The pier should have been filled with laughter, with the boundless energy of youth. Instead, it became a scene of unimaginable horror for Sheridan Gorman, an 18-year-old Loyola University Chicago freshman, whose life was brutally cut short on a March evening. A single gunshot, fired from behind a lighthouse, stole a future brimming with promise.
Sheridan wasn’t just a student; she was a radiant force, remembered for her ability to make everyone feel seen and valued. Friends and family describe a spirit that illuminated every room, a warmth that drew people in. She excelled in the water, a dedicated water polo player and swimmer, a young woman who embraced life with an insatiable curiosity.
The man accused of ending Sheridan’s life, Jose Medina-Medina, entered the country in 2023 and was released into the U.S. by authorities. This detail, a stark and painful reality, echoes the anguish of Joe Abraham, a father who knows firsthand the devastation caused by similar circumstances.
In 2025, Joe Abraham’s daughter, Katie, was killed in a hit-and-run. The driver, Julio Cucul-Bol, was also an undocumented immigrant, later sentenced to 30 years for his reckless act. The parallel between the two tragedies weighs heavily on Abraham’s heart, fueling his desperate plea for change.
“There will be more deaths,” Abraham warns, his voice raw with grief and frustration. He believes current policies are dangerously flawed, lacking balance and failing to prioritize the safety of innocent citizens. He sees a pattern of violence perpetrated by individuals who should not have been present in the community.
Abraham points to a disturbing commonality: both Katie’s killer and the man accused in Sheridan’s death had histories of violence or severe health issues. In Katie’s case, her killer had HIV, a condition that went untreated until his incarceration. Abraham laments that Illinois offered no assistance, no preventative measures.
The details surrounding Sheridan’s death are chilling. She noticed Medina-Medina hiding near the lighthouse and alerted her friends. That simple act of awareness triggered a terrifying chase, culminating in the fatal shot that struck her in the back. Security footage later showed Medina-Medina, unmasked, calmly waiting for an elevator in his apartment building.
Investigators were aided by a building engineer who recognized the suspect’s distinctive limp and gait. Information from Customs and Border Protection confirmed his identity. But Medina-Medina’s story is complex, marked by a traumatic past.
His attorney reveals a history of severe injury. Shot in the head in Colombia years prior, Medina-Medina suffered significant brain damage, losing portions of his skull and requiring him to relearn basic functions. He also battles epilepsy and still carries bullet fragments in his brain. He reportedly requested to be returned to Colombia, but was instead transported by bus to Chicago.
Adding another layer of tragedy, Medina-Medina contracted tuberculosis while living in a shelter. These details, while offering a glimpse into the suspect’s troubled life, do nothing to diminish the profound loss felt by Sheridan’s family and friends. They serve only to underscore the urgent need for a system that prioritizes both compassion and public safety.
Sheridan’s obituary paints a picture of a young woman who possessed an extraordinary capacity for love and connection. She didn’t just exist in the world; she enhanced it, making ordinary moments feel extraordinary simply by being present. Her absence leaves a void that can never be filled.
