My daughter, Katie, was just 20 years old, a college student with a vibrant future, dreams, plans, and many friends. On January 19, 2025, while visiting companions in Urbana, Illinois, she was a passenger in the back seat of a vehicle stopped at a red light. An intoxicated driver, traveling at nearly 80 miles per hour, collided with their car. Katie and another young woman tragically lost their lives, and three other individuals sustained severe injuries.
Every parent who endures the loss of a child grapples with the profound question of why.
Over the past year, I have dedicated countless hours not only to examining the actions of the individual responsible for the crash but also to scrutinizing the policies and institutions that created the environment enabling such a catastrophe. What I uncovered extends beyond the failure of one person; it reveals a pervasive failure of accountability.
Even more concerning, this reflects a broader pattern in American governance: the inclination to prioritize abstract systems, ideological frameworks, and political objectives over the inherent value of individual human beings.
The Warnings of Economic Thinkers
The significant political discussions of the 20th century were never solely about economic principles. They fundamentally concerned power: the extent to which government should wield it, how much authority should be concentrated in the hands of political leaders, and the repercussions when those leaders believe they know what is best for everyone else.
Economists are often perceived as dispassionate, clinical figures who reduce human existence to data, graphs, and calculations. However, some of the most profound and deeply human admonitions about the hazards of concentrated power originated from economists who deeply understood that freedom, dignity, and human flourishing are inextricably linked to individual liberty.
Friedrich Hayek, Milton Friedman, and Thomas Sowell were not merely advocating for free markets. They were defending the individual against the tendency of institutions and governments to subjugate human beings to political visions, collective aspirations, and centralized authority.
Hayek dedicated much of his life to cautioning against this particular danger. His concern was not simply that some leaders might misuse power. Instead, he argued that systems built upon concentrated authority inherently create incentives that attract those most eager to exercise it. In his seminal work, The Road to Serfdom, Hayek explored what he termed the problem of “why the worst get on top.” His contention was not that every public servant is corrupt, but rather that systems demanding extensive control often reward individuals most willing to impose their will on others.
History has repeatedly confirmed that his apprehensions were not merely theoretical.
The 20th century provided numerous examples of governments claiming to act for the collective good while simultaneously undermining the dignity and freedom of individuals. Time and again, political leaders promised equality, security, or social justice, and time and again, ordinary citizens bore the ultimate cost.
Milton Friedman grasped this same fundamental principle. He famously warned that “concentrated power is not rendered harmless by the good intentions of those who create it.”
This insight holds significant weight because political movements are frequently evaluated based on their stated intentions rather than their actual outcomes. While noble aspirations can be inspired by good intentions, they cannot eradicate the adverse consequences of poorly conceived policies.
When leaders refuse to acknowledge these consequences, the critical element of accountability vanishes.
The Disappearance of Accountability
This absence of accountability has been the most striking observation for me since Katie’s passing.
Many politicians who championed policies that reduced collaboration with federal immigration authorities, weakened public safety safeguards, or prioritized ideological commitments over community protection have shown little inclination to examine whether these policies contributed to preventable tragedies.
Instead, the discourse often shifts away from the victims and toward a defense of the system itself.
The central question becomes how to preserve a particular political narrative rather than how to prevent another family from enduring a similar, devastating loss.
Sowell spent decades highlighting this tendency. He famously observed that there are no ultimate solutions, only tradeoffs. His broader point was that every policy carries consequences, every decision incurs costs, and true wisdom demands an honest reckoning with both.
However, contemporary politics increasingly treats certain policies as morally sacrosanct. To challenge them is often deemed insensitive, and to discuss their inherent costs is frequently perceived as disloyal.
The unfortunate outcome is that real people become invisible.
Katie is reduced to a statistic.
Families are dismissed as mere anecdotes.
Victims become inconvenient reminders that public policy decisions have tangible, human consequences.
This is not compassion.
Reclaiming Compassion and Individual Worth
True compassion begins with recognizing the intrinsic value of every individual life. It necessitates acknowledging when policies fail. It requires admitting mistakes. And it demands leaders who prioritize truth over protecting their own reputations or preserving favored political narratives.
The fundamental lesson of the 20th century is not simply that some socialist leaders were corrupt or cruel. It is that systems requiring the concentration of economic and political power inevitably attract and empower those most willing to employ force, coercion, and compulsion. The tragedy is not merely inadequate leadership; it is that the very structure creates incentives that elevate rulers while diminishing the freedom and dignity of ordinary citizens.
Equally troubling, such systems often reshape how society perceives the individual. When the collective is elevated as the supreme good, individual lives are increasingly measured against larger political objectives. Human beings are no longer valued primarily for who they are, but for how their circumstances fit within a preferred narrative.
This explains why societies structured around collective outcomes frequently struggle to honestly confront the human toll of their policies. Admitting these costs can threaten the entire political project. Victims are then deemed unfortunate exceptions. Losses become regrettable but necessary tradeoffs. Human suffering is rationalized rather than genuinely addressed.
This is precisely why Katie’s story holds such importance.
Not because her death serves to prove a political ideology, but because the societal response to it reveals a deeper moral inquiry: Are we prepared to pause and fully account for the life of a single young woman when doing so compels us to confront uncomfortable truths about the policies we endorse?
Katie was not a statistic.
She was not a tradeoff.
She was not collateral damage in the service of any political objective.
She was a daughter, a student, a friend, and a human being whose life possessed inherent worth and dignity.
A truly free society, worthy of its name, begins with that fundamental recognition. Not with the collective. Not with the state. Not with political narratives.
It begins with the individual human being.
The 20th century demonstrated what happens when societies elevate systems above people, power above principle, and collective objectives above individual dignity. Katie’s story serves as a poignant reminder that the price is never paid by abstract concepts. It is paid by real people, real families, and real futures that can never be restored.
Because when a society loses sight of the value of one life, it eventually loses sight of the value of all lives.
