Sanctuary Policies: A Compassion That Costs Lives

When Compassion Becomes Tragedy

I've spent years covering the human dimensions of public policy, but few stories have left me more shaken than that of Patricia Fox and her daughter Carissa Aspnes. The moment I first heard Patricia's testimony before Congress, I felt a familiar weight—not just in the facts she presented, but in what they revealed about our collective values.

Carissa was just 22 years old, celebrating a fresh start after returning home from Chicago to begin her career as an esthetician. She had planned to mark her birthday by riding a motorcycle with friends—a moment that should have been joyful. Instead, she was struck by an illegal immigrant from Venezuela who ran a stop sign and fled the scene without checking if Carissa was alive.

"My daughter, Carissa, was hit on March 28, 2025, by an illegal alien," Patricia told the House Judiciary Committee. "She was launched head first into a concrete barrier. The driver and passengers of the vehicle fled. Never checking to see if my daughter was alive."

The medical team did everything they could. Carissa survived, but not in the way we imagine survival. After emergency surgery to remove part of her skull due to brain swelling, she is now minimally conscious, nonverbal, wheelchair-bound, and fed through a G-tube.

The Cost of Sanctuary

Sanctuary cities and states are often described as the most compassionate actions our communities can take. Yet this narrative overlooks the true cost of such policies—particularly when they prioritize legal status over public safety.

In Carissa's case, Colorado Medicaid denied her in-home nursing care—a fundamental necessity for someone like her. Patricia had to become her daughter's full-time caretaker, learning how to read pain in a body that can no longer speak. The financial burden has already reached seven figures, with medical bills and ongoing therapy costs mounting relentlessly.

But what really struck me was not just the physical toll, but the emotional one. Patricia's 19-year-old daughter is now preparing for a future she never imagined—a future where she might have to assume Carissa's care. It's a heartbreaking shift in perspective that shouldn't happen to any family.

A Legal Failure of Justice

Justice, too, failed Carissa and her family. Prosecutors dropped every charge against the driver except one reduced Class 5 felony. The perpetrator was ordered to pay $15,000 in restitution—but only for the motorcycle. For Carissa's brain injury, her wheelchair, her feeding tube, and the shattered future of a family, there was nothing.

"A motorcycle received more justice than my daughter," Patricia said, her voice raw with grief. The case is emblematic of broader systemic failures: the lack of enforcement, the absence of consequences, and the way public resources are allocated in ways that benefit those who have broken the law while leaving citizens like Carissa behind.

And then there's the broader context. Colorado has projected $127 million from its General Fund for a program called Cover All Coloradans, which provides healthcare to people without qualifying immigration status. That is a statement of priorities: money for coverage regardless of legal status, while a citizen who was maimed by someone with no legal right to be driving fights her own state's Medicaid program for basic nursing care.

The Hidden Body Count

This story isn't unique. Patricia Fox joins other Angel Families who have experienced similar tragedies under sanctuary policies. Mary Ann Mendoza spent over a decade fighting the same fight after an illegal immigrant, driving three times over the legal limit, killed her son, Police Sgt. Brandon Mendoza. Joe Abraham buried his daughter Katie after a previously deported illegal immigrant struck her car at nearly 80 mph and fled the scene.

Roughly 19 states and Washington, D.C., now allow people to obtain driver's licenses regardless of immigration status—sometimes without requiring English proficiency or even basic road safety knowledge. These aren't compassionate gestures—they are public safety failures with a body count.

Our Responsibility as Citizens

I started the Caldwell Institute for Public Safety and the Caldwell Foundation for Public Safety because I believe that the safety of American citizens must come before politics, no matter which side of the aisle it sits on. That belief was reinforced in Carissa's case: her family did everything right. They followed the law, raised their children to do the same, and still lost someone they loved.

Every family in this piece did everything right. They followed the law, raised their children to do the same and still buried them or, in Patricia's case, watched a daughter's future disappear in an instant.

Until we stop calling that compassion, more families will learn the same lesson the hard way.