A heartbreaking incident has unfolded in Santee, San Diego, where a baby girl lost her life after being left in the back of a hot car. This tragic event occurred just two months after her adoptive parents brought her home. Is hot car death common?
Discovery and Emergency Response Into The Hot Car Death – An Ongoing Investigation
Diana Sofia Aleman Roman, the infant victim, was found unresponsive in the SUV parked outside her family’s home around 12:20 AM on June 13. The child had been left in the vehicle for several hours in 63°F weather before a family member discovered her and immediately called 911.
Despite being rushed to Sharp Grossmont Hospital, Diana could not be saved. The San Diego County Sheriff’s Office is actively investigating the circumstances that led to Diana being forgotten in the car and determining who was responsible. As of now, no charges have been filed.
The Dangers of Hot Cars – a Tragic Hot Car Death
Studies highlight the rapid rise in temperature inside a parked car. On a 70°F day, the temperature inside a car can soar to 104°F within just half an hour. Reaching 115°F in an hour. The human body’s organs begin to shut down at 107°F, making such environments lethal, especially for children.
Adoption and Family Background – A Loving Family
Diana was welcomed into the home of Romer and Jayson De Los Santos on April 11, after they traveled to Arizona to meet her in the hospital. Heartwarming photos captured the couple cradling Diana and introducing her to their two-year-old son, who was also adopted. Romer expressed his grief after the hot car death, writing, “I haven’t slept in days,” next to one of the photos.
The De Los Santos family had been actively seeking to adopt a second child, sharing their adoption profile on social media in November. They expressed their desire to provide a loving home filled with cherished memories. Special moments such as beach outings, biking to the park, and raising foster kittens. Romer, a senior consultant at Jama Software, and Jayson, a stay-at-home dad, have been together for over 20 years. They married in 2008 during a brief period when same-sex marriage was legal in California. Their home is described as a “zoo,” housing numerous pets including cats, dogs, chickens, and parakeets.
Community Reaction
Neighbors described the De Los Santos family as kind and attentive parents often seen playing outside with their children. One neighbor said, “They seem like a nice family who wanted to give a couple of kids a good life. It’s just a shame it didn’t turn out that way.” It seems many suggested that the hot car death wasn’t intentional.
Medical Examination and Broader Context
The San Diego County Medical Examiner’s Office will determine the cause and manner of Diana’s death. Annually, around 37 children die from being left in hot cars across the U.S. Since 1998, California has witnessed at least 56 such fatalities, according to statistics from San Jose State University’s No Heat Stroke project.
Preventive Measures and Legal Implications & Expert Insights
Parents are urged never to leave their children alone in vehicles, even for short periods. Temperatures can rise dangerously fast, posing severe risks to children who cannot regulate their body temperatures as efficiently as adults. Which can effectively cause hot car death. California law imposes a $100 fine for leaving a child under six in a car under hazardous conditions. With potential charges ranging from neglect to manslaughter depending on the outcome.
Experts explain that it’s possible for any parent to forget a child in a car, especially when distracted or following routine habits. The increase in such cases since the 1990s is partly attributed to the recommendation of placing child car seats in the back, out of sight to protect them from airbags.
Recommendations for Prevention
To avoid such tragedies, No Heat Stroke suggests placing a soft toy in the front seat as a reminder of the child in the back or placing essential items next to the child’s seat. They also recommend keeping vehicles locked at all times and teaching children never to play in cars.
The loss of Diana Sofia Aleman Roman serves as a stark reminder of the dangers associated with leaving children unattended in vehicles and the importance of vigilant parenting practices. Hot-car tragedies can happen to anyone due to human memory lapses.
Here are key strategies to prevent these incidents:
Create Safeguards: Establish agreements with child-care providers to notify each other if a child is absent or late. Set phone reminders to ensure the child has been dropped off.
Secure Vehicles: Always keep vehicles locked and keys out of children’s reach.
Visual Reminders: Place the child’s items, such as a diaper bag or jacket, in the front seat as a reminder.
Back-Seat Checks: Keep essential items like your backpack or briefcase in the back seat to prompt a check before leaving the car.
Never Leave Children Unattended: Never leave a child alone in a vehicle, regardless of the outside temperature.
Technological Solutions & Expert Advice:
Invest in car seats or vehicles with integrated reminder technology, such as SensorSafe. Systems that default to “on” are most effective. Use education and technology together to prevent these tragedies. Real-life experiences, like that of Jennifer Stockburger, highlight the importance of these precautions. Combining awareness with practical strategies and technology can protect children from hot-car incidents.
My Husband Refused to Buy a New Washing Machine and Told Me to Wash Everything by Hand — Because He Promised His Mom a Vacation Instead
Six months postpartum, drowning in baby laundry, and exhausted beyond words, I thought my husband would understand when our washing machine broke. But instead of helping, he shrugged and said, “Just wash everything by hand—people did it for centuries.”
I never thought I’d spend this much time doing laundry.
A tired woman in a chair | Source: Pexels
Six months ago, I gave birth to our first baby. Since then, my life had turned into a never-ending cycle of feeding, changing diapers, cleaning, cooking, and washing. So much washing. Babies go through more clothes in a day than an entire football team.
On a good day, I washed at least eight pounds of tiny onesies, burp cloths, blankets, and bibs. On a bad day? Let’s just say I stopped counting.
A woman doing laundry | Source: Pexels
So when the washing machine broke, I knew I was in trouble.
I had just pulled out a soaking pile of clothes when it sputtered, let out a sad grinding noise, and died. I pressed the buttons. Nothing. I unplugged it, plugged it back in. Nothing.
My heart sank.
When Billy got home from work, I wasted no time.
A tired puzzled woman | Source: Pexels
“The washing machine is dead,” I said as soon as he stepped through the door. “We need a new one.”
Billy barely looked up from his phone. “Huh?”
“I said the washing machine broke. We need to replace it. Soon.”
He nodded absently, kicked off his shoes, and scrolled through his screen. “Yeah. Not this month.”
A man on his phone in his living room | Source: Pexels
I blinked. “What?”
“Not this month,” he repeated. “Maybe next month when I get my salary. Three weeks.”
I felt my stomach twist. “Billy, I can’t go three weeks without a washing machine. The baby’s clothes need to be cleaned properly every day.”
A couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels
Billy sighed like I was asking for something unreasonable. He put his phone down and stretched his arms over his head. “Look, I already promised to pay for my mom’s vacation this month. She really deserves it.”
I stared at him. “Your mom’s vacation?”
“Yeah. She’s been babysitting for us. I thought it’d be nice to do something for her.”
Babysitting?
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
I swallowed hard. His mother came over once a month. She sat on the couch, watched TV, ate the dinner I cooked, and took a nap while the baby slept. That wasn’t babysitting. That was visiting.
Billy kept talking like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me. “She said she needed a break, so I figured I’d cover her trip. It’s just for a few days.”
A man talking to his wife in his kitchen | Source: Pexels
I crossed my arms. “Billy, your mom doesn’t babysit. She comes over, eats, naps, and goes home.”
He frowned. “That’s not true.”
“Oh, really? When was the last time she changed a diaper?”
Billy opened his mouth, then shut it. “That’s not the point.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I think it is.”
A couple arguing in their kitchen | Source: Pexels
He groaned, rubbing his face. “Look, can’t you just wash everything by hand for now? People used to do that for centuries. Nobody died from it.”
I stared at him, feeling my blood boil. Wash everything by hand. Like I wasn’t already drowning in work, exhausted, aching, and running on three hours of sleep a night.
An angry woman clutching her head | Source: Pexels
I took a slow, deep breath, my hands clenching into fists. I wanted to yell, to scream, to make him understand how unfair this was. But I knew Billy. Arguing wouldn’t change his mind.
I exhaled and looked at the pile of dirty clothes stacked by the door. Fine. If he wanted me to wash everything by hand, then that’s exactly what I’d do.
The first load wasn’t so bad.
A pile of clothes | Source: Pexels
I filled the bathtub with soapy water, dropped in the baby’s clothes, and started scrubbing. My arms ached, but I told myself it was temporary. Just a few weeks.
By the third load, my back was screaming. My fingers were raw. And I still had towels, bedsheets, and Billy’s work clothes waiting for me.
A tired woman sitting near a bathtub | Source: Midjourney
Every day was the same. Wake up, feed the baby, clean, cook, do laundry by hand, wring it out, hang it up. By the time I was done, my hands were swollen, my shoulders stiff, and my body exhausted.
Billy didn’t notice.
A bored man on a couch | Source: Pexels
He came home, kicked off his shoes, ate the dinner I cooked, and stretched out on the couch. I could barely hold a spoon, but he never once asked if I needed help. Never looked at my hands, red and cracked from hours of scrubbing.
One night, after I’d finished washing another pile of clothes, I collapsed onto the couch next to him. I winced as I rubbed my aching fingers.
Billy glanced at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
A tired woman on her couch | Source: Pexels
I stared at him. “What’s wrong with me?”
He shrugged. “You look tired.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Gee, I wonder why.”
He didn’t even flinch. Just turned back to the TV. That was the moment something snapped inside me.
An annoyed woman in her kitchen | Source: Pexels
Billy wasn’t going to understand—not unless he felt the inconvenience himself. If he wanted me to live like a 19th-century housewife, then fine. He could live like a caveman.
So I planned my revenge.
The next morning, I packed his lunch as usual. Except instead of the big, hearty meal he expected, I filled his lunchbox with stones. Right on top, I placed a folded note.
A lunchbox filled with rocks | Source: Midjourney
Then I kissed his cheek and sent him off to work.
And I waited.
At exactly 12:30 PM, Billy stormed through the front door, red-faced and furious.
“What the hell have you done?!” he shouted, slamming his lunchbox onto the counter.
I turned from the sink, wiping my hands on a towel. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
A laughing woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
He flipped open the lid, revealing the pile of rocks. He grabbed the note and read it out loud.
“Men used to get food for their families themselves. Go hunt your meal, make fire with stones, and fry it.”
His face twisted in rage. “Are you out of your damn mind, Shirley? I had to open this in front of my coworkers!”
I crossed my arms. “Oh, so public humiliation is bad when it happens to you?”
A shouting man wearing glasses | Source: Pexels
Billy clenched his jaw. He looked like he wanted to yell, but for once, he didn’t have a comeback.
I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “Go on, Billy. Tell me how this is different.”
His jaw tightened. “Shirley, this is—this is just childish.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I see. So your suffering is real, but mine is just me being childish?”
An angry woman lecturing her husband | Source: Pexels
He threw his hands in the air. “You could have just talked to me!”
I stepped forward, fire burning in my chest. “Talked to you? I did, Billy. I told you I couldn’t go three weeks without a washing machine. I told you I was exhausted. And you shrugged and told me to do it by hand. Like I was some woman from the 1800s!”
A woman turning away from her husband | Source: Pexels
His nostrils flared, but I could see the tiny flicker of guilt creeping in. He knew I was right.
I pointed at his lunchbox. “You thought I’d just take it, huh? That I’d wash and scrub and break my back while you sat on that couch every night without a care in the world?”
Billy looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
A sad man clutching his head | Source: Pexels
I shook my head. “I’m not a servant, Billy. And I’m sure as hell not your mother.”
Silence. Then, finally, he muttered, “I get it.”
“Do you?” I asked.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah. I do.”
A tired man rubbing his temples | Source: Pexels
I watched him for a long moment, letting his words settle. Then I turned back to the sink. “Good,” I said, rinsing off my hands. “Because I meant it, Billy. If you ever put your mother’s vacation over my basic needs again, you’d better learn how to start a fire with those rocks.”
Billy sulked for the rest of the evening.
An angry man in a hoodie | Source: Pexels
He barely touched his dinner. He didn’t turn on the TV. He sat on the couch, arms crossed, staring at the wall like it had personally betrayed him. Every now and then, he sighed loudly, like I was supposed to feel bad for him.
I didn’t.
For once, he was the one uncomfortable. He was the one who had to sit with the weight of his own choices. And I was perfectly fine letting him stew in it.
A woman reading a book on a couch | Source: Pexels
The next morning, something strange happened.
Billy’s alarm went off earlier than usual. Instead of hitting snooze five times, he actually got up. He got dressed quickly and left without a word.
I didn’t ask where he was going. I just waited.
That evening, when he came home, I heard it before I saw it—the unmistakable sound of a large box being dragged through the doorway.
A large box in the doorway | Source: Midjourney
I turned around and there it was. A brand-new washing machine.
Billy didn’t say anything. He just set it up, plugging in hoses, checking the settings. No complaints. No excuses. Just quiet determination.
When he finished, he finally looked up. His face was sheepish, his voice low.
“I get it now.”
A sorry man covering his face | Source: Pexels
I watched him for a moment, then nodded. “Good.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh… should’ve listened to you sooner.”
“Yeah,” I said, crossing my arms. “You should have.”
He swallowed, nodded again, then grabbed his phone and walked away without argument or justification. Just acceptance. And honestly? That was enough.
A satisfied smiling woman | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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