Obituaries

Patrick Cotrona: A Life Remembered

Out of a senseless tragedy, a call to remember a fallen soul and a call to action.

Patrick L. Cotrona
Born Jan. 26, 1980 in Troy, N.Y. to Frank and Paulette Cotrona
McIntosh High School, Class of 1998
Georgia Institute of Technology, B.S. computer science, summa cum laude, Class of 2003
Two sisters: Kate Cotrona Krumm and Karen Cotrona Annis
Two neices: Gabriella Renée Krumm and Ava Marie Annis

by Kate Cotrona Krumm

“Kate, take Greg’s hand,” my mother told me Saturday morning. She was sobbing, and my heart lurched – this couldn’t be good. In fact, I knew it would be awful. I took my husband’s hand. “Patrick was murdered last night,” she cried to me. It couldn’t be true: no one would want to hurt my brother. But I knew it had to be true because my mother’s sobs were unyielding.

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Our grief is incomprehensible, and our thoughts of Patrick, I hope, one day will be only of happy memories. But right now, we are drowning in the sorrow of such unimaginable grief. The luxury of peace may come one day, but today, right now, we are faced with the fact that our beloved Patrick was ripped from this world by an evil, heinous act.

When Patrick was two years old, he could already read, even before he could speak. Even as an adult, my brother didn’t always say much, but when he did, it was witty, insightful or loving. Patrick was always a little different. Different as an adult is cool, but as a child, different was challenging, to say the least. My extremely gifted brother was bullied often. As his big sister, I was always there to protect him. My parents referred to me as “his lawyer” because I would speak on his behalf. My brother never seemed to mind; he liked having his big sister by his side.

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We were a tight-knit family: we loved and fought and cried and laughed as a family should. I often felt bad for my brother, the middle child between two sisters, but he didn’t mind too much, as he spent most days and nights with his head in a book. In fact, my parents didn’t ground him like normal children – no, he was forced to go outside as punishment.

With an incredible mind (and lots of scholarships), Patrick entered into an amazing part of his life: as a student at Georgia Tech. I had never seen him so happy, so at home in his skin with so many others who were like him. Patrick loved board games, video games, and he was a fixture for many years at the DragonCon event.

Patrick’s first real job out of college was with a great company, whose founder recently told me that Patrick had made “so many contributions” to his company. They had treated him incredibly well with benefits, a great salary and friendship. But Patrick was looking for something more, and he took a year off for soul-searching. Rather than a corporate job or a high-paying salary, Patrick opted to be an engineer for a video game company, and he loved it.

'Patrick Cotrona wasn’t a man looking for trouble; he wasn’t a statistic. ... I can’t bring him back, but I want his life and death to have had meaning.'

About five years ago, Patrick bought a house in East Atlanta. He didn’t mind the diverse neighborhood or its “transition” status. He and friends would often walk to the East Atlanta Village, only a few blocks from his house, for a beer, music or dinner. For the past few years, he attended the East Atlanta Beer Festival because, let’s face it, Patrick loved his neighborhood, and he loved beer. My dad went with him every year, too – they were two peas in a pod.

Saturday night was like any night. Patrick and a couple of his friends were leaving his house a little late to grab a beer at a local pub. We had always discussed the crime in his neighborhood, but Patrick didn’t seemed bothered by it. He was a non-confrontational person who didn’t look for trouble and, I assume, didn’t think trouble would look for him.

The killer jumped from a car and demanded money from the three young men. My brother willingly complied and reached for his wallet. The gunmen shot him in the abdomen without cause. My brother's friend pulled out his mace and sprayed the killer in the face. He shot out randomly, hitting one man in the leg and missing the other entirely. Then he jumped in the car, and the waiting driver sped off.

They had left my brother bleeding on the street like an animal. He didn’t survive.

Patrick Cotrona wasn’t a man looking for trouble; he wasn’t a statistic. He was a gifted, intelligent, Georgia Tech graduate computer programmer who went out for a beer. And he died for nothing – the killer never even took his wallet. And to be honest, what had he expected? A few hundred dollars? Is that what my brother’s life was worth?

My guilt is that at the most critical time, I couldn’t be there to protect my brother as I had all those years growing up. I can’t bring him back, but I want his life and death to have had meaning. There are other victims of crime in this city, and there will be more. When will the citizens stand up and fight back? The vile, disgusting scum that killed my brother is just one of many criminals and killers that roam our streets. And it isn’t limited to East Atlanta or downtown Atlanta or within the city limits at all.

This will take more than additional police officers on the streets, the power company repairing the street lights and reaching out to the youth that have the most potential to become criminals. This is going to take an entire community, an entire city to stand up and demand change. That change has to come from the city, the police, the courts, the prisons and our own ability to defend ourselves. Please don’t let this tragedy become yours as well.

Please keep Patrick Cotrona in your mind and hearts. He will forever be in mine.


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