Not Victim Enough

Logan struck up a conversation with Kim Boyden, over her Stoli on the rocks and his Black Russian. The two had a lot in common. They'd both grown up in Michigan. They'd both had a rotten morning. And, that day, August 12, 1996, both had stopped at Eli's Bar and Grill in Scottsdale for a lunchtime cocktail.

Sometime before sunset, many hours--and many drinks--later, Boyden pulled into the garage of her southeast Scottsdale home. Logan was in the passenger seat.

About an hour later, Boyden emerged from a sliding glass door along the side of the house. Naked, bleeding from gashes in her forehead, lip and mouth, her breasts covered with human bite marks, she opened her back gate and ran to a neighbor's house where, wrapped in a sheet, she slumped in a hallway and waited for the paramedics and the police. Shaking, disoriented and still drunk, she muttered, "He's going to kill me, he's going to kill me, he said he would kill me."

Logan disappeared.

Kimberly Boyden, 33, spent the better part of the next three days in the hospital. As she drifted in and out of consciousness the first night, she told Scottsdale police and hospital personnel she couldn't recall much of what had gone on in the house after she'd shut off her security alarm and walked in; but she did know that she had been raped and beaten by Logan. She remembered that Logan held his hand over her nose and mouth, suffocating her, while he entered her from behind.

On August 15, Michael Richard Logan, 39, was arrested by Scottsdale police on charges of sexual assault and aggravated assault.

Initially, Logan told Scottsdale police detectives Sean Bailey and Scott Popp he had blacked out from all the alcohol he had consumed, and could not recall any of the events that occurred in the house. He also told them that the fact he'd shaved off his goatee since that night was coincidental.

But a few minutes later, Logan's memory scored a magnificent revival. After Bailey and Popp told him about Boyden's allegations, Logan suddenly was spewing information.

Rough sex, said Logan. The gash on Boyden's forehead, the cut on her lip, the broken nose, the bruises indicating attempted strangulation--all the result of rough sex. She fell off the bed, he rolled over on top of her, she knocked a floor fan over onto him. No hitting, no punching. Maybe his hands found their way around her neck once or twice, but only to keep her at bay. As for the bites on her breasts, Logan explained that he has false teeth, and didn't realize what he was doing.

When Boyden ran out of the house, Logan said, he had a panic attack and left.

Actually, said Logan, they didn't even have sex. Yes, there was foreplay, he admitted, but no sexual intercourse. What about the semen-filled condom found in Boyden's bedroom, Popp asked.

Not mine, Logan said, challenging police to take his blood and test the semen. He claimed he can't get an erection when he's drunk.

Ten days later, Logan was released after a grand jury failed to indict him.
Seven months later, Boyden is still waiting for Scottsdale police to test the condom.

And that's not all she's waiting for.
She is still waiting for police and prosecutors to take her case seriously. Frustrated, disgusted--and desperately afraid of Mike Logan--Kim Boyden has no other options in trying to bring her case to trial.

In preparing this story, New Times reviewed the 216-page Scottsdale police report and Boyden's extensive medical records, and interviewed both Boyden and Logan, along with officials from the Maricopa County Attorney's Office and Scottsdale Police Department.

The reports and the records and the interviews all tend, ultimately, to lead an unbiased reader to the same conclusions that Boyden has drawn: The police and county attorney have failed to take routine steps to bring this case to justice--steps like testing the condom or presenting the case to a grand jury again after subsequent medical reports and testimony indicated far more serious injuries. And, instead, they've chosen to heap insult after insult on top of Kim Boyden's injuries.

County prosecutors say they've done all they can do, all they are going to do. The possibility remains that Logan will be prosecuted in Scottsdale Justice Court, with the chance of much lighter penalties.

Since she can't rely on support from law enforcement, Boyden has turned to her doctor for help.

Brian Finkel, Boyden's gynecologist of 12 years, made a house call August 15, the day after she was released from the hospital.

"I see victims of domestic violence all the time," Finkel says. "I have never seen one of my own personal patients beaten so savagely. I just couldn't believe that this case wasn't being prosecuted." He wondered, "What the hell's going on here?"

The nut of Boyden's complaints boils down to the following:
* After the grand jury did not indict Logan, Boyden waited weeks for a face-to-face meeting with county attorney officials, who then tried to explain, she says, that her injuries were not severe enough to warrant felony prosecution, despite her doctor's position.

Boyden presented county prosecutors with medical records made available after the grand jury's decision, detailing the full extent of her injuries, including a cheekbone so bruised it was originally suspected to be broken, concussion and throat damage so severe the doctor noted bruising on the inside of her larynx. Her dentist notes teeth loose in their sockets. Her chiropractor says her chronic back pain is directly attributable to the incident.

And still, no action from the county attorney.
* In January, Boyden approached Scottsdale city prosecutors. She's waited almost two months to hear back from them; they have the option of charging Logan with simple assault, a misdemeanor with a maximum jail sentence of six months. (He would face an average sentence of two and a half years if convicted in Superior Court of aggravated assault.)

Scottsdale city prosecutor Ann Garriott says the case is still under review.
* When Boyden asked Scottsdale police to let her purchase three or four of the photographs police had taken of her bruised, swollen face and bitten breasts, Boyden's only choice was to pay $2.25 each for all 129 photographs taken by police at the time of the incident--a total of $290.25.

And of those 129 photographs, only 22 were of Boyden at all. The rest were of her car and the crime scene. (Police had taken additional photographs of Boyden's injuries immediately after the alleged attack, but later said the film hadn't come out. So the only photographs Boyden can get her hands on were taken on August 14, after her bruises had begun to fade.)

* Although police took blood, hair and even pubic-hair samples from Logan, the condom has never been tested. Grudgingly--after being contacted repeatedly by Boyden and New Times--Detective Scott Popp last week located the condom and said he would send it to the Department of Public Safety for DNA testing.

But the most painful insult came on August 28, the day Boyden learned the grand jury had decided not to indict Logan. After hours of trying, Boyden finally spoke by phone with the county attorney who presented her case to the grand jury.

Boyden has spoken with so many people by now, she has to refer to her notes to keep the names straight. But not when it comes to deputy county attorney Hugo Zettler.

"Hugo Zettler, I'll never forget him," she says. "He said, 'Kim, you had too much to drink. You just took home the wrong guy. . . . I have a daughter just like you. I tell her all the time, "Don't bring home strange guys".'"

The worst part was that Zettler was laughing when he said it, Boyden recalls. Grand jury proceedings are completely, utterly, entirely secret--and so Kim Boyden can only speculate on what evidence Hugo Zettler did or didn't present to the grand jury, or why it chose not to indict Michael Logan.

The morning of Monday, August 12, 1996, did not start out well at all for Kim Boyden.

She'd been living in her new house for about two weeks when her burglar alarm went off, calling her home from the Phoenix office where she works as a commercial financier. Armed with her handgun, Boyden nervously walked through the house, checking every room. She was in the backyard when the gun accidentally discharged--leaving Boyden unhurt, but frightened.

To calm her frazzled nerves, she drove to Eli's for lunch and a drink. That's where she met Mike Logan. He, too, was having a bad day, he told her. He was involved in a custody battle over his 3-year-old daughter, was representing himself in court, and had taken the morning off to complete some legal documents due at his ex-girlfriend's attorney that afternoon.

Boyden ate some steak sliders along with her vodka. Logan just drank. They had been drinking for hours when he asked her to come along to the attorney's office to drop off the papers. Then they would dine, he said, at Marco Polo, a nearby restaurant.

That sounded okay to Boyden. But she insisted on driving. She thought she'd be safer in her own car. After the trip to the attorney, they proceeded to the restaurant, for more drinks. Logan later told police Boyden was all over him, making sexual advances; the bartender and two patrons told police the same. Logan also told police Boyden called a female friend, hoping to arrange a threesome.

Boyden denies that, and she denies making any sexual advances, as well. To this day, police have not bothered to interview Boyden's friend, Robin Marinakis, who tells New Times there was no discussion of a threesome. Marinakis and Boyden had made plans earlier in the day to have dinner. Marinakis says she recalls that when she spoke to Boyden on the phone that her friend urged her to join her at the restaurant, but Marinakis says she could hear Logan in the background, hustling Boyden to get off the phone.

Marinakis says she got in her car and drove to Marco Polo. By the time she got there, Boyden was gone.

Logan and Boyden didn't dine. Instead, she drove them to her house.
Boyden says she had intended to show off her new house, and get some advice on ceiling fans from Logan, who had told her he was an electrical contractor. (He's actually an electrician.)

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?

She did.
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.

The day he made his house call, and saw the extent of Boyden's injuries, Finkel advised her to get an order of protection against Logan. She did.

Finkel accompanied Boyden to a meeting with three representatives of the Maricopa County Attorney's Office, during which Boyden requested that her case be presented to another grand jury. She cited the additional injuries that were documented after the first grand jury made its decision, and her additional testimony, finally taken by Detective Popp on September 27, indicating she'd been punched.

The County Attorney's Office refused--and continues to refuse--to reopen the case.

Lou Stalzer, deputy county attorney and a supervisor at the office's southeast division in Mesa, was not at the grand jury proceeding, but he was at that meeting.

Stalzer says, "In essence, when we read over the materials supplied by the detective upon the follow-up interview, there was not information there that was significantly different, which would warrant us in good faith to go back before the grand jury."

Furthermore, Stalzer says, Boyden's allegations of sexual assault are difficult to prove. It's a he said/she said--and neither story matches the crime scene exactly. She may have run from the house naked and bleeding, but her clothing--found on the floor of the bedroom--wasn't ripped. And Boyden readily admits she doesn't remember much of what went on between the time she disengaged the alarm and wound up sitting in her neighbor's hallway--even now. Thus, Stalzer argues, it would be difficult to prove her allegations of aggravated assault, even with extensive medical records detailing her injuries.

Finkel doesn't buy that.
"If it was consensual sex--and I will indulge that position, because Ms. Boyden won't--but if it was a little drunken kissy-kissy, huggy-huggy stuff, he [Logan] ended up beating her to within an inch of her life," Finkel says.

"Nobody gives consent to having their face broken [bruised], their nose broken, their larynx crushed and human bite marks throughout their chest, and end up in the hospital for two and a half days. That doesn't happen."

Logan still maintains that, in fact, that is just what happened.
"Things got out of hand," he tells New Times. "She got rough. Fell on the floor. Busted her head open. I got scared, left. Next thing I know, I'm being charged with things that didn't happen."

But what about the bruises on Boyden's throat, or the bites and bruises that covered her breasts?

"Like I said, we tried [to have sex]," Logan says. "We couldn't do anything, and she got mad. And we wrestled. And that's it."

And the 16 stitches in Boyden's forehead?
"When you fall off the bed, and your face hits flat on the carpet, that's what happens," he says.

And if, as he claims, Logan did nothing wrong, why did he flee, and initially lie to police?

"I got scared."
He was exonerated, Logan says, because "my story jibed, and so did the evidence at the scene. It matched everything I said."

Not quite. At the time of the alleged attack, police noted that the floor fan apparently had not moved. If it had, it would have left a ring in the carpet. Logan says he or Boyden must have placed it back in exactly the spot where it had stood.

Boyden, who recalls so little of the afternoon's events, has only her injuries as proof of what happened.

But it wasn't nearly enough for county prosecutors.
"They [the county attorney's staff] probably deal with so many subterranean people all day long that they get really world-weary and cynical," Brian Finkel says. "They just don't give a shit, and they're probably saying, 'She was drunk, she took him home, they started screwing and it got out of control, and tough. We tried. Go away. Next crime. Who got shot?'"

Actually, that's not what the county attorney's staff is probably saying. It's pretty close to what county prosecutor Hugo Zettler did say to Kim Boyden.

Ironically, Zettler probably wouldn't have come into contact with Boyden's case if it hadn't been for the fact that he had been reassigned months earlier--for violating a victim's rights in an unrelated case.

In January 1996, Maricopa County Attorney Rick Romley reassigned Zettler to the charging division--where attorneys present cases to grand juries--after it was revealed that Zettler had offered a lenient plea bargain to an offender without consulting the victim.

Romley used the occasion of Zettler's demotion to hold a press conference and announce that his office was in a "crisis," his prosecutors overworked, and his budget inadequate--by $5 million.

"Every victim has the right to be treated with respect and dignity," Romley said at the time. But that notion got lost when Boyden's case came up.

Zettler's reassignment tagged him to seek an indictment in the Boyden case. Catherine Leisch was the county prosecutor assigned to the case, but Zettler presented it to the grand jury. This is a standard procedure.

Boyden and Finkel were both horrified by Zettler's comments to Boyden. Obviously, Boyden admits, she took home the wrong guy. But no one else has had the huevos--or insensitivity--to tell her that.

She says, "Sure, I'd know better than to bring a stranger into my house if I wasn't drinking alcohol. That's one thing I wouldn't have done if I was sober. But that doesn't give someone the right to beat the holy hell out of you and leave you in a trauma ward."

And it doesn't give a county prosecutor the right to laugh at and insult the victim, which is what Boyden says Zettler did to her.

Zettler was given the opportunity to comment for this story through his attorney, Gerald Strick, and county attorney spokesman Bill FitzGerald, and did not respond.

This was not the first time Zettler had been accused of making inappropriate statements on the job. In fact, he was demoted and given a pay cut of 10 percent last year, specifically because of his "rude and sarcastic attitude" toward law enforcement agencies.

County attorney officials have compiled detailed complaints levied by Phoenix police, State Capitol police and the Department of Public Safety.

Among them is a specific instance of Zettler's insensitivity, involving a crime suspect named George Gardner. "Gardner, an 18 year-old allegedly chased a 14 year-old around his grandmother's home with a cutlery knife with a 10 inch blade," writes chief deputy county attorney Paul Ahler in a letter to Zettler. "Your response to this incident--'maybe W1 [the grandmother] needs to learn how to take a joke?'--demonstrates a callous attitude toward a serious offense."

Zettler's comment had been included in a written "turndown" letter sent to police.

Replying to Ahler, Zettler writes that the Gardner turndown letter was drafted after a discussion with police. "It is my recollection that they [police] felt the same way about the case as I did. Not all submittals, no matter how serious, are totally devoid of humor."

Hugo Zettler is appealing his demotion. A hearing is scheduled for April 14. He remains an adjunct professor at the Arizona State University College of Law, where he teaches in a clinic designed to give law students prosecutorial experience.

Mike Logan says he's living out of his truck, financially ruined by Kim Boyden's accusations. Even though he was cleared of the charges, friends, employers and associates who learned of his arrest have deserted him, Logan says.

"Who's the victim here?" he asks.
"You want to hurt somebody, get them financially, and that's exactly what happened. I'm paying through the nose. I mean, I'm eating at Burger King every night because all I can afford is a 99-cent burger, and then I save a little money so that when I have my daughter, I can stay someplace nice and take care of her. You know, that's the number one person in my life, and about the only one who really is true to me."

Logan and his daughter spend every other weekend together.
When he hears that he's to be the subject of a story, Logan says, "She's a woman, I'm a guy, and guys shouldn't do this, huh? So no matter what you print, or how you make it look, here I am again. I'm gonna get fucked over again, no matter what. She's doing a good job of getting me, that's for sure."

He adds, "This woman isn't happy enough with destroying my life. She wants to see me dead in a gutter somewhere, because she doesn't want to face the truth."

The truth, Logan says, is that Boyden brought him home for sex, they wrestled, she hurt herself, and was too ashamed to admit it to her family.

"Even the detectives said, 'We don't think you're the type to do this.' I mean, they were basically on my side, but they have to be on the side of the so-called victim. But, sometimes, the so-called victim is the person who turns the other person into the victim," Logan says.

But what about the bruises, the cuts, the broken nose?
"I saw her three days later [at the arraignment], and I didn't see any bruising on her. She healed awful quick, I know that, so it couldn't have been that severe," Logan says. He doesn't remember her having black eyes.

(Photographs taken the day prior to the arraignment appear on page 29.)
"I'm a nice person, believe it or not," Logan says. "I'm a good person. It was stupid, what happened. It was bad judgment, on both of us, and what happened was purely an accident. It wasn't intentional, malicious or criminal. Just make sure you say that, because I'm not like that."

Last week, Kim Boyden renewed her order of protection against Michael Logan. She must renew it every six months.

For his part, Logan says, "I've avoided being anywhere near where she might live or go. She put another restraining order on me--I got that today. I don't have a problem with that because I don't want no part of her. I don't want to be around anywhere she's at."

Now, more than six months after her initial bout with the legal system, Boyden still has questions. Like, when will the Scottsdale prosecutor's office decide whether to file charges against Logan? Wait and see, the office tells New Times.

Boyden would also like to know what happened to the condom found at the crime scene. Scottsdale Detective Scott Popp now says he lied to Logan when he told him there was semen in the condom.

Boyden doesn't believe that.
Now, Boyden may finally get the answer to her question. Last week, Popp told New Times he has located the condom and intends to have it DNA-tested through the Department of Public Safety. He maintains that there was nothing in it.

Boyden still lives in the house where she says she was attacked. She has bought a German shepherd, beefed up her security system and stacked cinder blocks against her back fence as an escape route.

She has guns in every room, and flashbacks almost every night.
She hasn't undergone any counseling. And says she won't.
"I like the anger," Boyden says. "I don't want anyone to erase what happened, to get me to try to forgive and forget, because there's no way in hell he's ever going to be forgiven from me. He can rot in hell.

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Amy Silverman is a two-time winner of the Arizona Press Club’s Journalist of the Year award. Her work has appeared on the radio show This American Life and in the New York Times, the Washington Post, Lenny Letter, and Brain, Child. She’s the co-curator of the live reading series Bar Flies, and a commentator for KJZZ, the NPR affiliate in Phoenix. Silverman is the author of the book My Heart Can’t Even Believe It: A Story of Science, Love, and Down Syndrome (Woodbine House 2016). Follow her on Instagram (@amysilverman), Twitter (@amysilvermanaz), and at amy-silverman.com.