Gable Tostee murder trial: Sister’s tears for Warriena Wright

WARRIENA Wright’s trip to Queensland was to be the longest she’d spent away from her sister - her best friend. They said “I love you” at the airport and promised to keep in touch every day until “Rrie” returned. But she never came home.

• Gable Tostee found not guilty of murder
• Juror almost caused mistrial in Tostee trial

WARRIENA Wright had lots of plans for her two-week trip to the Gold Coast.

It was her friend Hayley Ison’s wedding, an old workmate from her days at Pixie Photos. Warriena was looking forward to catching up with old friends.

The 26-year-old planned on exploring Surfers Paradise, doing some shopping, a theme park and even skydiving.

It would be the longest she’d ever spent away from her sister and they would miss each other terribly.

Marreza, three years younger, drove Warriena to the airport in Wellington. She made her promise to send photos every day and Warriena, in return, wanted updates on her pet cat.

They were close — even for sisters. Warriena had always been a mother figure to Marreza. She even mothered their own mother — a tiny Filipino woman who was a deacon at their local Seventh Day Adventist church.

Warriena Wright had a passion for animals.

Marreza and Warriena Wright were best friends.

She was a conservative woman but the sisters were free spirited. They lived together — just the two of them — and shared a passion for animals. They considered themselves animal rights advocates.

Warriena, who worked at Kiwi Bank in the credit department, had planned to save for a house. She wanted somewhere for the two of them to live, somewhere permanent and safe.

They’d fill their home with animals. They’d rescue dogs nobody wanted.

Warriena had a passion for photography. She loved gaming and anime. She loved the television show Supernatural, about two demon-hunting brothers.

She was intelligent and caring. She rebelled against her mother’s plans — that she settle down, marry and have children. But Marreza suspected she wanted that life one day.

She was fiercely independent. Beautiful and quirky. Protective of her little sister, the most important person in her life.

She was a joker. She played practical jokes, jumping out from around a corner to make her sister laugh.

Warriena was intelligent and independent.

Pics: Supplied

Marreza had always idolised Warriena. She’d followed her around when they were little. Even into her classroom on the first day of school.

“I love you,” they’d said to each other that day at the airport. They’d waved, promised to keep in touch every day.

And they had. Warriena had sent photos and messages every day through a Facebook account. On Thursday, August 7, Warriena sent her messages about a boy she’d met online.

They had exchanged messages on social media. They posed together on his balcony.

Soon after, the boy took out his phone and hit record.

THE stereo was playing James Blunt. Drinks were poured. Tostee suggested going out for food.

“I don’t usually eat,” she told him. She was slurring, saying strange things that made no sense.

“Do you have any brain, ever?” she said suddenly. He wasn’t insulted. He answered her politely.

“Apparently I’ve got like an IQ of 150,” Tostee said. “I just don’t use it.”

She laughed at him and he chuckled back. Then, six minutes after he hit record, the phone picked up Gable Tostee’s first exclamation of pain.

Warriena Wright and Gable Tostee at his apartment.

Pics: Supplied

“Oww!,” he said loudly, then laughed awkwardly.

“I’m psycho drunk. Don’t test me,” Warriena told him.

She talked more nonsense.

He was finding it difficult to maintain the conversation.

She rambled. Talked about her sister, talked about having visions, about her puppy.

He asked her what she was talking about and she started hitting him.

“Oww!,” he shouted.

The music played on and Warriena’s conversation remained nonsensical. She shouted and slurred. She hit him.

Tostee wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Baby, stop beating me up,” he told her. He tried to laugh it off.

She started getting ready to leave. Tostee offered to walk her home. She refused. She told him to have a good night and gathered her things.

Then she turned on him, irrational.

She swore at him. Where was her phone? Where was her data?

“Do you want me to ring it?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said aggressively. “I’d love you to f---ing ring it.”

He pointed to where she’d left her things and tried to calm her, unsure of what was happening.

“Hey, look, I didn’t say you had to leave,” he said. “I just said stop beating me up.”

He was at a loss.

“I don’t deserve this s---, alright? I’m a nice f---ing guy,” he said, louder, frustrated.

She rambled on. The rocks clanged.

Then she changed again. Her voice turned whiny. He handed Warriena her phone.

“Can we sit down a second and just discuss this?” Tostee said. She rambled on, but the anger was gone.

Tostee’s phone had been recording for a little over an hour when he warned her he’d have to kick her out if she didn’t stop attacking him.

The audio picked up scuffling noises, the sounds of play wrestling. They laughed.

He let her up and she began clanging the rocks in their tray on the glass coffee table. She threw them at his face.

The clanging continued. She threw the rocks at him again. He was done. He dropped the awkward laugh.

Warriena Wright planned to save for a house for her sister and her to live in.

“That’s enough,” he told her, his voice quiet, angry.

“That’s more than enough. You’ve worn out your welcome. You’re not my kind of girl. You have to leave.”

He had her restrained. Her breathing was heavy.

“OK,” she said. “It’s all good.”

“You’re f---ing insane,” he told her, his voice louder. He needed a nice girl and she wasn’t it.

He went on, menacing.

“I’ve taken enough. This is f---ing bulls---. You’re lucky I haven’t chucked you off my ­f---ing balcony you God damn psycho little bitch.

“What? Got something to say? Say it.”

Her voice was muffled. Nearly inaudible.

“You’re sexist,” she said.

“Yeah, right,” he replied. “I’m the one who’s injured. You don’t have a God damn scratch on you, you little bitch.”

Warriena made small, strange noises. He whispered to her, his voice still angry.

“I’m going to let you go. And I’m going to walk you out of this apartment … you’re not going to collect any of your belongings or anything,” Tostee told her.

“Try and pull anything, I’ll knock you out. I’ll knock you the f--- out. Do you understand?”

He dragged her to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Tostee said.

She grabbed a heavy metal clamp from the telescope he kept on his table and swung it at his head.

“You don’t understand, do you?,” he shouted at her. He manhandled her and suddenly her breathing turned to a gurgling, grunting noise.

“Let go,” he demanded. She held on to the clamp.

Her breathing was loud, rasping, obstructed.

Warriena and her sister considered themselves animal rights advocates.

Seconds passed. He repeated himself. She dragged at the air, noisily. It took a minute before the thud of the clamp was heard hitting the floor.

Tostee grabbed her, dragged her towards the balcony door.

“No,” she said, as she was manhandled towards the door. “No!”

“Who the f--- do you think you are?” he shouted.

“No!” she was shouting too now, fear in her voice.

“No! No! No!”

She screamed, hysterical, as he shoved her through the door, the balcony railing and its 14-storey drop only a metre or two away.

He shoved her through and closed the door.

“Just let me go home. Let me go home!” she yelled.

“I would but you’ve been a bad girl!” he shouted back.

Then silence. He turned back and caught a glimpse of her on the other side of the railing.

Then she fell.

A WEEK after her sister’s death, Marreza fronted the media in Queensland. It was her second trip across the Tasman. She and Warriena had lived in Australia for a while when they were young.

She spoke for seven minutes — seven minutes of horror and grief so overwhelming she could barely speak.

The tiny brunette, who looked and sounded so much like her sister, looked stricken, panicked. She took deep breaths and sobbed, the tears falling before she’d said a ­single word.

“My name is Marreza,” she began, “and I’m here to talk about my sister Rrie who was taken from me.

“Rrie was the most important person in my world. Most of the time we only had each other to rely on. She was a very beautiful, intelligent, caring person who, not only was my sister, but she was my best friend.”

She tried to gather herself, her face trembling, then gave up.

“It’s really hard on everyone,” she said.

The next day, police charged Gable Tostee with murder.