In the affluent, tree-lined streets of Mosman Park, a suburb of Perth known for its quiet elegance, one family stood out for their peaceful demeanor. Jarrod Clune, 50, and Maiwenna “Mai” Goasdoue, 49, along with their teenage sons Leon, 16, and Otis, 14, lived in a modest home on Mott Close. To outsiders, they were the picture of a close-knit unit—parents devoted to their boys, who both lived with severe, non-verbal autism. The household rarely made noise; neighbors often described it as “very quiet,” a haven of calm amid the bustle of everyday life.

But on the night before the devastating discovery, that silence shattered.

A neighbor, speaking anonymously to local media, recounted the eerie events of that fateful evening. “This family was normally so quiet. You could go weeks without hearing anything from their house,” the resident said. “But that night, we heard strange noises—something unusual, like a disturbance breaking the peace. Then came what sounded like a scream. It was brief, chilling. We think now it might have been Maiwenna’s voice, her final cry in the darkness.”

The next morning, on Friday, January 30, 2026, the grim reality unfolded. A support worker, arriving for a scheduled visit to assist the boys, found a note on the door urging not to enter and to call police immediately. Inside, officers discovered the bodies of all four family members, along with the family’s two dogs and one cat—all deceased. Police quickly classified the incident as a suspected double murder-suicide, with indications that the parents ended the lives of their sons before taking their own. A second note found inside reportedly provided further context, pointing to an unimaginable decision born from overwhelming despair.

Friends and advocates close to the family have since shared glimpses of the hidden struggles behind closed doors. The couple, particularly Maiwenna, who was active in autism support communities, had long battled to secure adequate care through Australia’s National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS). Reports suggest the parents felt increasingly isolated, exhausted from round-the-clock caregiving for their sons’ extreme behaviors and needs. Sleep deprivation, emotional burnout, and a sense of being “failed” by the system were recurring themes in conversations among those who knew them.

Despite the outward calm, the family’s online presence had once shown joy—photos of beach days, cuddles, and milestones. Yet those images now stand in heartbreaking contrast to the tragedy. No prior reports of family violence existed, and police emphasized there were no ongoing safety concerns for the community.

This devastating event has sparked urgent calls for better support for families raising children with high-needs disabilities. Advocates argue that such extreme outcomes highlight systemic gaps in respite care, mental health resources, and early intervention. For the neighbors who heard that haunting sound, the memory lingers as a painful reminder: sometimes the deepest pain remains invisible until it’s too late.

As investigations continue and a report is prepared for the coroner, the suburb of Mosman Park mourns a family that, in their quiet way, touched many lives—and whose final night echoes with unanswered questions and profound sorrow.