Court hears chilling video of Molly Ticehurst's killer after frenzied stabbing

In the Orange courthouse on Thursday, a video played that made people in the gallery gasp. Daniel Billings, driving through the dark streets of Forbes, raised a bloodied hand to his face and spoke into his phone camera. "I can't believe I just did that," he said. Minutes before, he had stabbed his former partner Molly Ticehurst fifteen times in her own bedroom—a sustained attack that lasted less than a minute. She was twenty-eight. He was thirty-one and, at that moment, free on bail.

Billings had pleaded guilty to her murder in April 2024, and the sentencing hearing laid bare the machinery of his violence in ways that transcended the usual courtroom language. The videos shown on Thursday captured him in the hours and days surrounding the killing: weeping, smoking, spitting, swearing. In one recording made hours before he broke through her bedroom window with a hunting knife, he stared directly at the camera and addressed her by her full name. "Molly Jean Ticehurst, well you've done it, you've succeeded in whatever you wanted out of all of this," he said, his voice tight with rage. The court heard that he had developed what prosecutors described as a dark obsession with clearing his name after being charged with sexual assault and domestic violence offences. In the videos, he repeated a refrain: he was wrongfully accused, he said, and if he was going to be punished either way, he would "go crazy."

The path to that April night had been marked by warnings that the system failed to heed. Molly had made a statement to police two weeks before her death, describing threats Billings had made repeatedly—that he would break into her home and kill her. Police opposed bail. But a local court registrar granted it anyway, conditional freedom after a single night in custody. Once released, Billings' threats intensified. He was a trainee mining driller with access to a hunting knife and a house he knew well. The conditions of his bail apparently did not prevent him from reaching her.

In the courtroom on Thursday, about fifty of Molly's family and friends sat wearing shirts that read "Her name was Molly." Her father, Tony Ticehurst, delivered a victim impact statement that moved through grief and into direct address. He described his daughter as big-hearted, deeply loved, his best friend and confidant. "When she died, part of me died with her," he said, his voice heavy. He spoke directly to Billings, who sat in an elevated wooden dock in a black suit and sneakers, his head bowed. "I hope that every night Molly's screams keep you awake," Tony Ticehurst said. Molly's mother, Kate, held her hand over her face as her own statement was read aloud by a relative. "Molly was my only child and my best friend," it said. "I'm heartbroken that my girl is no longer with me."

The case had already begun to reshape the legal landscape. Ticehurst's murder became a flashpoint for a national movement against domestic and gendered violence, and it prompted legislative change. New South Wales introduced tighter bail laws for people accused of domestic violence—reforms now known as Molly's Law. Tony Ticehurst said that brought some comfort. "Molly's law has now been introduced; I will be forever proud to be her dad." The sexual assault charges against Billings were withdrawn after he pleaded guilty to murder in the local court in November 2025. Other charges—property damage, animal cruelty, breaching an apprehended violence order—would be considered during sentencing. Justice Natalie Adams indicated she would hand down her sentence later in September, leaving the final reckoning still to come.