Why I Accepted the Responsibility To Lead the VOICE Office

I never imagined that the worst day of my life would lead me to a responsibility I never expected to carry. After burying my 20-year-old daughter Katie, I never imagined I would one day accept the responsibility of leading the Victims of Immigration Crime Engagement (VOICE) Office.

The kind of case that VOICE exists to address

But sometimes responsibility finds you.

Katie was killed in Illinois in a tragedy that should never have happened. She was a college student visiting friends when an intoxicated driver traveling nearly 80 miles per hour crashed into the vehicle in which she was a passenger. Katie and another young woman were killed. Three others were seriously injured.

The loss is something I will carry for the rest of my life.

But after Katie’s death, I confronted another kind of pain: the realization that when something terrible happens, it is often easier for leaders to focus on the final act than examine everything that came before it.

In Katie’s case, the DUI became the explanation.

Of course the driver was responsible for choosing to drive intoxicated. That responsibility is undeniable. But a DUI can explain the crash without explaining the failure. I could not stop asking the harder questions.

How did he get here? How was he able to remain here? How did he obtain an Illinois driver’s license? What guardrails were in place? Were there opportunities to identify risks or prevent what happened? And did government policies and systems contribute to the conditions surrounding this tragedy?

Those are not questions born of hatred or intolerance. They are questions of governance, and whether government is telling the truth to the people it serves.

A second-generation American

I am the child of legal immigrants. My family came to this country the right way because we believed the rules mattered. I believe in immigration and in the opportunity this country offers to people willing to follow its laws and become part of the American story.

What I do not believe in is telling Americans one thing while government does another. We deserve honesty about whether our borders are secure, whether people entering the country are properly vetted and screened, whether immigration laws are enforced, and whether the systems responsible for protecting the public are functioning.

Immigration done the right way is not the problem. The problem is a government that asks people to trust it while withholding the truth about what is happening. For too long, Americans who raised legitimate concerns about border security, vetting, immigration enforcement, and public safety were dismissed rather than heard. Asking whether government has adequate guardrails to protect the public is not extremism. It is responsible citizenship.

That is what I needed from the leaders I turned to after Katie’s death.

Too often, I found complete indifference, total silence, and an apparent determination to protect the narrative rather than confront the facts. And in Illinois, something else became impossible to ignore: the apparent belief among too many leaders that they simply do not have to answer to the people they represent.

The arrogance is staggering.

Where does such arrogance come from?

What explains that kind of political insulation? Is it inherited wealth? The power of political organizations and ballot operations? Has Chicago machine politics become so entrenched that it now effectively dominates the entire state?

Whatever the combination, the result is the same: Too many Illinois leaders appear to believe political power insulates them from accountability. And that cannot be healthy for a democracy.

Leaders should not dismiss legitimate questions from grieving families because they are politically inconvenient. They should not remain silent because acknowledging facts might disrupt a preferred narrative. Accountability is not partisan. It is a basic obligation of leadership.

Katie was killed on Jan. 19, 2025, at the very end of the Biden administration. At that time, the VOICE Office had already been shut down. I have often asked myself: Why? Why would an administration eliminate an office created to engage with victims of crimes committed by illegal immigrants? Why would the voices of these families be considered unnecessary?

I cannot speak to every reason behind that decision. But I can speak to what it communicated to families like mine: Their experiences could be pushed to the margins.

President Trump made a different choice. On his first day back in office, he restored the VOICE Office. That sent a fundamentally different message: These victims matter. Their families matter. Their experiences deserve to be heard.

That difference is not simply about two presidents or two political parties. It is about what government chooses to see.

Recognition matters

For families like mine, that recognition matters. When a crime is committed by someone who should never have been allowed to enter the country, should not have been permitted to remain, or should have been removed, families can carry an additional burden: not only the devastation of the crime, but the knowledge that government decisions or failures may have helped create the circumstances in which it occurred.

That is why an office dedicated to helping these families is necessary. And it’s why I accepted the responsibility to lead VOICE.

A role in government was never part of the path I envisioned. Katie’s death changed the direction of my life. For months, I stood outside the system asking questions I believed government had a responsibility to answer. Eventually, I realized that asking those questions from the outside was not enough. When the opportunity came to lead VOICE, I knew I could either keep asking for change or accept the responsibility to help make it happen.

I accepted it.

VOICE exists because victims deserve to be seen.

That does not mean other victims matter less. Every victim of crime deserves compassion, support, and justice. My experience has simply given me a particular understanding of what happens when a family feels forgotten, and a determination to make sure other families do not experience that same sense of abandonment.

Giving them a VOICE

Leading VOICE will not undo what happened to Katie. Nothing can. But I can take what happened to Katie and use it to serve others. I can listen to families living the nightmare I know too well. I can help ensure victims understand available resources and have a voice in a system that can otherwise feel overwhelming and impersonal.

And I can ask difficult questions.

Questions about whether the guardrails worked. Whether information was shared. Whether government agencies did what they were supposed to do. Whether policies protected the public. And when they did not, why.

That is not about vengeance. It is about responsibility.

I will never stop grieving Katie. I will never stop wishing she were still here. But I can honor her life by making sure other families know that their loved ones matter, their suffering matters, and their voices matter.

I accepted this responsibility because I know what it means to feel forgotten.

I cannot change what happened to Katie. But I can make sure that when victims come looking for answers, they find an office willing to listen, willing to ask difficult questions, and unwilling to forget why it exists.

Victims deserve to be heard.

That is why I am here.

This article was originally published by RealClearPolitics and made available via RealClearWire.