An Alarming Phone Call
At about ten minutes to eight that same morning, Grace Sato's cell phone rang. Her daughter, Reiko, age 8, had spent the weekend with her father, Joseph Balagot, Grace's ex-husband. She was due home later that morning. Taking the call, Grace was surprised to hear her little girl crying hysterically.
“Mom, call 911. Something is wrong with Dad,” said Reiko between sobs. “He's not moving. He's not talking.”
“Is he sleeping？” Grace asked, not understanding why her daughter sounded so upset.
“I don't know,” Reiko screamed into the phone.
Grace couldn't figure out what to make of her child's distress. “Where are you？” she asked.
“We're on the Pulaski now.”
It took a moment to sink in. They were in the car？ On the Pulaski Skyway？ Joseph must have fallen asleep while driving. No, that was inconceivable. He'd never do anything to put his daughter in danger.
Reiko told Grace that her dad had been holding his chest, and Grace immediately understood. Her ex-husband had a heart condition. How many times had she scolded him for not taking his medicine？
She listened with increasing alarm as her little girl described how the car had hit the median. She said that her father's head had banged against the driver's-side window. His hands had dropped from his chest. He had become very still. Saliva was at the corners of his mouth.
Reiko had climbed into the front passenger seat and tried to steer the car, but she didn't know how. And it just kept on going.
Trying to quell her own rising panic, Grace told her daughter to stay on the line. With her free hand, she reached for the other phone and dialed 911.
Surreal Scene Jose le Grand waited until the silver Mercedes in front of him had momentarily settled into the left lane. Then he gunned his Expedition's engine. When they were about a car length behind, he looked down into the other vehicle.
For a split second, he didn't know what to make of the surreal scene： A little girl in the front seat frantically screamed into a cell phone. But the view that stunned him as he passed the car was of the driver —— a man slumped to the right over the wheel, apparently unconscious.
“Oh, my God, Maria,” he said. “I think he had a heart attack.”
Jose kept accelerating to pass the Mercedes, which seemed to be moving with a will of its own. It went faster as if to outrun him, hitting speeds of 55 to 60 mph.
The driver's foot must still be weighing on the gas pedal, Jose realized. If somebody didn't do something quickly, the little girl in the Mercedes would be killed.
Glancing behind him at his own six-year-old daughter in the backseat, Jose felt a rush of guilt. What if it were his child in the runaway car？
He explained to his wife that he'd never forgive himself if he didn't do something. “I've got to stop that car,” Jose said.
“Hang on,” he told his family.
He pulled back into the left lane, directly in front of the big silver sedan. There was only one way to stop this thing. He'd have to let it ram the SUV.
As his wife called 911 and, close to hysteria, tried to explain what they had seen, Jose calculated how to stop the Mercedes without causing an accident or harming his family.
He lifted his foot off the accelerator. The big sedan kept coming, kept accelerating, kept swaying. Jose stayed in front of it, gauging its speed as his own car slowed. The Mercedes closed in on the SUV. Closer……closer……until it plowed into the Expedition. The shock of the impact threw Jose forward against the steering wheel.
His kids screamed, and his wife cried out. The driverless Mercedes was now pushing them down the Pulaski. Jose felt a twinge of fear, but he kept his cool.
He threw the big Ford into neutral； the Mercedes and the SUV continued barreling down the skyway in tandem. He had to slow it down.
He shifted into low gear. The two vehicles began to decelerate. Jose pumped the brakes —— more and more until, finally, he was able to bring both cars to a complete stop at a bend in the skyway.
Other cars whizzed by them as Jose jumped from the driver's seat. He ran back to the Mercedes. He reached in to check the driver's vital signs. No pulse. No signs of breathing.
Looking around for an instant, Jose realized they had ended up in a dangerous spot. Vehicles wouldn't see them clearly until they came around the bend. This was an accident waiting to happen. He'd have to move quickly.
At about ten minutes to eight that same morning, Grace Sato's cell phone rang. Her daughter, Reiko, age 8, had spent the weekend with her father, Joseph Balagot, Grace's ex-husband. She was due home later that morning. Taking the call, Grace was surprised to hear her little girl crying hysterically.
“Mom, call 911. Something is wrong with Dad,” said Reiko between sobs. “He's not moving. He's not talking.”
“Is he sleeping？” Grace asked, not understanding why her daughter sounded so upset.
“I don't know,” Reiko screamed into the phone.
Grace couldn't figure out what to make of her child's distress. “Where are you？” she asked.
“We're on the Pulaski now.”
It took a moment to sink in. They were in the car？ On the Pulaski Skyway？ Joseph must have fallen asleep while driving. No, that was inconceivable. He'd never do anything to put his daughter in danger.
Reiko told Grace that her dad had been holding his chest, and Grace immediately understood. Her ex-husband had a heart condition. How many times had she scolded him for not taking his medicine？
She listened with increasing alarm as her little girl described how the car had hit the median. She said that her father's head had banged against the driver's-side window. His hands had dropped from his chest. He had become very still. Saliva was at the corners of his mouth.
Reiko had climbed into the front passenger seat and tried to steer the car, but she didn't know how. And it just kept on going.
Trying to quell her own rising panic, Grace told her daughter to stay on the line. With her free hand, she reached for the other phone and dialed 911.
Surreal Scene Jose le Grand waited until the silver Mercedes in front of him had momentarily settled into the left lane. Then he gunned his Expedition's engine. When they were about a car length behind, he looked down into the other vehicle.
For a split second, he didn't know what to make of the surreal scene： A little girl in the front seat frantically screamed into a cell phone. But the view that stunned him as he passed the car was of the driver —— a man slumped to the right over the wheel, apparently unconscious.
“Oh, my God, Maria,” he said. “I think he had a heart attack.”
Jose kept accelerating to pass the Mercedes, which seemed to be moving with a will of its own. It went faster as if to outrun him, hitting speeds of 55 to 60 mph.
The driver's foot must still be weighing on the gas pedal, Jose realized. If somebody didn't do something quickly, the little girl in the Mercedes would be killed.
Glancing behind him at his own six-year-old daughter in the backseat, Jose felt a rush of guilt. What if it were his child in the runaway car？
He explained to his wife that he'd never forgive himself if he didn't do something. “I've got to stop that car,” Jose said.
“Hang on,” he told his family.
He pulled back into the left lane, directly in front of the big silver sedan. There was only one way to stop this thing. He'd have to let it ram the SUV.
As his wife called 911 and, close to hysteria, tried to explain what they had seen, Jose calculated how to stop the Mercedes without causing an accident or harming his family.
He lifted his foot off the accelerator. The big sedan kept coming, kept accelerating, kept swaying. Jose stayed in front of it, gauging its speed as his own car slowed. The Mercedes closed in on the SUV. Closer……closer……until it plowed into the Expedition. The shock of the impact threw Jose forward against the steering wheel.
His kids screamed, and his wife cried out. The driverless Mercedes was now pushing them down the Pulaski. Jose felt a twinge of fear, but he kept his cool.
He threw the big Ford into neutral； the Mercedes and the SUV continued barreling down the skyway in tandem. He had to slow it down.
He shifted into low gear. The two vehicles began to decelerate. Jose pumped the brakes —— more and more until, finally, he was able to bring both cars to a complete stop at a bend in the skyway.
Other cars whizzed by them as Jose jumped from the driver's seat. He ran back to the Mercedes. He reached in to check the driver's vital signs. No pulse. No signs of breathing.
Looking around for an instant, Jose realized they had ended up in a dangerous spot. Vehicles wouldn't see them clearly until they came around the bend. This was an accident waiting to happen. He'd have to move quickly.