleged support network. With a $1 million reward still on the table, investigators are hunting anyone who may have harboured, supplied or tipped off the fugitive – and they’re warning that those people “will be held to account.”

The owner steps forward from Tasmania

Richard Sutherland, now living in a remote part of eastern Tasmania with family due to serious illness, learned of the siege on his 35-hectare property while thousands of kilometres away.

According to his brother Neil, who lives just two properties away on Murray River Road, Ricky contacted police immediately upon hearing the news, making himself available for interview “whenever Victorian officers are ready.”

“He’s in shock,” Neil Sutherland told reporters. “He had absolutely no knowledge of anyone living on his land. He hasn’t been back there since before Christmas. He lives on his own a bit off-grid, but he wouldn’t harbour a murderer. He’s never even met Dezi Freeman. No ties to any of that sovereign citizen stuff whatsoever.”

Friends of Sutherland have echoed the sentiment. One long-time acquaintance, who asked not to be named, confirmed the 75-year-old had moved to Tasmania to be with relatives and grandchildren, leaving the Thologolong property largely unattended over the scorching summer months.

The land itself, part of the historic Sutherland family holdings in the area where Murray Grey cattle were first bred, features ageing shipping containers that Ricky had used for basic living in the past. One former tenant who grew flowers there for a floristry business described it as a place where Sutherland liked to live simply, “off grid.”

Aunt Gina Sutherland, who once lived nearby, also expressed surprise at the revelations.

There is currently no suggestion that Richard Sutherland knew Freeman or had any involvement in hiding him. Police have treated him as a witness rather than a suspect, and he is not believed to have been in Victoria when the shooting occurred.

Yet the very fact that Freeman chose – or was directed to – this particular property has raised eyebrows among investigators.

Freeman’s hidden ties to Thologolong

While the Sutherland family insists there was no personal connection, friends of Dezi Freeman have started to paint a different picture of the fugitive’s relationship with the broader area.

Locals and acquaintances in the high country have told how Freeman, a keen bushwalker and photographer with decades of experience in the rugged terrain around Mount Buffalo, had explored far beyond his Porepunkah stomping ground.

One close associate, who spoke on condition of anonymity, revealed that Freeman had “known about places like Thologolong for years” through his network of like-minded individuals in the fringes of rural Victoria and southern New South Wales.

“He wasn’t just hiding randomly in the bush,” the friend said. “Dezi had connections – people who shared his views on government overreach, on sovereignty. Thologolong isn’t that far from areas where other off-grid types hang out. He knew the river country, the border zones. It made sense as a fallback if the mountains got too hot.”

Another source close to Freeman’s circle claimed the double killer had visited the wider Upper Murray region multiple times in the years before the shootings, sometimes for hiking, sometimes for “meetings” with others disillusioned with authority.

Graffiti referencing Freeman has reportedly appeared in the Thologolong area in recent weeks, fuelling speculation that sympathisers may have been active locally.

Police are now examining whether repeated vehicle movements between the Porepunkah area and Thologolong in the final stages of the manhunt helped lead them to the hideout. One report suggested detectives tracked a car making multiple trips, providing crucial intelligence in the days before the raid.

The squalid final hideout that gave him away

New images and descriptions from the scene reveal the grim reality of Freeman’s last days.

The property featured several shipping containers, one crudely converted into living quarters with spinning roof vents to combat the heat. Overturned dinghies and kayaks, old vehicles, scattered camping equipment and general debris littered the site.

Freeman was believed to have been sheltering inside a “half shipping container, half caravan” structure.

The three camp chairs arranged around what appeared to be a fire pit, alongside a partially consumed box of beer, told police he had not been entirely alone.

“Police believe he only moved there recently,” a senior source confirmed. “The setup looked temporary. Fresh enough to suggest he’d been resupplied. That inner circle kept him going far longer than many thought possible.”

Forensic teams in hazmat suits have been meticulously processing the site, searching for DNA, fingerprints, phone records or any evidence that could identify those who assisted Freeman.

A weapon – possibly one of the police service pistols stolen from the slain officers – was reportedly found near the container.

The final standoff: Three hours of tension

On Monday, March 30, 2026, members of Victoria Police’s elite Special Operations Group had the property under 360-degree containment for more than 24 hours.

Negotiators attempted to coax Freeman out peacefully. Specialist officers spent time urging surrender.

Shortly after 8.30am, the 56-year-old emerged from his hideout, wrapped in a blanket or doona against the morning chill.

During the tense three-hour standoff, he reportedly confirmed his identity and, in a chilling moment, admitted his role in the deaths of Detective Leading Senior Constable Neal Thompson, 59, and Senior Constable Vadim De Waart-Hottart, 35.

When he dropped the covering to reveal what police believed was a firearm, multiple officers opened fire.

Around 20 shots were exchanged in total. Freeman was pronounced dead at the scene. No police were injured.

Chief Commissioner Mike Bush later described the operation as bringing closure after one of the largest tactical policing efforts in the state’s history.

“It was very difficult for him to get to that location without assistance,” Bush said, underscoring the ongoing hunt for accomplices.

The families left behind

For the loved ones of the two slain officers, Monday’s events brought a painful sense of finality.

Neal Thompson’s partner, herself a police officer, had spoken movingly of the devoted family man taken too soon.

Vadim De Waart-Hottart’s colleagues remembered the younger officer’s promising career and warm personality.

In Porepunkah, the small alpine community still grapples with the horror of that foggy August morning when a routine warrant service turned deadly.

Locals expressed a mix of relief and lingering unease. One neighbour near the Thologolong property admitted: “I was surprised he was here.”

Freeman’s own family – wife Mali and their three children – had reportedly believed for months that he had likely perished in the bush. His death has left them reeling.

A close friend of Freeman, Bruce Evans, said he had not heard from the fugitive since before the initial shootings and had assumed he was dead.

The sovereign citizen shadow

Throughout the saga, Freeman’s outspoken sovereign citizen beliefs have loomed large.

The self-described conspiracy theorist rejected the authority of police, courts and government – a worldview that allegedly culminated in him opening fire when officers arrived at his Porepunkah property to investigate alleged sex offences.

His online activity and associations had long raised concerns.

Now, as police investigate his support network, questions are being asked about how fringe ideologies can sustain fugitives in Australia’s vast rural expanses.

Some in the sovereign citizen movement have reportedly hailed Freeman as a “hero” or martyr, a narrative police and community leaders are keen to push back against.

What happens next?

With Freeman dead, the focus of Taskforce Summit has shifted to accountability for anyone who helped him evade justice for seven months.

Investigators are scouring electronic records, vehicle movements, phone data and witness statements.

The $1 million reward may yet be claimed by the person whose tip-off finally cracked the case.

For the Sutherland family, the unwanted spotlight on their property has been unsettling.

Neil Sutherland stressed his brother’s innocence: “He’s not a cooker. He had no idea.”

Yet the property at Thologolong – with its basic containers, river proximity and border location – proved perfectly suited for someone wanting to disappear.

Whether Freeman was directed there by friends, stumbled upon it through local knowledge, or was assisted in the final leg remains under investigation.

As forensic work continues and interviews ramp up, one thing is clear: Dezi Freeman did not survive alone in the wilderness.

His short stay at the remote hideout was sustained by others – and that support network may now face the full force of the law.

The shipping containers will eventually be cleared. The camp chairs and beer boxes logged as evidence.

But the quiet farming community of Thologolong, and the families shattered by the original shootings, will carry the scars for years to come.

In the end, the bush that sheltered Australia’s most wanted man for so long delivered him into the hands of the very authorities he despised.

And the owner who never knew he was there has been forced into the centre of a story he never asked to join.