Corey Reid was supposed to walk down the aisle and scatter flower petals before his cousin’s grand entrance at her wedding this past Sunday.
It would have been the perfect way for the playful 37-year-old to honor the bride. Instead, a crystal plaque with several photos of Reid occupied an empty chair.
“I didn’t see it when I was walking down the aisle, but I definitely saw it when I came back down. I cried. I had to hurry and walk really fast and was shielding my face,” Alea McCray, Reid’s sister and a bridesmaid for her cousin, Tiffany Carter, told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, adding that she felt as if her brother was present during the ceremony.
Just five days before the wedding, Reid was buried at Lincoln Cemetery after he was killed Aug. 26 along Candler Road in DeKalb County, in the busy commercial area that surrounds the Gallery at South DeKalb mall. Reid, who was described as “a good guy all around,” was shot while inside his car as he spoke to a friend on the phone, McCray said.
When the shots rang out around 3 a.m., a DeKalb police officer already in the area was the first to find Reid’s vehicle crashed near a Chase Bank across the street from the mall, his sister said. Investigators told the family that Reid had just withdrawn $140 from the ATM. When the car was returned to the family, a confetti of cash remained inside.
McCray said she was told by police that there are at least two people responsible for her brother’s death, but the agency has not released any suspect details to the public. Still unclear on what motivated the shooting, McCray has been frustrated by the slow trickle of information that sometimes accompanies a police investigation.
“I don’t know which way (the suspects) came out, or (Reid) probably saw them in the last minute. I don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to get from the police, but obviously we’re not getting anything from them at all,” she said.
McCray, who lives in Kentucky, could not visit her brother’s bedside. Instead, she remained on the phone with her brother Cedric and mother Tammy during most of Reid’s brief hospital visit. She tried to keep her mother calm, but she said she was also curious about her brother’s condition and held on to the hope that he was going to be OK.
Not long after, Reid was pronounced dead. McCray started driving to Atlanta soon after she learned the news.
“And my mom basically was like, ‘I just want to see my baby. Let me see my baby,’” the sister said, recounting her mother’s conversation with the doctor.
Since the deadly shooting, McCray has struggled to accept the reality that her brother is gone, explaining it as an internal battle between the head and the heart. She’s still hanging on to his “beautiful smile” and adventurous spirit, which in many ways feel like the present tense.
“I’m just embracing my grief. When it comes, I embrace it,” McCray said. “I’m looking at these obituaries and these pictures and I know my heart is being protected because my brain is like, ‘He’s gone,’ but my heart is like, ‘No, that’s my little brother.’”
Credit: Contributed
Credit: Contributed
Reid’s funeral was held on Labor Day and he was buried the next day. His casket was customized with a picture of him on an ATV, a vehicle he could often be seen riding in his free time.
The former Rosenbauer International technician was well known by first responders, especially those who worked at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, his sister said. His job revolved around fixing and maintaining fire trucks at the airport. Prior to working with Rosenbauer, McCray said Reid worked for the city of Atlanta fixing police cars and other government vehicles.
In their grief, the family has tried to place their focus on the way Reid lived his life, rather than his untimely death. Still, McCray wishes Reid could have made it to that wedding.
Instead of her goofy younger brother filling the role of “flower man,” their nephew scattered the flower petals instead.
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