By Matthew Hendley
By Monica Alonzo
By Monica Alonzo
By Monica Alonzo
By Stephen Lemons
By Jason P. Woodbury
By Dulce Paloma Baltazar Pedraza
By Ray Stern
Logan tells New Times he wanted a ride back to his car, which was still at Eli's, but Boyden insisted on stopping at her house first to change her clothing.
But that's not what Logan told police. When he finally admitted that he had been at Boyden's house, he told the cops he had suggested Boyden bring him back to his car, but "She goes, no, I want to go to my house, we were being real friendly at Marco Polo's. . . . We were hitting it off really well, so we go back to her house. . . ."
Either way, Boyden's injuries were extensive enough to bring the paramedics and at least 10 police cars screaming to her street. Paramedics kept her in the house for 45 minutes, while police searched the neighborhood for Logan.
But he'd left on foot, later calling his then-girlfriend to tell her that he wasn't sure what he'd done, but it was something bad--and would she come pick him up?
Meanwhile, Boyden struggled to recall what had happened. Her blood alcohol level was measured at .20 that night (.10 is legally drunk) and, for quite some time, she could not even remember her mother's phone number.
When her neighbor, Carol Rogers, initially asked her if she'd been raped, Boyden answered, "no, kinda," and then "some, maybe," but kept looking around, frightened, saying, "He's going to kill me, he's going to kill me, he said he would kill me."
Repeatedly, Boyden told police and hospital personnel that she had been sexually and physically assaulted. The emergency-room nurse quoted Boyden in her handwritten notes: "I kept biting my tongue to let air in through my teeth because he kept holding my mouth and nose closed--he was trying to kill me--I thought I was going to die."
Boyden and her mother, Lisa McMillan, say police said they expected Boyden would remember more details of the incident in the ensuing days, and would call to schedule a time to take the rest of her testimony.
Experts in the field of post-traumatic stress disorder and its treatment say it's not uncommon for victims to experience temporary--or even permanent--memory loss, following a traumatic event, like rape or aggravated assault.
Dr. Michael de Arellano, a post-doctoral fellow at the National Crime Victims Research and Treatment Center, affiliated with the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston, says there is a "good possibility" Boyden suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder.
He adds that it is not uncommon for someone who has suffered blows to the head--as Boyden had--to have temporary memory lapses.
As the police had predicted, Boyden's recollection of the details improved with time, but when she phoned Scottsdale Detective Scott Popp sometime during the week of August 19, to give further testimony, he insisted he had enough and that there was no time to interview her. The case was going to the grand jury the following Monday.
Boyden had recalled a moment in the evening when she stood by her bed, naked, and Logan punched her in the face.
The grand jury didn't hear that testimony. Nor did they hear about the loose teeth, the cheekbone that doctors initially thought was broken, the back pain or the possible permanent damage to Boyden's larynx, because those medical reports were not available when the grand jury met, Monday, August 26.
The grand jury also, most likely, did not learn that Logan has a history of alleged domestic violence, detailed by Phoenix police. In April 1995, Phoenix police were called to the home of Carol Ann Burgett, Logan's ex-girlfriend and the mother of his then-2-year-old child. Burgett told police she and Logan had gotten into an argument that day, and, according to the police report, "He started calling her a cunt and a whore and then he pushed her from the front [yard] into some bushes in the yard. . . . She said he then pushed her again by the sidewalk and also grabbed her around the neck with his left hand and told her, 'I could break your neck, drag you off, and no one would ever know.'"
Logan left, and Burgett called police. She told police she had reported incidents of domestic violence three times prior to that event.
When questioned about the incident at the time he was arrested for allegedly attacking Boyden, Logan told Scottsdale police Burgett had made up the story, because the two were in a custody battle over their daughter.
He tells New Times, "My ex'll call 911 on you if you just look at her wrong."
Burgett refused to comment.
In a vote that will never be known to the public, the grand jury decided, for whatever reasons, not to indict Logan. He was released from jail.
Days later, Kim Boyden was at home, recovering from nasal-reconstructive surgery. She began making phone calls, trying to learn the grand jury's decision. Popp said he didn't know, so she called the Maricopa County Attorney's victim protection office.
"They said, 'No true bill,'" Boyden recalls. "I said, 'What the hell does that mean, no true bill?'"
That means he walks, she was told.
"I came unglued," she says. She called Brian Finkel.
While she waits for a prosecutor to agree to take her case seriously, Kim Boyden does not have her own lawyer. Instead, she is unofficially represented by her gynecologist. Dr. Brian Finkel is no ordinary gynecologist. He is a high-profile abortion-rights advocate and practitioner who has spent years arguing with law enforcement officials regarding legal tactics designed by antiabortion activists to put him out of business.