💔📄 “Don’t Enter”: Chilling Note, Final Letter, and the Tragic Deaths of Two Autistic Boys and Their Parents in Perth Home

The quiet cul-de-sac of Mott Close in Mosman Park, one of Perth’s most affluent and picturesque suburbs, bordered by pristine beaches and manicured gardens, became the site of unimaginable horror on the morning of Friday, January 30, 2026. Inside a luxurious family home, the bodies of Maiwenna “Mai” Goasdoue, 49, her partner Jarrod Clune, 50, and their two teenage sons, Leon, 16, and Otis, 14, were discovered in different parts of the property. Also found deceased were the family’s two dogs and a cat. What police initially described as a “devastating tragedy” quickly evolved into a suspected double murder-suicide, a classification solidified by the discovery of notes left at the scene—one a stark warning, the other a deeply personal letter that has since laid bare the parents’ heartbreaking rationale and profound despair.

The alarm was raised around 8:15 a.m. by a dedicated care worker who arrived for a pre-arranged visit to support the boys, both of whom lived with severe, non-verbal autism. Upon approaching the front door, the carer encountered a brief note with words to the effect of “Don’t enter” and instructions to call emergency services immediately. Following the directive, police and ambulance crews descended on the address. St John WA deployed five crews, arriving at 8:29 a.m., but there was no life to save. Detective Acting Inspector Jessica Securo, addressing the media later that day, confirmed the grim reality: “Although this investigation is in its infancy, police are investigating this matter as a double murder-suicide.” She emphasized no weapon was used, no history of family violence existed, and there was “no ongoing risk to the community.” The bodies’ locations in separate areas of the home suggested a methodical approach, though full forensic details remain withheld pending the coronial inquest.

By Saturday, February 1, 2026, reports from WA Today and other outlets revealed the existence of a second document—a handwritten letter that transformed initial assumptions into a clearer, albeit more tragic, picture. This letter, discovered inside the property, is understood to have contained explicit indications of planning. It outlined the parents’ joint decision to end their lives and those of their children, expressed their mindset in the lead-up to the act, and even included practical instructions for the family’s finances after death—details such as asset distribution or guardianship considerations for any surviving arrangements. Most poignantly, the letter reportedly included the wrenching phrase: “The last thing we ever wanted to do…”—a line that has haunted investigators and the public alike, encapsulating the unbearable conflict between love and desperation.

Maiwenna Goasdoue, French-born and affectionately called “Mai” by friends, had long been open about the profound challenges her family faced. In online autism support groups, she described her sons’ conditions as “very severe level of autism,” noting their differences despite shared diagnosis: “My two boys have that very severe level of autism. Still both very different.” Leon and Otis were non-verbal, requiring constant, intensive support. Mai and Jarrod’s lives revolved entirely around their boys—protecting them, advocating for them, and shielding them from a world that often failed to understand or accommodate their needs. Close friend Nedra, speaking to the Daily Mail, painted a portrait of unwavering devotion: “Mai and Jarrod were the most devoted, loving, protective parents and their whole lives revolved around their beautiful boys.”

Yet beneath that devotion lay crushing isolation. Nedra revealed the couple’s struggle to secure reliable care: “It was incredibly hard to find anyone who could look after the boys, especially one of them with the level of support he needed. Anyone helping had to be just as devoted to her boys as [Mai] was.” The family felt “increasingly isolated and unsupported by friends and family,” compounded by the boys’ behaviors during long school holidays and chronic sleep deprivation—no one slept through the night consistently. Mai refused respite care, terrified her sons might be mistreated. “They often felt isolated, unsupported and abandoned by family, friends, support services, schools, the NDIS, the health system and the community in general,” Nedra said. “No one can understand the endless fight to get the support and services they so desperately needed.”

Another anonymous friend echoed this sentiment, describing Mai and Jarrod as a “strong couple” who “loved their children deeply and moved all the stones they could to ensure that they had the required supports and help.” But the system proved insurmountable: “Unfortunately they were fighting a losing battle against a system which is not here to assist. This was not a domestic violence-related murder-suicide. This tragedy arose because two parents were so beaten down by the system, so isolated, so fearful for the future of their children that they could see no other way out.”

Mosman Park, with its multimillion-dollar homes and ocean views, masks such struggles behind closed doors. The suburb’s exclusivity offered no shield from the relentless demands of severe disability care. The National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS), Australia’s flagship support program, has faced criticism for bureaucratic hurdles, funding shortfalls, and inadequate provision for high-needs cases like the Clune-Goasdoue boys. Federal Disability Minister Mark Butler called the deaths an “unspeakable tragedy” but declined to comment on the family’s specific NDIS support levels. The case has reignited national debate: How many families are pushed to the brink by inadequate services? Advocates argue the system often prioritizes cost containment over compassionate, flexible care, leaving parents in perpetual crisis.

The letter’s contents, while not fully public, have stirred profound empathy and sorrow. That opening sentiment—”The last thing we ever wanted to do…”—suggests a final, tormented acknowledgment that ending lives was the antithesis of their parental instincts. It speaks to a perceived absence of alternatives: no viable long-term care, no relief from exhaustion, no assurance their sons would be safe or loved after their passing. Planning extended to finances, indicating they thought ahead even in despair—perhaps to prevent burden on extended family or to ensure assets supported causes they valued.

Community response in Mosman Park has been one of collective mourning. Neighbors gathered outside the home in stunned silence, flowers and notes accumulating at the gate. Local leaders and residents expressed shock that such darkness could envelop a family in their midst. The boys’ school and support networks have offered counseling, while autism advocacy groups have called for urgent reform. “This isn’t just a family tragedy; it’s a systemic failure,” one advocate stated. “When parents feel euthanasia is the only mercy, something has gone catastrophically wrong.”

Police forensics continued for days, streets cordoned off as investigators pieced together timelines and toxicology. No foul play from external sources is suspected; the focus remains internal to the family dynamic under extreme pressure. The coroner’s inquest will probe deeper, but for now, the letter stands as a haunting testament—a final voice from parents who, in their words, never wanted this path.

The ripple effects extend far beyond Mott Close. Parents of autistic children across Australia share stories of similar exhaustion, fearing judgment while pleading for better support. Helplines report increased calls; charities like Autism Awareness Australia emphasize early intervention and respite funding. “We must listen before it’s too late,” one spokesperson urged.

In the end, this story defies easy judgment. It is a lament for a family destroyed not by malice, but by accumulated despair. Mai and Jarrod’s love for Leon and Otis was evident in every fight they waged. Their final act, however incomprehensible, stemmed from a belief that death offered the only protection left. The letter’s words linger: “The last thing we ever wanted to do…”—a phrase that captures the agony of parents who saw no dawn beyond their darkness.

As Perth mourns, the call grows louder: Reform the system, provide real support, break the isolation. No family should reach such a precipice alone. For Maiwenna, Jarrod, Leon, and Otis—may their memory spur change, ensuring no other parents face the same unbearable choice.