Iryna Zarutska’s story begins not in the bustling streets of Charlotte, North Carolina, but in the shadowed bunkers of Kyiv, Ukraine. Born on May 22, 2002, to parents Anna Zarutska and Stanislav Zarutskyi, Iryna grew up in a world that seemed full of promise. She graduated from Synergy College in Kyiv with a degree in art and restoration, her hands skilled at bringing faded masterpieces back to life. But in February 2022, when Russian forces invaded Ukraine, her world shattered like fragile canvas. Sirens wailed through the nights, and bombs rattled the earth. Iryna, along with her mother and two younger siblings—sister Valeriia and brother Bohdan—huddled in a cramped bomb shelter near their apartment. “What motivated us to get them out of Ukraine was seeing a picture of them huddled up in a bomb shelter,” recalled a family friend, capturing the raw fear that drove their escape.
The family arrived in the United States in August 2022, six months after the invasion began. They were sponsored by relatives and initially stayed with Iryna’s uncle and his wife in North Carolina. For Iryna, America wasn’t just a refuge—it was a canvas for reinvention. She threw herself into building a new life, despite the language barriers and cultural shocks. She enrolled in English classes at Rowan-Cabarrus Community College, her determination shining through every lesson. Work became her anchor; she started at an assisted living facility in Huntersville, where her gentle nature endeared her to residents. Later, she landed a job at Zepeddie’s Pizzeria in Charlotte, rising from an entry-level role to a line cook. Her colleagues remembered her as an “incredible employee” and “true friend,” someone who brought warmth to the kitchen with her radiant smile.
But Iryna’s passions extended beyond the workplace. She had an artist’s soul, painting murals in people’s homes and creating art that captured the beauty she saw in everyday life. Animals were her greatest love; she babysat dogs, walked pets for neighbors, and dreamed of becoming a veterinary assistant. “Iryna had a strong desire to have a better life,” her uncle shared, noting how she saved every penny to buy her first car and was on the cusp of getting her driver’s license. She was learning to drive with the help of her boyfriend, who took her practice sessions “to the next level.” In just three short years, Iryna had woven herself into the fabric of her community, touching lives with her kindness and creativity. She was the “glue of the family,” a comforter and confidant who made everyone feel seen.
And then there was love. Iryna had recently moved in with her 21-year-old boyfriend, Stanislav “Stas” Nikulytsia, in May 2025. Their relationship was a beacon of hope amid her turbulent past. Stas, who shared her Ukrainian roots, understood the scars of war she carried. Together, they dreamed big—simple, heartfelt dreams that spoke of stability and joy. “She really likes children, often looks at baby clothes in the store,” Stas recalled in a moment of raw vulnerability. Their plans were painted in vibrant colors: a wedding, followed immediately by starting a family. “We planned to have a baby right after the wedding,” he said, his voice breaking with the weight of what could have been. “A family of three will forever be just an unfulfilled dream.” These words hang like a shadow over her story, a poignant reminder of the innocence stolen. Iryna’s love for children wasn’t abstract; she babysat, cared for animals as if they were her own, and envisioned a home filled with laughter. But fate had other plans.
On the evening of August 22, 2025, Iryna finished her shift at Zepeddie’s, still in her uniform—khaki pants, dark shirt, and work hat. She texted Stas that she’d be home soon, boarding the Blue Line train around 9:45 p.m. The ride should have been uneventful, a routine commute through Charlotte’s south end. Surveillance footage paints a chilling picture: Iryna sits in an aisle seat, unaware of the man in the red sweatshirt behind her. For four and a half minutes, the train hums along. Then, without warning, the man—later identified as Decarlos Brown Jr.—pulls out a pocketknife, unfolds it, pauses as if second-guessing, stands, and strikes. Three brutal blows to her neck and face. Iryna clutches her throat, slumps to the floor, and dies on the train as panicked passengers try to help. There was no security on board, no altercation, no motive apparent in the moment. It was random, senseless, and utterly devastating.
Who was Decarlos Brown Jr., the 34-year-old man now charged with first-degree murder and a federal count of committing an act causing death on a mass transportation system? His story is one of unraveling—a tragic intersection of crime, mental illness, and systemic failures. Brown had a lengthy criminal history: convictions for armed robbery in 2015, felony larceny, breaking and entering. He served five years in prison, released in 2020, with parole ending in 2021. But freedom brought demons; diagnosed with schizophrenia, he battled hallucinations, paranoia, and delusions. He believed the government had implanted a chip in his brain, controlling his actions. In January 2025, he called 911 to report this, leading to charges for misuse of the system—but he was released on cashless bail with a promise to appear in court.
Brown’s family painted a picture of a man in crisis. His sister, Tracey Brown, described his deterioration: mumbling to himself, aggressive outbursts, and a belief that his family was being “trafficked” by the government to get to him. “He had come to some breaking point,” she said after seeing the video. In a jailhouse call on August 28, Brown revealed his twisted motive: He stabbed Iryna because he thought she was “reading his mind” and that a “material in his body” forced him to act. “Whoever was working the materials… lashed out on her,” he chillingly explained. Tracey pleaded for understanding: “He’s mentally ill. That’s all I can say.” The family had tried to get him into long-term care, but barriers like guardianship requirements blocked the way. “I feel like family first and foremost just gave up on him,” Tracey admitted, while also fearing retaliation herself. Brown’s mother had dropped him at a shelter the morning of the attack, unaware of the storm brewing.
The news of Iryna’s death rippled through her family like a shockwave. Stas and her relatives grew worried when she didn’t arrive home; her phone’s location pinned her at the station. Rushing there, they learned the unthinkable. Her father, still in Kyiv, watched the burial via FaceTime, heartbroken and oceans away. The Ukrainian embassy offered to repatriate her remains, but the family declined—she loved America too much. Her funeral drew over 100 people, including residents from the assisted living facility bused in to pay respects. Zepeddie’s kept a candle lit in her honor, symbolizing the light she brought. A family friend, Lonnie, called it “very, very sickening and sad,” lamenting the evil in society.
But Iryna’s story didn’t end in quiet grief—it exploded into the national spotlight, fueling political flames. President Donald Trump seized on the tragedy, posting on Truth Social: “It’s time to stop this madness. The people of our country need to insist on protection, safety, LAW & ORDER.” He branded Brown a “career criminal” and linked the incident to “soft-on-crime” policies in Democrat-led cities, using it to justify federal troop deployments and threats of National Guard action in places like Chicago. Attorney General Pamela Bondi pursued the maximum penalty, possibly the death penalty, while Rep. Mark Harris declared, “Iryna Zarutska fled war-torn Ukraine seeking safety – but America failed her.” U.S. Transportation Secretary Sean P. Duffy launched an investigation into public transit safety. Even Tracey Brown appealed to Trump to spare her brother, highlighting his mental health struggles over vengeance.
This convergence of lives—Iryna’s hopeful ascent and Brown’s tormented descent—raises haunting questions. How does a woman escape bombs in Ukraine only to fall victim to violence in America? Why did systems fail to protect both? Iryna’s uncle called for change, urging leaders to act. Her obituary captured her essence: “Iryna will be remembered for her kindness, her creativity, and the lasting impression she left on everyone she met. Her absence leaves a deep void, but her spirit will forever remain.”
In the end, Iryna’s unfulfilled dream lingers like a whisper. She survived war’s chaos, only for peace to betray her. Her love for children, her stolen family plans—these are the threads of a life cut short. As Charlotte mourns and the nation debates, one thing is clear: Iryna Zarutska’s story demands we look deeper, question harder, and hold tighter to the fragile dreams that bind us all. What if her tragedy sparks the change she deserved? The answer, like her legacy, hangs in the balance.
