Source : Perth Now news
The flowing shock of white hair, the tattooed arms. Mine worker, motorcyclist and fisherman Tony Ticehurst seems the epitome of a hardened rural bloke.
For a laugh, his voicemail message claims he can’t answer the phone because he’s busy drinking champagne in the spa.
Behind this exterior, though, is a devoted and soft-hearted father, painfully articulate under the immense weight of grief.
It has been more than two years since the youngest of his three children, 28-year-old Molly, was murdered by her abusive ex-boyfriend in the central western NSW town of Forbes.
Daniel Billings was on bail when he broke into Molly’s bedroom and killed her in a frenzied stabbing attack just before midnight on April 21, 2024.
He was enraged because she’d reported sexual assault allegations to police a fortnight earlier, following his campaign of threats, violence and abuse.
The charges of rape, which were ultimately dropped when Billings pleaded guilty to murder, were more abhorrent to him than taking her life.
He was on Friday sentenced to 28 years’ jail. He will serve at least 20 years, which will make him 49 years old when eligible for parole.
Molly, a bubbly young mum and childcare educator, had a close and warm relationship with her separated parents.
After injury forced her dad to quit work as a coal colliery truck driver and wind back his biking and angling, she regularly helped him around the house.
She’d hang out his washing on the Hills Hoist he could no longer reach, lovingly make his bed and clean for him.
Molly could reliably light up a room with her infectious joy, her mum Kate Shaw says of her only child, her “entire world”.
Photos show them together, tenderly smiling cheek-to-cheek or in peals of laughter.
When Billings started threatening to break into Molly’s house and kill her after she ended their relationship in late 2023, her parents did everything they could to protect her.
They encouraged her to go to police and hoped she might bolster her security by making use of the NSW government’s Staying Home Leaving Violence initiative.
While this program failed to respond in time, her dad changed her locks and installed lengths of dowel in her window frames while her mum slept over when she felt frightened.
When their worst fears were realised, the family found itself at the epicentre of the nation’s battle against domestic violence.
Australians knew the Ticehurst name only hours after Molly’s body was found on her bedroom floor before dawn on April 22, 2024, and Billings was charged with murder.
Somehow, in the thick of the maelstrom, Mr Ticehurst encouraged calm.
“Let’s not think of him or have vengeance in our hearts,” he wrote online, on the eve of her funeral.
“Instead, think of the good memories Molly gave us.”
Many of Forbes’ 6000 residents gathered on a lush football oval dotted with balloons for the funeral, listening to Molly’s favourite AC/DC tracks and her friends’ tales of love, adventure and mischief.
Mr Ticehurst told them of his immense pride.
“Molly didn’t have to leave us to grow her angel wings – they came with her as standard equipment,” he said.
“Every parent would like to see their child change the world but not at this cost.”
Yet more heartache awaited.
The court case stalled for more than 500 days as Billings’ lawyers negotiated with prosecutors.
Through two frigid country winters and a sweltering summer, Mr Ticehurst appeared at every court mention, often mustering a cheerful “hello” for local reporters.
Ms Shaw also attended every hearing, her pain palpable through stoic silence and her slow, reluctant ascent of the courthouse steps.
Though deflated after each adjournment, they declined to comment on the delays and urged the small pack of media to hold fire.
Behind the scenes, Molly’s tormented dad sometimes called local state MP Phil Donato at night to seek comfort and counsel.
The fellow fisherman and former police prosecutor often took Mr Ticehurst’s concerns to the government.
“That’s the fabric of these country communities. When people are doing it tough, the community rallies together,” Mr Donato told AAP after one delay.
“Molly was such a well-known and highly regarded young woman, loved by everyone who knew her and they were immensely disappointed with the system failing her.”
On November 3, 2025, Mr Ticehurst no longer had time for diplomacy.
Shaken and teary, he approached reporters outside Forbes court after yet another deferral.
He took a deep breath to suppress his sobs, as his hands trembled.
“It seems to me that in life, the system let Molly down and in death continues the same route,” he said.
“Instead of getting closure, all we get is anxiety, sadness and heartache.”
Nine days later, they finally heard Billings admit his crime.
After the plea, Mr Ticehurst walked out into Victoria Park under the soft spring sunshine to spontaneous applause from locals.
Many wore shirts bearing Molly’s face and two words, “She matters”.
After more torturous legal delays, the family came face-to-face with Billings in the NSW Supreme Court in Orange almost a year later, on September 3.
As Billings took his place in an elevated dock in the middle of the room, he glanced only briefly at his victim’s parents.
He dared not look at them again during a two-day sentencing, instead leaning to stare at the floor as minute details of his extreme violence were aired.
Mr Ticehurst told the court he envisaged Billings’ journey from Parkes to Forbes under the cover of darkness to murder his daughter.
A phone video played to the hearing showed Billings cheerfully singing along to Johnny Cash’s The Man Comes Around while driving.
“I hope every night Molly’s screams keep you awake and the hairs on your arm stand up at the terror,” Mr Ticehurst told Billings, referencing the song lyrics.
Sadness, heartbreak and sleepless nights had become the norm for Ms Shaw, her victim impact statement said.
“Molly’s life was taken far too soon in a violent, malicious manner for no reason other than selfishness,” she said.
When the court was hearing submissions about how serious Billings’ offending was compared to other domestic violence murders, Mr Ticehurst choked on a sip of water.
Even after hours spent listening to details about the behaviour and background of his daughter’s murderer, he showed astounding grace.
Red-faced and holding back a coughing fit, he turned solemnly and nodded at the judge, trying not to interrupt.
The air across the courtroom was heavy with sadness.
The faces of about 50 relatives, friends and supporters in the public gallery were like a mosaic, some tear-stained, others flushed with anger or drooped and pale with exhaustion.
But they united in a steely glare at Billings each time he was taken to and from the cells below.
After more than 870 days, their bravery, patience and boundless love for Molly have come to something.
Their advocacy has ushered in tighter NSW bail laws and closer monitoring of those accused of domestic violence. It has raised awareness of the red flags for intimate-partner homicide along with the unique risks faced by rural women.
The family has called on Premier Chris Minns to release an investigation into her interactions with the Staying Home Leaving Violence scheme.
Although there is much more to do, including better funding for in-demand rural support services, Domestic Violence NSW deputy chief executive Pia Birac says Molly’s legacy will endure.
“Her story is a powerful reminder of what’s at stake when our systems fail to keep women safe,” she tells AAP.
“It’s prompted national reflection, renewed scrutiny to responses to domestic and family violence.
“That’s due to the courage of her family.”
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