The desperate search for missing FIFO worker Bill Carter, 25, has taken a haunting turn as police zero in on a critical “40-minute window” that could hold the key to his vanishing act at Perth Airport. In a tearful plea that has gripped Western Australia, Bill’s mother, Jenny O’Byrne, 49, revealed on December 12, 2025, that she believes her son made a call or sent a message at 1:05 p.m. on November 20—the day he disappeared—only for his phone to go dead just 40 minutes later. “Someone knows what happened in those 40 minutes… please, come forward,” Jenny begged through sobs in an interview with 7NEWS, her voice cracking with a mix of terror and fragile hope. As investigators examine the final communication, fears mount that it triggered his disappearance, plunging the family deeper into a nightmare where every unanswered ping feels like a lifetime.

Bill, a dedicated miner from Bunbury, was dropped at Terminal 3 by Jenny at 12:40 p.m. for his 2:15 p.m. flight to Karratha, where he was due for a routine 12-on, 9-off shift at Fenner Dunlop. What should have been a standard check-in became a vanishing: no boarding scan, no gate sighting, and a single phone ping at 1:05 p.m. before silence. “He texted ‘love you’ around then—I thought it was normal,” Jenny recounted, clutching a photo of Bill’s grinning face from their brunch hours earlier. “But 40 minutes later, nothing. His phone’s been off ever since.” The revelation has shifted the probe’s focus, with WA Police detectives poring over telecom records and witness statements to identify any recipients. “That window is our priority,” Detective Sergeant Mark Gregson said. “Did he call someone? Send a message? It’s potentially the trigger.”

The 40 minutes—1:05 to 1:45 p.m.—are now the epicenter of the case. CCTV shows Bill entering the terminal but not exiting; his backpack was later found scattered in remote bushland 40 km southeast, but no further traces. Fenner Dunlop confirmed he never arrived at the mine, and his wallet, keys, and meds remain at home. Jenny’s hunch stems from Bill’s recent “off his meds” admission during brunch, amid FIFO burnout and a Zambia trip visiting his father. “He was quieter, said something about needing space—I laughed it off,” she confessed. “Now it haunts me. What if that call was a cry for help?”

Fears of foul play intensify. Retired detective Ken Lang analyzed the timeline for 9News: “No boarding means he never intended to fly—or was stopped. That ping could be key—who did he reach out to in crisis?” A faint GPS signal on December 8 in remote bushland added urgency, but signal loss persists. The FIFO community’s toll is evident: 10 suicides in WA mines since 2020, per Black Dog Institute. Bill’s mates launched a $50,000 GoFundMe for private searches, with one saying: “FIFO breaks strong men—he was struggling.”

Jenny, a nurse, clings to hope amid guilt: “I’m drowning in ‘what ifs’—please, if you know anything…” Appeals flood Facebook (10k followers), sharing Bill’s selfie: “Our fighter—bring him home.” As Christmas looms, the 40-minute mystery taunts: a son’s unspoken plea, a mother’s endless wait. WA holds its breath; the clock ticks mercilessly.