In the quiet, manicured streets of Mosman Park, the flowers and handwritten notes piling up outside a darkened home tell a story far more complex than the police tape suggests. It is a story not of sudden malice, but of slow, grinding exhaustion and a system that allegedly turned its back on those who needed it most. As the community grapples with the loss of the Clune family—parents Jarrod and Maiwenna, and their two teenage sons, Leon and Otis—a school insider has come forward with harrowing details that shed new light on the “unbearable” pressure the family faced in their final years.
While the tragedy has shaken Perth’s western suburbs, it is the revelation of what occurred behind closed doors, and within the school gates, that is truly devastating. A teacher who worked closely with the boys has revealed that the path to this heartbreaking conclusion was paved with rejection. Contrary to earlier assumptions, the boys were no longer attending their prestigious grammar school at the time of their passing. The educator disclosed that Otis, the younger of the two brothers, had been expelled two years prior following a behavioral incident.
Most hauntingly, the teacher recalled how the system dehumanized the child. Following the incident that led to his expulsion, Otis—a boy who found comfort in clutching his Finding Nemo plush toys to cope with sensory overload—was reportedly referred to as a “monster” by a figure of authority. It was a cruel label for a non-verbal child simply trying to navigate a world he found overwhelming, and a crushing blow to his mother, Mai, who was already fighting a war on multiple fronts.
“They were kind-hearted boys who just needed to be understood,” the teacher shared, her voice thick with emotion. She described Leon as a gentle soul who adored Toy Story, particularly the character of Woody. “Next year would have marked Leon’s graduation. That is a big deal. It shows just how far he came.”
The narrative emerging is one of profound isolation. Friends and educators alike describe Jarrod and Mai not as villains, but as deeply loving parents who were systematically broken by sleep deprivation and a lack of support. The boys’ severe autism meant they rarely slept through the night, leaving their parents in a state of perpetual exhaustion. “The boys never slept… they often slept at school,” the insider noted, painting a picture of a household operating on the very edge of human endurance.
Despite their parents “moving stones” to find help—even traveling across the country to seek specialist therapies—the doors kept closing. Reports indicate that recent cuts to their NDIS (National Disability Insurance Scheme) funding may have been the final straw, leaving the family feeling abandoned by the state.
The discovery of the family was made not by police, but by a care worker who found a note on the door—a final act of protection warning the visitor not to enter. Inside, a second letter revealed that the parents had made a “joint decision” to end their struggle, a testament to a despair so deep they felt they had no other option.
As grandfather Michael Clune visits the empty home to mourn two generations of his family, the wider community is left with uncomfortable questions. This tragedy serves as a stark indictment of a society where a family can beg for help until they have nothing left to give, only to be remembered after it is too late. The ribbons tied to the mulberry tree in their garden now flutter for two boys who were not monsters, but children who simply needed a world that was kind enough to keep them.