She would never forget that day, the last day with her mother. It was the summer of 2002, Maria was seven, her big sister Josie was ten years old. She had her mittens on, winter coat, snow jumper, and boots on.

Their mother always made sure that they dressed warm, in the winter. It was Indianapolis Indiana, the temperature was ten below, the snow was at least four feet deep on the ground. She and Josie had been so excited to play outside. They made snow angels, made snowman and danced around as the flakes fell from the sky.

Maria, Josie and their mom were having a snowball fight, smiling and giggling. The old blue camaro came out of nowhere and struck their mother. Josie screamed a blood curdling scream and Maria rushed to her mom side with tears bursting from her eyes.

The old man in the camaro looked on in horror at what he had done, he stepped out with the two girls. He dialed 911 and told them everything that had happened.

“I didn’t mean to,” he repeated over and over to the dispatcher.

“Mommy please you have to wake up,” Maria begged her mother.

When the Emts arrived, they tried to resuscitate her, but it was too late and she was pronounced dead at the scene.