On his farm a mile outside of Stockton, Md., elderly Farmer Harvey Pilchard raised strawberries, potatoes, fruit. He was successful and well-to-do. One night last week he and Mrs. Pilchard sat listening to the radio. Someone knocked on the door. Mr. Pilchard shuffled over, opened it. From the darkness outside, a shotgun blasted into his face, killed him almost instantly. Three Negroes rushed in, demanded Annie Pilchard's money. She gave them her pocketbook, turned and ran upstairs. With cool brutality, one of the Negroes shot her in the back.
Even so, she...
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