On the cold December night of December 15, 1985, Philadelphia was shrouded in the quiet of winter, a city that had seen its share of hardship and heartache. Among its many residents was 28-year-old Rhonda Martin, a woman whose life, dreams, and aspirations were tragically cut short. She was more than just a name in the city’s archives—she was a daughter, a friend, perhaps even a sister or a mother, someone who once laughed, loved, and navigated the everyday struggles and joys of life in Phil
...Read More
Account
