Members of the Legislature,
This issue is not abstract for me.
My niece was murdered in Westchester County by an illegal alien—someone who had no lawful right to be in this country. That fact is not offered as a slogan, a talking point, or a political weapon. It is the lived reality that informs everything I write here.
I am addressing you because several elected officials—locally and nationally—have chosen to protest Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) as a matter of political expression. You are, of course, entitled to your views. But you are also bound by responsibilities that extend beyond protest signs and soundbites.
Let me be clear about what I am—and am not—arguing.
If my niece had been murdered by a citizen, the loss would be no less devastating. If she had been murdered by a non-citizen who was here legally, the pain would be no different. Murder is murder. Violence is violence. The crime was committed by an individual, and that individual deserved the full weight of the law.
Where I part ways with the current rhetoric is on what should have happened before that crime ever occurred.
The person who murdered my niece was not simply “a criminal.” He was someone who had already demonstrated disregard for the law by remaining in the country unlawfully. That fact matters—not as collective guilt, not as ethnic blame, but as a failure of enforcement and accountability by the state. Acknowledging that failure is not condemning all undocumented immigrants any more than enforcing drunk-driving laws condemns all drivers.
This concern becomes even more serious when we talk about individuals who have been deported multiple times and then return, only to commit horrific crimes. At that point, we are no longer discussing isolated tragedy. We are discussing patterns, repeated system contact, repeated opportunities for intervention, and repeated failures to act. That is not policy abstraction. That is systemic negligence with real human costs.
No one is arguing for collective punishment. No one is arguing against due process. What I am arguing for is the obligation of government to enforce the laws it has chosen to enact—consistently, responsibly, and without ideological selectivity—especially when failure to do so exposes innocent people to foreseeable harm.
Immigration status is not an immutable characteristic. It is a legal condition governed by statute and enforcement. The issue is not who someone is. The issue is whether the law was followed, whether violations were ignored, and what happens when those failures compound.
As victims, and as citizens, we can demand honesty. We can demand seriousness. And we can demand that elected officials understand the full scope of their responsibilities and refuse to reduce this issue to a political soundbite. Due process cannot be treated as something owed exclusively to offenders while victims are asked to accept loss quietly and move on.
No punishment brings a loved one back. I live with that reality every day. But acknowledging preventability is not cruelty—it is responsibility.
I respect the moral language of compassion and forgiveness. But forgiveness is a personal moral act. It belongs to victims. It is not public policy, and it is not a substitute for enforcement. The state has no right to invoke forgiveness in place of protecting the people it serves.
Statistics about “the vast majority” do not console families whose loved ones are dead. Public policy is not designed for averages. It exists to protect against irreversible harm caused by the few—especially when those few have already been identified, removed, and allowed back repeatedly.
It is possible—necessary, even—to hold compassion for migrants, respect due process, and insist that immigration laws be enforced. Those positions are not in conflict.
Refusing to confront that reality is where the real moral failure lies.
Respectfully,
Ed Kowalski
Dutchess County
The Valley Viewpoint 