Most people who come to this country without authorization are not violent criminals. Many are working to support themselves and their families. That does not excuse breaking immigration law. And it should never require us to look away when someone here unlawfully commits a horrific crime.
The victims deserve to be remembered by name.
In 2007, three Delaware State University students—Iofemi Hightower, Dashon Harvey and Terrance Aeriel—were murdered in a Newark schoolyard. A fourth student, Natasha Aeriel, survived after being shot and assaulted. One of the defendants, Jose Carranza, was an undocumented immigrant who was out on bail in another case when the attack happened.
There was Min Chang, an 18-year-old freshman at UNC Charlotte, killed by a drunk driver who had entered the country unlawfully and had a prior DWI conviction. There was Matthew Denice, a 23-year-old Massachusetts motorcyclist killed when an undocumented driver, drunk and driving without a license, struck him and dragged him beneath his truck.
There was Sarah Root, a 21-year-old Nebraska woman killed in a crash involving Eswin Mejia, who was charged with vehicular homicide, released on bond and fled the country. In 2025, he was extradited from Honduras to face those charges.
There was Laken Riley, a 22-year-old nursing student murdered while out for a run at the University of Georgia. Jose Ibarra was convicted of her murder and sentenced to life in prison. And there was Rachel Morin, a 37-year-old mother of five, raped and murdered on a Maryland hiking trail. Victor Martinez-Hernandez was convicted and sentenced to life without parole.
And there was Sheridan Gorman, an 18-year-old from Yorktown Heights and a Loyola University Chicago freshman. She was walking with friends near campus when she was fatally shot. Jose Medina has been charged with first-degree murder; the Department of Homeland Security says he is an undocumented immigrant from Venezuela.
In the Bronx, Claretha LaQuesha Daniels and Justin Lawless were killed in a 2024 shooting. Four members of Tren de Aragua later pleaded guilty to their murders.
Every one of these names belongs to a family whose life was changed forever. These cases do not prove that immigrants as a group are dangerous, and they cannot tell us how often undocumented immigrants commit crimes. They do show why enforcement failures matter: when people who have been deported, arrested or convicted are allowed to remain or return without consequence, the results can be devastating.
We should also be precise about crime statistics. The government does not have one complete national accounting of crimes categorized by an offender’s immigration status. A recent Government Accountability Office report describes gaps in the available incarceration data, including limits in what state and local jurisdictions report. Sweeping claims about comparative crime rates require evidence the country does not consistently collect.
But uncertainty about national numbers does not erase individual cases—or excuse officials who fail to enforce the law. We can recognize that most immigrants are not violent criminals while still insisting that immigration laws mean something, that serious offenders are not released or allowed to return without consequence, and that grieving families are not dismissed as political props.
I welcome legal immigration. Our country has been strengthened by generations of people who came here, followed the process and built lives for their families. But a nation of laws must enforce its laws fairly and consistently. Calling every demand for enforcement “racist” or “xenophobic” shuts down debate; it does nothing for public safety or for the victims’ families.
Remember their names. Then ask the government to do its job.
