That makes cooperation between federal, state, and local law enforcement more than a political talking point. It is a practical question of governance. When agencies have different authorities but share responsibility for protecting the public, how they work together matters.
Section 287(g) of the Immigration and Nationality Act provides one mechanism for doing exactly that. Created more than 30 years ago, the program allows participating state and local law enforcement agencies to enter voluntary agreements with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement to perform limited immigration enforcement functions under federal supervision.
A program that has existed for decades should not be beyond examination simply because it is longstanding. But neither should legitimate questions about its implementation become an argument for abandoning the underlying concept of cooperation.
There are reasonable questions to ask about 287(g).
Are officers properly trained? Are their authorities clearly defined? Is there sufficient federal supervision? Are agreements transparent? Are complaints investigated appropriately? Are there meaningful audits and mechanisms to hold officers and agencies accountable when rules are violated?
Those questions deserve serious answers.
And there is nothing inconsistent about asking them while also recognizing the potential value of the program. If training needs improvement, improve the training. If oversight needs strengthening, strengthen oversight. If authority needs clarification, clarify it. If an officer violates the rules, hold that officer accountable.
The existence of a problem within a program does not necessarily answer whether the underlying function of that program is necessary.
In fact, the structure of 287(g) itself recognizes that cooperation requires boundaries. Participating officers receive training and certification and exercise limited authority under ICE supervision. The program also provides mechanisms for management controls, oversight and monitoring.
That is an important distinction. The question should not simply be whether government can cooperate. It should be whether government can cooperate lawfully, transparently and accountably.
Illinois presents a particularly important case study.
Illinois law prohibits state and local law enforcement agencies from entering into 287(g) agreements and places significant restrictions on cooperation with federal civil immigration enforcement. At the same time, Illinois law preserves cooperation with federal and other law-enforcement agencies in criminal investigations conducted to ensure public safety.
That distinction matters.
It means Illinois is not saying government agencies should never cooperate. It is drawing a line around the circumstances in which that cooperation may occur.
SB4196, introduced by Senator Chapin Rose in April 2026, asks whether portions of that line should be reconsidered. Among other provisions, the legislation would address cooperation when a state or local law enforcement agency is presented with a valid, enforceable federal warrant and would expressly protect communication between federal and state or local law enforcement.
That debate deserves more than slogans from either side.
Because accountability has to run in both directions.
We should hold government accountable for what it does. But we should also be willing to examine the consequences of what government chooses not to do.
If an officer misuses delegated authority, that matters.
If a government agency fails to provide adequate safeguards, that matters.
But if government restricts cooperation between agencies, the consequences of that decision matter too.
Who bears those consequences?
Who carries the risk?
And who is accountable when decisions made inside government offices eventually affect people who had no role in making them?
I know what those questions look like from the other side of a policy debate.
My daughter Katie was 20 years old when her life ended on the streets of sanctuary Urbana, Illinois.
She was sitting in the back seat with four friends in the vehicle, stopped at a red light, when an intoxicated illegal alien slammed into their vehicle at nearly 80 miles per hour. He was a Guatemalan national who had previously been deported, illegally reentered the country, and was using an alias and falsified documents. After the crash, he fled the scene, leaving two young women dead and three others seriously injured.
Katie never gets to participate in the policy debates that followed. She never gets to tell us what her life would have become. She is not in a courtroom arguing her case, a detention center demanding to be heard, or a government office asking policymakers to consider her perspective.
Katie is in a grave.
Her family is the one left to live with the consequences.
That does not mean I can honestly claim that a 287(g) agreement would have prevented Katie's death. I cannot.
It does mean her story reminds us that public policy is never merely theoretical. Decisions about enforcement, cooperation and public safety eventually reach real people and real families.
That should demand a higher standard from everyone involved.
The appropriate question about 287(g) is therefore not whether the program is perfect. No government program is.
The question is whether the concerns surrounding it can be addressed through better training, clearer authority, stronger oversight, greater transparency and meaningful accountability while preserving the legitimate benefits of lawful cooperation.
That is a question worth answering honestly.
We should be capable of doing both: scrutinizing government power when it is exercised improperly and scrutinizing the consequences when government cooperation is restricted.
Public safety deserves neither blind faith nor reflexive opposition.
It deserves responsible government.