Keith Blessing is a 75-year-old grandfather from Torrington, a small town in the New England region of New South Wales, where neighbours know one another and trouble usually feels far away. He and his wife Di had lived there for years, in the kind of place where a person might not think twice about leaving a door unlocked. But just after midnight on 4 June, that quiet world was shattered. Police allege Joshua Dylan Trethewey, 34, forced his way into the Blessing home on Torrington Road and stabbed Keith and Di with a knife. In the chaos of that dark hallway, Keith did something instinctive: he fought back, slashing the attacker with a kitchen knife. The man left the house, but then tried to get back in before police could arrive. That is when Keith, using a legally owned and registered firearm, shot Trethewey once in the abdomen. It was a split-second decision that saved his wife and probably himself. The shot echoed through the night and changed everything. At the time, police made clear he had acted within the law. Superintendent Chris McKinnon said, “A person is entitled to use reasonable force to defend themselves.” Premier Chris Minns went further, saying, “I think Keith acted like a hero in these circumstances.” Yet in the months since, the Blessing family has had to fight a second battle: not against an intruder, but against a storm of misinformation. The latest twist came when federal politician Barnaby Joyce claimed Keith’s firearms licence was being revoked. His daughter Kathy had to correct the record again: the licence has not been revoked. It has only been suspended, which is standard procedure after any incident involving a gun. For a family still processing trauma, this should have been the end of the story. Instead, it was just the beginning.
Let’s be clear about what “suspended” means. A suspension is not a final punishment; it is a precautionary step while police investigate. Because a gun was fired, even in lawful self-defence, authorities need to review the circumstances. That is normal. But normal doesn’t mean easy. For Keith Blessing, the suspension has meant months of uncertainty. He and his wife have been through a terrifying attack, recovered from their injuries, and now face the possibility that the licence he used to protect them might never be returned. In an online post on 18 September, Di Blessing tried to set the record straight. “Just correcting a misunderstanding,” she wrote. “Keith’s firearm license was suspended back in June due to the police enquiry.” She explained that her husband had phoned the Firearms Licensing Board to ask whether it could be restored, and was told a decision could take another 12 months. So the outcome is undecided. The licence may be restored; it may be revoked. No decision has been made either way. Meanwhile, no charges have been announced against Keith, and police have not ruled out future charges. That is a hard space to live in. Imagine being the person who stopped a violent intruder, who was praised by the Premier, and then having to wait a year or more to learn whether you will be allowed to defend your home again. Every day without the licence is a reminder of the night. Every phone call to the Firearms Licensing Board brings the same uncertainty. The difference between “suspended” and “revoked” is not just legal technicality. It is the difference between a temporary pause and a permanent loss. It is the difference between a family that can wait and hope, and a family that has been told their rights are gone. For the Blessings, that distinction matters enormously.
If only the facts had been left to speak for themselves. Instead, a wave of false claims began to spread. It started on social media, then found its way into conservative media and even the New South Wales Parliament. The loudest voices came from the Shooters, Fishers and Farmers Party, which was in full campaign mode ahead of the March 2027 state election. On 16 September, the party’s MLC Mark Banasiak stood in Parliament and declared that Keith Blessing had had his firearms licence revoked. “Unfortunately this Premier’s words are not worth much, as Keith Blessing has now had his firearms licence revoked,” Banasiak said. “Hero in June. Unfit in September.” The line was catchy, but it was false. Then Robert Borsak Jnr, the party’s NSW State Director, repeated the same false claim in an opinion piece for Sporting Shooter magazine on 22 September, writing that the Firearms Registry had revoked the licence. The article also argued that Mr Blessing had no independent avenue of appeal because the NSW Government had removed NCAT review of firearms licensing decisions. Whether that is true or not, the central claim was still wrong. By then, the family’s careful correction had been drowned out. The Blessings were no longer being treated as people. They had become props in a political argument about gun rights, rural safety and state elections. Di Blessing’s online post was factual, calm and human. The misinformation was loud, repeated and convenient. It did not matter that the family had said the licence had not been revoked. It did not matter that no final decision had been made. The story was too useful to let go. For Kathy Blessing and her parents, this was not a game. They were watching their father’s name being dragged through a debate he never asked to join, and every false claim forced them to relive the worst moment of their lives.
Then came Barnaby Joyce. The federal Member for New England issued a statement dated 21 September and posted it on social media on 24 September, again falsely claiming that Keith’s licence was being revoked. “I would not be taking Keith’s gun license; I would be giving him a medal,” Joyce said. He described the Blessings as “a beautiful couple, hardly a threat to anyone” and claimed authorities were in the process of removing Keith’s licence, which he said showed “the total absurdity of the justice system.” Joyce also spoke to the fear that many people in remote communities feel. “Out here we are remote and bad men know it,” he said. “There are no police coming to save you if the bad man is at your door, you have to work it out for yourself or possibly be killed.” Those are powerful words. But they were built on a false foundation. The licence was not being revoked. It had been suspended months earlier, as standard procedure, and no final decision had been made. Joyce did not let that stop him. He turned the statement into an election pitch, warning the Labor Party it would get “an absolute towelling” at the next election and suggesting One Nation was on the side of regional Australians who legally own firearms and protect themselves “when in absolute peril.” He also took aim at Premier Chris Minns, telling him to talk to his Party Room about how to extract his party from “this very bad news story.” It is unclear whether Joyce spoke to the Blessing family before releasing his statement. New England Times tried to reach his office for comment but was unable to get through. It is equally unclear how this misinformation spiral began. What is clear is that neither One Nation nor the Shooters, Fishers and Farmers Party has shown much genuine concern for the Blessings. They did not ask whether their statements would add stress to a family still recovering from violence. They did not care that their false claims would force Keith’s daughter to once again correct the public record. They simply used a family’s trauma to score political points. That is not advocacy. That is exploitation.
None of this happens in a vacuum. The Tenterfield Shire, where Torrington sits, is already on edge. This month, a 70-year-old woman was found decapitated at Mole River, a violent crime that sent shockwaves through remote communities already worried about their isolation. When people live hours from the nearest police station, a firearm is not just a hobby; it is a lifeline. The Blessings’ case touches that anxiety directly. Here was a man who used a gun to protect his home, and now, according to false reports, he was being disarmed by the state. No wonder the story spread. It confirms people’s worst fears: that the system will punish you for defending yourself. But the truth is more complicated. Keith’s licence was suspended, not revoked. The law allows him to have used force in self-defence. The investigation is ongoing. A fair process is still possible. Yet the misinformation has made it harder for the family to find peace. Every time a politician repeats the false claim, Keith Blessing is forced back into the worst night of his life. Every social media post turns his survival into a talking point. The Blessings are not asking for pity. They are not asking for a medal. They are asking for the record to be accurate. They are asking for space to recover. And they are asking for the public to understand that a man can be both a hero and a person whose case takes time to resolve. Those two things are not in conflict. But when politics gets in the way, nuance is the first casualty. The family has had to watch their father be transformed into a symbol, a weapon in a cultural war, while they simply try to help him get through the day. The fear in the bush is real, and the need for self-defence is real. But using one family’s suffering to push a partisan narrative does nothing to make rural communities safer. It only makes their recovery harder.
So where does this leave Keith Blessing? His licence remains suspended. The final decision is still months away. His family is waiting, and waiting is exhausting. “To our knowledge it has not been revoked,” Di Blessing said. That simple sentence should have been enough. But in the world of misinformation, a correction is never as exciting as a scandal. The false story will linger, even after it is debunked, because it fits a narrative. It will be repeated in comments sections, in campaign speeches, in radio segments. The truth will have to work much harder to catch up. That is the real tragedy here. Keith Blessing did what most of us hope we would never have to do. He defended his wife and himself against a violent attacker. He used a legally owned firearm to stop a man who had already stabbed them. He was praised by police and by the Premier. And now, instead of being allowed to recover, he has become a character in someone else’s story. His name is used to attack the Premier, to campaign for gun rights, to raise money and win votes. No one asked him if that was okay. No one asked his family if they wanted this. The next few months will be hard for the Blessings, no matter what the Firearms Licensing Board decides. If the licence is restored, the ordeal will still have left its mark. If it is revoked, the injustice will be felt for years. But the least we can do is get the facts right. Keith Blessing’s firearms licence was suspended, not revoked. No final decision has been made. He is not a villain. He is not a martyr. He is a 75-year-old grandfather from a small town who lived through a nightmare and is still waiting to know whether the law will trust him again. That is not a political slogan. It is a human life. And it deserves better than to be twisted into misinformation for the sake of an election.