Musician who suffered every New Yorker’s worst nightmare shares how he was able to start

A musician who survived being shoved into the path of an oncoming New York City subway train is speaking out about how he forced himself to ride the system again – one year after enduring what many commuters consider their worst nightmare.

Joseph Lynskey spent nearly nine minutes trapped beneath a train at the 18th Street station in Manhattan on New Year’s Eve 2024, lying inches from the electrified third rail after what authorities described as a random push from behind. 

He spent nearly nine minutes trapped beneath the massive train car, lying in a pool of blood. The 46-year-old music programmer miraculously survived.

Now, after months of physical recovery and exposure therapy, he has returned to the subway – and filed a lawsuit accusing the city and the Metropolitan Transportation Authority of failing to protect riders.

In the aftermath of the incident, he faced not only shattered bones and internal injuries, but the psychological terror of somehow learning to travel once again around the subway system he once relied on without a second thought.

‘I had felt like a piece of my life in New York had been taken from me,’ Lynskey said in an interview from his Brooklyn studio apartment to the New York Times.

For New Yorkers, the possibility of being pushed onto the tracks is a long-running nightmare for many city dwellers.

But when it became Lynskey’s terrible reality on December 31, 2024, many might have assumed he would never ride the subway again and perhaps leave the city entirely. 

But instead, he chose to fight his way back.

Lynskey believed he was alone on the platform when, just as a Brooklyn-bound train roared into the station, he felt what he described as a massive shove from behind.

When he regained awareness, the train had stopped on top of him.

‘I knew that I had to remain calm. There was nobody on the platform answering my calls for help. For about 90 seconds, I was alone, screaming for help,’ he said.

‘A woman started answering me… a good Samaritan. She asked me what my name was. She asked me if I could move. She asked me if I could wiggle my fingers and wiggle my toes to see if, I guess if I was paralyzed, and I think she was trying to keep me awake.’

For nearly 10 minutes, he lay as still as possible beside the lethal third rail. Firefighters eventually climbed beneath the train and pulled him to safety.

Within minutes firefighters, police and subway workers arrived, with two firefighters retrieving him from the tracks, having been trained to do so just days before. 

On the platform, bleeding heavily as rescue workers cut away his clothing, Lynskey pleaded with bystanders to make sure his 16-year-old dachshund, Leo, waiting at home in Brooklyn, would be cared for.

He had suffered four broken ribs, a fractured skull, a ruptured spleen and a concussion.

‘My life did not flash before my eyes,’ he said. ‘My thought was “I’ve been pushed, and I’m going to get hit by the train.”‘

His rescue was captured on film and widely shared on social media, with rescuers expressing surprise that he was alive once he was lifted through the gap between two carriages. 

His alleged attacker, 23-year-old Kamel Hawkins, was arrested later that day and charged with second-degree attempted murder. He has pleaded not guilty. 

Hawkins’ trial has been delayed while he receives psychiatric care, according to court records. Authorities have said the attack appeared to be random.

Hawkins has past criminal convictions and mental health issues.

After a week at Bellevue Hospital in Manhattan, Lynskey began the long process of rebuilding. Slowly, his ribs healed but emotionally, he struggled.

‘I am not someone who typically takes cars or cabs,’ he told the Times. ‘I am a New Yorker, and in New York everyone takes the train because it’s the fastest and most reliable way to get around the city.’

Yet for months, he avoided the subway entirely. He relied on Uber rides during the winter. 

As temperatures rose, he turned to Citi Bike. He slowly returned to tennis courts, museums and music venues – but only within cycling distance.

The subway remained out of reach.

Last summer, he began exposure therapy with a specific goal: to ride the subway again.

He started above ground, biking to the Manhattan Bridge, where trains cross in the open air. 

There, he reacquainted himself with the mechanical rhythm and sounds of the subway and of an approaching train.

He then moved to sitting on station steps, before standing on platforms with his back pressed firmly against the wall. 

Each step required confronting sleepless nights and racing heartbeats triggered by the memory of that almost fatal shove.

He reminded himself what the subway represented: access to art, to sport, to music.

He saw Nine Inch Nails at Barclays Center, watched Venus Williams play doubles at the US Open. 

He visited Diane Arbus’s photography exhibition ‘Constellation’ at the Park Avenue Armory. 

‘I Citi Biked all the way to the Upper East Side,’ he said, ‘and all the way back to Brooklyn.’

Then winter returned and his beloved Leo, the dachshund who had anchored him emotionally through the ordeal, died after a brief decline. Lynskey took it as a sign that it was time to confront the subway head-on.

With two close friends, he descended into the Fulton Street station in Brooklyn. When the G train pulled in, they clasped hands and ran aboard together.

‘I started crying but I was happy for myself,’ Lynskey recalled.

They rode six stops to Greenpoint for lunch but he made the return trip alone.

Soon after, he traveled by train to Manhattan’s Upper West Side to see Patti Smith perform her 1975 album ‘Horses’ at the Beacon Theater – a journey that would have once felt impossible.

As the anniversary of the attack approached, he marked it by riding the subway to Chelsea to visit the firehouse of Engine 3, Ladder 12 and Battalion 7- the crew that had pulled him from beneath the train. 

One of the firefighters who rescued him was on duty.

‘I had to thank him for getting me to another New Year’s Eve,’ Lynskey said. ‘I have sort of a new birthday.’

Lynskey now rides the subway more often although he prefers to wait on the station steps until trains arrive before heading onto platform.

He has also filed a lawsuit against the Metropolitan Transportation Authority and the city, alleging negligence and disregard for rider safety. 

The suit claims the agencies ignored data about the risk of riders being pushed and failed to implement safety recommendations from engineers. It seeks unspecified damages.

‘Only by holding defendants accountable for their negligence, gross negligence, and reckless conduct will the defendants be forced to take responsibility,’ the lawsuit states.

‘The safety of every rider should be the main concern, and the MTA and the city have ignored it for years,’ said Bruce Nagel, one of Lynskey’s attorneys.

‘What happened to me was not an anomaly,’ Lynskey said. ‘It was preventable, and it should not happen to anyone else.’

He believes his life was spared for a reason. ‘Being of service is something I really plan on focusing on for the next part of my life,’ he said. 

On a recent ride on the No. 6 line, Lynskey studied the safety measures installed along parts of the platform edge – waist-high barriers he said appeared sporadic and minimal.

‘A little tiny fence that it’s hard to imagine could protect anyone,’ he said. ‘The subway is the lifeline of this city. I don´t think any New Yorker should have to stand against a wall or hold on to a pillar to feel safe as the train approaches.’

Across the station stood new, high-tech entry gates designed to curb fare evasion – part of a $1.1 billion MTA investment planned over five years.

‘Fare evasion is important, and the MTA has to be funded so they can do things like protect their citizens,’ Lynskey said.

But comparing the two installations left him unsettled.

‘When you look at those entry gates, with all the bells and whistles, and then look in the other direction and see these tiny, randomly placed fences,’ he said, ‘it feels like a tale of two priorities.’