Eleven dead, dozens broken in District 28. The street is a killing ground. Senator Krueger talks reform, but bodies keep piling up. Call her. Demand real barriers, not more words. Don’t wait for another neighbor to die.

Twelve dead. Children maimed. A boy left bleeding on the asphalt. This is not fate—it’s failure. Call Serrano. Call City Hall. Demand streets where kids live, not die. Your silence is their license.

Eight dead—neighbors, children, elders—all lost on streets built for cars, not people. Senator Liu votes for safety, but votes don’t stop wheels or heal bones. Call him. Demand street changes now. Don’t wait for another body.

Seven dead, over 1,600 hurt. Children maimed, elders killed. The street takes and leaders stall. Don’t wait for the next body—call Gounardes, demand 20 mph streets, demand action. This blood is not a mystery. It’s policy.

Five dead. Sixteen broken. A girl’s femur snapped, an elder crushed. Queens streets are killing fields. Call Gianaris. Demand 20 mph limits, real street redesigns, action—not more bodies. Hold them to account before another child dies.

A man dies alone on the Major Deegan. Eight killed in a year. The street is a battlefield, but City Hall stands silent. Call your council member. Demand action. No more bodies. No more waiting.

A father dies in a Bronx crosswalk. Five killed, 1,500 hurt in a year. Politicians stall on safety. Call them. Demand a 20 mph speed limit and real protection. Don’t let another family bury their own.

Three dead in a week. Blood on Queens streets. Hit-and-run drivers vanish into the night. Leaders promise, but bodies stack up. Call your senator. Demand 20 mph limits and more cameras. Don’t let another family grieve in silence.

Twenty people dead, seventy maimed—trucks crush, families shatter. Plastic poles don’t stop two-ton killers. Politicians talk; the blood keeps flowing. Call Salazar. Call City Hall. Demand real barriers—now—before another child’s shoes are left in the street.

Seven dead, hundreds battered, and still the cars fly. In Persaud’s district, blood stains the crosswalks. Her votes help, but not enough. Call her. Demand safer streets before someone you love never comes home.

Five dead, twenty-four maimed. Pregnant women, children, elders—left broken or gone. Hit-and-runs, crushed bodies, silent streets. Lawmakers talk while blood stains the asphalt. Call Senator Parker. Demand safe streets before another family buries their own.

Nineteen dead. Sixty-five shattered. The street keeps killing in Senate District 30 while leaders stall. Call Senator Cleare. Tell her: We want streets safe enough for a child to cross. No more names for the roll of the dead.

A 101-year-old woman is dead, run down on her morning walk. The laws are on the books. The bodies keep piling up. Call Myrie. Tell him words are not enough. Demand safer streets now.

Nine dead. Twenty-four maimed. Cyclists crushed, pedestrians left bleeding. The street takes more every week. Senator Kavanagh acts, but not fast enough. Demand real protection. Call your leaders. No more blood on the asphalt.

Eight dead, 1,400 hurt, and still no safety on Bedford Avenue. Politicians make promises. Cars keep killing. Call your council member. Demand concrete changes—protected bike lanes, lower speeds—before the street claims another life. Don’t wait for more blood.

Nineteen dead. Thousands hurt. Bronx streets run red while drivers flee and lawmakers stall. Call Senator Rivera. Demand safer streets. Your voice is the line between life and death.

Six people dead, eighteen lives shattered—one district, one year. A widow remembers her wife’s last smile. The streets are killing us. Hold your lawmakers to account. Demand real change before another name becomes a statistic.

Six dead. Hundreds maimed. Trucks crush, cars kill, bills stall. Streets bleed while politicians wait. Call Senator Stavisky. Tell her: no more bodies on the curb. Demand safe streets—now.

Nine dead. Thirteen maimed. Blood on Queens streets while Senator Addabbo hesitates. Demand safer roads—call your officials now.

Bronx streets claim another child, another elder, another life. Twenty-six gone since 2021. The dead pile up while leaders stall. Call Senator Fernández. Tell her: we need slower streets, cameras, and real change—before your block mourns next.

A mother and two girls are dead in the crosswalk. The driver had 26 camera tickets. The law did nothing. Senator Sutton said nothing. Call him. Tell him to fight for laws that put people over cars—before more blood stains the street.

Staten Island streets run red while Senator Lanza blocks safer roads. Twenty-four dead, five new graves this year. No charges, no change, just bodies. Call Lanza. Demand streets built for people, not speeding steel. Don’t wait for another funeral.

Six dead. Sixteen broken. Blood on Linden Boulevard and silence from Comrie. Families mourn while the city delays. Demand safer streets—before another body hits the pavement.

Twenty-one dead. Thirty-eight broken. Drivers kill, streets bleed. Ramos fights but it’s not enough. Call your council member. Demand 20 mph speed limits, more bike lanes, and justice. The dead are silent. The living must not be.

Twelve dead. Hundreds hurt. Bodies broken on Bailey’s watch. Pedestrians and cyclists pay in blood while drivers get loopholes. Call Bailey. Demand a 20 mph speed limit and streets that protect people, not cars. The dead are silent. You aren’t.

Eighteen dead. Children struck down. Blood on the curb, hope in short supply. District 59 waits while politicians talk. Call Gonzalez. Call City Hall. Don't wait for another body on the sidewalk. The killing will not stop itself.

Seven people dead this year—one a child. The street keeps killing. Senator Scarcella-Spanton talks safety but blocks real funding. Call her. Demand action before another neighbor is gone. Don’t let your block be next.

A ninety-five-year-old woman dies in the crosswalk. A mother and her daughters are slaughtered on the sidewalk. The city does nothing. The senator stays silent. Call him. Demand streets where no one else has to die.