In the bustling city of Charlotte, North Carolina, where the hum of light rail trains echoes through the night, a young woman’s story has left an indelible mark on those who knew her. Iryna Zarutska, a 23-year-old Ukrainian refugee, embodied the quiet strength of someone who had fled war only to find tragedy in a land of promise. Her life, cut short in a senseless act of violence, has become a symbol of lost dreams, community grief, and the harsh realities facing immigrants in America. Friends and co-workers remember her not just as a dedicated employee at Zepeddies Pizzeria, but as a selfless soul who always put others first—staying late to cover shifts for her younger colleagues, ensuring they could head home early to study or rest. But on the fateful night of August 22, 2025, Iryna didn’t return, and her empty chair at the shop has remained a silent memorial, untouched by anyone since.

Iryna’s journey to Charlotte began far from the American South, in the historic streets of Kyiv, Ukraine. Born into a family that valued education and creativity, she pursued studies in art and restoration, dreaming of preserving the cultural heritage of her homeland. But in 2022, as Russian forces invaded Ukraine, shattering lives and landscapes, Iryna’s world turned upside down. With bombs falling and uncertainty looming, she made the heart-wrenching decision to flee with her mother, sister, and younger brother. Her father stayed behind, bound by martial law restrictions that prevented men of fighting age from leaving. The family sought refuge in the United States, landing in Huntersville, a quiet suburb near Charlotte. It was a fresh start, but one fraught with challenges: learning English, adapting to a new culture, and rebuilding from scratch.

In America, Iryna embraced her independence with quiet determination. She took on various jobs to support her family, but it was at Zepeddies Pizzeria where she truly found a sense of belonging. The small, family-run shop became her second home, a place where the aroma of fresh dough and melting cheese mingled with laughter and camaraderie. Co-workers describe her as the heart of the team—a “sweetheart” with a “heart of gold” who was always ready to lend a hand. She had a knack for making the long hours feel shorter, often volunteering to stay late so that younger staff members could leave early. “She’d say, ‘Go on, you’ve got school tomorrow,’ or ‘You need rest more than I do,'” recalls one friend. Her shifts would stretch into the night, folding boxes, prepping ingredients, or cleaning up after a busy rush, all with a smile that lit up the room. Iryna wasn’t just working for a paycheck; she was building connections, fostering a family-like atmosphere in a foreign land.

Beyond the pizzeria, Iryna harbored bigger dreams. She aspired to become a veterinary assistant, drawn to caring for animals as a way to channel her compassionate nature. She was learning to drive, inching toward greater freedom, and immersing herself in American life. Friends say she loved exploring Charlotte’s parks, sketching scenes from her new surroundings, and sharing stories of Ukraine with anyone who would listen. Her resilience was inspiring; having escaped the horrors of war—sirens, blackouts, and the constant fear of loss—she approached each day with gratitude. Yet, beneath her optimism lay the subtle scars of displacement: the ache for her father back home, the worry for relatives still in danger, and the quiet struggle to fit into a society that sometimes felt indifferent to outsiders.

The night everything changed started like any other. Iryna finished her shift at Zepeddies, still wearing her red apron as she boarded the Lynx Blue Line light rail train around 9:50 p.m. She was heading home after another long day, perhaps thinking about her family or her next art project. Surveillance footage captured the ordinary moment: Iryna seated quietly, unaware of the danger lurking behind her. In a flash of unprovoked violence, a man stood up and stabbed her three times in the chest with a pocketknife. She collapsed, bleeding out on the train floor, as passengers scrambled in panic. Emergency responders arrived quickly, but it was too late—Iryna was pronounced dead at the scene.

The assailant, Decarlos Brown Jr., 34, exited the train and was arrested nearby. Brown, who had been experiencing homelessness, had a lengthy criminal history stretching back to 2007, with 14 prior arrests in Mecklenburg County alone. Convictions for armed robbery, felony larceny, possession of a firearm by a felon, and other offenses painted a picture of a troubled life marred by repeat offenses. Diagnosed with schizophrenia, Brown had exhibited violent behavior in the past, leading his own mother to seek involuntary commitment for him— a request that was denied by the system. On that night, he claimed no knowledge of Iryna, describing the attack as random and inexplicable. Charged with first-degree murder and federal violations for violence against mass transportation, Brown now faces the possibility of the death penalty, held without bond as a psychological evaluation proceeds.

News of Iryna’s death rippled through Charlotte like a shockwave. At Zepeddies Pizzeria, the atmosphere turned somber overnight. Her co-workers, stunned and heartbroken, left her chair empty—a simple wooden stool by the counter where she often sat during breaks. No one has sat there since, as if preserving her presence amid the grief. A candle burns continuously in her honor, its flickering light a reminder of the “warmth, kindness, and light she brought into our lives every single day.” The shop’s owners issued a poignant statement: “We lost not only an incredible employee, but a true friend. Our dear Iryna left this world far too soon, and our hearts are heavy with grief.” Customers, too, felt the loss; regulars who knew her by name stopped by to share memories, leaving flowers and notes outside the door.

The tragedy extended beyond the pizzeria, igniting broader conversations about safety, immigration, and systemic failures. Iryna’s story highlighted the vulnerabilities of refugees who flee one danger only to encounter another. In a city where public transit is a lifeline for many, questions arose about security measures—why weren’t there more officers on the trains? Why had Brown’s repeated run-ins with the law not led to more substantial interventions? Critics pointed to gaps in the mental health and criminal justice systems, where individuals like Brown fall through the cracks, endangering innocent lives. The incident also fueled political discourse, with local leaders like Charlotte Mayor Vi Lyles and North Carolina Governor Josh Stein expressing outrage and calling for reforms. Even national figures weighed in, emphasizing the need for stricter crime policies and better support for immigrants.

In response, North Carolina lawmakers passed House Bill 307, dubbed “Iryna’s Law,” on October 3, 2025. The legislation aims to overhaul criminal law, including efforts to resume capital punishment in the state after nearly two decades without executions. It also addresses jail population management, inspired by criticisms of programs that allegedly contributed to Brown’s freedom despite his history. Memorials for Iryna sprang up across the U.S.: a candlelight vigil in Charlotte on August 31 drew hundreds, while murals depicting her as a symbol of hope adorned walls in cities from New York to Los Angeles. Her family, devastated, chose to bury her in America, close to the life she had begun to build.

Iryna Zarutska’s death is more than a statistic; it’s a profound loss that underscores the fragility of human kindness in a world of chaos. She came to America seeking safety, only to become a victim of the very violence she escaped. Yet, her legacy endures in the small acts she inspired—the extra shifts covered, the smiles shared, the dreams pursued. At Zepeddies, that empty chair stands as a testament to her spirit, a space where grief and remembrance intersect. As one co-worker put it, “She was always there for us. Now, we’re here for her memory.” In a nation grappling with division, Iryna’s story calls us to remember the humanity in every stranger, the potential in every refugee, and the urgency of protecting the vulnerable. Her light may have been extinguished too soon, but it continues to flicker in the hearts of those she touched, urging us toward a safer, more compassionate tomorrow.