Good morning and thank you for inviting me to testify today.  This Committee convened this hearing on the critical topic of immigration.  I want to share Denver’s story.

When I became Mayor 20 months ago, Denver was already receiving buses of immigrants with little-to-no notice or coordination. At one point we were receiving ten to eleven buses a day, dropping off as many as 300 people, mostly women and children, in 10-degree weather with only sandals and a t-shirt, leaving them in danger of freezing to death. All told, 42,000 people arrived over 18 months–the largest per capita influx of any city in America. We are each entitled to our own opinion about what should or shouldn’t be done at the border. That was not the question Denver faced: the question Denver faced was what will you do with a mom and two kids dropped on the streets of our city with no warm clothes, no food, and no place to stay.  

As Mayor, I have to protect the health and safety of everyone in our city. As a man of faith, I have a moral obligation to care for those in need. As scripture says in The Book of Matthew 25:35:  “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.”  

So that’s what we did.  In Denver, we believe our problems are solvable, and we are the ones to solve them. So, we went to work.

When we started, we had the largest encampment in Denver history, with more than 200 migrant families living in freezing temperatures. We opened eight different city shelters housing 5,000 people. City employees volunteered to take extra shifts and Denver residents stepped up — making meals, collecting clothes, donating furniture, and school supplies, and some even welcomed families to live in their homes.

We helped 8,700 eligible individuals pursue work authorization so they could put food on their own table, pay their own rent, and reduce the strain on public resources.

As a result, a year later, there is not a single migrant encampment left in the city. We have closed all of our shelters. We connected people to jobs and housing, and the city’s immigrant support budget has dropped by nearly 90%.

America is not just a place, it is a belief; some people are born into it, some fight their whole life to get to it. It’s a belief that all are created equal. It’s a belief that it doesn’t matter where you come from, if you’re willing to work hard enough.  

Julian Becerra’s parents believed that, so they brought him to this country from Mexico when he was ten. They taught him respect and taught him to love and serve his community.

As an adult, he decided the most honorable way to serve his community was in uniform, so he enlisted in the Air Force, then became a Sheriff and a Police Officer where he served with distinction until he was in a heated foot chase with a criminal on a dangerous bridge and fell to his death.

In the midst of the immigration crisis, I attended the Fallen Officers Memorial and watched our officers hand Officer Becerra’s 10-year-old daughter a folded American flag. I watched her cry as she wrapped her little arms around that flag and squeezed it the way she wished she could wrap her arms around her dad, but never will again.

For the rest of her life, she will cherish that flag, that American flag, because it is the country that her dad loved, it’s the country he chose, it’s the country he served, it’s the country he gave his life for.

If we want to tell the story of what impact immigrants have in America, we must tell the full story. That story must acknowledge that this country is lucky to have people like Julian Becerra who love this country enough to risk their lives to keep us safe, to keep all of us safe.

When buses started showing up filled with migrants, some in my city were afraid. Just like some of your constituents are afraid. They were worried about crime and homelessness and worried about what these new people might take away from them. I understand that fear. And the truth is people who are new to this country do good and bad, like everyone else. But here’s another truth: When the buses kept on coming, Denver made a choice as a city. Not to hate each other, but to help each other. Not to turn on each other, but to turn to each other and see if, together, we could solve a problem that felt bigger than any one of us. And that’s what we did. It wasn’t perfect and it required sacrifice from all of us, but in the end, Denver came out stronger and closer than we were before. Because Americans expect us to do more than point fingers, they expect us to solve problems.

If Denver can find a way to put aside our fear and our ideological differences long enough to manage a crisis we didn’t choose or create, it seems only fair to ask that the body that is actually charged with solving this national problem, this Congress, can finally commit to do the same.