Venezuelan Migrant Arrested After Chicago Student Fatally Shot Near Campus
A masked gunman shot and killed an 18-year-old Loyola University Chicago student along the city’s lakefront shortly after 1:30 a.m. Thursday, while she was walking with friends. The gunman struck Sheridan Gorman, a resident of Westchester County, New York, in the head, causing her death at the scene.
There is a 25-year-old man in jail for her death who is a Venezuelan migrant, according to Fox News.
The Chicago Tribune obtained records indicating that a “distinct limp” led to the suspect’s discovery just minutes after the shooting. The Tribune didn’t say who the suspect was. Police haven’t said yet if the man has been charged in connection with the Gorman case.
In a letter sent to students on Thursday, Mark C. Reed, President of Loyola University Chicago, confirmed Gorman’s death.
“It is with profound sadness that I write to share that one of our students, Sheridan Gorman, was killed earlier today. This is a tragic loss, and our hearts go out to Sheridan’s family, loved ones, and all who knew her,” Reed wrote in the letter.
Sheridan Gorman was only 18 years old. She was walking along the lakefront with friends in the early morning. A man with a mask shot at her, and now her family in New York is planning a funeral instead of a summer visit.
The U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) said that U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) filed an arrest detainer asking sanctuary politicians not to let Jose Medina-Medina go free.
Medina-Medina is a Venezuelan criminal illegal alien who was arrested for killing 18-year-old Sheridan Gorman in Chicago, Illinois.
The U.S. Border Patrol caught Medina-Medina on May 9, 2023, and the Biden administration let him into the country. He was arrested for shoplifting in Chicago, Illinois, and then let go again on June 19, 2023.
“Sheridan Gorman had her whole life ahead of her before this cold-blooded killer decided to end her life. She was failed by open border policies and sanctuary politicians who RELEASED this illegal alien TWICE before he went on to commit this heinous murder,” said Acting Assistant Secretary Lauren Bis.
“We are calling on Governor J.B. Pritzker and Chicago’s sanctuary politicians to commit to not releasing this criminal illegal alien from jail back into American neighborhoods,” Bis added.
In December 2025, ICE Director Todd Lyons wrote to Illinois Attorney General Kwame Raoul and asked him to put the safety of Americans first and honor ICE arrest warrants for more than 4,000 criminal illegal aliens in the state’s custody, including murderers, sexual predators, and people who have been convicted of or charged with weapons offenses.
The pace of ICE arrests nationwide has topped 1,100 per day on average this year, far higher than the rate last spring of roughly 600 arrests per day, according to new data reviewed by the New York Times.
“New data analyzed by The New York Times reveals that the pace of these arrests has varied across the country in sometimes surprising ways. Some places that did not have high-profile ICE operations this year, such as Florida and San Antonio, have still seen high and steadily increasing numbers of arrests,” the article stated.
“In other areas like Los Angeles and Chicago that were targeted by ICE with aggressive enforcement operations last year, the number of arrests has fallen steeply in recent months. And in some areas — notably many places with so-called sanctuary policies in place — the arrest rate is flat, or up only slightly.
The article added, “The administration’s high-profile operation in Minnesota this year, resulted in a steep increase in arrests there: ICE’s St. Paul field office arrested more than 5,000 people from mid-December through March 10. But four other field offices arrested more people during this same time period, led by the Miami area — with nearly 10,000 arrests — followed by the field offices in Dallas, Atlanta, and San Antonio.”
I only meant to check on my daughter, but the scene inside that dining room made my blood turn cold. She was pregnant, drenched, and shaking over a sink piled high with dishes, while her husband laughed with investors and his mother watched like a queen. “Hurry up,” he snapped. “You’re humiliating me.” I walked out without a word and made one phone call. Moments later, his investors pushed back their chairs, killed the million-dollar contract, and greeted me like the person who truly held their future.
PART 1 — The Night I Discovered What My Daughter Had Been Hiding
The first thing I noticed was not the luxury.
Not the crystal chandelier hanging above the dining room.
Not the polished silverware arranged perfectly across the long wooden table.
Not the six men in expensive suits laughing over glasses of wine while discussing numbers that probably had more zeros than I wanted to count.
The first thing I noticed...
Was my daughter.
And for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Emily stood near the kitchen sink.
Barefoot.
Eight months pregnant.
Her dress was soaked from the knees down, clinging to her tired body.
Her hair stuck against her cheeks.
Her hands were red and trembling as she scrubbed a mountain of dirty dishes stacked higher than I thought one person should ever have to wash alone.
She looked nothing like the daughter I remembered.
The little girl who used to run through our backyard with muddy shoes.
The teenager who argued about bedtime but always came back five minutes later to hug me.
The young woman who promised me she would never let anyone make her feel small.
But standing there...
She looked small.
Too small.
I had only gone there because I wanted to check on her.
That was all.
Emily had missed three of my calls that week.
She usually answered immediately.
Even when she was busy.
Even when she was tired.
But lately, her messages had become shorter.
I'm okay, Mom.
Just busy.
I'll call you soon.
Every mother knows when those words are hiding something.
We may not know what the secret is.
But we know there is one.
So I drove across town that evening with a small bag of groceries and the excuse that I wanted to bring her some homemade soup.
I didn't tell myself I was worried.
Because admitting that meant something was wrong.
And I wasn't ready for that.
The house was exactly what I expected.
Huge.
Perfect.
Cold.
Daniel had always loved appearances.
Everything about his life was designed to impress people.
The expensive car.
The designer clothes.
The photographs with important people.
The stories about his business.
Especially his business.
He wanted everyone to believe he was a man destined for greatness.
And according to him, tonight was supposed to be one of the biggest nights of his career.
Important investors were visiting.
A million-dollar partnership was supposedly on the table.
That was why, when I opened the front door and heard laughter coming from the dining room, I assumed everything was normal.
Until I saw her.
At the table, Daniel sat at the center.
Like a king.
His suit was perfectly pressed.
His watch probably cost more than my first car.
He held a wine glass in one hand while explaining his vision to the men around him.
"Gentlemen," he said confidently, "success is built on trust."
Everyone listened.
Everyone smiled.
Everyone looked impressed.
Except my daughter.
She was standing behind them.
Cleaning up after them.
Daniel's mother, Marianne, sat beside him.
She was wearing a pearl necklace and the expression of someone who believed the entire room belonged to her.
The moment she noticed me, her smile disappeared.
Then she recovered.
"Well," she said loudly.
Every person at the table turned.
"Look who decided to visit without announcing herself."
Her tone was polite.
But I knew women like Marianne.
They could insult you while smiling.
"Linda."
Daniel looked over.
His smile paused for half a second.
Then it returned.
Sharp.
Controlled.
"Didn't expect to see you tonight."
Not Mom.
Not welcome.
Just my name.
I noticed.
Emily looked up.
"Mom?"
The way she said it broke my heart.
Not because she was happy to see me.
Because she sounded embarrassed.
Like she had been caught doing something shameful.
I stepped farther into the room.
My eyes never left her.
"Why is my daughter wet?"
Nobody answered immediately.
That silence told me more than any explanation could.
Daniel laughed softly.
The kind of laugh people use when they want everyone else to think the person asking questions is being unreasonable.
"Linda, relax."
He lifted his glass.
"Emily spilled some water."
I looked at the floor.
A puddle surrounded her feet.
But the explanation didn't make sense.
A glass of water didn't make a pregnant woman look terrified.
A glass of water didn't make her hands shake.
A glass of water didn't make her avoid eye contact with her own mother.
"She insisted on helping," Daniel continued.
"You know Emily."
He smiled.
"She can be dramatic."
I looked at my daughter.
"Is that true?"
Emily opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
That hurt more than anything.
Because my daughter had never been afraid to speak.
Not with me.
Not ever.
But now...
She was measuring every word.
Every breath.
Every reaction.
Marianne placed her wine glass down.
"A wife should support her husband."
Her voice was calm.
Almost reasonable.
Especially when heard by strangers.
"Daniel has important people here tonight. The least Emily can do is make things easier for him."
I stared at her.
"By washing dishes?"
Marianne smiled.
"By being useful."
The word hung in the air.
Useful.
Not loved.
Not respected.
Useful.
One of the investors shifted uncomfortably.
Another looked down at his plate.
They noticed.
They all noticed.
But nobody wanted to be the first person to say something.
Because powerful people often create rooms where everyone sees the truth...
And nobody wants to touch it.
I walked closer to Emily.
Only then did I see everything.
The raw skin around her fingers.
The exhaustion under her eyes.
The way one hand kept protecting her stomach.
The way she stood carefully, as if every movement hurt.
And behind her...
A basket full of wet towels.
A cracked glass near her bare feet.
A kitchen floor that looked like she had been cleaning for hours.
Then Daniel spoke.
Without looking at her.
"Emily."
Her shoulders immediately tightened.
"Yes?"
"Move faster."
The entire room went quiet.
"You are making us look bad."
I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
This was the man my daughter married.
The man who promised to protect her.
The man who held her hand when she told us she was pregnant.
The man who looked into my eyes and promised:
"I'll take care of her."
But now...
He was sitting comfortably while she stood barefoot in water.
Emily whispered:
"I'm fine, Mom."
But she wasn't.
And we both knew it.
I slowly placed the grocery bag on the table.
Then I looked around the room.
At the investors.
At Marianne.
At Daniel.
And finally...
At my daughter.
Something inside me changed.
Because I understood something in that moment.
Daniel thought I was powerless.
He thought I was just Linda, an older woman with a modest home and an ordinary life.
He thought he could humiliate my daughter in front of me and face no consequences.
What he didn't know...
Was that I had spent years quietly building something he never bothered to ask about.
I had allowed people to underestimate me.
Because arrogant people reveal themselves when they believe no one can stop them.
I looked at Daniel.
And I smiled.
Not because I was calm.
But because I finally knew exactly who I was dealing with.
And he had no idea...
That the woman he thought was harmless was about to become the biggest problem his empire had ever faced.
