Agnes Gibboney's son Ronald da Silva was 29 years old, a father of two, when an illegal immigrant gang member shot him in his own driveway. That was 2002. More than two decades later, California lawmakers want to spend public money putting lawyers next to people in the country illegally who face deportation, and Gibboney has had enough.
The bill, introduced in February by Democratic Assembly member Mia Bonta, would create a framework to provide taxpayer-funded attorneys to adults in immigration court regardless of legal status. Priority would go to those held in detention. It has already cleared two Assembly policy committees and now sits before the Assembly Appropriations Committee, Fox News Digital reported.
Gibboney, a legal immigrant herself, directed her sharpest criticism at Gov. Gavin Newsom and the Democratic majority in Sacramento. She called the proposal the latest example of a state government that prioritizes illegal immigrants over citizens, veterans, and schoolchildren, all while California groans under what she described as hundreds of billions of dollars in debt.
Gibboney told Fox News Digital she was "outraged" by the legislation. Her anger runs deeper than policy disagreement. Ronald da Silva was her firstborn and only son. His children were eight and ten when he was killed.
"My son was murdered. Not one politician has ever contacted me. Not one politician said, 'I'm so sorry that this previously deported criminal [illegal alien] shot and killed your son.' Not one of them."
No Sacramento official, she said, has ever acknowledged her loss. She contrasted the silence toward families like hers with the political energy now being spent to shield illegal immigrants from the consequences of deportation proceedings.
"Ronald was my firstborn and only son. He was 29 years old, a father of two. They were 8 and 10. The media usually doesn't talk about that kind of family separations, six feet of dirt in a coffin. But they talk about the ones that are deported to their country, where they can go back and visit and be reunited. I can never be reunited with my son."
That distinction, permanent separation by murder versus temporary separation by lawful deportation, is one the bill's supporters never address. Gibboney pressed the point further, warning that the threat is not abstract.
"Yesterday it was my son that was shot by a previously deported criminal illegal alien. Tomorrow it could be your child."
Bonta, who represents the Oakland area, framed her legislation as a matter of due process. In a statement, she argued that thousands of California residents face immigration proceedings "in a second language, without an attorney or a fair shot."
"Every person deserves their day in court, with a lawyer by their side. In California, thousands of our neighbors are being swept into one of the most complex legal systems in the country, often in a second language, without an attorney or a fair shot."
Bonta's office said in a March statement that the new measure "builds on" her earlier bill, which expanded access to counsel for unaccompanied minors and other young immigrants in removal proceedings. Newsom signed that earlier bill last year.
Abraham Bedoy, manager of California policy and government affairs for the Immigrant Legal Resource Center, praised the proposal in a separate March statement. He called it "another important step in our state's strong trajectory towards universal legal representation."
Bedoy argued that "increasing immigrant legal defense is critical to address the mass deportations, unprecedented numbers of people held in detention, and indiscriminate arrests devastating families, communities, and our economy across our state." The group American Border Story, which advocates for families of victims of migrant crime, condemned the measure earlier this month.
Newsom has not signaled whether he would sign the bill into law. He has, however, already signed legislation creating and expanding a state-funded legal aid program for unaccompanied immigrant children in deportation proceedings. The trajectory is clear, even if the governor's office has stayed quiet on this particular measure.
Gibboney was blunt about what she sees as Newsom's priorities. She said she has sent the governor "many, many emails" and received nothing in return.
"Newsom doesn't care about citizens of this country, about legal immigrants like myself. He cares about free votes from illegal aliens."
The governor, who delivered his State of the State address on January 8, 2026, in Sacramento, has faced mounting criticism over his time in office. Travel records have shown him spending 229 days outside California since 2023, drawing accusations that he has been disengaged from the state's problems.
Gibboney painted a picture of a state in decline. She pointed to California's tax burden, cost of living, and homelessness crisis.
"We have the highest tax in the entire country, we have the highest cost of living, the most homeless. We are number one on everything, and nothing number one in good things, it's always on the bad things."
She also challenged the state's fiscal capacity to take on new spending. "California is about three to 400 billion, with a 'B,' dollars in debt," she said. "How is that possible? How much more can you milk us citizens?"
The bill's structure would provide attorneys to adults in immigration court regardless of their legal status. While existing California policy suggests some immigrants with certain criminal histories could be excluded or deprioritized under any expanded program, the bill's text and its specific exclusions remain unclear from available legislative summaries. The formal bill number has not been widely publicized in coverage so far.
Gibboney urged the state to redirect the money. "Use it for our education, which is failing... Use it for the [veterans] for better healthcare and for the seniors for better healthcare," she said. She added that Newsom should "recall his oath of office is to serve us, the public, we the people, not those that broke into our country and came here illegally."
She described a pattern in which California taxpayers absorb ever-increasing costs while services for citizens deteriorate. "We taxpayers keep paying more and more each year for [taxes] just so our government, actually Gavin Newsom, can hand it out and squander our tax dollars and give it to illegal aliens," she said, adding that "everything has gotten worse."
Newsom, who has publicly discussed a possible 2028 presidential run, now faces a choice on this bill that will define how he is seen by California's taxpayers, and by the rest of the country watching Sacramento's priorities.
His memoir tour has already shown signs of weakening public interest, with reports that he couldn't fill a 750-seat auditorium in South Carolina. Whether that softness follows him into a national campaign may depend on decisions exactly like this one.
Gibboney urged Californians to "stop this insanity" and hold their elected officials accountable. She asked the state to "use that money appropriately", a request that should not require courage, but in Sacramento apparently does.
The bill remains under review in the Assembly Appropriations Committee. Its path forward depends on whether enough lawmakers are willing to vote for a measure that asks taxpayers to fund legal defense for people who entered the country in violation of federal law, at a time when the state's own finances are under severe strain.
Newsom has not responded publicly to Gibboney or to the broader criticism. His office's silence is itself a kind of answer. The governor who has lashed out at reporters over far less consequential questions has found nothing to say to a mother whose son was killed by a previously deported illegal immigrant.
California already moved to limit state-funded legal aid in certain immigration cases, particularly for individuals with serious or violent felony convictions. But the new bill's expansion signals that Sacramento's appetite for spending on illegal immigrants has not been curbed by fiscal reality or public frustration.
Bonta called the bill "California's chance to stand up for our values." Agnes Gibboney might ask: whose values, exactly? Not the values of a legal immigrant who buried her son. Not the values of taxpayers watching their state sink deeper into debt. And not the values of the eight- and ten-year-old children who grew up without a father because the system failed to keep a deported criminal out of the country.
When a government spends more energy defending those who broke the law than comforting those who paid the price, the priorities aren't confused. They're chosen.
