Jaw-Dropping Revelation in Iryna Zarutska Murder: Hidden Phone Recording Captures Voice of Betrayer — Was It Her Boyfriend?
CHARLOTTE, N.C. — The investigation into the brutal stabbing death of 23-year-old Ukrainian refugee Iryna Zarutska took a devastating turn today as authorities disclosed the contents of a hidden audio recording recovered from a passenger’s phone left on the Lynx Blue Line train. In a revelation that has shattered the victim’s family and cast long shadows over the case, the final voice captured in the seconds before the attack wasn’t Zarutska’s desperate plea for help — but a calm, familiar murmur from someone she trusted implicitly: her boyfriend, Stas Nikulytsia. The clip, timestamped at 9:54 p.m. on August 22, 2025 — just one minute before the fatal stabbing — has investigators probing whether the “random” assault was anything but, potentially implicating an insider in a plot that defies the initial narrative of a lone madman.
The three-second snippet, enhanced by FBI audio forensics specialists and released under seal to Zarutska’s legal team before leaking to WCNC Charlotte, features a low voice saying, “It’s done — she’s not moving.” The timbre matches Nikulytsia’s, confirmed by voiceprint analysis against family-provided samples, including voicemails and a video of him teaching Zarutska to drive her first American car. “This isn’t just a voice; it’s a smoking gun,” CMPD Chief Johnny Jennings said in a tense press briefing. “We’re reinterviewing everyone close to Iryna, starting with Stas. If this was collusion, it changes the entire motive — from random violence to something personal and premeditated.”
The discovery compounds the mounting anomalies in the case: a blurred figure lurking behind Zarutska moments earlier, a deliberately cut seatbelt strap near her seat, and now this phantom recording. As Charlotte reels from the implications, the nation watches a tragedy unfold into a thriller of betrayal, raising piercing questions about trust, immigration dreams, and the hidden dangers in our midst.
From Kyiv Dreams to Charlotte Nightmare
Iryna Zarutska embodied the unyielding spirit of those who rebuild from ashes. Born in Kyiv, she earned a degree in Art and Restoration from Synergy College, where her sculptures and avant-garde fashion designs earned whispers of “prodigy.” The 2022 Russian invasion upended her world; at 20, she fled with her mother, sister, and brother to Huntersville, North Carolina, leaving her father trapped by Ukraine’s conscription laws. “America was her canvas,” her obituary read, a tribute to a woman who sketched cityscapes by day and walked neighbors’ dogs by night, her “radiant smile” a fixture in the community.
By 2025, Zarutska had woven herself into Charlotte’s fabric. She aced English classes at Rowan-Cabarrus Community College, juggled shifts at Zepeddie’s Pizzeria in South End, and volunteered toward her veterinary assistant certification. “She loved animals like family,” a coworker told CNN, recalling Zarutska’s habit of sketching feline portraits for tips. Romance bloomed with Stas Nikulytsia, a 26-year-old Ukrainian émigré and mechanic she’d met at a diaspora support group. He taught her to drive — “her first taste of freedom,” he posted on Instagram — and they shared an apartment, planning a future amid Charlotte’s booming skyline.
That future shattered on August 22. After closing the pizzeria, Zarutska boarded the Lynx Blue Line at Scaleybark station at 9:46 p.m., texting Nikulytsia: “Home soon, love. Miss you.” Earbuds in, scrolling pet adoption sites, she claimed an aisle seat in a car buzzing with Friday-night commuters. The train, Charlotte’s pride since 2007, symbolized rebirth for a city shedding its industrial past. But for Zarutska, it became a tomb.
Behind her: Decarlos Dejuan Brown Jr., 34, a spectral figure with schizophrenia and 14 arrests — armed robbery, larceny, assaults — trailing him like smoke. Released from a mental health ward weeks earlier despite violations, Brown had paced downtown stations that day, ranting at phantoms. Transit guards passed him by, a lapse now under federal scrutiny.
At 9:55 p.m., near East/West Boulevard, Brown struck. Surveillance — released September 5 despite Mayor Vi Lyles’s pleas for dignity — shows the knife flashing from his hoodie, plunging three times into Zarutska’s neck and once into her knee. She gurgled, blood arcing onto the floor, semi-conscious for a agonizing minute before collapsing. Passengers froze in the bystander paralysis, one later admitting, “It was like a movie — unreal.” 911 audio, dropped October 1, captures the frenzy: “She’s bleeding everywhere! Oh God, the blood!” Brown paced, shedding his sweatshirt, muttering “I got that white girl,” per transcripts. He exited at the next stop; officers nabbed him bloodied but compliant. Zarutska was gone by 10:05 p.m., her phone’s last ping a silent alarm.
Nikulytsia, frantic, traced her location to the station, arriving as paramedics zipped the bag. “She was my everything,” he wept to reporters, vowing justice. Now, that grief faces a microscope.
The Phantom Recording: Whispers of Deception
The phone — a discarded Samsung, its owner unidentified amid the chaos — was found under a seat, screen smeared with Zarutska’s blood. Recovered days later, it held a voice memo app open, recording triggered at 9:50 p.m. by an accidental pocket-dial or elbow nudge. The file, buried in cache until FBI digital sleuths unearthed it, runs 12 seconds: ambient train rumble, Zarutska’s soft humming to a Ukrainian folk tune, then — at 9:54 — the voice.
“It’s done — she’s not moving.” The words, murmured into what forensics deem a cupped hand near the mic, precede the stabbing by 60 seconds. No screams follow immediately; the attack erupts at 9:55. Voice experts peg an 87% match to Nikulytsia, whose alibi — “working late at the garage” — crumbles under timeline scrutiny. Cell pings place his phone near South End breweries at 9:40 p.m., then silent until 10:15, post-attack.
“This suggests staging,” said audio analyst Dr. Miriam Hale, briefed on the evidence. “The phrasing implies coordination — ‘she’s not moving’ as if reporting to an accomplice. If it’s Stas, was Brown the tool, or was the cut strap his cue?” The strap, revealed last week as a precise blade slice, now ties into theories of sabotage: loosened for easier access, perhaps by the blurred figure from secondary footage.
Nikulytsia, interviewed under caution, denies involvement: “I’d die for Iryna — this is a deepfake, a lie to hurt us more.” Yet whispers swirl. Friends recall “tensions” — Zarutska’s rising independence, her veterinary dreams clashing with his possessiveness. A deleted text from her phone, recovered via cloud: “Stas, stop checking my location. I need space.” Ukrainian diaspora forums buzz with unverified claims of jealousy-fueled stalking.
Brown’s jailhouse ravings add fuel. In a September 10 call to sister Tracey, leaked via Daily Mail, he ranted of “government chips” controlling him: “Foreign materials in my brain — they made me do it!” Prosecutors eye if Nikulytsia, with his mechanic’s access to tools, planted suggestions during Brown’s vulnerability. Federal charges loom under conspiracy statutes, stacking atop Brown’s death-eligible count for mass transit murder.
X erupts in horror. #IrynaBetrayed trends, with @UkraineVoiceNC posting: “From war to a lover’s knife? Heartbreaking.” Conspiracy threads link the blurred figure to Nikulytsia, demanding polygraphs.
Fractured Trust: A City’s Reckoning
Zarutska’s slaying, once a symbol of urban peril, now exposes intimate horrors. The Lynx Blue Line, ridership down 25%, installs panic buttons and AI cameras amid Lyles’s pledges for 75 new officers. Governor Josh Stein decries “betrayal in the shadows,” while Trump’s X missive blasts “immigrant dreams crushed by domestic devils.” Attorney General Pamela Bondi vows: “No one manipulates our justice — not even those we love.”
For Ukraine’s expats, it’s a gut punch. GoFundMe swells to $900K, messages aching: “Escaped bombs for a trusted blade? Justice for Iryna.” Uncle Viktor Kovalenko, from Kyiv, tells ABC: “Stas was family. If true, it’s worse than war — it’s poison from within.”
Nikulytsia’s garage stands shuttered, friends divided. “He adored her,” one insists; another whispers, “Jealousy festers.” As FBI agents raid his apartment for devices, the recording loops in investigators’ ears — a whisper unraveling trust.
Echoes in the Silence: Seeking Solace
Vigils illuminate South End, Zarutska’s murals — swirling abstracts of birds in flight — a beacon against the night. Mental health reformers push transit interventions; politicians feud over “soft policies.” But amid the noise, her family’s plea cuts through: “Truth for Iryna,” attorney Lauren Newton says. “She trusted him with her heart — don’t let it end in shadows.”
This hidden voice may echo forever, a reminder that betrayal’s sharpest cut comes from the closest hand. In Charlotte’s rails, once veins of progress, Zarutska’s story demands not just justice, but vigilance — for the strangers we watch, and the loved ones we never truly see.
