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In March of 1928, William Ward and his young wife, Catherine Ward, occupied the second floor of a Pittsburgh duplex with their two children, three-year-old Billy and eight-month-old Dorothy Mae. Once, the Wards had a been a happy family with all-American dreams of white picket fences and a garage to park their car. But everything changed one cold, dreary Thursday morning in March.
By Marlin Bressi4.5
4545 ratings
In March of 1928, William Ward and his young wife, Catherine Ward, occupied the second floor of a Pittsburgh duplex with their two children, three-year-old Billy and eight-month-old Dorothy Mae. Once, the Wards had a been a happy family with all-American dreams of white picket fences and a garage to park their car. But everything changed one cold, dreary Thursday morning in March.

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