Honoring
Alexander Daniel LaMorie

The family of Alexander Daniel LaMorie, 25, is heartbroken to share that he departed this life on March 1, 2026, in Columbia, Maryland, after calling 911 during a mental health crisis. Despite seeking help, the response did not include a mental health professional, and the encounter with law enforcement tragically ended his life.

Alex was born in Mineola, New York, on June 24, 2000, and always carried what he called his true New York spirit. He loved the New York Yankees, pizza, and bagels. Known to many as “Big Al,” Alex had a rare gift for making people laugh. Whether in a car, on vacation in the Poconos, in his Aunt Virginia’s living room on Long Island, or even in a quiet hospital waiting room, Alex’s impeccable comedic timing could brighten any room. Being around him meant laughter was never far away. Someone once said that grief is love with no place to go. For those who loved Alex, that love now lives in the memories, laughter, and countless moments he gave to the people who knew and loved him.

Alex possessed a remarkable level of self-awareness. He understood what he liked and what he didn’t: he loved DC and Marvel movies, “yo mama” jokes, dancing, anime, and comic conventions, and he never hesitated to say that exercise and social media were not among his favorites. Another family nickname for him was “Honest Abe.” Alex set goals for himself and held himself accountable, often updating the family group chat on his progress. He also understood his limits, setting thoughtful boundaries and paying close attention to both his own feelings and the world around him.

Alex was incredibly intelligent, inquisitive, sensitive, and kind. One of his greatest gifts was his ability to notice others. With a quiet sensitivity, he picked up on things many people missed. Just when it seemed no one had noticed, Alex had. He had a special way of making people feel seen and valued. Alex was deeply proud to be American and believed that our nation’s greatest strength comes from its diversity. He drew strength from his own blended heritage – often saying his love of food came from his Italian lineage, his gift for conversation from his Irish roots, and his wisdom and strength from his Native American ancestry. Alex was also proud of the long tradition of service in his family—as the son and nephew of military officers, the grandson of a New York City firefighter, and the great-grandson of a New York City police officer, to name a few.

At the age of 13, Alex was formally diagnosed with autism. While he faced challenges along the way, his determination, care for himself and resilience always carried him forward. Alex graduated from Alexandria High School and went on to earn his associate degree from the University of Maryland Global Campus. He lived independently, voted, worked hourly jobs while he was a student, and built friendships with people in his community – especially the familiar faces at his favorite restaurants. He loved gaming and his online community. His favorite V-tubers were Ironmouse and Mega.

Alex was known for his kindness in everyday moments – holding doors open for people, buying gifts for friends less fortunate, and volunteering with military, veteran, grief, and autism organizations. Alex loved the lessons found in superhero stories. Barry Allen, The Flash, was one of his favorites, and he would often quote him: “I think… part of being a hero is being able to see the good in people.”

In many ways, that quote captured who Alex was. He truly believed in seeing the good in others. Alex was proud of his advocacy work with the Autism & Grief Project through the Hospice Foundation of America, including presenting at San Diego Comic-Con, where he helped share perspectives about autism and grief. He was a staunch mental health advocate and is a contributing author to the new book Superhero Grief and the Multiverse of Loss. He was grateful as a child for his own grief support from the TAPS and TMF community. Alex had recently moved to Patuxent Commons in Columbia, Maryland – an intentional, inclusive community created to support adults with autism to live independently. He was excited to begin this new chapter of a place that understood connection and belonging for persons on the spectrum.

Those who loved Alex will always remember “Big Al” – the big hugs, the big smile, and the even bigger heart he carried through life. The family group chat is a little quieter now, and the world a little less colorful. But the love Alex gave remains, carried forward by the many people whose lives he touched. Those who knew Alex also knew how close he was with his mother. The two of them were like Batman and Robin – a true dynamic duo.

Alex was preceded in death by his father, LCDR Andrew Denis LaMorie, USN; his grandfather, James Dennis Harrington; his grandmother, Elyse Nanni Harrington; his grandmother, Renee Lamorie; and his cherished family dog, Shadow. He is survived by his beloved mother, Jill A. Harrington (LaMorie); his stepfather, LTC David F. Carey, U.S. Army (Ret.); his siblings, Madeline Elyse LaMorie, Jaxon Carey, and Mariska Carey; as well as aunts, uncles, cousins, numerous extended family members, and dear friends who will continue to honor his memory and commitment to disability and mental health advocacy.

An online vigil will be held on World Autism Day, Thursday, April 2, 2026.  Register for the vigil below.  A wake will be held on April 10, 2026, at Beall Funeral Home, 6512 NW Crain Highway, Bowie, MD 20715, 2:00 PM – 4:00 PM and then 6:00 PM – 8:00 PM. An additional visitation at the church will be held from 11:00 AM – 11:45 AM on April 11, 2026, at St. Matthew’s United Methodist Church, 14900 Annapolis Road, Bowie, Maryland, 20715, immediately followed by the funeral service at 12:00 PM. Interment will be private. In lieu of flowers, the family invites donations in Alex’s memory to the REAACT program at the University of Pittsburgh – a research program committed to improving mental health and wellbeing for autistic people across the lifespan.

Alex believed deeply in seeing the good in people. His family hopes that in remembering him, others will carry that spirit forward – with kindness, compassion, and a commitment to building a world where every person feels seen, valued, and supported – especially during their darkest hour because “the night is darkest just before the dawn” (Batman: The Dark Knight, 2008).