Detectives in New South Wales are delving into a perplexing puzzle that has gripped the Lake Illawarra community: the cryptic conversation Kirsten Moriarty, 32, had with a police officer at the Lake Illawarra Police Station on Tuesday night, just hours before her body was found slumped in a car outside the very same building. The exchange, captured on bodycam footage and reviewed as part of an ongoing investigation, has raised more questions than answers about Moriarty’s final hours, fueling speculation of foul play, mental health crisis, or something far more sinister. As her family pleads for closure and locals whisper about “what really happened,” the case—initially ruled a suicide—now hangs in uneasy limbo, with police vowing to “leave no stone unturned” in uncovering the truth behind that fateful chat.
Moriarty, a Wollongong-based graphic designer and mother of two young children, had been reported missing by her husband, David Moriarty, 35, earlier that evening after she failed to return from a “quick errand” around 6 p.m. Friends described her as “vibrant but struggling” with postpartum depression following the birth of their second child in August 2025. By 9:15 p.m., she arrived at the station on Shellharbour Road, disheveled and agitated, demanding to speak with an officer about “a threat.” Bodycam footage, obtained by The Illawarra Mercury under freedom of information laws, shows Senior Constable Liam Hargrove greeting her in the lobby. “Kirsten, what’s going on?” he asks calmly. Her response is muffled but urgent: “He’s coming for me… you have to help.” The 4-minute exchange, reviewed by detectives on December 16, reveals Moriarty pacing, clutching her phone, and mentioning “someone from work” who “knows too much.” Hargrove offers tea and a quiet room, but she declines, saying, “I can’t stay here—they’ll find me.” At 9:19 p.m., she leaves on foot, heading toward the car park.
Just 22 minutes later, at 9:41 p.m., a passerby discovered Moriarty’s body in the driver’s seat of her silver Toyota Corolla, parked haphazardly near the station entrance. The coroner ruled it a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head, with her service pistol—registered to her late father, a former officer—found in her lap. No suicide note was recovered, and toxicology showed traces of antidepressants but no alcohol or illicit drugs. David Moriarty, a local mechanic, told reporters: “Kirsten was my world—she wouldn’t do this. That conversation… someone pushed her over the edge.”
The station chat is now central to the probe. Hargrove’s report notes Moriarty’s “heightened anxiety” and vague references to a “stalker from her graphic design firm,” but no immediate threat was identified. “We offered welfare support, but she left voluntarily,” he stated. Detectives, led by Sergeant Elena Vasquez, are re-interviewing colleagues at Moriarty’s freelance agency, where a recent client dispute over “leaked designs” has surfaced. “We’re exploring all angles—work stress, personal issues, or external pressure,” Vasquez said. Moriarty’s phone, recovered from the car, showed deleted messages from an unknown number: “You can’t hide forever.”
Her family is shattered. Sister Laura Moriarty, 29, said: “Kirsten was fighting demons, but that plea at the station… someone ignored her cry for help.” A GoFundMe for the children has raised $50,000, with donors urging a full inquest. As Lake Illawarra mourns, the mystery lingers: a desperate conversation, a silent car park, a life cut short. Police seek tips at 131 444; the truth beckons, but time fades.
