In February of 2026, “Angel Dad” Steve Ronnebeck declared that every American death at the hands of an “illegal alien” is preventable – if only migrants were kept out of the country. What’s at stake when a brutal, yet exceptional murder becomes central to national discussions around migration?

This year, President Donald Trump declared February 22nd as “National Angel Family Day”, in his words, a day to “remember and honor the thousands of American lives stolen from us by criminal illegal aliens and the deadly drugs they bring across our borders.” The event was celebrated with a ceremony at the White House attended by so-called “angel families” – a term popularized by Trump’s administration for families of Americans killed by undocumented immigrants. 

“Angel Dad” Steve Ronnebeck gave a speech; he declared that every American death at the hands of an “illegal alien” is preventable – if only migrants were kept out of the country. 

In January of 2015, Steve Ronnebeck’s son, Grant, was murdered by a man named Apolinar Altamirano at a QuickTrip convenience store in Mesa, Arizona. Originally from Mexico, at the time of the murder Altamirano had been living undocumented in the United States for over 20 years, and was awaiting deportation for a prior offense. In 2022, he pleaded guilty to the murder and was sentenced to 38 years in prison, where he died a few years later. 

What’s at stake when a brutal yet exceptional murder like Grant’s becomes central to national discussions around immigration policy?

“Angel Families” is a term grounded in real loss, transmuted into a cynical strategy: turning isolated tragedies into a logic of fear, constructing migrants as inherent threats, and making border restriction and exclusion not only reasonable but inevitable. 

This framework relies heavily on biased and distorted language, which is visible not only in Trump’s proclamation, but also in a lot of right-wing media’s coverage of these crimes. Grief is universal, and any mourning family deserves recognition as such. But the dynamic shifts when a label such as “Angel” is applied to certain victims, painted as paragons of purity and innocence.  A biblical struggle between good and evil is posited. For angels to exist, there must also be demons: in this case, that’s the “illegal aliens”. 

“Brutally attacked and murdered by savage illegal aliens” were Trump’s words on February 22nd. “Alien” implies foreignness in an almost biological sense; it strips away familiarity, relatability, and most importantly, humanity. The language constructs a rigid moral divide between victim and “alien”, and between good and evil. The crime is no longer about Grant Ronnebeck’s murder by Apolinar Altamirano; it becomes a story of an “illegal alien” killing an angelic American. Individuality disappears, as do any circumstances that might complicate the act, turning one man into a generalized image of the migrant as inherently criminal and prone to violence. 

There is no nationwide data on crimes committed specifically by undocumented immigrants,  but research shows they do not commit crimes at a higher rate than U.S.-born Americans.  Data from 2010-2024 shows illegal immigrant incarceration rates were consistently 31% to 56% lower than those of native born Americans. Research also consistently indicates that immigrants, including both legal and undocumented, are incarcerated at significantly lower rates than U.S.-born citizens, with recent data showing the gap widening.

Young men from El Salvador and Guatemala without a high school diploma, a demographic often targeted by Trump’s anti-immigrant vitriol, were incarcerated at a rate of 1.7 percent, versus 10.7 percent for U.S.-born men who did not finish high school. Nevertheless, the heightened focus distorts public perceptions of risk, making the general public believe that this is a usual occurrence. This manufactured logic of fear ultimately results in people being more supportive of harsher immigration policies. 

The Laken Riley Act, passed with bipartisan support in 2025, is a prime example. Named after an American student killed in 2024 by a Venezuelan man who had entered the country without authorization, the law allows for the indefinite Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention of undocumented immigrants charged, but not even convicted, of crimes, including low-level theft.

White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt said that the Laken Riley Act was signed into law to “prevent these senseless tragedies from happening again and to keep innocent American citizens safe.” 

Little wonder, then, that the right-wing media ecosystem fixates on “Angel Families”. In late March, Fox News reported on the “angel parents” of Sheridan Gorman, an 18-year-old college student who was allegedly killed in Illinois by a Venezuelan national. Gorman’s parents called her death“preventable”, squarely blaming Illinois’s immigration laws for not being harsh enough. But while the Trump administration claims to be targeting “the worst of the worst”, the data suggests a very different reality. A February 2026 analysis reported that 73.6% of individuals arrested by ICE had no criminal conviction. For the minority of detainees with criminal records, the most common offenses often included non-violent offenses such as traffic violations (including DUIs). According to data obtained by the Cato Institute, violent offenders like murderers, rapists, and child molesters were less than 7% of ICE book-ins. 

The discourse on “Angel Families” uses personal grief as a persuasive political tool. This is evident when the President invites grieving families to the White House not to speak on their loved one’s death, but to thank him for keeping criminals out of the country. Although worthy of compassion, these individuals are hardly immigration policy experts and should not be positioned as such. When grief is converted into political authority, it makes it appear cruel or insensitive to speak against it, automatically shutting down any possibility for an informed debate on the issues at stake. 

The “angel families” rhetoric is reductive and predisposed, and it uses grief to propel the idea that these murderers are a matter of immigration alone. Constructing migrants as aliens and adversaries, as well as supporting a mentality of “Us vs Them” makes exclusion the only possible solution for a frightened population. This narrative is what allows for the inhumane immigration policies that we have witnessed in this country in the past year. Ultimately, when grief is weaponized, it distorts the reality of violence and legitimizes policy rooted less in justice than in orchestrated fear.