Patrick Lamont Robinson was known by his name first—by the sound of it spoken by people who cared about him, by the way it might have been called across a room, written on a message, saved in a phone. He was 30, a Black man from St. Louis, Missouri, and what we have here is not the full record of how he died, but the stark fact that he did.
A death like this leaves a particular kind of silence behind it. Not the quiet of an empty street, but the sudden absence that shows up everywhere:
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