Brooklyn’s once carefree nightlife has taken a sinister turn. Amid the sprawling industrial landscape of East Williamsburg, a part of Brooklyn known for its warehouses, tire shops, and desolate streets, the vibrant party scene has been shaken by a series of tragic events.
In the last year, three young men, all of whom had spent time at local venues, have turned up dead in nearby waters, casting a shadow over one of the city’s most popular nightlife spots.
The deaths have unsettled the regulars who come from all over the city to dance and forget themselves in the music. “We never come alone, and we never leave alone,” Felipe G., a 30-year-old frequent patron of the Brooklyn Mirage, told The New York Times. “This is an industrial zone. You just don’t know who is here.” For him and many others, nights at the Mirage are still about music and freedom, but they are also tinged with a sense of vigilance. “Be smart about your partying,” he added.
The bodies of the three men were found in Newtown Creek, a murky waterway separating Brooklyn and Queens, after nights out in the area. Two had been at the Brooklyn Mirage, and the third at the Knockdown Center, another popular venue nearby. The cause of death for two of the men was ruled as drowning, with no evidence of foul play, while the cause for the third remains undetermined. Despite official findings by the New York Police Department, rumors of a serial killer stalking the area have circulated wildly online, fueled by viral TikTok videos and lengthy Reddit threads.
In June 2023, 27-year-old Karl Clemente had been out with friends in Brooklyn before they decided to head to the Mirage. He never made it inside. Security turned him away for being too intoxicated, and by the time one of his friends came out to check on him, Clemente had disappeared. Days later, his body was discovered in Newtown Creek. His wallet, credit cards, and ID were found near the water at a lumberyard, leading authorities to rule his death an accidental drowning. His father, Alex Clemente, spoke of the pain of losing his son without clear answers. “It’s very difficult to have no closure at all,” he said.
Weeks after Clemente’s death, another young man, John Castic, a 27-year-old analyst at Goldman Sachs, was at the Mirage to see the popular electronic group Zeds Dead. He too left early, feeling unwell, and told friends he would catch an Uber home. But surveillance footage later revealed that after briefly entering a car, Castic wandered around the area for over an hour before being seen near the bridge over Newtown Creek. His body was found in the water days later. Like Clemente, Castic’s death was ruled a drowning, though his autopsy revealed the presence of ketamine in his system. “My son was a good-looking, intelligent young man,” his father said. “People not only liked him, they respected his opinion.”
The most recent death, in July of this year, further deepened the unease. Damani Alexander, 30, who worked security at a nightclub in Manhattan, had spent the night at the Knockdown Center before texting a friend that he feared for his life. “I think dudes try’nna kill me,” one of his texts read, followed by another that said, “Dudes waiting for me outside.” His body was also discovered in Newtown Creek, though the medical examiner could not determine an exact cause of death. His mother, Desiree Nicholson, struggles to make sense of it. “He was very lovable, very lovely,” she said, remembering her son who had once played drums in church and served in the Army.
City Council member Jennifer Gutiérrez, whose district includes parts of Brooklyn and Queens where the venues are located, has been vocal about the need for better safety measures. “The question I would love for them to answer is: What does it take for them to feel something is an emergency?” she asked. The eerie, isolated atmosphere of the area—where public transportation is a 15-minute walk away, cellphone service is spotty, and streetlights are few and far between—has only amplified concerns.
Some clubgoers, like Jonathan Garcia, have taken matters into their own hands. After Alexander’s death, Garcia, a former bouncer at nearby venues, decided to quit his job, saying the long, late-night shifts in the desolate industrial area were no longer worth the risk. “Honestly, I was scared,” said Garcia. “I’ve never felt safe in the area.”
The venues themselves, including Avant Gardner, which houses the Mirage, have responded by working with city officials to improve lighting, increase safety measures, and establish designated ride-share pickup zones. “Nothing matters more to Avant Gardner than making sure everyone who visits our venue gets home safely,” the venue said in a statement.
For now, clubgoers continue to pack venues like the Mirage, but they do so with heightened awareness. As one regular, Noelia Soto, advised, “Definitely come with a group of people that you trust… trust that they’ll take care of you.”
