On July 16, 2025, I had the immense honor of visiting the White House to witness President Trump sign the HALT Fentanyl Act. A few days prior, my friend and former Maryland Senator Michael Hough reached out to invite me. Mike is the Co-President of Federal Government Relations at NumbersUSA, a nonpartisan, nonprofit organization. I was honored and deeply moved by the opportunity.

Driving down I-270 toward the capital, my thoughts bounced between the daughter I lost and a man I never met: my great-great-great-grandfather, Levi Pitman. Levi visited President Abraham Lincoln in March 1861, just after Lincoln’s inauguration. According to his diary, Levi stood in the Senate Chamber, met Lincoln in person, and watched the confirmation of Cabinet appointments. A Unionist with anti-slavery views, Levi defied the sentiment of his Southern neighbors and stood firm in his convictions. He even opened his home to care for wounded soldiers, regardless of the side they fought on.

As I circled the Beltway, I imagined Levi’s long, slow journey by horseback or carriage. How different from my 90-minute drive in air-conditioned comfort. But I also considered how similar our missions felt: standing up for what’s right, even when it’s hard.

I met a small group at the historic Willard Hotel. From there, we walked the few blocks to the White House. The sun was intense, and it was 92 degrees. A solemn yet humbling march toward something bigger than all of us.

Once inside, we passed through a maze of security checkpoints and winding hallways before arriving at a side entrance.

The room was filled with dignitaries, including Kristi Noem (Secretary of Homeland Security), Governor Glenn Youngkin (Virginia), and Terry Cole (the President’s nominee to lead the DEA). Numerous senators, governors, and top federal officials were also present.

Shortly after we settled in, President Trump entered the room and took the podium. Behind him stood about 30 guests holding photos of loved ones lost to fentanyl. I wasn’t on stage, but I held a photo of Trinity tightly against my heart.

The President delivered a sincere and powerful speech about the devastating toll fentanyl has taken on families across America. He shared jarring statistics and spoke directly to our pain. He then invited three individuals behind him to tell their personal stories. Their words were heartbreaking. I could barely hold back tears, and I wasn’t alone.

In true form, President Trump also sprinkled in just enough humor to ease the emotional weight in the room. Never diminishing the moment, but giving us all a small breath of air. It was a masterclass in empathy and poise.

Then came the moment: the signing of the HALT Fentanyl Act. The room fell into quiet reverence as he put pen to paper. “Today we strike a righteous blow to the drug dealers, narcotic traffickers, and criminal cartels,” President Trump declared while signing. For a moment, I felt both relief and grief. This was a victory, but it came too late for Trinity.

Although I didn’t get to shake the President’s hand, I stood within ten feet of him, feeling the magnitude of the moment swell within me.

As we exited, I paused to snap a photo in front of the White House’s “Fight Fight Fight” art installation. I raised my fist, fighting, always fighting.

But one of the day’s most memorable moments came after we left. Outside the White House, I met Brigitte Gabriel, bestselling author, TV commentator, and speaker. We spoke at length about Trinity and the fentanyl crisis. She was kind, engaged, and genuinely moved by our conversation. Before we parted, she asked to take a photo with me and Trinity’s picture to share on Instagram.

True to her word, she posted it: www.instagram.com/p/DMMKoLuN9Xj

As I reflect on the experience, I can hear Trinity’s playful voice teasing me:
“So now you think you’re someone special, huh Padre?”

My sweet hija. She was fearless, hilarious, and wild in the most wonderful way. And though she didn’t live to see this moment, her name, her spirit, and her story were in that room. They were in every word I spoke and every tear I shed.

The HALT Fentanyl Act is now law. My hope is that it helps prevent future overdoses and sparks meaningful change in how our country addresses addiction.

Through Trinity’s Children, Inc., Kristine and I are committed to carrying this fight forward. We are advocates, educators, and warriors for families facing addiction and overdose. We will not stop because no parent should have to walk this road alone.

💜💜💜