Whenever tragedy involves ICE, the response from many politicians, activists, and commentators is immediate. They demand investigations, congressional hearings, institutional reform, and sometimes even the abolition of the agency itself. Their argument is simple: when government actions contribute to the loss of innocent life, government must answer.
On that principle, I agree.
What I reject is applying that principle only when it is politically convenient.
The same voices demanding investigations into ICE showed little interest in holding former Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas accountable for the policies that helped produce the worst border crisis in modern American history. Congress had an opportunity to examine whether years of deliberate policy decisions contributed to preventable deaths, criminal victimization, human trafficking, and unprecedented illegal immigration. Instead, accountability became subordinate to partisan loyalty.
That revealed a troubling double standard.
When the actions of an individual government employee contribute to a tragedy, entire agencies are placed under a microscope.
When the policies of elected officials contribute to years of foreseeable harm, accountability suddenly becomes "political."
Government power does not become less consequential because it is exercised through legislation or executive policy instead of a badge.
Illinois offers one of the clearest examples.
Gov. J.B. Pritzker has consistently defended Illinois' sanctuary policies, including during the June 12, 2025 congressional oversight hearing. Listening to his testimony, I came away believing that distinctions between citizens, legal immigrants, and those here illegally had become secondary to a broader political commitment. The message I heard was that government's responsibility begins only after someone commits a crime.
That is not leadership.
Leadership is about preventing foreseeable harm, not simply prosecuting it after families have buried their loved ones.
Immigration laws, identity verification, cooperation with federal authorities, and reasonable enforcement are not obstacles to compassion. They are the guardrails that make compassion sustainable. Removing those guardrails while insisting there are no tradeoffs is not wisdom. It is recklessness.
My family knows the cost of that recklessness.
On January 19, 2025, my 20-year-old daughter Katie was killed while visiting friends at the University of Illinois. She was sitting in the back seat of a car stopped at a red light when an intoxicated illegal immigrant, who had previously been deported before returning during the border crisis, struck them at nearly 80 miles per hour. Katie and another young woman were killed. Three others were seriously injured.
This was not simply one man's isolated mistake.
According to the evidence presented in court, the driver began the evening drinking in his vehicle, where open beer bottles were found. He then visited three different bars, consuming beer and mixed drinks before choosing to drive. By the time he slammed into Katie's vehicle, this was not one bad decision, it was a long series of reckless choices.
He bears responsibility for the crash.
But government bears responsibility for asking how someone like this came to be in that position in the first place.
The facts presented in court raise difficult questions that Illinois leaders have never answered. After roughly three years in Illinois, there was no evidence he had become meaningfully integrated into society. Through an interpreter, he testified that he could not read, write, or speak English or Spanish and had received no formal education. Court records also showed he was first diagnosed and treated for HIV only after he was incarcerated.
These facts are not offered to diminish his humanity. They expose a failure of public policy.
We were told these policies were compassionate, for migrants and for our communities. But if someone arrives without the language skills, education, health screening, or support necessary to integrate successfully, while the government simultaneously limits enforcement and cooperation with federal authorities, who exactly is being helped?
A policy that fails both the citizens it promises to protect and the migrants it claims to help is not compassionate. It is a failed policy.
After Katie's death, there were no hearings examining whether Illinois' sanctuary policies deserved reconsideration. Gov. Pritzker never called for a review of the policies he championed. The same political movement that routinely demands institutional accountability when ICE is involved showed little interest in examining the foreseeable consequences of its own immigration policies.
That silence spoke volumes.
It conveyed that accountability depends less on the magnitude of the failure than on who is responsible for it.
Justice cannot survive under two standards.
If an ICE operation that ends in tragedy deserves investigation, then so do years of immigration policies that resulted in preventable suffering for both American citizens and migrants.
If law enforcement officers must answer for operational failures, governors, cabinet secretaries, legislators, and members of Congress should answer for policy failures.
Katie deserved more than condolences.
She deserved leaders willing to ask whether their own decisions helped create the conditions that took her life.
The American people deserve one standard of accountability, not one for law enforcement and another for policymakers whose decisions affect millions.
Government power is government power.
Whether exercised by an ICE agent, a governor, a cabinet secretary, or Congress itself, every public official should be judged by the same measure.
One standard.
For everyone.