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West Boca -- The morning
was still, quiet, perfect for a stroll. And, boy, did 2-year-old Veronica
Rosenfeld love to stroll.
Then it happened, quickly, without warning.
"Out of nowhere, he backed out,"
said her mom, Arden Rosenfeld. "The next thing I saw was my child
under the car."
It was a year ago Monday when the Rosenfelds'
73-year-old neighbor pulled his Lincoln Town Car out of his driveway,
striking Veronica, who was only five feet ahead of her mom, never out
of view. She died at the hospital.
Rosenfeld sits still on a couch in her spacious home west of Boca Raton. Her voice is steady as she retells
the worst day of her life, the story broken by quick, heavy sighs.
Instead of being consumed by her tragedy, Rosenfeld stands at the forefront
of a movement to make backup sensors or cameras as common as seatbelts.
Advocates say the need for such devices has grown with the super-sizing
of SUVs and trucks.
Nationwide, more than 100 children died last year after being hit by
vehicles as they backed up. Legislation in Congress aims to prevent
these accidents by requiring devices that alert drivers when someone
is behind their vehicles.
Cameras and sensors already are offered on some new models, but it would
be up to the U.S. Department of Transportation to decide what should
be the norm.
"I can't imagine why anyone would stop this," Rosenfeld said.
On March 9, a day after what would have been Veronica's third birthday,
Rosenfeld traveled to Washington, D.C., to lobby alongside the founder and president of
Kids and Cars, a nonprofit group based in Kansas.
The group gained momentum last year when President Bush signed a law
directing the Transportation Department to start collecting data on
these accidents. The department also was told to study backup safety
technology.
"Those were significant strides forward," said Janette Fennell,
Kids and Cars president. "But that was just laying the groundwork."
While the fate of the latest legislation is uncertain, advocates are
encouraged by its bipartisan support. Sen. Hillary Clinton, D-New York,
and Sen. John Sununu, R-New Hampshire, are co-sponsors. If passed, it
would give automakers three years to make the safety devices standard.
In John DeSimone's household they already
are. DeSimone, of Parkland,
added sensors to the family vehicles four years ago. DeSimone
has a Ford F150 pickup truck, and his wife just got the Infiniti QX56
SUV with a rearview camera.
"I'm a safety nut when it comes to my kids," said DeSimone, whose daughters are 10 and 11. "I think certainly
every truck and SUV should have it."
It's also DeSimone's business to install backup
sensors and cameras, though they're not that popular. Yet.
DeSimone, a partner in Ideal Automotive and
Truck Accessories in Fort Lauderdale,
and others in the business expect the trend for backup systems to grow.
For now, iPod and satellite radio systems
are the most common installations for Interactive Electronics, a mobile
business west of Boca Raton.
"They should definitely come on cars automatically," said
Tom Nesbit, who owns Interactive Electronics. "It's not like it's
that expensive."
Adding backup sensors costs a few hundred dollars. Retrofitting a car
for a camera system is more expensive, from several hundred dollars
to a couple of thousand dollars.
Fennell, of Kids and Cars, said there could be other options: bigger
back windows, bigger mirrors or brakes that automatically stop the car.
The Alliance of Automobile Manufacturers, which represents nine automakers,
opposes the legislation. Eron Shosteck,
director of safety communications for the trade association, said backup
sensors are reliable only with inanimate objects such as curbs and light
poles. Cameras, he said, are expensive.
"The technology is available to consumers who want it," he
said. "Many consumers do not want to be compelled to pay for technology
they don't need."
If mass produced, the devices would drop in price, advocates say. U.S. Rep Debbie
Wasserman-Schultz, D-Weston, is backing the bill.
"I can't imagine what would be more important than trying to avoid
entirely preventable accidents," she said.
For Rosenfeld, nothing would have been more important. The memory of
wiping blood from her daughter's face cuts deep. There is no way to
let go. She was a running, jumping, squealing little girl. Blonde hair
bouncy, blue eyes bright. Upstairs, in Veronica's room, a pink blanket
bearing her name rests on a rocking chair. The sheets in her crib are
the same as on the last day she slept there.
They were never washed.
"I have a hole in my heart," Rosenfeld said. "My life
was Veronica. She was my world. When she was gone, what was I going
to do? I don't want my daughter's life to be for nothing."
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