DOT Threatens Colorado: Revoke Illegal Licenses or Lose Road Funding

Paul Riverbank, 12/23/2025Federal funding at risk as Colorado faces fallout over illegally issued commercial driver’s licenses.

At the heart of the mess: a sharp rebuke from the U.S. Department of Transportation, which recently uncovered that Colorado had sidestepped federal requirements for commercial driver’s licenses. Specifically, the audit determined that roughly one in five CDLs issued to non-U.S. citizens—primarily Mexican nationals—should never have been processed in the first place. By law, those licenses are only supposed to be handed out in the trucker’s home country. Yet, for eight years, state policy largely looked the other way.

Suddenly, the threat is real. The DOT’s warning isn’t a mere technicality—Colorado now stares down the loss of $24 million, money that would otherwise keep miles of highway passable and construction projects humming. “We can’t allow selective compliance,” Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy insisted, offering little room for interpretation. His words landed like a flat tire: inconvenient, urgent, and impossible to ignore.

One executive with the Division of Motor Vehicles, asking not to be named, summed up the mood inside the agency: “The phones have not stopped ringing.” Their department responded by halting all new and renewed commercial licenses for immigrants, at least until the audit dust settles. Some staff privately concede they’d anticipated a reckoning for months; others say the scale of the violations is larger than they realized.

Nationally, this isn’t a story unique to Colorado. States from Texas to California have been here before—often with just as much political tension on display. Texas, for instance, acted almost overnight to freeze CDL issuance after a federal nudge last year. California’s DMV went even further, voiding over twenty thousand licenses issued in error.

But in Colorado, the underlying debate quickly drifts beyond paperwork. It’s about safety—a recent Florida collision involving an unauthorized commercial driver added tragic weight to the argument—and about the boundaries between state discretion and federal authority. How did this happen in the first place? By most accounts, traces lead back to a 2016 decision, one rooted in political calculation: the state would issue licenses even if it meant brushing up against federal lines.

Critics see recklessness. “Every day, roads are less safe because Colorado hasn’t fixed this yet,” Duffy’s office reiterated last week, stirring concern among motorists and state lawmakers alike. Truckers who handle everything from crops to construction gear worry their livelihoods could be on the line if the state’s entire CDL program gets decertified—a specter that now hangs uncomfortably close.

Yet, for all the warnings, Governor Jared Polis’ office has stayed silent, at least in public. No statements; not even an off-the-cuff remark to local reporters. That absence is telling, leaving the DMV to brace for fallout and advocacy groups to issue their own calls for due process and transparency.

If the state can’t quickly adapt, the consequences won’t stop at budget cuts or angry letters from federal overseers. There are practical, visible effects: a slower repair of pothole-riddled roads, postponed bridge work, possible shortages in both consumer goods and farm shipments. Colorado drivers, most of whom aren’t following the ebb and flow of federal-state negotiations, could simply find themselves stuck in lengthier traffic for reasons that begin far from their daily commute.

As it stands, the clock is ticking. Washington’s message has been delivered in no uncertain terms: fix the violation, or forfeit not only money but also control. The more pressing question—beyond the rules and headlines—is whether this standoff will push Colorado into a broader reckoning over how, and for whom, the wheels on its roads keep turning. For now, the next move is up to the policymakers inside the State Capitol. The rest of the state is watching, and waiting.

It’s not often that Colorado finds itself on the brink of losing millions in federal support, but that’s exactly what’s playing out in state offices and truck stops from Grand Junction to Greeley this week. Behind closed doors and on the highways, a sense of uncertainty lingers, fueled by an audit that most drivers—and even a few bureaucrats—hadn’t seen coming.At the heart of the mess: a sharp rebuke from the U.S. Department of Transportation, which recently uncovered that Colorado had sidestepped federal requirements for commercial driver’s licenses. Specifically, the audit determined that roughly one in five CDLs issued to non-U.S. citizens—primarily Mexican nationals—should never have been processed in the first place. By law, those licenses are only supposed to be handed out in the trucker’s home country. Yet, for eight years, state policy largely looked the other way.Suddenly, the threat is real. The DOT’s warning isn’t a mere technicality—Colorado now stares down the loss of $24 million, money that would otherwise keep miles of highway passable and construction projects humming. “We can’t allow selective compliance,” Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy insisted, offering little room for interpretation. His words landed like a flat tire: inconvenient, urgent, and impossible to ignore.One executive with the Division of Motor Vehicles, asking not to be named, summed up the mood inside the agency: “The phones have not stopped ringing.” Their department responded by halting all new and renewed commercial licenses for immigrants, at least until the audit dust settles. Some staff privately concede they’d anticipated a reckoning for months; others say the scale of the violations is larger than they realized.Nationally, this isn’t a story unique to Colorado. States from Texas to California have been here before—often with just as much political tension on display. Texas, for instance, acted almost overnight to freeze CDL issuance after a federal nudge last year. California’s DMV went even further, voiding over twenty thousand licenses issued in error.But in Colorado, the underlying debate quickly drifts beyond paperwork. It’s about safety—a recent Florida collision involving an unauthorized commercial driver added tragic weight to the argument—and about the boundaries between state discretion and federal authority. How did this happen in the first place? By most accounts, traces lead back to a 2016 decision, one rooted in political calculation: the state would issue licenses even if it meant brushing up against federal lines.Critics see recklessness. “Every day, roads are less safe because Colorado hasn’t fixed this yet,” Duffy’s office reiterated last week, stirring concern among motorists and state lawmakers alike. Truckers who handle everything from crops to construction gear worry their livelihoods could be on the line if the state’s entire CDL program gets decertified—a specter that now hangs uncomfortably close.Yet, for all the warnings, Governor Jared Polis’ office has stayed silent, at least in public. No statements; not even an off-the-cuff remark to local reporters. That absence is telling, leaving the DMV to brace for fallout and advocacy groups to issue their own calls for due process and transparency.If the state can’t quickly adapt, the consequences won’t stop at budget cuts or angry letters from federal overseers. There are practical, visible effects: a slower repair of pothole-riddled roads, postponed bridge work, possible shortages in both consumer goods and farm shipments. Colorado drivers, most of whom aren’t following the ebb and flow of federal-state negotiations, could simply find themselves stuck in lengthier traffic for reasons that begin far from their daily commute.As it stands, the clock is ticking. Washington’s message has been delivered in no uncertain terms: fix the violation, or forfeit not only money but also control. The more pressing question—beyond the rules and headlines—is whether this standoff will push Colorado into a broader reckoning over how, and for whom, the wheels on its roads keep turning. For now, the next move is up to the policymakers inside the State Capitol. The rest of the state is watching, and waiting.