Step into Zackery Nazario’s East Village bedroom, and you’re surrounded by poignant reminders of the vibrant 15-year-old who once called it home. On a recent summer afternoon, his mother, Norma Nazario, moved through the space, pointing out cherished items: a small Derek Jeter jersey hanging on a hook, a testament to his love for baseball. She recalled his affection for Slurpees, his beloved cat, Luna, a passion for history trivia, and a fondness for Frank Sinatra’s Christmas songs. A smile touched her lips as she recounted Zackery’s kindergarten graduation, where he insisted on a spiky Mohawk. ‘I wasted two bottles of the real thick gel to get it to stay like that,’ she reminisced.
But this room has stood silent since February 20, 2023. That tragic evening, Zackery lost his life while “subway surfing” – a perilous activity he secretly adored, where teenagers climb onto moving trains for a dangerous thrill. He was on top of a Brooklyn-bound J train as it crossed the Williamsburg Bridge.
His mother, Norma Nazario, is pictured in Zackery’s bedroom, a space still frequented by his tabby cat, Luna, who often curls up on his empty bed.
Court documents reveal the harrowing details: at 6:45 p.m., Zackery climbed between J train cars and was fatally struck by a low beam as he turned to face his girlfriend. He fell and was tragically run over. For months, Zackery had been documenting his subway surfing exploits on social media. His Instagram featured him clinging to the back of a train speeding through Brooklyn, and striking a confident pose atop a J train nearing the Williamsburg Bridge. He’d tag fellow ‘surfers,’ part of an online community that shares dangerous stunts, reminiscent of professional movie scenes. This lethal trend claimed seven lives last year, with the youngest victim being just 11. Despite TikTok and Instagram’s policies against such content, these videos proliferate. Dozens, filmed in various conditions—day, night, above, and underground—were observed by The New York Times. While some vanish quickly, others persist, like an Instagram video of a young man in a construction vest doing a jumping jack on a moving train, or a TikTok montage of shaky train surfing clips set to ‘Dancing Queen,’ online for almost two years.
Teenagers involved in subway surfing describe an irresistible pull: the adrenaline, the validation of social media ‘likes,’ and the thrill of defying boundaries. Once hooked, they find other activities pale in comparison. Norma Nazario, a 54-year-old nurse who immigrated from Puerto Rico, was completely unaware of her son’s involvement until his death. The day he died, Zackery told her he was cycling with his girlfriend, and they even planned to meet for dinner. When he didn’t return home, Ms. Nazario’s calls and texts went unanswered. At 10 p.m., two detectives delivered the devastating news, one gently holding her hand. ‘He was doing what?’ she recalled exclaiming in disbelief. Days later, at the police precinct, she collected Zackery’s mangled Nike bag and chain necklace, but surprisingly, his iPhone was untouched.
Zackery’s childhood memories, including joyful summers at Yankee Stadium and Boogie Boarding at Rockaway Beach, paint a picture of a boy fascinated by New York City. His mother noted his keen interest in the city’s history, often using YouTube to delve into its transit systems and iconic buildings.
Following his funeral, Zackery’s friends gathered in his room, leaving heartfelt notes. As one friend shared, ‘He wasn’t a bad kid — he wasn’t a troublemaker who wanted to die,’ highlighting his positive nature despite the tragic circumstances.
Zackery’s iPhone unlocked a disturbing truth for Ms. Nazario: a sprawling online world of subway surfing content that she believes lured her son to his death. Initially seeing social media as harmless teen communication, she was shocked by his digital life. It was here, she felt, that Zackery had left a silent message, guiding her grief towards a crucial mission. Last year, she launched a lawsuit in New York against TikTok and Instagram, alleging their platforms actively ‘targeted, goaded, and encouraged’ Zackery into a fatal challenge. She achieved a significant early win when a judge permitted the case to move forward to discovery, despite strong opposition from the social media giants (her claims against the M.T.A. were dismissed). TikTok refrained from commenting directly on Ms. Nazario’s case, reiterating its policy against dangerous activities and challenges. They stated their vast trust and safety team proactively removes a majority of violating videos before they gain views. A Meta spokesperson expressed ‘disappointment’ over the ruling, asserting it didn’t address the case’s merits. He added that ‘leaders and transportation authorities have grappled with the challenges of subway surfing for decades,’ and that ‘videos encouraging this kind of dangerous activity violate our policies, and we remove them when we become aware of them.’ To Ms. Nazario, these responses are a clear evasion of accountability. Her life is now driven by a powerful four-word resolve: ‘To stop this nonsense.’
Historically, subway surfing has existed since the inception of New York City’s transit system, but the death rate has tragically risen in recent years. Trains like the 7 and J lines, with their aboveground sections, are particularly popular among surfers.
The Allure of the ‘Insanely Dangerous’
The dark brown door to Zackery’s bedroom bears raw messages: ‘I miss u’ in black marker, and ‘I’ll see you on the other side brotherman’ in pink above the doorknob – notes left by friends after his funeral. His friends struggle to grasp his absence, remembering him as an outgoing, inquisitive teenager always seeking adventure. Born in Brooklyn’s Park Slope, Zackery later lived with his mother in a Manhattan public housing complex. He had a half-brother 19 years his senior, and his father was not part of his life when he died, nor is he involved in the lawsuit, Ms. Nazario confirmed. Around age 12, Zackery got his first phone, using it for Snapchat and playing ‘Subway Surfers,’ a mobile game where an animated character leaps onto train cars to collect coins. Despite his mother’s efforts to supervise his social media, even sharing an Instagram account with him, Zackery’s phone obsession grew. She’d confiscate and hide it, but he’d always find it. Eventually, he created a secret Instagram account unknown to her.
Court documents reveal screenshots from Zackery’s Instagram, showing how features like auto-generated music lyrics aided his creation of subway surfing content.
Alex Cutting, 18, a friend and classmate from The Clinton School in Manhattan, noted Zackery’s growing fascination with the ‘urban exploration’ social media community during the pandemic. These ‘urbexers’ document their daring forays into abandoned sites like factories and rail tunnels. Alex became concerned in fall 2022 when Zackery started posting subway surfing photos on Instagram. He warned Zackery of the ‘insanely dangerous’ nature of the activity, but Zackery described an unparalleled high, akin to Matthew McConaughey’s black hole scene in ‘Interstellar,’ feeling that same electrifying shake clinging to the back of an L train speeding under the East River into Brooklyn. In his final year, Zackery confided in friends about feeling low and having relationship issues, yet he harbored ambitions: to graduate high school and join the Marines. ‘He wasn’t a bad kid — he wasn’t a troublemaker who wanted to die,’ emphasized Bek Metaliaj, 18, another high school friend.
Shortly before Zackery’s death, Bek recounted an argument they had in a bathroom stall over subway surfing. Bek was increasingly concerned as Zackery spent more time with a group of regular surfers. Zackery’s defiant response: ‘I know what I’m doing, I haven’t made a mistake yet.’ This overconfidence is a common thread among subway surfers, who often believe their intimate knowledge of the system guarantees their safety. Terrell Ismail, then 14, began his journey as a budding videographer with urban exploration before transitioning to subway surfing. He quickly learned that sharing these daring videos on TikTok and Instagram could garner hundreds of thousands of views. ‘I would see it online, and think in my head, ‘Oh that’s beautiful,’’ he said. ‘‘That’s a neat way of getting a scenic view.’’
Zackery’s Nike cross-body bag, though severely mangled in the accident, stood in stark contrast to his perfectly intact iPhone. The bag serves as a grim reminder of the tragic incident.
Tragically, shortly after his 15th birthday, Terrell himself became a victim. While atop a Manhattan-bound 7 train, he collided with an overpass in Queens, suffering a traumatic brain injury that paralyzed the left side of his body. His father, Sammy Ismail, explains that the family is now desperately seeking an in-home physical therapist to allow them more time to work and afford Terrell’s ongoing care.
Now 18, Terrell still encounters subway surfing videos online. ‘I comment, like, ‘Oh you shouldn’t do that,’’ he shared. ‘‘That’s going to ruin your life.’’
Can Anything Stop This Deadly Trend?
Over the tinny subway speakers, a stark message echoes: ‘Ride inside, stay alive.’ This public service announcement is part of a renewed campaign launched this summer by New York Gov. Kathy Hochul, in collaboration with the M.T.A. and other agencies, to combat subway surfing. However, these warnings hold little sway for teenagers like Angel, a 15-year-old from Queens, who, wishing to remain anonymous due to the illegal nature of the activity, admits he and his friends often mock them, sometimes even using the slogan as a caption for their own surfing videos. The M.T.A. actively reports these videos, with 1,800 removed this year alone. Since 2023, the N.Y.P.D. has deployed drone cameras over high-risk subway stations to catch surfers. Over 100 individuals have been apprehended this year. Kaz Daughtry, the city’s deputy mayor for public safety, expressed profound frustration, stating, ‘I feel a little angry and annoyed’ every time he learns of another teen subway surfing death. ‘I feel like we really let that family down.’
Subway surfing videos often feature breathtaking sunsets or expansive city skylines, garnering thousands of views across TikTok and Instagram.
These videos frequently show surfers posing, leaping between train cars, or dangerously dangling their feet from the back of the train.
Subway surfing is not a new phenomenon; it has existed since the city’s transit system began. However, Joseph M. Gulotta, N.Y.P.D. chief of transit, highlights a recent spike in fatalities, which he and other officials link directly to social media. Last year, over two dozen New York state lawmakers, including Senator Zellnor Myrie of Brooklyn, sent a scathing letter to Meta, YouTube, Snapchat, and TikTok, accusing them of failing to uphold their commitments to remove subway surfing content. Senator Myrie recounted his own experience: ‘If I could, as a geriatric millennial, get this to my phone, this is certainly going to our young people,’ he stated, after an Instagram Reel of a person riding on top of a train appeared in his feed. While these platforms claim to prohibit such videos and display safety warnings for ‘subway surfing’ searches, Ms. Nazario’s experience proves that the content remains alarmingly accessible.
A Mother’s Plea: ‘No One Is Stepping Up’
Opening Zackery’s phone was a ‘mind-blowing’ revelation for Ms. Nazario. She found videos filmed deep within subway tunnels, footage of abandoned stations, and snapshots of Zackery himself riding on the back and top of trains. Court documents feature screenshots from Zackery’s Instagram feed, allegedly curated by the platform, showing posts like a ‘Midnight run’ from an underground train cab and a man dramatically leaping across tracks with a train in the background. Ms. Nazario sought out attorney Matthew Bergman after seeing him on a ’60 Minutes’ report, where he represented the Spence family in their ongoing lawsuit against Meta, claiming Instagram contributed to their 12-year-old daughter’s severe depression and eating disorder.
Legal challenges like Ms. Nazario’s often face a significant hurdle: a federal law designed to shield online platforms from accountability for user-generated content.
Matthew Bergman, a former asbestos lawyer who shifted his focus to tech litigation in 2021, challenges the common refrain: ‘You hear this all the time — well, isn’t it the parent’s responsibility?’ He contends that even the most vigilant parents are outmatched by algorithms meticulously crafted to maximize engagement, often at any cost. ‘We are up front: Zackery made a very, very bad decision,’ Bergman conceded. ‘Teenagers make bad decisions — they don’t deserve to die for it.’ However, legal scholars frequently point to Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act of 1996 as a formidable barrier. This federal law has historically shielded online platforms from liability for content posted by their users.
Yet, some legal experts see a shifting landscape. Alan Z. Rozenshtein, an associate professor at the University of Minnesota Law School, observes that courts have shown a recent inclination to interpret Section 230 more restrictively. While these cases are inherently unpredictable, he believes a victory for Ms. Nazario is not inconceivable. He noted that with a rising number of teenage fatalities, ‘it just becomes very hard — rightly so, I think — for judges to say, ‘Well that’s just the cost of having a vibrant internet.’’ A jury ruling in Ms. Nazario’s favor, he cautioned, would carry ‘enormous’ implications for the multi-trillion-dollar social media industry. For Ms. Nazario, however, no legal triumph can restore her son. His tabby cat, Luna, with her striking green eyes, continues to seek comfort in Zackery’s now-empty bedroom, patiently awaiting the return of the boy who adored her. Driven by her profound grief, Ms. Nazario tirelessly advocates to legislators, sharing her story in the desperate hope that her son’s tragedy will compel action and prevent another teenager from succumbing to the lure of subway surfing. ‘No one is stepping up,’ she lamented. ‘I know he would want me to do that.’