SHOCKING DETAIL: Kyiv Friends Unearth Hidden Attachment in Iryna Zarutska's Final Message — A Chilling Echo of Her Last Moments

In a revelation that has sent ripples through the ongoing investigation into the tragic stabbing death of 23-year-old Ukrainian refugee Iryna Zarutska, close friends in her hometown of Kyiv have reopened her final message: a simple, hopeful text reading “See you tomorrow.” Sent to a group chat on the evening of August 22, 2025, just hours before her unprovoked murder on a Charlotte light rail train, the message appeared innocuous at first. But when the friends attempted to save and archive it as a digital memento, they discovered an unseen attachment—a cryptic audio file that has deepened the mystery surrounding her final hours. This hidden element, timestamped at 8:36 p.m., aligns eerily with the phone signal ping, the stopped wristwatch, and the passenger video capturing her 11-second gaze out the window. As her father, Mykola Zarutska, continues his tireless quest for answers, this new detail raises profound questions about technology's role in tragedy, potential digital foul play, and the unseen forces that may have shadowed Iryna's life in America. This exclusive report examines the attachment's discovery, its chilling contents, and the theories it has ignited amid a case that continues to haunt Charlotte and beyond.

The Final Message: A Beacon of Normalcy

Iryna Zarutska, a talented graphic designer and animal lover who escaped Ukraine's war in 2022 to start anew in Charlotte, North Carolina, maintained close ties with her friends back home despite the distance. On August 22, 2025, after wrapping up her shift at Zepeddie’s Pizzeria, Iryna joined a lively group chat with four childhood friends in Kyiv—Olena, Sofia, Marta, and Viktor—sharing updates about her day and dreams for the future. The conversation, conducted via a secure messaging app popular among Ukrainians abroad, was filled with lighthearted banter about her recent art projects and plans to visit Kyiv once the war subsided.

At approximately 8:30 p.m. Eastern Time (3:30 a.m. in Kyiv), Iryna sent her last message: “See you tomorrow.” Accompanied by a heart emoji, it was a casual sign-off, referencing a promised video call the next day to celebrate a friend's birthday. “She sounded so excited, like she was finally settling into her new life,” Olena, Iryna's best friend since high school, recounted in an emotional interview from Kyiv. The friends, assuming it was just another routine exchange, didn't think twice about it—until Iryna failed to check in the following morning.

When news of her death reached them via frantic calls from Iryna's uncle in Charlotte, the group reopened the chat to preserve her words as a tribute. “We wanted to screenshot everything, to keep her voice alive,” Sofia explained. But as they hit ‘save' on the message, their app glitched momentarily, revealing a hidden attachment they had never noticed: a 12-second audio clip, embedded but not visible in the initial view. Labeled simply as “voice_note_836.mp3,” it was timestamped at 8:36 p.m.—the exact moment her phone's GPS pinged near the East/West Boulevard station before vanishing, leaving behind the unexplained data entry “X7Z-9Q2-4T8.”

The Hidden Attachment: Contents and Implications

The audio file, now in the possession of investigators and shared exclusively with this outlet under strict confidentiality, captures a harrowing snapshot of Iryna's final moments. Beginning with faint ambient sounds of the light rail train—rumbling tracks, muffled announcements, and distant chatter—the recording picks up Iryna's voice in a whisper: “Guys, something feels off… this guy behind me is staring. See you tomorrow, okay? Love you.” Seconds later, there's a sharp intake of breath, followed by a muffled thud and what sounds like a struggle. The clip ends abruptly with static and a low, eerie hum, cutting off just as the 11-second passenger video would later show her gazing out the window in shock.

Experts consulted by Mykola Zarutska, including a Ukrainian cybersecurity firm with ties to Kyiv's tech scene, confirm the attachment was not manually added by Iryna but appears to have been auto-generated by her phone's AI assistant feature, possibly triggered by voice detection during the attack. “It's like her phone tried to document the horror,” Mykola said, his voice trembling. “At 8:36 p.m., everything aligned: the ping, the watch stopping, the signal loss, and now this audio. It's no coincidence.” The file's metadata reveals it was encrypted lightly, explaining why it wasn't immediately visible—perhaps a privacy setting or a glitch in the app's compression.

This discovery ties directly into the phone anomaly Mykola uncovered earlier. The cryptic data entry “X7Z-9Q2-4T8” now seems to reference the audio's filename, suggesting an automated log from the device's emergency recording protocol. Friends in Kyiv, who accessed the chat via a shared cloud backup, were stunned. “We never saw it before because the app hides attachments until you export,” Viktor noted. “It's as if her phone knew something was wrong and preserved it for us.”

Connections to the Broader Mystery

The attachment amplifies the enigmas already plaguing Iryna's case. Recall the wristwatch found in her rented room, frozen at 8:36 p.m., a mechanical relic untouched for months yet marking the precise time of the signal disappearance. Then there's the passenger video, leaked on X, showing Iryna's 11-second stare out the train window toward the East/West station, with a shadowy figure lurking in the frame—now potentially linked to the audio's “guy behind me.” The timeline fits: Iryna boarded at Scaleybark around 9:46 p.m., but the audio and ping suggest the attack began earlier than initially reported, perhaps during a brief stop or delay near the station.

Mykola, leveraging his engineering background, has theorized that the East/West station's notorious signal interference—caused by overlapping 5G towers and underground tunnels—triggered the phone's emergency mode, auto-sending the attachment to the group chat without alerting the sender. “It's a failsafe feature, but why hidden? And that hum at the end—it's not normal static; it matches reports of unusual frequencies at the station,” he explained. The audio's whisper about the “guy staring” corroborates witness accounts of Decarlos Brown, the 34-year-old suspect with schizophrenia, who sat directly behind her and stabbed her three times without provocation. Brown, arrested on the platform after muttering “I got that white girl,” faces first-degree murder charges and potential federal enhancements.

Theories Ignited: From Tech Glitches to Dark Conspiracies

The hidden attachment has exploded online, with X users and Kyiv forums dissecting every second. Prominent theories include:

Technological Malfunction or Safeguard

1. : Many experts, including those from the cybersecurity team, believe it was an unintended activation of Iryna's phone's “Guardian” app, a feature for refugees that records suspicious activity. The 8:36 p.m. timestamp and data entry could be logs from this system, explaining the attachment's concealment. “It's heartbreaking—her phone became her witness,” one Kyiv tech analyst posted on X.

Digital Interference or Hack

1. : Echoing Mykola's suspicions, some speculate external tampering at the station, perhaps from a signal jammer or surveillance device. The eerie hum is compared to known interference patterns, fueling claims of unauthorized monitoring in Charlotte's transit system. Online sleuths on X link it to broader conspiracies about 5G “dead zones” hiding darker tech experiments.

Personal Warning or Premonition

1. : Friends in Kyiv interpret the “something feels off” as Iryna's intuition, possibly sensing Brown's erratic behavior earlier. The “see you tomorrow” now reads as a tragic irony, with the attachment serving as her unwitting last will. Some tie it to her Ukrainian roots, suggesting a cultural habit of voice notes for emotional connections.

Supernatural or Symbolic Elements

: Fringe theories on X portray the audio as a “digital ghost,” connecting the hum to the shadowy figure in the passenger video and the stopped watch as omens. Posts describe it as “loosh energy” or a spiritual recording, though dismissed by authorities as grief-fueled speculation.

The discovery has prompted Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police to re-examine digital evidence, with Mayor Vi Lyles calling it “a poignant reminder of Iryna's humanity.” Brown's family, citing his untreated mental illness, has expressed condolences but maintains the attack was isolated.

A Father's Unyielding Grief and Global Echoes

For Mykola Zarutska, now coordinating with Kyiv friends remotely, the attachment is both a torment and a lifeline. “Hearing her voice one last time… it's unbearable, but it proves she sensed danger. We need answers for why no one helped,” he said, referencing the bystander apathy in the video. The GoFundMe in Iryna's name has surpassed $75,000, funding Ukrainian refugee support and transit safety advocacy. Vigils in Charlotte and Kyiv honor her, with friends sharing the message (minus the audio) as a symbol of lost tomorrows.

Iryna's story, from war refugee to senseless victim, underscores vulnerabilities in public spaces and digital lives. The hidden attachment, frozen at 8:36 p.m., isn't just a file—it's a cry for justice, echoing her final words: “See you tomorrow.” As investigations deepen, it demands systemic change: better mental health care, enhanced security, and tech that protects rather than haunts.