Echoes of Desperation: Iryna Zarutska’s Final Calls to Her Father Reveal a Haunting Premonition

In the shadow of an already devastating tragedy, a newly uncovered detail from the final hours of Iryna Zarutska’s life has pierced the nation’s conscience like a fresh wound. Phone records, obtained by the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department (CMPD) and corroborated by family statements, reveal that the 23-year-old Ukrainian refugee placed exactly nine frantic calls to her father in Ukraine in the 24 hours leading up to her brutal stabbing death on August 22, 2025. Each call, heartbreakingly brief and no longer than two minutes, carried an undercurrent of unease that her father, Viktor Zarutskyi, now interprets as a subconscious cry for help. The last call, timestamped at 8:42 p.m.—just over an hour before the attack—includes faint background noises: muffled footsteps, a low murmur, and what sounds like the distant clatter of a train door. These audio fragments, leaked to media outlets amid the ongoing federal investigation, have amplified the chorus of grief, guilt, and outrage surrounding Zarutska’s murder, transforming her story from a statistic of urban violence into a visceral portrait of isolation and foreboding.

Iryna Zarutska’s journey to America was a testament to unyielding hope amid chaos. Born in a small village near Kyiv, she fled Russia’s full-scale invasion in early 2022 alongside her mother, Olena, and two siblings, leaving behind her father, who remained in Ukraine to support extended family and volunteer with local defense efforts. At 20, Iryna arrived in Charlotte with dreams of becoming an art restorer—a passion nurtured during her studies at Synergy College in Kyiv, where she graduated with honors in restoration techniques. Fluent in English within months, she balanced night classes at Central Piedmont Community College with day shifts at a bustling South End pizzeria, where colleagues remember her infectious laugh and meticulous attention to detail. “She’d sketch wildflowers on napkins during breaks, saying they reminded her of home,” recalled coworker Sofia Ramirez in a recent interview. “Iryna believed America was her fresh start—safe, vibrant, full of possibility.”

But those possibilities curdled into terror in the hours before her death. Viktor Zarutskyi, a 52-year-old mechanic in war-torn Bucha, described the calls in a tearful interview with Suspilne, Ukraine’s public broadcaster, aired October 10. “She rang me nine times that day—more than usual,” he said, his voice cracking over a spotty connection. “Short talks, like always, because minutes cost money. But her tone… it was off. Anxious, like she was chasing shadows.” The first call came at 7:15 a.m. on August 21, a routine check-in about her classes and a funny story about a customer’s botched pizza order. By evening, the cadence shifted. The eighth call, at 6:33 p.m. on August 22, lasted 1 minute and 47 seconds: Iryna whispered about feeling “watched” during her commute, mentioning a “weird guy” who’d followed her from the grocery store to the bus stop. Viktor urged her to stay alert, to call campus security—advice born from his own fears in occupied Ukraine.

The ninth and final call is the one that haunts. At 8:42 p.m., as Iryna walked from her pizzeria shift toward Scaleybark station, her voice trembled. “Tato [Daddy], everything’s fine, just… tired,” she said, according to the audio transcript released by CMPD. But then—the anomalies. Faint footsteps echo, syncing with her quickened breath. A soft rustle, like fabric shifting. And at 1:12 into the call, a barely audible male voice: “Hey…” trailing off into static. Viktor, listening from his dimly lit workshop, pressed for details. “Who’s there, Ira? Are you safe?” Her response: a forced laugh, “Just the wind, Tato. Love you—gotta run for the train.” The line went dead. Eighty-four minutes later, at 9:50 p.m., Decarlos Dejuan Brown Jr., a 34-year-old with 14 prior arrests spanning armed robbery, assaults, and drug offenses, plunged a pocketknife into her neck and chest from behind as she sat scrolling her phone on the Lynx Blue Line. Surveillance footage, released September 5 by Charlotte Area Transit System (CATS), captures the horror in grainy clarity: Zarutska’s head snaps right, eyes wide in shock, before she crumples, clutching her throat. She lingered semi-conscious for nearly a minute, tears streaming as blood pooled—alone, until passengers finally stirred.

The leaked audio has ignited a firestorm on social media, where #IrynaCalls and #NineTimesForHelp trended globally within hours of the October 10 broadcast. On X, user @XAVIAERD posted a thread dissecting the final call’s forensics, amassing over 57,000 likes: “This moment is REALLY tearing me up 💔 Iryna Zarutska had just enough time to realize her fate… She died alone with the feeling that no one cared.” Echoing this, @MrPitbull07 shared a slowed-down clip of the stabbing video overlaid with the call audio, captioning it, “Of all the horrors… this is the one burned into my soul.” The post garnered 1,459 likes and 266 reposts, users flooding replies with Ukrainian flags and pleas for justice. Even in unrelated threads, Zarutska’s image surfaces—like @Lesli0yeah’s October 11 post: “We do not forget. Bless you God Iryna Zarutska,” paired with a vigil photo that drew 4 likes but resonated in replies mourning “another stolen light.”

For Viktor, the calls are a double-edged sword: a lifeline severed too soon. “I replay them every night,” he told reporters via video from Bucha. “That last one—I should’ve known. Pushed her to come home sooner. But she loved Charlotte; said it was her ‘second Kyiv.'” Unable to travel due to Ukraine’s martial law and his caregiving duties, Viktor honored her wishes for burial in America, selecting a plot in Charlotte’s Oaklawn Cemetery overlooking the light rail tracks—a poetic, painful irony. “She wanted to stay where she built her dreams,” he said. Family spokesperson Lauren O. Newton elaborated: “Iryna texted her partner that night saying she was en route home. When she didn’t arrive, they traced her phone to the station—and found her gone.” The partner’s identity remains private, but sources confirm they listened to the calls post-mortem, shattering under the weight of what-ifs.

This revelation compounds the systemic failures already under federal scrutiny. Brown, whose mental health crises included a delusional 911 call about “man-made materials” controlling him, was released on a promissory note by Magistrate Judge Teresa Stokes just months prior—despite violations of probation. X erupted with calls for accountability: @ElephantSignal’s October 11 post, featuring Stokes’ photo, asked, “Should Teresa be held accountable? YES or NO?” It exploded to 243 likes and 125 replies, mostly thumbs-up emojis branding her “complicit in murder.” President Trump’s administration has seized on the case, with Attorney General Pamela Bondi charging Brown federally under a statute for deaths on mass transit, eligible for the death penalty. “Iryna’s horrific murder is a direct result of failed soft-on-crime policies,” Bondi stated September 9. FBI Director Kash Patel echoed: “A disgraceful act that should never happen in America.” Charlotte Mayor Vi Lyles, a Democrat, vowed increased patrols, admitting “a tragic failure by the courts.” Yet critics, including X user @Lace_Presley, decry “soft judges in Dem cities” as “accomplices,” linking it to broader urban decay.

The audio’s implications ripple beyond policy. Forensic audio experts, consulted by CNN, suggest the “hey…” could be Brown—whose hoodie concealed a knife—testing proximity, a predator’s prelude. Zarutska’s family, through Newton, demands full disclosure: “Those nine calls were her fighting for connection across an ocean. We need the truth of her fear.” Immigrant advocates, like the Ukrainian-American Community Center, plan a October 15 memorial tying her story to rising anti-refugee violence, with chants of “Not in our sanctuary!” On X, @BirdiesRants posted October 11: “Infuriating injustices: Iryna… murdered for her white skin,” sparking debates on racial narratives in media silence. Indeed, while outlets like BBC and ABC covered the stabbing, progressive networks offered minimal airtime, fueling accusations of selective outrage.

As Brown’s competency evaluation looms—delayed by his history of untreated schizophrenia—Zarutska’s calls stand as her unintended epitaph. Viktor clings to one memory from the seventh call: Iryna humming a Ukrainian lullaby, her voice light. “She was my sun,” he whispers. In death, those nine fragments illuminate not just a daughter’s desperation, but a father’s endless vigil. They remind us: in the din of footsteps and murmurs, safety is fragile, connection sacred. Iryna Zarutska didn’t just die alone—she reached across the world, one brief call at a time, begging the silence to break.

What those background sounds truly herald—a stalker’s shadow, urban paranoia, or cruel coincidence—may surface in trial. For now, they echo in Viktor’s sleepless nights and a nation’s fractured heart. Rest in the peace you sought, Iryna. Your voice, though faint, endures.