I lost my daughter to a preventable act and this piece argues that sanctuary policies played a clear role in that tragedy, exposes the political theater around a separate ICE shooting, and calls for accountable, lawful and humane policies that protect communities without excuses.
I remember the moment my world changed: a car struck the one Katie was in from behind at nearly 80 miles per hour, killing her instantly. The driver, Julio Cucul-Bol, was using an alias and court records say he is being treated for an incurable communicable infectious disease. There were no viral videos, no nonstop cable panels and no politicians holding public vigils for Katie.
The contrast between silence for my family and the tidal outrage over the Minneapolis ICE shooting is stark and painful. Elected leaders and media figures raced to inflame protests and assign blame, while my grief was met with polite condolences and then forgetfulness. That double standard tells you where priorities lie: political theater first, accountability later.
At a hearing, Minnesota’s governor offered a critique of federal operations, calling them “a threat to our public safety,” yet he did not mention Katie even after offering condolences the night before. Other local leaders chose language meant to stir crowds, declaring “We know when ICE agents attack immigrants, they attack every single one of us across this country.” Those lines sound powerful, but they dodge responsibility for policies that endanger everyday people.
Chicago’s mayor declared, “We stand in solidarity with the people of Minneapolis and with all of those across the country whose lives have been torn apart due to reckless actions by Trump’s lawless, racist force.” Los Angeles’ mayor said, “It happened because of the brutal and racist policies of the Trump administration that unleashed these agents.” Powerful rhetoric should not replace practical safety measures, and it must not silence victims whose losses don’t fit a preferred narrative.
Sacrificing citizens at the altar of ideology is not compassion. Sanctuary statutes that refuse cooperation with federal authorities remove basic safeguards like identity verification, monitoring and background checks. Those missing guardrails allowed dangerous people to slip through, and the cost of that policy experiment was my daughter’s life.
Sanctuary supporters will argue they are protecting vulnerable people, but structure matters. Compassion without rules becomes neglect. If a state invites people to live and work within its borders, it must also insist on systems that confirm identity, screen for public health risks and hold wrongdoers accountable.
When leaders treat laws as optional and cooperation as politicized, they weaken every community. Policies that neuter federal enforcement create perverse incentives and shield those who pose risks to public safety. This is not a partisan complaint; it is a practical warning about the predictable outcomes of policy choices.
My family has asked for simple actions: audits, identity verification, basic health screening, language services and lawful employment pathways. These are not extreme demands; they are pragmatic steps that protect both residents and newcomers. Instead, many officials retreat into slogans and accusations, using outrage to distract from policy failure.
Renee Nicole Good’s killing in Minneapolis has been seized by activists as proof of systemic abuse, and the political response has been to stoke further division instead of demanding careful review and accountability. Both tragedies deserve sober investigation, not competing soundbites. Leaders should be judged by whether they reduce preventable death, not by whether they win the next protest or poll.
If officials will not face the consequences of their choices, voters must. We need policies that are lawful, humane and enforceable, not theatrical denunciations that place ideology over safety. Communities deserve leaders who prioritize human life and accountability over political cover, and only voters can ensure those leaders are put in charge.
