In a sterile hospital room just before 3 a.m., Sabeeh Alalkawi’s father started counting down the hours until sunset. His son was dead. He was in shock.

Duty sat heavy on his heart: It was his responsibility to return his son’s soul to Allah by burying him swiftly. Waleed Alalkawi had just until this terrible day’s end to accomplish the task. Police had other priorities.

Sabeeh was dead because a New York police officer slammed his patrol car into the young man’s sedan, killing him almost instantly.

His case was just one more example where police in America have crashed a car into someone or something with devastating consequences ― one of hundreds of cases being examined in a deep investigation by USA TODAY Network-New York and Syracuse University called "Driving Force."

Across the United States, thousands have been killed during police pursuits. Police have been distracted by on-board computers, hit each other, wrecked rushing to a scene or have driven into trees and buildings. Vehicle speed and training remain factors, experts say.

In parts of the country, a police officer can hurtle down city streets, snub stoplights, crash a car and walk away unscathed — job and reputation intact — even when those collisions kill or maim innocent people.

Crashes keep piling up due to flawed approaches to officer discipline and driving education, said Sgt. Andrew Hughson, a lead driving instructor at an upstate New York police academy. 

“It really comes down to accountability and that retraining,” Hughson said.

In New York, a state law that allows police officers to break traffic rules when racing to emergencies is being used to protect them from discipline when they make poor driving decisions and smash their cars along the way, the Driving Force investigation found.

After the Troy, New York, crash, one of hundreds in just one state, a medical examiner in a cold hospital room now was ready to take the body for an autopsy. Half a mile away, investigators combed jumbled wreckage for details.

Muslims bury their dead as they are, with few exceptions. Hours after a death, family members gather to clean the body ― now little more than an empty vessel ― working quickly to prevent its soul from lingering untethered for too long.

This is what Alalkawi’s father knew. Now, it seemed Waleed and the medical examiner were on their own crash course: Faith colliding with the potential for justice. He had to make a choice.

Can you bring his body back before the sun falls, the father asked?

Police can break traffic rules. What happens when they crash? 

Police Officer Justin Byrnes sent his 2.5-ton police cruiser barreling through a city intersection at about 88 mph just before he rammed into Sabeeh Alalkawi in the early hours of Feb. 22, 2023, in upstate New York.

Byrnes, who was sworn in as a police officer in 2019, was traveling nearly three times the posted 30 mph speed limit that night, according to collision reports. The officer faced a red light. A vacant three-story restaurant building on the corner of the intersection of Hoosick and 15th streets blocked the view of the drivers from both directions.

Byrnes charged forward anyway.

It is likely that Alalkawi, a 30-year-old pizza delivery driver, never saw his end coming.

The police officer made a last-ditch attempt to hit the brakes, records show, but his SUV zipped over the last 100 yards in less than three seconds, a torpedo destined to crumple almost anything in its path. Sabeeh Alalkawi had no chance.

Alalkawi's family declined interviews for this story but shared notes and photographs through their attorney to show the impact his death has had on them.

A police reconstruction report found Byrnes responsible for the tragedy, saying his decision to drive through the red light without caution was the “primary contributing factor."

Top police officials in Troy refused to answer questions or comment directly about what happened. The NYSP reconstruction report said it is unknown whether the sirens were activated, and makes no mention of police footage collected from the crash.

A public records request turned up over 100 crashes involving local police officers over the last decade.

The city council called a special public meeting with law enforcement officials in October. Police Chief Daniel DeWolf insisted his officers know they must slow down before entering an intersection ― especially one with a red light. "If you don't make it to the call, you're not helping anyone," he said.

Unless an investigation by the New York State Attorney General’s Office determines he acted recklessly or with negligence, the police officer will not face criminal charges because of the state law that offers him broad immunity when responding to a call.

A year after Alalkawi's death, his family is still waiting for that decision. Until then, Byrnes is still working for the police department — on desk duty.

‘Danger zone,’ but three officers barreled into it at speed 

Just north of Albany, a royal blue sign welcomes visitors and residents alike to the city of Troy.  

"HOME OF UNCLE SAM," it reads in bold white lettering. A portrait of a familiar American patriot stares back at you, a top hat wrapped in a blue-and-white banner of stars.

Hoosick Street is a four-lane, two-way strip of asphalt that connects Troy to the rest of the state. It is arguably the city’s most dangerous road. 

The Troy Police Department and many police agencies defend their decision to speed to any scene they are dispatched to, even on a perilous road like this one.

Seconds before Byrnes crashed into Alalkawi, video shows two other police officers heading to the same 911 call tore through the same intersection.

An event data recorder unit, or “black box,” recovered from Byrnes’ SUV and analyzed by state police showed he was driving 88 mph five seconds before the crash.

“This isn’t just a rogue police officer,” said attorney Joseph O’Connor, who is representing Alalkawi's family in a wrongful death lawsuit. “It’s the behavior of an entire department, at least on that night.”

Sabeeh Alalkawi had a green light

Sabeeh Alalkawi could almost see the pizza shop. Just down the road, inside a two-story home repurposed into a family-owned restaurant, sat a small-town classic: Amante Pizza. 

But the tips in his pocket bought food for the growing twin boys waiting for him at home, on this night probably asleep in their beds by now.

Photos capture the trio as inseparable: Alalkawi smiling for a selfie, his sleeping babies strapped into car seats behind him, fleece blankets tucked around their little legs. Alalkawi sitting at the dining room table, one twin perched on each knee, the boys angling for a phone propped up in front of them. Alalkawi, drowsy in bed despite the sunlight, his wide-eyed twins jostling him awake.

This is who he was working for — who he was trying to protect.  

It was just before 1 a.m. and the end of his shift was crawling closer with each mile.  

On this brisk February night, Alalkawi again climbed into his 2012 Honda Civic and set off toward the pizza shop. It was now less than a quarter mile away. A tomato-red sign and stringy cheese pies beckoned him forward, the road ahead looking nothing but ordinary.

Green light. Empty intersection. Hungry customers waiting. 

Alalkawi pushed ahead.

Minutes earlier, a police radio had started chattering across town with its next call: There was a domestic disturbance a few blocks away from Amante Pizza, police said.

Justin Byrnes flicked on the emergency lights of his 2016 Ford Explorer and jolted the steel vessel forward. He was the third in a convoy of cruisers who decided to do the same.

Flying under the streetlights that bring life to Hoosick Street, Byrnes passed an auto shop, a synagogue and an elementary school. The intersection at 15th was next.

Maybe he saw the pizza delivery driver coming at the last second. Byrnes started pressing down on the brake, but he’d been hurtling down the road at nearly three times the speed limit. There was not enough time.

His cruiser exploded into Alalkawi’s sedan, ripping the man’s car from the southbound lane and sending it spinning west over a median and into a McDonald's parking lot.

‘Verily, unto God do we belong and, verily, unto Him we shall return'

The cemetery was empty. It was the last place Sabeeh Alalkawi’s body would travel that day: after the crash at Hoosick Street, after the cold aluminum table at Samaritan Hospital, after the funeral home and the mosque in Latham.

Waleed Alalkawi had waited all day for this difficult moment. The medical examiner had released his son’s body in time to be buried before sunset.

Daylight was fading. It was time to bury his son, whether he was ready or not. He started to dig.

Sabeeh Alalkawi's wife, Zinah, and their twin boys watched from inside a car in the distance. His father and brothers lowered his body into the hand-dug grave, resting it facing their holy city, years before they could have imagined taking on this task.

The Qu’ran tells us we belong to Allah and to Him, we shall always return. Alalkawi is not alone ― even in this empty cemetery ― because his soul has now reached the afterlife. What comes next for those left behind? The Qu’ran tells us it is patience.

In a final act of love, Waleed Alalkawi covered his son’s grave with dirt, offered a prayer to his creator and rejoined the rest of their family. Dreadful duty complete, he allowed his son to find the peace he was promised. 

Even as he waits for his own.

— Kayla Canne reports on community justice and safety efforts for the Democrat and Chronicle in Rochester, New York, part of the USA TODAY Network. Get in touch at [email protected] or on Twitter @kaylacanne.

This story is part of Driving Force, a police accountability project meant to expose and document the prevalence of police vehicle accidents in New York.

This joint investigation between USA TODAY Network-New York and Syracuse University’s S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications, in partnership with The Central Current, was supported with funding from the Data-Driven Reporting Project.

That project is funded by the Google News Initiative in partnership with Northwestern University-Medill.

Reporters, visual journalists, editors, designers and project partners include Maria Birnell, Evan Butow, Kayla Canne, Daniel DeLoach, Anna Ginelli, Jon Glass, Seth Harrison, Nausheen Husain, Hayden Kim, Chris Libonati, Beryl Lipton, Tina MacIntyre-Yee, Laura Nichols, Peter Pietrangelo, William Ramsey, David Robinson, Kyle Slagle, Eden Stratton, Sarah Taddeo, Jodi Upton and Marili Vaca.