KEYS IN THE SEAT, ONE LIFE JACKET GONE: THE CHILLING CLUE THAT ASHLEY “ASH” HAIGH MAY HAVE JUMPED SHIP IN DESPERATE BID FOR SURVIVAL

In a haunting detail that has deepened the enigma surrounding the disappearance of beloved Gold Coast fisherman Ashley “Ash” Haigh, authorities have revealed that the ignition keys to his black half-cabin boat were left casually on a seat inside—while one of the four life jackets on board had mysteriously vanished. The discovery has sparked explosive speculation: did the experienced 44-year-old deliberately use the missing life jacket to abandon his vessel in a frantic attempt to save himself?

Haigh, a passionate game fisherman renowned in Queensland’s tight-knit marlin-hunting circles, set out solo from The Spit near Runaway Bay Marina just after 6:30 a.m. on Thursday, February 5, 2026. The day promised perfection: calm seas, clear skies, no storm warnings. He told friends he’d be back by evening, packing multiple rods for a thrilling chase after big game in deep waters he knew like the back of his hand.

But as dusk fell, the boat didn’t return. By 7 p.m., family and marina mates raised the alarm. In the eerie pre-dawn hours around 2 a.m. Friday, February 6, water police located the unmanned vessel drifting 46 kilometers (25 nautical miles) offshore southeast of the Gold Coast Seaway, near Burleigh Heads. The boat—nicknamed The Grey Ghost by some—floated in “generally good condition,” with only minor water in the hull. No signs of collision, no structural damage, no evidence of struggle. Fishing gear was sparse (only one rod remained, despite Haigh’s habit of carrying extras), but the real shock came from what was missing.

Acting Senior Sergeant Shannon Gray, briefing reporters, confirmed the chilling finds: the boat’s keys sat openly on a seat inside the cabin, as if Haigh had simply stepped away for a moment. Meanwhile, of the four life jackets believed to be on board, only three were accounted for. One was gone—prompting immediate questions about whether the seasoned seafarer had donned it before entering the water.

The implication is terrifying: Haigh may have voluntarily left his safe, seaworthy craft, perhaps after a sudden medical emergency, a rogue wave knocking him overboard, or some other crisis that forced him to abandon ship. Wearing the missing life jacket would have given him a fighting chance in the open ocean—but the absence of any further debris, clothing, or signs of life has turned hope into dread.

The mystery intensified when an Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon (EPIRB) registered to Haigh was recovered inactive on Saturday, February 7—about 25 kilometers (14 nautical miles) off Ballina in northern New South Wales waters. The beacon, designed to scream for help when activated, had gone silent after its brief transmission, drifting far south of the boat’s discovery site. Currents could explain the distance, but the inactivity raises more questions: Was it triggered in panic as Haigh hit the water, only to fail or detach? Or did something happen so suddenly he never managed to keep it signaling?

A massive, cross-border operation swung into full swing: Queensland and New South Wales police, Australian Maritime Safety Authority aircraft, helicopters, and up to eight vessels scoured hundreds of square nautical miles. Patterns stretched from Point Danger south to Byron Bay, Ballina, Evans Head, and Yamba. Day and night, searchers combed the waves, clinging to the slim hope that Haigh—clad in dark clothes and possibly the red, orange, or yellow life jacket—remained afloat.

Yet no new traces emerged. No clothing fragments, no additional gear, no sightings. By Sunday, February 8, with the grim reality unavoidable, authorities shifted from search-and-rescue to “recovery phase.” The active hunt was suspended at last light, though police pledged to stay in touch with Haigh’s devastated family and remain open to tips.

Friends and the Gold Coast fishing community mourn a man described as “the backbone” of their world. Andrew Dunbar, a close mate of 15 years who spoke to Haigh the night before the trip, expressed the collective shock: “He was experienced, passionate, reliable. This doesn’t make sense on calm seas.” Tributes flood social media—flags fly at half-mast at marinas, stories of epic catches and shared adventures keep his memory burning. Haigh’s sister Lauren issued a raw, heartbroken plea: “Very loved,” she wrote, capturing the void left behind.

The missing life jacket and casually placed keys have become the defining clues in this baffling case. They suggest Haigh didn’t sink with his boat—he left it, perhaps intentionally, perhaps in desperation. Did he spot a school of marlin and lean too far? Suffer a sudden illness at the helm? Encounter an unseen hazard that forced him overboard? Or is there a darker explanation lurking beneath the surface?

For now, the ocean holds its secrets. The boat drifts as a silent witness, keys waiting on the seat, one life jacket absent—evidence that Ash Haigh may have made one final, fateful choice to face the deep in pursuit of survival. A father, husband, and fisherman gone too soon, taken by the same waters that fueled his passion. The community waits for closure, but the unanswered questions may linger as long as the sea itself.