I was only supposed to babysit my nephew for a few hours. But when I changed his diaper, I froze—two-month-old Elmer had dark, fingerprint-shaped bruises all over his tiny thighs, and my brother…
The November rain drummed against the windows of William Sullivan’s photography studio in Portland, a rhythm that usually soothed him during late editing sessions. At 32, William had built his business from nothing—a one-man operation specializing in documentary photography that had earned him modest recognition in artistic circles. He hunched over his computer, color correcting … Read more