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  • Ron Rodriguez
Hot Cars

Ron Rodriguez

Wounded
Another child dies in a hot car

Every 9 days on average a child dies in a hot car somewhere in the US. My heart is racing, I’m short of breath. Tears automatically drip. This feeling happens, to me, so many times over the last three decades. Even when there isn’t news of another child suffering a horrible dying death in a hot car, I’ll have flashbacks. I’m a retired police officer from the UCSB Police department, Santa Barbara Ca, and I was involved in a near fatality of a child in a hot car. That experience has wounded and haunts me to this day.

It was summer sometime late 1989 or early 1990s, a very warm day on the California central coast; as it sometimes can get. Not a breath of air moving. I was on day shift at the Isla Vista Foot Patrol. It was a weekday, early afternoon, on patrol by myself, driving a Sheriffs Office patrol car. Dispatch put out a call of a baby crying in the area of Madrid Rd. I was a minute away. I acknowledged dispatch and drove to the location thinking it was probably just a colic baby. I would check with the parents or caregiver to be sure everything was okay.


I arrived at the location, parked my car, got out on foot and proceeded to walk down the street listening for a crying baby. I thought walking would be better than driving down the street trying to hear a baby. It was quiet. There were several cars parked along the curb in front of me.

I started glancing into the cars as I passed them. At about the third car I passed, I noticed a pile of messy blankets on the front bench seat, of an older model four door sedan. I stopped and thought, why are blankets crumpled on the front seat on such a warm day. As I stood there looking into the car, my eyes shifting back and forth, I saw all the doors were locked with old style push down door locks and the drivers side door window was rolled down about two inches. Listening, there were no sounds coming from inside the car. I looked around the interior, and suddenly, so very faintly, movement on a corner of the blankets nearest me out of the corner of my eyes. It was so faint and I wasn’t looking directly at the area, that I questioned if I really saw anything. I stood there staring at the area waiting to see if the movement would happen again. It didn’t. I put my ear up to the drivers slightly open window and heard no sounds.

I was in a fix. Thinking, I thought that I saw something move but I wasn’t positive. I really wanted to move those blankets, just to be sure. I had no real probable cause legally, to break any of the windows, and get inside someone’s car because crumpled blankets were on the front seat. So I placed my left hand through the two inch rolled down window and tried to push my arm through. It got stuck well below my elbow and wouldn’t move any further. I looked down the street thinking maybe I should walk further to see if I hear a baby crying. I withdrew my arm from the window, turned and started walking, thinking I’ll come back after going to the end of the block and back.


I figured it would take me five to ten minutes to return. Taking three or four steps and just past the front of the car I froze solid mid step. I was questioning myself, “did I see what I thought I saw.” Then something snapped in my head. “Yes! “ You did see movement and you can’t leave. You’ve got to go back and get in that car right now!


I ran to the passenger side of the car and tried to open the doors even though I could see they are locked. I ran around the rear of the car and as I passed the rear passenger door on the drivers side, I drew my metal PR24 baton. My plan was to smash out the rear passenger door window to avoid covering the front seat and blankets with broken glass. Then I saw the partly rolled down drivers window again. I decided to try it one more time before breaking glass. This time, I spit several time on my left forearm and rubbed the spit around. Placing my left hand, again, through the slightly opened drivers window and leaning back, grabbed the door knob with my right hand and rammed my left arm into the opening. To my surprise my forearm and elbow popped right through the opening and stopped. I was then able to turn my elbow and arm down and with just the tip of my finger touch the door lock and pry it up. I quickly opened the door. I gave the window crank a turn to release my arm, grabbed the steering wheel with my left hand and leaned onto the drivers seat with my right knee, grabbed the blankets and threw them to the passenger floor board.

What was underneath the blankets startled me. A small infant, less than a year old. Very tightly swaddled lying face up feet towards me. His face was beet red, almost purple, with what I thought was a death mask. His mouth was stretched in a thin line across his red face, his eyes slammed shut. I thought I was too late that the baby was dead, it appeared he wasn’t breathing. I said, “Oh please don’t be dead” and quickly slid my right arm underneath him cradling the back of his head in my palm picked him up still holding the steering wheel with my left hand. Just lifting him an inch off the seat, he vomited a great amount. Letting go of the steering wheel and crawling into the car, I placed my left hand on his chest and spun him face down. Now both of my knees were on the drivers seat as I lowered his head down toward the floor board and maneuvered him under the steering wheel. Finding the pavement with my feet, I turned and sat down in the drivers seat, and held him out the door faced down between my knees towards the pavement, him still sandwiched between my arms. I thumped him on his back several times to help clear the vomit out of his airway. Then I heard him take a deep breath and start loudly crying. I was so relieved he was still alive and crying. I brought him up to my face, he’s still beet red and I knew we were still in danger. I quickly tore the tight swaddling off him. He’s skin was dry, no sweating and no tears coming from his eyes.


I knew we needed to cool him down and now we’re standing in the hot sun on hot pavement. I started blowing on his neck trying to cool him. He was crying hard.

Looking down the street I saw some large shade trees in the front yard of some apartments across the street about a hundred yards away. Clutching him to my chest I took off running towards the shade. Arriving, I stood with him and again continued blowing on him to try and help cool him. A resident of the nearest apartment came out and asked, what was going on. Turning to her I asked if she could quickly get me a wet and dry towel. She disappeared into her apartment and fifteen seconds later came back with towels. Taking the wet towel I spun it around a few times and began bathing the baby from head to toe. He was wearing a diaper. It was dry. As I wiped him down continued to blow on him placing him on top of the dry towel laying on the ground. After about a minute he stopped crying, his color was returning to normal. Picking him up off the ground I stood up and held him a face level still blowing on his neck, chest and back. He looked at me with the big wide open eyes, saying like who are you and what am I doing here. He settled down and seemed quite okay with this unknown stranger in an unknown place holding him.


We stood there for a few minutes and I realized I hadn’t said anything to dispatch about what was going on. I radioed dispatch and stated that I was Code 4 (all is okay) and had a small baby in my possession and requested Rescue 7 to meet me to check the baby out. I also requested CPS (Child Protective Services) to respond to my location as soon as possible. The baby was quite calm now, so I walked across the street shielding him from the sun in the shadow of my body to the car I found him in. I relayed the license plate number of the car hoping to find a name and address of the owner. A few minutes went by waiting for dispatch to respond, when I looked down the street and saw a man I recognized, from around town, walking towards me. As he saw me holding a baby he quickened his pace coming up to me saying what’s going on, and that the baby was his child. The baby heard his fathers voice and turned towards him. I quickly explained to the man what had transpired and released the baby into his arms. I asked him who was taking care of the baby and he replied his wife. I asked where she was and he said he didn’t know and that he had been out looking for work all day and just returning home. I asked where he lived and he said the old small home, the car was parked in front of. I suggested we go inside and see if the Mother was home and probably get the child a bottle. We went inside and the Mother was not at home. Just then Rescue 7 pulled up and checked out the baby. They said he appeared fine, normal temperature, heart beat etc. and released him back to the father.


I sat down with the father who was still holding the infant and we talked. I explained that I had to notify CPS and that they would meet us here. I explained that this was a seriously dangerous situation and that both our concerns had to be towards welfare of the child. The father was very upset, but acknowledged the situation. CPS arrived in about 15 minutes. I explained what had happened and they came in and chatted with the Father for a few minutes while I waited outside on the porch thinking my part was over. The supervising CPS official came out to me and stated, they are aware of who the Mother is and other issues had happened before. CPS was going to take protective custody of the infant. Then she said, since I had established some rapport with the father, they wanted me to talk to him and explain that the child was going to be removed from the family. Also for me to take custody of the baby from the father.


Doing that was absolutely the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in law enforcement. Being the father of a young child myself at the time, I felt his pain. He seemed to understand what was happening, what was going to happen, and what I was going to ask him to do. When I did ask he slowly and easily retuned his son to my arms. I told him I’d be right back and walked to the door and handed the little guy to a waiting CPS official. That’s the last time I ever saw him. He was quickly whisked away in a waiting car.

I returned to the father along with one of the CPS workers to explain what was the next step. The father cried on my shoulders for a bit. I tried my best to reassure him. Later I walked out to the corner of the yard and just had a moment with myself. The supervising CPS lady saw me and walk over and asked if I had one of these at home. I just nodded my head, yes. She just said, good job and left. My supervisor, a SBSO Sergeant walked by and said, Hey, it only shows you care, and left. I stood there a few minutes longer, walked over to my car and drove back to the station. It was near the end of shift. I was exhausted.

About a month after the incident I was subpoenaed into Superior court in Santa Barbara to testify. It appeared it was a child custody hearing. I gave my testimony and left. After that I never heard how the case was adjudicated. Never had any contact with the Father or Mother. Don’t know if anyone was charged with a crime or whether the baby was ever returned to the parents or if he was adopted by another family.

It’s my hope and wish, this baby grew up and perhaps now with a family of his own. He probably does not know what happened those decades ago. Maybe, just maybe it’s better if he doesn’t know.

As for me, I don’t want to forget about it. I know I have trouble with it, never knowing. But I have compartmentalized it and locked it away inside my soul. Just every now and then it leaks out and I relive the whole story over again and again. But I deal.

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