Driving Cells Off The Freeway

Behind the wheel of his SUV, Frederick Poust III dialed his cell phone. As he hit “send,” the 27-year-old blew through a stop sign in rural Hilltown Township, Pa., and slammed into the side of a Grand Cherokee. In the Cherokee’s front seat, Patricia Pena turned to see her daughter Morgan, 2, bleeding from massive head wounds.

The next day, Nov. 3, 1999, Morgan died in the hospital; Pena watched her slip away. Poust received two minor traffic citations and later paid an undisclosed civil settlement. Pena went to bed and remained there for months. But her phone was within reach, and every time a reporter called, she wailed her story into it. That’s how she launched a crusade to bar cell phone use while driving. In a debate complicated by high-powered lobbyists and murky data, Pena became the one clear voice. In 18 months she has testified before Congress and five state and local legislatures. Her story has helped motivate 10 counties to outlaw the use of handheld phones in cars. Last year 20 states considered bills outlawing or limiting phone use behind the wheel, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures. This year New York and Rhode Island look poised to pass such restrictions into law.

Most evidence about cell-phone danger is, like Pena’s story, anecdotal. While studies have shown that cell phones increase the risk of accidents, no hard data exist to prove how they compare to other driver distractions. But estimates do suggest that cell phones cause anywhere from 600 to 1,200 fatal crashes a year.

Before the accident, Pena had never used the Internet. Now she maintains a website and fields about 30 e-mails a day. “I was not gonna let this cruel world take my baby and not hear from me,” she says. There’s a lovely innocence about Pena’s exuberance, despite all she’s lost. (“They’ve got these wonderful, brilliant researchers all around the country researching cell-phone safety,” she says at one point. “And they call me back!”) But she remains a woman obliterated by grief. When she looks at her new three-month-old daughter Olivia, she aches at the baby’s resemblance to Morgan. She often replies to e-mails with tears streaming down her face. “I wonder why I do it,” she says. “But you know, if I wasn’t crying while returning these e-mails, I would just be crying.”