Episode Title
3520 North Marshall Street

Description
In a dense block of Philadelphia rowhouses, a narrow brick home at 3520 North Marshall Street functioned like every other on the street. Shared walls. Front steps opening directly onto the sidewalk. A basement meant for storage and utilities, not attention.

For years, that basement was used to keep people out of sight, out of sound, and out of expectation.

This episode examines how a Philadelphia rowhouse allowed two realities to coexist without colliding — ordinary life above, systematic violence below. Not through secrecy or isolation, but through architecture that encouraged compartmentalization, vertical denial, and the assumption that basements are not places where lives unfold.

The house at 3520 North Marshall Street still stands. Its layout unchanged. Its walls intact. A reminder that proximity does not guarantee awareness, and that some spaces don’t need to hide what happens inside them.

They only need to be ignored.

Episode 44
Eight Seven Six Three Wonderland Avenue

Description
High above Los Angeles, where the Hollywood Hills narrow into winding roads and broken sightlines, a low modern house sits at eight seven six three Wonderland Avenue. Built for privacy, elevation, and isolation, it was a structure designed to keep the outside world at a distance.

In August of nineteen eighty one, that isolation became lethal.

Inside the house, four people were brutally attacked in a space that fractured sound, movement, and awareness. Rooms divided victims from one another. Hallways disrupted escape. Doors closed without signaling danger beyond their frames. What unfolded inside did not spill outward. It stayed contained, held by architecture that rewarded confusion and delay.

This episode examines how the design of eight seven six three Wonderland Avenue shaped the violence that occurred there — not as a backdrop, but as an active environment that absorbed sound, fragmented responsibility, and prolonged survival without rescue. The house still stands, restored and occupied, its geometry unchanged.

Because some places don’t just witness crime.
They make it easier to disappear inside it.

Episode Title
The Duplex in Youngstown

Description
On the South Side of Youngstown, a modest duplex stood through the city’s long decline, dividing two lives with a single shared wall. Built to promise separation while enforcing proximity, it carried sound, heat, and presence — but never responsibility.

In the mid-nineteen seventies, a renter on one side of the duplex died quietly. No screams were heard. No alarm was raised. For days, life continued on the other side of the wall, televisions playing, routines intact, while a body lay unnoticed just inches away.

This episode examines how shared structures can normalize ambiguity — how thin walls blur accountability, how silence becomes tolerable, and how usefulness allows unresolved violence to fade without consequence. The duplex still stands on Youngstown’s South Side, indistinguishable from the others around it, continuing to divide lives exactly as it was designed to do.

Because sometimes it isn’t distance that hides a crime.
Sometimes it’s proximity without responsibility.