Former MLB pitcher Scott Erickson told a Van Nuys courtroom on May 13 that he stepped on the gas when he spotted two young boys near a Westlake Village crosswalk, seconds before they were struck and killed on a September evening in 2020.

The testimony came during the wrongful death trial tied to the deaths of Mark Iskander, 11, and Jacob Iskander, 8, who were crossing Triunfo Canyon Road with their mother and younger brother just after 7 p.m. on September 29, 2020. Erickson, who was driving a black SUV, admitted he accelerated for "two or three seconds" as he approached the intersection. Moments later, his then-girlfriend Rebecca Grossman allegedly drove her white Mercedes through the same crosswalk and hit both boys.

The boys did not survive. Their mother, Nancy Iskander, grabbed her youngest child and dove out of the path of Erickson's SUV, then watched Grossman's vehicle speed through the spot where Mark and Jacob had been standing.

Erickson's own words on the stand

Erickson's testimony, reported by the New York Post, laid bare his decision-making in the moments before the crash. Asked about his speed, he offered an estimate of 50 to 55 mph but conceded under questioning from attorney Brian Panish that the number was a guess.

"I stepped on the gas for probably two or three seconds to get through, because I thought that was the safest process."

Panish pressed him directly: "So you're just guessing what your speed was?" Erickson replied: "Yes, I am."

The exchange that followed was even more telling. Panish asked whether Erickson had seen the boys. Erickson's responses, "the boys," "what boys?" and "there were boys?", painted a picture of a man who either failed to register the children in the crosswalk or chose his words carefully on the stand.

A trail of deception after the crash

What Erickson did after the crash may matter as much as what he did before it. He testified that after passing through the intersection, he continued to Grossman's nearby home. Grossman then called him, he said, telling him something terrible had happened. Only then did he run back toward the scene.

He did not contact police. They came to him, a full week later.

And when investigators did reach him, Erickson admitted he lied about how much he had been drinking that night. He also admitted to deleting messages between himself and Grossman about the accident. Those messages, spanning four years and described as including "I love yous," are now part of the Iskanders' wrongful death lawsuit.

Erickson further acknowledged switching the license plates on his 2016 high-performance Mercedes-Benz with plates from his older 2007 model, a swap he maintained for six years. The courtroom heard that he made calls from the roadside to former MLB teammate Royce Clayton and others. Clayton, who appeared in court last week, claimed Erickson told him he saw Grossman running over the boys in his rearview mirror. Clayton also said he had shared margaritas with Erickson and Grossman the day of the crash.

Lying to investigators, destroying evidence, and failing to come forward voluntarily, in cases involving the deaths of others, courts have shown little patience for that kind of conduct.

Grossman's conviction and the evidence against her

Rebecca Grossman, co-founder of the Grossman Burn Foundation and wife of plastic surgeon Dr. Peter Grossman, faced her own reckoning before this wrongful death trial began. In 2024, a jury found her guilty of two felony counts of murder, two felony counts of vehicular manslaughter with gross negligence, and one felony count of hit-and-run driving resulting in death. She was sentenced to 15 years to life in prison.

Prosecutors presented vehicle data showing Grossman's Mercedes was traveling as fast as 81 mph and had slowed to 73 mph less than two seconds before impact, in a 45-mph zone. AP News reported that the victims' mother and three eyewitnesses testified a white or light-colored vehicle struck the boys, contradicting the defense's attempt to pin the crash on Erickson.

Nancy Iskander spoke after the verdict: "Someone is now held accountable. Mark and Jacob did not die, Mark and Jacob were murdered."

The judge who sent the case to trial was blunt about what the evidence showed. Los Angeles County Superior Court Judge Shellie Samuels said Grossman "was not rushing to get home" but instead "was playing a high-speed game of chicken with Mr. Erickson," as the Washington Examiner reported. Judge Samuels added: "I believe the defendant went well beyond gross negligence."

In March, a California appeals court rejected Grossman's final attempt to reverse the 2024 verdict. That chapter is closed. The wrongful death case now forces the full story, including Erickson's role, into the open.

What the testimony reveals about accountability

Consider the timeline. Two cars race toward a family in a crosswalk on a quiet suburban road. The first driver, Erickson, accelerates through. The second driver, Grossman, allegedly strikes and kills two children. The first driver proceeds to the second driver's home. Neither calls 911. When police finally track down Erickson a week later, he lies about his drinking and later deletes messages that could be evidence.

Grossman's defense team tried to shift blame to Erickson, arguing he was the one behind the wheel of the vehicle that hit the boys. The jury rejected that claim. But Erickson's own testimony in the wrongful death trial makes clear he was no bystander. He was part of the sequence of events that ended with two boys dead in a crosswalk.

The pattern, witnesses who saw two vehicles racing, a driver who admits accelerating toward children, a cover-up that included lies and deleted evidence, speaks for itself. In other cases where witness accounts and courtroom evidence have converged, the facts have a way of cutting through carefully constructed defenses.

Erickson has not been criminally charged. But the wrongful death lawsuit gives the Iskander family a chance to hold every responsible party accountable in ways the criminal case did not fully address.

This case also raises hard questions about how seriously the system treated the evidence trail in those early days. Erickson was not contacted for a week. He admits lying when investigators finally reached him. He admits destroying communications. How much evidence was lost in that gap? The answers may never fully emerge, but the questions linger, and they matter to anyone who believes the justice system should move with urgency when children are the victims.

The cost of elite recklessness

Mark Iskander was 11. Jacob Iskander was 8. They were crossing the street with their mother and little brother on a September evening. They did nothing wrong. They were in a crosswalk.

The adults in this story, a former big-league pitcher and a well-connected socialite, made a series of choices that night and in the days that followed. They chose speed over caution. They chose self-preservation over honesty. And when the consequences arrived, they chose evasion over accountability.

Grossman is serving 15 years to life. The wrongful death trial now puts Erickson's conduct under oath and on the record. His admissions, the acceleration, the lies, the deleted messages, the week of silence, are no longer allegations. They are his own words, delivered from the witness stand.

When people in positions of privilege mislead the investigators tasked with finding the truth, the damage extends beyond a single case. It erodes the public's faith that the system works the same for everyone.

Two boys are gone. The least the system owes their family is every last fact, no matter how uncomfortable it makes the people who were behind the wheel.