April 8, 2025, and I’m still reeling from what happened in Santo Domingo last night. The Jet Set Nightclub, this iconic spot in the Dominican Republic’s capital, turned into a nightmare when its roof caved in during a packed concert. At least 18 people are dead, over 120 are hurt, and rescue crews are still digging through the rubble as I write this. It’s the kind of thing you see on the news and can’t shake, you know? I’ve been scrolling X, watching clips, and reading updates, trying to wrap my head around it. Let’s walk through what went down, who’s been hit, and why this feels so heavy today.
The Night It All Fell Apart
So picture this. It’s Monday night, just past midnight, and Jet Set’s alive with merengue beats. Rubby Pérez, a legend in the Dominican music scene, is up there belting it out. The place is hopping; it’s one of those Monday parties the club’s famous for, pulling in locals and big names alike. Then, bam, at 12:44 a.m., the roof gives way. People on X say it was like an earthquake, but it wasn’t. The whole top of the building just crashed down onto the crowd below. One second you’re dancing, the next you’re buried.
I saw this clip floating around, unverified but chilling. Rubby’s mid-song, the band’s grooving, and you can see a glass fixture in the background start to wobble. Then it’s dark, screams everywhere, and the video cuts out. His manager, Enrique Paulino, talked to reporters later, shirt splattered with blood, saying it happened so fast he thought it was a quake. He dove into a corner, but their saxophonist didn’t make it. Rubby’s daughter said he started singing from the rubble so rescuers could find him. He’s banged up but stable now, thank God.
The numbers are grim and keep shifting. Early reports said 12 dead, then 18, and some outlets like AP are up to 44 by afternoon. Over 120 people got hauled to hospitals, ambulances making 134 trips, sometimes cramming in two or three at a time. Juan Manuel Méndez, the head of the Emergency Operations Center, was out there saying they’re not stopping until everyone’s accounted for. “We think a lot of them are still alive,” he told the press, and you can hear the urgency in his voice. They’ve got 400 workers, drones, heavy gear, all tearing into the debris.
Who Got Caught in It
This hit hard because it wasn’t just random clubgoers. Nelsy Cruz, the governor of Montecristi province, was there and didn’t make it. Her brother, Nelson Cruz, the baseball star, put out a statement on Instagram about her funeral today. She was a big deal, a public servant with a steady hand, and now her community’s gutted. Octavio Dotel, a former MLB pitcher from Santo Domingo, was trapped too. Word is he’s alive, but it’s dicey; reports say he was stuck under rubble for hours. Bray Vargas, a legislator, got caught in it as well, injured but hanging on.
Then there’s Rubby Pérez, the heart of the night. He’s a merengue icon, been at it forever, and this was supposed to be another electric show. His manager said the band lost their saxophonist, a guy they’ve played with for years. I can’t imagine what Rubby’s feeling, singing to stay alive while his friend’s gone. Families are still waiting outside, clutching photos, shouting names as officials read survivor lists at hospitals. One dad, Manuel Olivo Ortiz, told AP his son hasn’t come home. It’s raw, desperate stuff.
What We Know So Far
Nobody’s sure why the roof gave out. Jet Set’s this big, open venue on Avenida Independencia, known for its dance nights and star-studded lineups. Was it old? Overloaded? A freak structural flaw? The club put out a statement saying they’re “in deep pain” and working with authorities, but they didn’t explain much. Rescue teams are too busy saving lives to dig into causes yet. Firefighters are sawing wood, hauling concrete, drills buzzing nonstop. Aerial shots show a gaping hole where the crowd was, like the building just swallowed itself.
President Luis Abinader was on the scene by morning, hugging people, tears all around. He posted on X, “We’ve been following this minute by minute since it happened,” promising every resource to help. He’s got faith they’ll pull more survivors out, and you can tell he’s shaken. Santo Domingo’s mayor, Carolina Mejía, called it a “terrible tragedy,” her disaster crew on full alert. It’s all hands on deck, but 12 hours in, they’re still finding bodies and faint hopes.
The Vibe on XX is a rollercoaster right now. Early posts from @globalbeaconn pegged it at 12 dead, 70 hurt, then @anadoluagency bumped it to 18. @tparon shared footage of the aftermath, ambulances screaming, dust everywhere. People are praying, raging, speculating. @karma2moksha said Rubby’s still trapped, though later updates cleared that up. @wjxt4 quoted Méndez on the rescue push, and it’s got folks holding their breath. One user wrote, “Santo Domingo wakes up to heartbreak,” and yeah, that nails it. Another posted, “How does a roof just collapse like that?” Good question, no answer yet.
There’s this mix of grief and grit online. People are sharing pics of the club in happier days, now a pile of ruin. Some are calling it a wake-up call for safety checks; others are just mourning. It’s personal for a lot of them Jet Set’s a legend, a Monday night ritual. Losing it like this, with so many gone, hits deep.
Why It Hurts So Much
This isn’t just a freak accident; it’s a gut punch to Santo Domingo. Jet Set’s been a cultural hub forever, the kind of place where you’d catch Rubby Pérez or some international act, dance till dawn, feel alive. Now it’s a graveyard, and the city’s reeling. I keep thinking about those families outside, the ones yelling names, hoping against hope. At one hospital, a lady with a megaphone was reading survivors off a list while the crowd shouted back, frantic. It’s the kind of scene that sticks with you.
And the timing? Brutal. We’re barely into April, and 2025’s already throwing curveballs. I wrote about Trump’s tax plan yesterday, all big ideas and bravado, but this is real life crashing down. Literally. The contrast is jarring policy dreams versus people trapped under concrete. It’s a reminder of what matters when the noise fades.
What’s Next?
Rescue’s still the focus. Méndez and his team are relentless, betting on more lives to save. Abinader’s there, sleeves rolled up, pushing faith in God and grit. But once the dust settles, the questions will hit hard. Was the building up to code? Did someone cut corners? Jet Set’s owners are cooperating, they say, but they’ll face heat. The Dominican Republic’s got a tight-knit vibe, and this’ll spark a reckoning on safety, especially at big venues.
For the survivors, it’s a long road. Over 120 injured means hospitals are slammed, and folks like Rubby and Dotel are just the start. The dead 18, 27, maybe 44 leave holes in families, in a city that loves its music and its people. Nelson Cruz’s sister, Nelsy, gets a funeral tonight in Montecristi. Others are still waiting to be named.
Where I’m At
I’m gutted, honestly. I’ve never been to Jet Set, but I can feel the loss from here. Music’s supposed to lift you up, not bury you. I keep seeing Enrique Paulino’s bloody shirt, hearing Rubby sing from the rubble, picturing those ambulances racing back and forth. X posts keep the tally climbing, and every update’s a twist in the gut. Trump’s tax talk feels a million miles away; this is what’s real today.Santo Domingo’s hurting, but they’re fighting. Rescuers won’t quit, and the city’s rallying around its own. I hope they find more alive, hope the why comes out clear, hope the healing starts soon.
The Night It All Fell Apart
So picture this. It’s Monday night, just past midnight, and Jet Set’s alive with merengue beats. Rubby Pérez, a legend in the Dominican music scene, is up there belting it out. The place is hopping; it’s one of those Monday parties the club’s famous for, pulling in locals and big names alike. Then, bam, at 12:44 a.m., the roof gives way. People on X say it was like an earthquake, but it wasn’t. The whole top of the building just crashed down onto the crowd below. One second you’re dancing, the next you’re buried.
I saw this clip floating around, unverified but chilling. Rubby’s mid-song, the band’s grooving, and you can see a glass fixture in the background start to wobble. Then it’s dark, screams everywhere, and the video cuts out. His manager, Enrique Paulino, talked to reporters later, shirt splattered with blood, saying it happened so fast he thought it was a quake. He dove into a corner, but their saxophonist didn’t make it. Rubby’s daughter said he started singing from the rubble so rescuers could find him. He’s banged up but stable now, thank God.
The numbers are grim and keep shifting. Early reports said 12 dead, then 18, and some outlets like AP are up to 44 by afternoon. Over 120 people got hauled to hospitals, ambulances making 134 trips, sometimes cramming in two or three at a time. Juan Manuel Méndez, the head of the Emergency Operations Center, was out there saying they’re not stopping until everyone’s accounted for. “We think a lot of them are still alive,” he told the press, and you can hear the urgency in his voice. They’ve got 400 workers, drones, heavy gear, all tearing into the debris.
Who Got Caught in It
This hit hard because it wasn’t just random clubgoers. Nelsy Cruz, the governor of Montecristi province, was there and didn’t make it. Her brother, Nelson Cruz, the baseball star, put out a statement on Instagram about her funeral today. She was a big deal, a public servant with a steady hand, and now her community’s gutted. Octavio Dotel, a former MLB pitcher from Santo Domingo, was trapped too. Word is he’s alive, but it’s dicey; reports say he was stuck under rubble for hours. Bray Vargas, a legislator, got caught in it as well, injured but hanging on.
Then there’s Rubby Pérez, the heart of the night. He’s a merengue icon, been at it forever, and this was supposed to be another electric show. His manager said the band lost their saxophonist, a guy they’ve played with for years. I can’t imagine what Rubby’s feeling, singing to stay alive while his friend’s gone. Families are still waiting outside, clutching photos, shouting names as officials read survivor lists at hospitals. One dad, Manuel Olivo Ortiz, told AP his son hasn’t come home. It’s raw, desperate stuff.
What We Know So Far
Nobody’s sure why the roof gave out. Jet Set’s this big, open venue on Avenida Independencia, known for its dance nights and star-studded lineups. Was it old? Overloaded? A freak structural flaw? The club put out a statement saying they’re “in deep pain” and working with authorities, but they didn’t explain much. Rescue teams are too busy saving lives to dig into causes yet. Firefighters are sawing wood, hauling concrete, drills buzzing nonstop. Aerial shots show a gaping hole where the crowd was, like the building just swallowed itself.
President Luis Abinader was on the scene by morning, hugging people, tears all around. He posted on X, “We’ve been following this minute by minute since it happened,” promising every resource to help. He’s got faith they’ll pull more survivors out, and you can tell he’s shaken. Santo Domingo’s mayor, Carolina Mejía, called it a “terrible tragedy,” her disaster crew on full alert. It’s all hands on deck, but 12 hours in, they’re still finding bodies and faint hopes.
The Vibe on XX is a rollercoaster right now. Early posts from @globalbeaconn pegged it at 12 dead, 70 hurt, then @anadoluagency bumped it to 18. @tparon shared footage of the aftermath, ambulances screaming, dust everywhere. People are praying, raging, speculating. @karma2moksha said Rubby’s still trapped, though later updates cleared that up. @wjxt4 quoted Méndez on the rescue push, and it’s got folks holding their breath. One user wrote, “Santo Domingo wakes up to heartbreak,” and yeah, that nails it. Another posted, “How does a roof just collapse like that?” Good question, no answer yet.
There’s this mix of grief and grit online. People are sharing pics of the club in happier days, now a pile of ruin. Some are calling it a wake-up call for safety checks; others are just mourning. It’s personal for a lot of them Jet Set’s a legend, a Monday night ritual. Losing it like this, with so many gone, hits deep.
Why It Hurts So Much
This isn’t just a freak accident; it’s a gut punch to Santo Domingo. Jet Set’s been a cultural hub forever, the kind of place where you’d catch Rubby Pérez or some international act, dance till dawn, feel alive. Now it’s a graveyard, and the city’s reeling. I keep thinking about those families outside, the ones yelling names, hoping against hope. At one hospital, a lady with a megaphone was reading survivors off a list while the crowd shouted back, frantic. It’s the kind of scene that sticks with you.
And the timing? Brutal. We’re barely into April, and 2025’s already throwing curveballs. I wrote about Trump’s tax plan yesterday, all big ideas and bravado, but this is real life crashing down. Literally. The contrast is jarring policy dreams versus people trapped under concrete. It’s a reminder of what matters when the noise fades.
What’s Next?
Rescue’s still the focus. Méndez and his team are relentless, betting on more lives to save. Abinader’s there, sleeves rolled up, pushing faith in God and grit. But once the dust settles, the questions will hit hard. Was the building up to code? Did someone cut corners? Jet Set’s owners are cooperating, they say, but they’ll face heat. The Dominican Republic’s got a tight-knit vibe, and this’ll spark a reckoning on safety, especially at big venues.
For the survivors, it’s a long road. Over 120 injured means hospitals are slammed, and folks like Rubby and Dotel are just the start. The dead 18, 27, maybe 44 leave holes in families, in a city that loves its music and its people. Nelson Cruz’s sister, Nelsy, gets a funeral tonight in Montecristi. Others are still waiting to be named.
Where I’m At
I’m gutted, honestly. I’ve never been to Jet Set, but I can feel the loss from here. Music’s supposed to lift you up, not bury you. I keep seeing Enrique Paulino’s bloody shirt, hearing Rubby sing from the rubble, picturing those ambulances racing back and forth. X posts keep the tally climbing, and every update’s a twist in the gut. Trump’s tax talk feels a million miles away; this is what’s real today.Santo Domingo’s hurting, but they’re fighting. Rescuers won’t quit, and the city’s rallying around its own. I hope they find more alive, hope the why comes out clear, hope the healing starts soon.
