Brad Sant

SANT Every year brings a sad anniversary to my family. Early one March morning in 1986, I received a call from my weeping mother saying that Sandra, my younger sister, had just been involved in a serious auto accident. We didn’t know if she would live through the night. I took the next flight to Boston and rushed to the hospital. I did not make it in time. My last goodbye was to my beautiful young sister’s cold and broken body. And 40,000 times each year, families make such heartbreaking farewells to other crash victims. The drunk driver who killed