Questions for the Governor on Sanctuary Policies
I’ve lived in Illinois all my life, and I’ve tried to do everything right—be law-abiding, productive. I feel like I’ve upheld my end of the social contract. But then, I find myself facing a bargain that feels unjust. I want the governor to understand that we still have a long way to go in these negotiations.
Recently, I wrote to Gov. J.B. Pritzker with some straightforward questions about his sanctuary policies, which, as I see it, protect individuals who caused harm to my family. I asked for answers by January 19, 2026—the first anniversary of my daughter Katie’s death—but I haven’t received a response.
The grief my family has endured since Katie’s passing is beyond words. It’s overwhelming, really. Sometimes the pain is so intense that I feel paralyzed. I won’t get to walk her down the aisle or see her children. If I could have just one more hour with her, I would give anything for that.
Seeking Answers
My inquiries to the governor weren’t about ideology; they were based in facts and concerned public safety. Three questions particularly stand out to me.
First, during a federal court case on November 23, 2025, it was revealed that Julio Cucurbor is receiving treatment for HIV through the Illinois Department of Corrections. What health screening measures were in place when he entered Illinois?
Second, it emerged that Mr. Cucurbor, originally from Guatemala, had used a fake name and claimed to be Mexican. Why was this known alias allowed to go unchecked within our community?
Lastly, how did he manage to obtain an Illinois driver’s license if he was illiterate and couldn’t read or write? That’s a pretty big red flag, isn’t it?
Looking for Justice
These questions deserve clarification. Governor Pritzker was elected to represent me and my family, yet he has chosen silence. Instead of engaging with my concerns, his office deflected by mentioning unrelated DUI incidents linked to Katie’s story, as if those details somehow mitigate the situation. They don’t.
Drinking and driving is serious, but it doesn’t erase responsibility. If someone gets killed by an illegal immigrant, their status shouldn’t be ignored. The governor seems to want these questions to go away. I don’t.
On January 19, 2025, my daughter Katie was killed in Urbana. She was just 20—full of life and promise—when she was hit by Cucurbor, who was driving under the influence at high speed. This incident was the result of a flawed system that failed to enforce immigration laws properly.
Although the driver fled, he was later caught and sentenced to 30 years for his actions. Some view this as justice; I see it differently. If we break it down, Katie’s life is valued at about ten years. Given Illinois is a sanctuary state, I worry he won’t serve even that.
Governor Pritzker often says immigration is a federal issue. Still, he has effectively nullified federal policies, inviting countless undocumented individuals without proper checks on their background or health. This creates serious risks to public safety.
Katie wasn’t just a statistic; she was bright, kind, and loved deeply. Her future was stripped away not solely by an individual’s poor choices but by a political decision that prioritized ideology over human lives.
Cucurbor certainly made terrible choices, but transit policies have created an environment where individuals like him can operate without enough scrutiny, which creates a ticking time bomb for our safety.
This past year has been the hardest of our lives. Every holiday, every “first” without Katie—March 28 would have been her 21st birthday—feels like a fresh wound. Her life was vibrant, and yet it was taken away by policies that, in my eyes, chose ideology over protecting citizens.
Governor Pritzker has not acknowledged Katie’s death—not a call, not a letter—just silence. And silence is telling. For families like mine, this silence isn’t neutral; it’s a clear choice. It speaks volumes.
