Screenshot
Philadelphia Assistant District Attorney Foday Turay has lived in the United States for 21 years, yet his immigration status remains in limbo. Born in Sierra Leone during a time of civil unrest, Turay’s journey to becoming a prosecutor, husband, and father has been anything but straightforward. This week, he shared his story before the Senate Judiciary Committee, shedding light on the devastating impact mass deportations could have on families, communities, and the economy.

“I am a DACA recipient, a prosecutor, a husband, and a dad. I am also, without a question, a patriot,” Turay began in his testimony. “I have lived in this country for 21 years, my wife and I have spent the past years building community in this great country, and we are worried about what the future might bring if we are ripped away from these communities.”
Turay was only four years old when his father was killed during Sierra Leone’s civil war. Fleeing with his mother and grandmother to neighboring Guinea, Turay experienced more loss when his grandmother passed away. At age seven, he reunited with his mother in the United States, a place he has called home ever since.

But like many undocumented immigrants, Turay’s reality changed as he approached adulthood. “I learned that I was undocumented when I tried to get a driver’s license,” he said. “It was one of the worst days of my life. The path I had outlined in my head of law school and being an attorney suddenly seemed impossible.”
The introduction of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) in 2012 provided him with a lifeline. With a work permit and a Social Security number, Turay attended college, earning a full merit scholarship to Penn State Dickinson Law, and later joined the District Attorney’s office in Philadelphia.
Turay’s life is deeply intertwined with the fabric of American society. Married to a U.S. citizen, he is a father to an 18-month-old son and a homeowner in Philadelphia. His wife, Jaxhiel, cares for her legally disabled mother, whose survival depends on costly chemotherapy injections.

“If I were to be deported, my wife and our son would likely need to rely on government assistance to make ends meet,” Turay explained. “My young son would also be without a father, which would be devastating for him, Jaxhiel, and me.”
The repercussions extend beyond Turay’s family. As an Assistant District Attorney, his work supports crime victims in navigating the legal system. “Victims of crime whose cases I prosecute would lose an ally in their fight for justice,” he said. “Our work matters not just to immigrants, but to everyone.”

DACA recipients contribute an estimated $6.2 billion in federal taxes and $3.3 billion in state and local taxes annually. Deporting individuals like Turay would strip communities of valuable tax revenue while increasing reliance on social welfare programs by U.S. citizen family members.
On a societal level, Turay highlighted the chilling effect mass deportations have on public safety. “If immigrants are afraid to cooperate with police or prosecutors as victims of – or witnesses to – crime because they are afraid of deportation, we all suffer,” he stated.

Turay’s testimony served as a powerful reminder of the human cost of immigration policies. He urged lawmakers to consider solutions that balance border security with a pathway to citizenship for Dreamers. “While DACA has been a lifeline, I hope for a day when I do not have to live in fear of a Fifth Circuit ruling or an Executive Branch decree,” he said. “We owe it to ourselves and to our country to think beyond a mindset of scarcity and fear.”
As Congress grapples with the future of immigration reform, Turay’s story underscores the stakes for the millions of undocumented individuals who have made the U.S. their home. For Turay, it’s about ensuring that he can continue to serve his family, his community, and his country without fear of being uprooted from the life he has spent 21 years building.