I Survived Astroworld. My Sister Died in the Preventable Crowd Crush

Ten people died in the horrific crowd surge that pinned concertgoers in an enclosed area at Travis Scott’s Astroworld Festival in Houston on Nov. 5, 2021. In his first media interview, Tyler Dubiski describes losing his sister in the chaos and spending the last four years trying to make sense of the tragedy, largely through the family’s Pink Bows Foundation set up in Madison’s honor. This is his account, as told to Rolling Stone.

My sister Madison and I grew up in Cypress, a suburb of Houston. Whenever we were playing sports or hanging out, Travis Scott’s music would come on. We became pretty big fans. We were in the front row of one of his concerts in 2018, close enough to touch Post Malone when he walked by. It was awesome.

In 2021, my stepmom worked for the Astros as VP of Event Sales and Operations. Travis has a softball tournament every year at their stadium, so someone gave us 10 tickets for the Astroworld Festival. We were so excited. I came home for the weekend from the University of Arkansas. When I got in that Friday, my sister and I went to five or six thrift shops looking for cool merch to wear. She actually bought me the white shirt I wore to the concert. We went back to her apartment in Houston to go to bed early, and she mentioned she was nervous. She battled claustrophobia, but I told her we’d be fine. After being trapped inside for two years with COVID shutdowns, everyone was really pumped to get out and do something.

One of her friends actually drove us the next day. When we walked in, it was all these really big props, like the massive Travis Scott head you walk through. It was really, really cool.

At the end of Lil Baby’s set, we decided to walk over to the other stage to get a good spot for Travis. The countdown clock still had about an hour and 30 minutes on it. We were just relaxing, hanging out, and talking. Around the 30-minute mark, you could feel it getting packed and pressured. People were throwing toilet paper rolls and full beer cans. The tension was rising, but it wasn’t anything scary at first, until the crowd started pushing forward from every direction. We were right in the middle of the front section, basically.

As the countdown clock got closer to Travis Scott coming on, the crowd began rushing and pressing forward toward the stage. When Travis came on and the pyrotechnics shot up from the front of the stage, I could feel the heat. It was like being in a sauna. It was so hot. I remember thinking I could let my body go limp, and I would still stay up. Then it felt like everyone pushed back, really hard, and people started falling. My sister fell, and I was trying to pick her up, but I couldn’t get her off the ground. People were on top of each other. Then another push happened, and I lost her.

I was trying to shove my way through the crowd, but it was just chaos. Groups of people were all falling, like dominoes. You couldn’t do anything. As I was pulling my leg out at one point, my shoe got caught and came off. When I finally got to the edge, I was walking around with only my sock on one foot. I didn’t know where anyone went. I didn’t know if they got out, too. I randomly found two people from our group, Kyle and Garrett, and texted my sister, but no texts were going through. There was no cell reception. We could tell people were getting more frantic. I was getting more worried that something bad had happened to Madison, but my mind wasn’t going to death. Then we started seeing people who were injured. I remember seeing a person come out on a stretcher, and they dropped her on her head. I was freaking out a little bit at this point. We were looking around, trying to find her and saw ambulances. We were like, “What is going on?”

My parents started calling our phones frantically, saying they received a call from one of Madison’s friends saying they heard Madison was hurt. We were going to the medical tents, describing what she looked like, but we couldn’t find her. We were being pushed out by security when we tried to ask if she was in the tents.

Eventually, I got a call from my mom, who said Madison was at the hospital. Now I’m really freaking out. I just remember being in the car and praying, “Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.” I was so nervous.

When we walked into the hospital, I saw my mom crying. She said Madison didn’t make it. I couldn’t believe it. Then I heard my dad just wailing. I remember feeling all this weight coming down on me, like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. It was a super intense panic attack. I felt like I was going to die myself.

My mom asked if I wanted to see Madison. I remember just apologizing a million times to her. We were there for a while, but eventually, we had to leave. I leaned down and kissed her on her forehead and said goodbye for the last time. Her body was so cold. It was really hard to leave her. It was devastating.

I went home with my dad, basically in silence. It felt like a bad dream. I kept thinking I was going to wake up, and she was going to call me to let me gossip about my life in college. She was the person I went to with everything. I didn’t just lose my sister; I lost my person and my best friend.

I feel like I sat on the same part of our couch for three days straight. I barely slept or ate. I felt so guilty, like it was all my fault.

After that initial week, my buddies from college came down to see me, which was super nice. They drove for nine hours to get to Texas. For a long time, we really didn’t understand what happened. There were false police reports initially claiming that fentanyl was to blame. My parents asked if we did any drugs. No, we did not do drugs. It was a while before we really started to understand what happened with the crowd surge.

Being in crowds was very difficult after that. The first big event I went to was an Astros game the next summer. I was panicking. I kept going to the bathroom to isolate myself and take deep breaths and be away from everything. I was just super-nauseous. We ended up leaving early.

Eventually, I got back into a normal routine. Returning to school in Arkansas helped. Everything in Houston was a constant reminder of Madison, driving by her favorite store or restaurants.

I’m speaking out now for the first time because I feel like it’s time for me to tell my story. Once I graduated in 2023, I felt like I could talk about it more and join my parents with our Pink Bows Foundation honoring Madison. My parents had been doing all the work, but I’m the one who was there, and I want to share my story. What happened at Astroworld was foreseeable, according to crowd safety experts, and if telling my story helps saves lives, that’s what I’m here to do.

With the Pink Bows Foundation, we set up huge custom bright pink tents at events – a Pink Bows Safe Space where people can take a break from the chaos, get an ice pack, a water, or a squish ball. It’s a place staffed with trained mental health advocates, where people can just decompress.

We’ve also partnered with experts in event safety to create a training and certification program for the ShowStop Procedure. It’s a protocol for stopping a performance if there’s a safety issue or medical emergency. These experts have worked as the heads of security on tours for Oasis, Paul McCartney, Eminem, and other artists. We decided to partner with them to create a global standard for crowd and concert safety. It’s important to me because Astroworld could have been prevented, the experts say.

I’ve taken the training myself, and I realize it’s so important to have individuals who have the authority to stop a show if things run afoul. It can save people’s lives, and seconds matter.

My sister is gone, and it’s been extremely hard on my family. If we’re able to turn our loss into something that’s good for others, we 1,000 percent want to do that. I don’t want anyone to have to go through what my family has endured. If there’s anything that I can do to help save lives through my story, that’s what I want to do. It’s a way to honor Madison, who was one of the most genuine and caring people you could ever meet.

She had a quote that she lived by: “For Those Who Do Well, Must Also Do Good.” I’ll never get to be an uncle to her kids or see her get married. She didn’t get to see me graduate. But I got to work in one of our pink tents at the Houston City Art Festival, helping people, and it was super surreal. It was a cool moment to see our hard work pay off. It’s what my sister would have wanted.