There is a fundamental question at the heart of our immigration debate that we rarely ask:
What responsibility does a state assume when it deliberately limits cooperation with the federal government, and can it then disclaim responsibility for the consequences of that choice?
I ask because my daughter Katie is dead.
Katie was 20 years old when she was killed in Urbana, Illinois, on January 19, 2025.
According to court records, the man who killed her was a Guatemalan national who had previously been deported and later reentered the U.S. in 2022. He used false identities, including the identity of a Mexican national, while in Illinois. Illinois then issued him a driver's license under that identity.
According to court records, he could not read, write or speak English or Spanish. He spoke K'iche', a Mayan language.
Then he drove nearly 80 miles per hour while intoxicated and slammed into the car carrying Katie and her friends. Two young women died. Three others were seriously injured.
But the story did not begin at that intersection.
How did someone previously deported return to the U.S.? How did someone using a false identity obtain an Illinois driver's license? What screening, verification and information sharing occurred? What did Illinois know that the federal government did not, what did the federal government know that Illinois did not, and what risks might have been identified if that information had been shared?
I cannot tell you that any single policy caused Katie's death. I cannot tell you that better cooperation would have saved her. No one can.
But her death made one thing impossible for me to accept: government can make deliberate choices, restrict cooperation and then point elsewhere when the consequences arrive.
At 20, you don't think in terms of a life ending. You think in terms of what comes next. Katie never got to find out what came next.
That is what "dead" means. There is no next. No later. No chance to make it right.
Illinois has repeatedly emphasized that immigration enforcement is a federal responsibility.
It is.
But Illinois' decision to limit cooperation does not make the immigration dimension disappear.
A person does not stop being an immigrant because a sanctuary jurisdiction chooses not to engage with the immigration question. A border crossing does not disappear. A prior deportation does not disappear. An identity problem does not disappear.
Facts remain facts.
Yet when a state treats immigration status as something it should largely ignore, it can do more than limit enforcement. It can also deprive immigrants of guidance that helps them succeed.
Welcoming immigrants should mean helping them understand the laws, institutions and expectations of the communities and country they have chosen to join. That requires acknowledging their circumstances, not pretending they don't exist.
I am proud to come from an immigrant family. There is nothing wrong with being an immigrant who comes to America legally, is properly screened and verified, follows the law, and builds a life here. I reject any political framework that makes the word "immigrant" something that needs to be softened, hidden, or erased.
Erasing these distinctions does not help immigrants. It can leave them with less guidance, less accountability and less understanding of the system they are being asked to navigate.
Dignity does not require blindness.
Katie's case shows exactly why these distinctions matter. Identity, immigration history and basic screening were not adequately addressed. In her case, they were not addressed at all.
There are legitimate concerns about state and local participation in federal immigration enforcement. Who is authorized to act? What training is required? What safeguards exist? How do we prevent overreach? How do we protect constitutional rights?
These are serious questions, and they deserve serious answers.
But accountability cannot mean examining only the risks of cooperation while ignoring the risks of refusing to cooperate.
For Katie, this isn't a policy concern. It's a consequence.
Nor is it honest to reduce federal immigration enforcement to a question of whether an officer has a judicial warrant. Federal immigration enforcement operates under federal law and involves people with different immigration circumstances, including prior removal orders and, in some cases, criminal histories.
If Illinois wants to scrutinize federal enforcement tactics, it should. But the public deserves the whole picture.
We cannot look only at today's enforcement and ignore yesterday's policies.
The Biden administration presided over record levels of illegal border encounters and enormous pressures on the immigration system. Migrants suffered dangerous journeys, trafficking, and exploitation. Smugglers and cartels profited. American communities and institutions absorbed enormous costs.
Whatever the motivations behind those policies, those consequences cannot simply be wished away.
You cannot honestly condemn the downstream response while refusing to examine the upstream decisions that helped create the conditions requiring it.
And compassion cannot mean choosing which victims count.
We should care about migrants who are trafficked, exploited or killed along dangerous journeys. We should care about Americans harmed by criminal conduct. We should care about families like mine.
Both sides of the ledger contain human beings.
That is why accountability must run in both directions.
We should investigate government overreach. We should also examine government underreach. We should scrutinize today's enforcement tactics while examining failures to communicate, share information and cooperate.
Responsible cooperation does not mean unlimited authority. It means clear responsibilities, proper training, constitutional safeguards, oversight and consequences for abuse.
The answer to legitimate concerns about enforcement is better enforcement, not blindness.
The answer to legitimate concerns about cooperation is better cooperation, not no cooperation.
I cannot bring Katie back.
But I can insist that her death not become another abstraction in a political argument.
At 20, Katie should have had decades of "what comes next."
She didn't.
So I will keep asking:
Who knew?
Who communicated?
Who didn't?
Who cooperated?
Who chose not to?
And when those choices have consequences, who is accountable?
Every policy has a ledger.
Responsible government counts both sides.
Because when governments stop cooperating, the consequences don't disappear.
Someone pays the price.