Despite Montana’s small illegal immigrant population, Montanans have felt the Trump administration’s crackdown on immigration, primarily resulting in the deportation of people who have not been convicted of a violent crime. In one highly publicized case, the government earlier this year charged Roberto Orozco-Ramirez, a longtime resident of Floyd, Montana (population 195), a mechanic and father of four, with a felony count of illegal re-entry. The conservative rural community rallied around the man and his family, and a fundraiser drew 300 people while the man was in custody. The felony charge was dropped in April, but Orozco-Ramirez remained in custody for another month until a federal judge ordered his release pending civil immigration proceedings.

Some Montanans are trying to use local politics, including so-called sanctuary laws, to resist these aggressive deportation policies. The resulting conflicts concern not only immigration, but also local control, state executive power, and judicial review. This highlights the tension between Montana’s small-government tradition and the increasingly top-down politics of immigration enforcement. The two local jurisdictions reflect different ways of testing the limits of Montana’s anti-sanctuary law, leading to notable unresolved conflicts between local governments and the independently elected state attorney general.

During both of President Donald Trump’s terms, state and local governments across the country passed immigration protection policies. These policies do not and cannot prevent federal immigration enforcement. In return, certain circumstances prevent cooperation and information sharing with federal immigration authorities. As a matter of federal law, these policies are generally permitted. Federal law prohibits laws that prohibit the sharing of information about immigration status, but its constitutionality has been questioned. The constitutional principle of federalism prohibits the federal government from using its authority to compel state and local legislatures and executive branch officials to “establish or administer federal regulatory programs.”

However, this does not mean sanctuary policies are allowed under state law. The Federal Constitution does not specify the relationship between local and state governments. There are two models of local government authority. One is Home Rule, in which local governments have some inherent political power, and the other is Dillon’s Rule, which states that local governments can exercise political power only to the extent authorized by the state legislature. In each of these models, it is generally accepted that the state may preempt local policy, but there is also a movement to give local governments inherent powers that cannot be taken away by state governments.

In Montana, as in several other states, local immigration protection policies are prohibited by state law. Once a purple state known for splitting bills, Montana, like much of rural America, has turned red in recent years. Although no cities had established sanctuary policies in the early days of Biden’s presidency, the Montana Legislature passed House Bill 200, which prohibits local governments from passing sanctuary policies. (A similar law was passed in 2019, but it was vetoed, with the former governor citing Montana’s “proud history of local control.”) The law prevents state agencies and local governments from enforcing policies that limit the sharing of immigration information or from responding to federal requests, known as detention requests, to use local resources to detain individuals (usually in local jails). The law has an unusual enforcement mechanism, making jurisdictions subject to $10,000 fines for every five days of noncompliance, the potential loss of existing and future state aid, and the loss of infrastructure projects. If a jurisdiction changes its policy within 14 days of the state attorney general’s lawsuit, there will be no penalty.

Local governments in Montana are now testing the limits of the state’s anti-sanctuary laws. Two jurisdictions, the city of Helena and Gallatin County, highlight the different ways in which local governments are resisting, leading to notable unresolved conflicts between local governments and the independently elected state attorney general.

In January, the City Commission of Helena, Montana’s capital, passed a resolution that states, in part, that city employees will not share confidential information, including immigration status, with outside agencies unless “required by law” for city functions or “with a valid court order.” In response, Attorney General Austin Knudsen and Governor Greg Gianforte held a joint press conference announcing an investigation into the city for violations of House Bill 200. After Knudsen sent a cease-and-desist letter saying the Helena policy contained “blatant violations of law,” the commission held a well-attended and heated special meeting at the end of which it rescinded the earlier resolution, citing potential risks and costs. Non-compliance. When the city tried to rewrite the resolution and asked Knudsen for feedback, he refused, accusing the city of “spending more time and money keeping violent criminals in our communities than ensuring our residents have clean drinking water, efficient government services, and safe streets.” No new resolution has been passed, and it’s unclear whether the city will try again.

A different and more complex dispute related to House Bill 200 is unfolding in Gallatin County, home to the rapidly growing city of Bozeman. In October 2025, the chief assistant county attorney sent an email to local law enforcement agencies stating that ICE does not have the right to receive sensitive criminal justice information under Montana law without a court order. Montana’s constitutional right to privacy is the basis of the law governing confidential criminal justice information, which can only be provided to “criminal justice agencies, persons authorized by law to receive the information, and persons authorized by the district court to receive the information upon a written finding that the individual’s privacy needs do not clearly outweigh the benefits of public disclosure.” County Attorney Audrey Cromwell later clarified that the email was not a unilateral policy statement for ICE, which primarily enforces civil immigration laws, but was in response to a specific request from ICE for information related to civil immigration matters.

Approximately six months after the email was sent, during the conflict with Helena, Knudsen sent Cromwell a letter canceling the ceasefire with the email attached. The letter disagrees with Cromwell’s interpretation of state law and characterization of ICE, stating that “Montana is not California” in the style of the oft-staged Montana political drama. Cromwell, unlike Helena officials, made no changes in response to the attorney general’s letter. Instead, she rejected claims that Gallatin County has any policy regarding sharing information with federal immigration officials and asked Knudsen for a formal legal opinion on the permissibility of information sharing by local governments.

Knudsen declined to provide a legal opinion, even though Montana law requires the attorney general to “provide written comments to county attorneys when requested to do so on matters of law relating to their respective offices.” He took Cromwell’s letter as confirmation that Gallatin County is no longer sharing information with ICE and ordered him to change his policy immediately. Most notably, she did not threaten to sue, as expected in House Bill 200, but instead said she would take oversight control over the county attorney’s office if she did not comply within four days. Cromwell responded by submitting an affidavit acknowledging that her office did not have a policy governing the sharing of information with ICE and explaining that she had directed county staff to contact Knudsen’s office directly with questions about the information.

This was not enough. On April 30, Knudsen activated oversight over the Gallatin County Attorney’s Office, requiring it to notify the agency that it will share information with ICE, including all civilian immigration matters. He also ordered her to turn over all records related to her sharing of information with ICE and, even more alarmingly, all records related to her February trip to Minneapolis to meet with Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison in the wake of Alex Preti’s death at the hands of federal immigration agents. Montana law unusually increases the power of the attorney general, giving him “supervisory authority over the county attorney,” including “the power to order and direct the county attorney in all matters related to the county attorney’s duties.” The scope of this authority has not yet been tested. Knudsen previously forced the dismissal of two lawsuits stemming from violations of early COVID-19 restrictions, and former Attorney General Tim Fox took oversight over Missoula County at the county’s request when the U.S. Department of Justice launched an investigation into the county’s sexual assault response. However, the attorney general never attempted a hostile takeover of the county attorney’s office.

Cromwell filed the lawsuit on May 1, asking the Montana Supreme Court to exercise its original jurisdiction over the dispute and resolve legal interpretation and constitutional privacy issues. Knudsen again purported to exercise supervisory authority, ordering Cromwell to dismiss his attorneys and dismiss the case, and telling the court that Knudsen’s exercise of supervisory authority stripped Cromwell of his authority to litigate. In response to a court order, Mr. Knudsen later filed a formal response to Mr. Cromwell’s lawsuit. To some extent, this is a standard reaction. The attorney general will ask the court to either adopt Montana’s interpretation of the law or send the matter to a lower court for initial resolution.

But one aspect of that reaction is unusual. Knudsen argues that the court does not have the authority to resolve Cromwell’s controversy because it presents a “political question” — one that is assigned exclusively to other branches of government by the Montana Constitution. There are reasons to be skeptical about the extent to which such principles should limit the judicial review power of state courts. But no matter how one views this doctrine, Knudsen’s reaction represents a particularly extreme position. He invoked oversight and ordered Mr. Cromwell to dismiss her petition, arguing that the court had no authority to decide the parties’ dispute over the meaning of the law. However, if he had filed an enforcement action under House Bill 200 or issued a legal opinion, there would be no question of the court’s power of judicial review. If the concept of this politicized doctrine were to take hold, the Montana Attorney General would have unilateral and non-reviewable authority to interpret certain laws in his capacity alone.

Cromwell’s petition is expected to be ripe for judgment in mid-June, but it is difficult to predict when and what the court will rule on. The unresolved issues raised by this case reflect the current political moment, which is creating new separation of powers conflicts not only at the federal level but also within the states. And the debate centers on whether Montana’s commitment to small government and liberal values ​​still holds true in an era of top-down politics.

Constance Van Kley is an assistant professor at the University of Montana Blewett School of Law. Her views are her own.

Recommended Citation: Constance Van Klee, Politics and separation of powers in Montana’s sanctuary citiesSᴛᴀᴛᴇ Cᴏᴜʀᴛ Rᴇᴘᴏʀᴛ (June 11, 2026), https://statecourtreport.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/sanctuary-city-politics-and-separation-powers-conflict-montana

Rather than independently analyzing the text, context, and history of state constitutions, state courts often default to applying the same rules and standards of review that the U.S. Supreme Court uses to interpret and apply similar federal constitutional provisions. Courts and commentators commonly criticize this practice, known as lockstepping. However, by identifying the different ways in which the courts are aligned, a more precise critique is possible (and an occasional recognition of cases in which parallel interpretations are warranted).

In a forthcoming Law Review article, I will point out variations in how courts incorporate federal constitutional principles into state constitutions. State constitutional scholars have already identified several versions of lockstep interpretation. These include “unreflective” lockstep, in which state courts automatically apply federal doctrine without even considering the state constitution, and “methodological” lockstep, in which state courts apply federal methods of interpretation and adjudication (considering scrutiny and a clause-bound hierarchy of interpretation) to inappropriate state constitutional contexts. These types of lockstep interpretations are worthy of independent consideration, but there are others that courts and commentators should consider.

For example, some courts engage in “non-textual lockstep,” interpreting provisions of state constitutions in the same way that federal courts interpret the U.S. Constitution, despite differences in the wording of those provisions. For example, Article 1, Section 13 of the Texas Constitution prohibits “cruel acts.” or However, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, the state’s highest court in criminal matters, has interpreted this provision in line with the U.S. Supreme Court’s treatment of the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition on “cruel punishment.” and It’s an unusual punishment. ”

Other state courts have adopted what I call “lazy lockstep.” Courts adopting this method of interpretation recognize that state constitutions may apply to the case at hand, but they interpret state constitutions in alignment with federal doctrine after citing a case or two that endorses this lockstep approach. After all, tracing back to these case law citations often reveals that the original decision to interpret state constitutions in line with federal constitutional law was nothing more than an unsubstantiated assertion. In other cases, a look back at case law reveals that lockstep decisions were made based on statements about completely different state constitutional provisions. Courts tend to lazily rely on one or two citations and call it a day, perpetuating a lockstep doctrine that is unfounded in its origins.

Another form of state constitutional interpretation is “mandatory lockstep.” Some state constitutions themselves require state courts to interpret provisions consistent with federal constitutional principles, even if they are worded differently. For example, Article 1, Section 12 of the Florida Constitution prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures and includes a clear provision prohibiting “unreasonable interception of private communications by any means.” Despite this state-specific language, the provision further requires that the right be “construed in accordance with the Fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution as interpreted by the Supreme Court of the United States.”

Finally, some courts employ a practice I call “sticky lockstepping.” This refers to a variation in which state courts continue to follow past federal precedent to protect individual rights under state constitutions, even though the U.S. Supreme Court has rolled back or eliminated this protection. For example, state courts have recognized state constitutional due process rights to abortion, mirroring the reasoning of the U.S. Supreme Court. Roe vs. Wade This state-level protection may remain even after that right is repealed at the federal level.

Distinguishing between forms of lockstep interpretation may strengthen the argument against this practice. Rather than attacking lockstep interpretations in the abstract, critics can use their arguments to identify multiple levels of failure that occur when courts use improperly considered lockstep interpretations. For example, a state court that interprets the prohibition on “cruel or unusual punishment” in the same way that the U.S. Supreme Court interprets the Eighth Amendment could be criticized for engaging in a lockstep interpretation that is not faithful to the original text. However, if the same courts apply this interpretation without considering specific state constitutional protections, or if they apply it based on random citations of case law dating back to unfounded declarations decades ago, they may also be susceptible to criticisms of unreflective or lazy lockstepping. Rules can be particularly vulnerable to criticism if they are based on multiple forms of lockstep interpretation.

Furthermore, recognizing the diversity of lockstep interpretations shows that not all uniformity in constitutional interpretation is a negative thing. State courts may engage in “reflexive” lockstepping, carefully considering whether to adopt federal principles when interpreting their own constitutional provisions, and concluding that the U.S. Supreme Court’s approach is well suited to the text, history, and purpose of state constitutions. As courts continue to curtail individual rights, sticky lockstepping could strengthen individual rights protections by aligning with older, more protective federal constitutional principles. Although many instances of lockstep interpretation of state constitutions ignore the unique text, structure, and historical characteristics of state constitutions, not all instances of lockstep interpretation are blameworthy.

Michael Smith is an associate professor at the University of Oklahoma School of Law.

Recommended quote: Michael Smith Different versions of lockstepping according to state constitutionsSᴛᴀᴛᴇ Cᴏᴜʀᴛ Rᴇᴘᴏʀᴛ (June 10, 2026), https://statecourtreport.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/many-versions-state-constitutional-lockstepping