They had “matched” on the dating app Tinder where it is possible to scroll through and “like” the profiles of any member in your geographical location.

The 26-year-old New Zealander, on the Gold Coast for a holiday in 2014, received her first message from Tostee on August 1.

“Hey you sexy slack jawed yokel,” he private messages her.

Ms Wright takes three days to respond. But as an opening line, Tostee has the visitor hooked. She is laughing.

Her name on Tinder is Cletus Bob, a reference to the resident hillbilly character in television series The Simpsons. “Had a few people (think) that’s my real name,” she replies.

The next day they make contact for the third time on Tinder. Tostee is direct about his motive to meet up. “You look delicious. I want to do dirty things to you,” he writes.

Ms Wright is a bit unsure as he continues talking up a big game. “Can you be a freak in the sheets Cletes,” he writes.

That will depend, she says, on how much alcohol she drinks. “Lets get drunk together, I’m a pornstar after a few drinks,” he tells her. She sends him her mobile telephone number.

Two days later, just before 5pm, he calls and asks about her weekend plans. She is staying at the Crowne Plaza and only has a “pub crawl on Friday” – the following day – in her diary.

“Lets chill have a couple of drinks,” he says. She agrees but warns him not to be a “old creepy pervy dude”.

At 8.40pm, Ms Wright is shopping at the jewellery store Lovisa in Cavill Mall. Tostee leaves his 14th-floor apartment at Avalon overlooking the Nerang River, walks east up the street towards her.

He is still calling her “Cletus”. CCTV cameras capture the 30-year-old Gold Coast carpet layer introducing himself to Ms Wright at 8.45pm.

They briefly enter the Surfers Paradise Tavern Beer Garden and within minutes obtain a six-pack of Tooheys Extra Dry from the nearby BWS bottleshop.

They walk 400 metres west down Cavill Avenue, cross the Gold Coast Highway and enter Tostee’s apartment tower. The night river views from his 14th-floor unit are stunning.

At 9.45pm Ms Wright sends selfies of them both on the balcony to her sister in New Zealand. She compares Tostee to Sam Winchester on the TV show Supernatural.

“Drinking with him, woot,” she posts. Her expressions, captured in the photographs, switch between playful and sad.

Just before 1am more drinks are being served. Tostee is secretly taping their conversation on his mobile telephone.

James Blunt’s Nights Like These can be heard playing. Tostee pleads with Ms Wright to chill and not leave.

“Shut up or I will make you come again. Shut up or I will beat you,” he says.

They talk about her visiting his work tomorrow, about galaxies and travel, before the conversation switches to religion and the gods.

“Don’t think there is anything after death,” Tostee tells her. “Throw me off a balcony and that is it. This is it, boom.”

They are laughing, he can be heard to say “ow” after some hitting, then the soft sounds of groaning – all the time with the music in the background.

“I should walk you home,” Tostee tells her.

By 1.20am they begin arguing. “Stop that,” he says. She tells him “Oh my God, you are like a Christian”.

Fifteen minutes later the music stops. A heated row begins.

Ms Wright tells him: “Where is my sister’s (expletive). Where’s all my (expletive) data. Where is my iPhone”.

Tostee asks her if she wants him to call her mobile telephone number. “Yes, I would love you to (expletive) ring it,” she replies.

He explains that he doesn’t want her to leave – just “stop beating me up”. Another argument starts.

Tostee tells Ms Wright, who says she knows Muay Thai, to stop beating him up.

She can also be heard telling Tostee she will break his jaw. Ms Wright says she will call the police. “C’mon Cletus,” he says.

Tostee regrets giving her so much to drink, says it is supposed to be about having fun and complains about being a “nice guy” who doesn’t deserve this.

“Why were you beating me up,” he asks.

“I am gone,” she replies. “I will be out of your hair, see you later. I am going.”

Tostee contends he is the most tolerant person in the world, offers to cook a meal and warns Ms Wright “don’t jump off or something” as she walks towards a window.

Just before 2am he pours another vodka on the rocks. Ms Wright has gone to the toilet. “God help me,” Tostee says, whispering into his mobile telephone.

Ms Wright returns, they talk calmly until there is another struggle. “That really hurt my vagina,” she says.

Tostee is laughing. She says he sounds “like an (expletive)”. “They are not real, they are only fake,” he tells her.

But they are soon arguing again – he calls her insane, not his type of girl and that she must leave.

At 2.15am his mobile telephone records the first of several choking sounds.

“You are lucky I haven’t chucked you off my balcony you damn psycho little bitch … yeah, do your Muay Thai now,” Tostee says.

Ms Wright can be heard breathing heavily. She accuses Tostee of being sexist. He calls her a “goddamn psycho” and he intends to walk her out “and shut the door”.

“If you try and pull anything, I’ll knock you out. I’ll knock you (expletive) out,” he says.

There is more laboured breathing. “Let it go,” he says.

They are two to three metres from the rear glass doors to his balcony (Tostee would later maintain Ms Wright had a metal object in her hand. This is a clamp to a small telescope he owns).

Something can be heard being dropped to the floor — the clamp? A door is unlocked. He has moved her outside.

At 2.20am, they argue for the last time.

Tostee: “Who the (expletive) do you think you are? Hey.”

Ms Wright: “No, no, no.”

Tostee: “You tried to kill me, huh. Well, why did you try to hit me with that. Huh. Shut your filthy mouth.”

Ms Wright (screaming): “No, no, no, no, no.”

Tostee: “It’s all on recording you know. It’s all being recorded.”

Ms Wright: “Just let me go home.”

Tostee: “I would have but you have been a bad girl.”

The balcony door slides shut. She is drunk. Her blood alcohol level was later recorded at 0.156 — three times the legal limit. Tostee would admit to being intoxicated but was not tested until much later when he recorded a zero reading.

Ms Wright is outside. She is tiny, only 57kg and 162cm tall, a visitor in an apartment not known to her.

Tostee is inside his unit. He is 190cm tall and weighs 92kg.

(On a bodybuilding forum he later wrote: “Putting her outdoors would have meant I could separate her from me and keep an eye on her through the glass doors until she either calmed down or I called someone like security or police to take her away”).

Ms Wright is pleading with him. “Just let me go home.” Three times she says it. They would be her final words.

Tostee can be heard breathing heavily. (He later writes he has turned his back, that after a few seconds he recalls turning to see Ms Wright on the other side of the balcony before disappearing from view).

His mobile telephone records a faint scream.

His breathing is heavier. He makes a call to a lawyer, leaves his unit.

“Oh, my God,” he says to himself.

TINDER, TEXT AND TALK

TINDER CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN GABLE TOSTEE AND WARRIENA WRIGHT

AUGUST 1, 2014

GT: Hey you sexy slack jawed yokel

AUGUST 4:

WW: Lol Hey. Had a few people (think) that’s my real name

GT: Is it? Gable and Cletus sitting in a tree.

AUGUST 5:

WW: Sounds good lol

GT: You look delicious. I want to do dirty things to you.

WW: Does that usually work?

GT: Haha, not trying to make anything “work”, im just saying.

Got a problem with that? :p

WW: Lol fair enough. I was just asking :p

GT: So you’re down with that then? Can you be a freak in the sheets Cletes?

AUGUST 6:

WW: Lol probably not. Depends

GT: What does it depend on?

AUGUST 7:

WW: What ive had to drink! Lol

GT: Let’s get drunk together, I’m a pornstar after a few drinks!

WW: Haha thats great.

WW: U in gold coast

GT: Yup you?

WW: Yeah. Just exploring surfers

GT: Lol I live in surfers. How long you down for?

WW: Till Monday

GT: Lets get together then :) what’s your number by the way?

WW: *sends phone number*

TEXT MESSAGES, AUGUST 7:

4.40pm, GT: Sup its Gable

4.44pm, GT: So do you have a big weekend planned?

4.54pm, WW: Doing this pub crawl on Friday thats bout it at

the moment

5.03pm, GT: Ah yep, you doing anything tonight?

5.05pm,WW: Nah not really

5.08pm, GT: Lets chill have a couple of drinks

5.27pm, WW: Where bouts?

5.30pm, GT: Where are you staying? Could meet in cavill mall and go from there

5.36pm, WW: Staying at crown plaza

5.44pm, GT: Okay how about we meet outside beer garden at 730?

6.09pm, WW: I dunno if I’ll be bak in time. What about 8.30 or is

that too late?

6.27pm, GT: Nah later on is fine. Not working till 10 tomorrow anyway

6.33pm, WW: So you wont be havn a big night then

6.44pm, GT: I can be up as long as I like ill be fine

7.02pm, GT: See you there at 830 then?

7.29pm, WW: Yup okay

7.29pm, WW: What st is it on

7.32pm, GT: Its like the corner of orchard ave and cavill ave

7.58pm, WW: Kk swt cya. Plz dont be an old creepy pervy dude

8.04pm, GT: I’ll try :p

8.23pm, WW: Might be late just waiting for the tram

8.32pm, GT: Ok I’m just walking over there ill (sic) be there in 5-10

8.33pm, GT: Call when I’m near

PHONE CONVERSATION, AUGUST 7:

8.40pm, GT to WW, duration 34 seconds.

GT: Hello Cletus

WW: Hey

GT: Where are you?

WW: Umm in a shop called Lovisa

GT: Called what?

WW: I’m just having a browse.

GT: What’s the name of it?

WW: Lovisa.

GT: Lovisa. I can see it. I’m wearing a black shirt.

WW: I’m wearing a black jacket (indistinct). Wearing a jacket.

GT: Umm, I’m just walking up to it.