In the manicured, multimillion-dollar streets of Mosman Park, Perth’s gilded western suburb, a scene of unimaginable horror unfolded on the morning of January 30, 2026. Behind the locked doors of a Mott Close home, police discovered the bodies of Jarrod Clune, 50, Maiwenna Goasdoue (Mai), 49, and their teenage sons Leon Clune, 16, and Otis Clune, 14—along with three family pets: two dogs and a cat—all dead in what authorities quickly classified as a double murder-suicide.

Now, chilling new clues have emerged from the investigation: a second suicide note, described by sources as a structured “letter” that lays bare the parents’ tormented mindset and premeditated plan. Police have not released the full contents, but leaks reveal a heartbreaking phrase that has sent shockwaves across Australia: “They had been desperate for a long time…” Those six words, allegedly part of the note’s explanation, paint a portrait of prolonged anguish that pushed a seemingly devoted family to the brink—and over it.

The first note—taped to the front door—was stark and urgent: words to the effect of “Don’t enter. Call police.” A carer, arriving for a scheduled visit around 8:15 a.m., followed the instruction and alerted authorities. Officers entered to find the family scattered in different rooms: parents in one area, boys in another. No overt violence, no struggle—just the silent aftermath of what investigators believe was a coordinated act. Three pets lay deceased alongside them, included in the final decision as if the parents could not bear to leave them behind.

The second note, found deeper inside the home, changes everything. Sources close to the probe describe it as a detailed manifesto: the parents’ joint reasoning, their overwhelming exhaustion, and a calculated belief that death was the only mercy left. It reportedly outlines financial instructions post-mortem—bank accounts, assets, even care directives—underscoring chilling premeditation. “They had been desperate for a long time,” the line allegedly reads, hinting at years of mounting despair that culminated in this unthinkable act.

Leon and Otis, both living with severe autism and “significant health challenges,” required round-the-clock care that fell almost entirely on Jarrod and Mai. Friends and a former carer have spoken of a loving household pushed beyond endurance: endless NDIS battles, repeated funding cuts, respite denied, isolation that eroded hope. “The system failed them,” one carer told media, echoing a growing chorus blaming bureaucratic red tape for the family’s collapse. The note’s words now fuel that narrative—desperation not sudden, but chronic, festering until no escape remained but this final one.

WA Premier Roger Cook called it an “unimaginable tragedy,” his voice cracking during a press conference. Police stress no ongoing threat, but the investigation continues: autopsies pending, forensics combing the home, every detail scrutinized. Early indications point to carbon monoxide poisoning or a non-violent method consistent with perceived mercy—no overt brutality, just a quiet, irreversible choice.

Neighbors remain stunned. Those who heard faint crying from the house the evening before January 30 now wonder if it marked the onset—headaches, confusion, final distress before unconsciousness. The affluent suburb’s silence is deafening, broken only by whispers: How could a family so outwardly stable reach such darkness?

Online, grief and fury collide. Tributes flood X, Facebook, and Reddit’s r/perth: old school photos of Leon and Otis smiling, memories of Mai’s tireless advocacy, Jarrod’s quiet devotion. Hashtags like #NDISFailed and #JusticeForLeonAndOtis trend as carers share burnout stories, disability advocates demand reform. “This isn’t just one family’s pain,” one viral post read. “It’s what happens when support vanishes and parents are left alone.”

The second note’s revelation has only deepened the wound. If it truly spells out years of desperation—”They had been desperate for a long time”—then the tragedy transcends personal heartbreak into a damning indictment of a system meant to help but accused of abandoning those who need it most. How many other families teeter on the same edge? How did love twist into this final act?

As homicide detectives piece together the last hours, the note remains the case’s dark centerpiece—a confession, an explanation, a warning. In Mosman Park’s pristine quiet, the words linger like smoke: desperation long ignored, until it consumed everything.