Former carer Maddie Page’s voice broke repeatedly as she delivered a poignant tribute to the Clune family, whose lives ended in a suspected double murder-suicide that has shocked Perth and reignited fierce debate over disability support in Australia. In emotional statements to media, Page described Leon Clune, 16, and Otis Clune, 14—two autistic brothers she supported for more than ten years—as boys who captured her heart with their unique ways of connecting. She insisted their parents, Jarrod Clune, 50, and Maiwenna Goasdoue, 49, were devoted and loving, calling them the “biggest, fiercest advocates” for their sons. Yet her words carried a deeper sorrow: “They were such a happy family,” she reflected, highlighting the immense love that once defined their home before systemic failures pushed them to despair.

The tragedy unfolded on January 30, 2026, in the affluent Perth suburb of Mosman Park. A support worker arriving for a scheduled visit around 8 a.m. discovered a note on the front door of the Mott Close residence urging not to enter and to contact police immediately. Officers found the bodies of Jarrod, Maiwenna, Leon, Otis, and the family’s three pets scattered throughout the property. Bloodstains at the rear and additional notes inside—one reportedly outlining final arrangements and the parents’ state of mind—confirmed investigators’ suspicions of a double murder-suicide. Police believe the boys were killed by their parents before the adults took their own lives, though full details await coronial findings.

Page, known professionally as Maddie Louise Page, had been a constant presence in the boys’ lives since their early childhood. She recalled how Leon and Otis, both diagnosed with severe autism, taught her profound lessons in patience and creative communication. School newsletters from Christ Church Grammar School captured their younger years: Leon beaming about river explorations with classmates, Otis eagerly anticipating beach days and simple pleasures like fish and chips drizzled with tomato sauce. These innocent glimpses portrayed boys full of potential joy when nurtured in understanding environments. As teenagers, however, their needs escalated dramatically—level 3 autism brought intense physical demands, sensory challenges, self-injurious episodes, and complete reliance on caregivers. For parents approaching middle age, the relentless cycle of supervision, therapies, and behavioral management without adequate breaks bred exhaustion.

Page’s tribute emphasized the family’s resilience amid “extreme difficulty and countless obstacles.” She witnessed firsthand the “immense love” that bound them, yet she did not shy away from blame. The National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS), she asserted, had failed them catastrophically. Friends and anonymous sources corroborated her claims, revealing recent funding cuts that slashed essential supports: respite care to give parents breathing room, intensive behavioral therapy, and in-home assistance. One friend described the couple as “desperate” after repeated rejections from services designed to prevent carer burnout. Page stated her heart felt “unbearably heavy,” concluding with a direct plea: “NDIS – do better.” She suggested these reductions left the parents believing they had “no other choice,” a phrase that has echoed painfully through public discourse.

Tributes have poured in since the discovery. The Australian Neurodivergent Parents Association organized a candlelight vigil, urging nationwide participation at 5 p.m. to honor Leon and Otis. A mother of an autistic child shared a moving poem reframing the boys not as burdens but as individuals deserving dignity: “Not diagnoses. Not burdens.” Social media overflowed with shared memories—photos of the boys smiling, stories of their small victories—and raw admissions from other families facing similar isolation. Many carers spoke of parallel struggles: chronic sleep deprivation, social withdrawal, financial strain, and the gnawing fear of what happens when parents can no longer provide care.

This case exposes deep cracks in Australia’s disability ecosystem. The NDIS was launched to deliver individualized, needs-based funding, yet critics highlight bureaucratic delays, inconsistent plan reviews, and frequent reductions that disproportionately affect high-needs households. Caring for two profoundly autistic teenagers compounds challenges exponentially—no spontaneous family outings, limited social lives, constant vigilance against safety risks. Studies document heightened mental health burdens among such carers: elevated depression, anxiety, and physical health decline. In rare but devastating instances, prolonged despair can distort perceptions, leading individuals to view ending lives—including dependents’—as a tragic act of mercy to spare future suffering.

Experts caution that while no justification exists for filicide, contextual understanding aids prevention. Murder-suicides involving dependent children often arise from accumulated hopelessness rather than intent to harm maliciously. Parents may rationalize actions amid perceived abandonment by support networks. Calls for reform have intensified: mandatory mental health integration in disability plans, expanded respite options, proactive monitoring of at-risk families, and safeguards against abrupt funding cuts. Advocacy groups argue that true support requires not just dollars but sustained hope and relief.

Leon and Otis deserved childhoods extended into futures of connection and comfort—more river adventures, beach laughter, moments where their worlds felt safe. Their parents, portrayed consistently as committed and affectionate, deserved a system robust enough to sustain their dedication without collapse. Instead, isolation and perceived failure eroded their resilience until tragedy claimed them all.

Page’s words linger as both eulogy and warning. She promised to carry memories of the boys’ smiles and the family’s profound love, while challenging society to act. Her breakdown in interviews—tears flowing as she spoke of happiness turned to heartbreak—underscores a universal truth: behind every disability narrative are human beings yearning for viable futures. When systems falter, the fallout can be irreversible.

As police conclude investigations and vigils fade, the Clune story compels urgent reflection. Australia must confront whether its flagship disability scheme truly empowers or inadvertently abandons those it aims to protect. Meaningful change—bolstered funding, empathetic assessments, comprehensive carer support—offers the only path to honoring Leon and Otis: ensuring no other family reaches the edge where love and despair collide fatally.