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Not Victim Enough

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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.'"

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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.