Final Moments Captured: The Heartbreaking Last Photo of Logan Federico Amid a Random Home Invasion
In the quiet early hours of May 3, 2025, in Columbia, South Carolina’s Old Shandon neighborhood, 22-year-old Logan Federico’s life was tragically cut short in a senseless act of violence. Investigators revealed chilling details from the crime scene: Logan was found still clutching her phone, with her final photo—a serene image of the night sky—timestamped just one minute before the shooting began. This poignant discovery has amplified the grief of her family and ignited national outrage over a justice system that allowed her accused killer, a career criminal with nearly 40 arrests, to roam free.
Logan, a vibrant college student from Waxhaw, North Carolina, was visiting friends near the University of South Carolina. She had returned from a night out with her group just before 3 a.m. on May 3, settling into a home on the 2700 block of Cypress Street. Unbeknownst to her, 30-year-old Alexander Dickey was on a crime spree, breaking into nearby residences. Police reports detail how Dickey first entered an adjacent house, stealing vehicle keys, a firearm, and other items. He then moved to the unlocked home where Logan was sleeping, rummaging through rooms and taking wallets, credit cards, and debit cards before entering her bedroom.
The Columbia Police Department (CPD) believes Dickey confronted Logan in her room, where she was lying in bed. At just 5 feet 3 inches and 115 pounds, the aspiring teacher posed no threat, yet she was shot in the chest in what authorities describe as an execution-style killing during the burglary. Logan’s phone, gripped tightly in her hand, held the last evidence of her peaceful evening: a photo of the starlit sky, captured mere moments before the intruder shattered her world. This timestamped image, revealed by investigators, paints a haunting picture of innocence interrupted—Logan perhaps gazing out a window or stepping outside briefly, unaware of the danger lurking. “Think about your child coming home from a night out with friends, lying down, going to sleep, feeling somebody come into the room … and wake them,” her father, Stephen Federico, implored during public statements, emphasizing the terror of her final moments.
Following the shooting, Dickey fled in a stolen vehicle, using Logan’s stolen cards for a shopping spree in Lexington and Saluda counties. When the car broke down, he had it towed to a residence in Gaston, South Carolina, broke into another home, and set it ablaze in an arson attempt to evade capture. A manhunt ensued amid severe weather, culminating in his arrest after officers extracted him through a window. Dickey faces multiple charges, including murder, theft, burglary, and arson across jurisdictions.
Logan’s death was not random in the sense of intent but tragically opportunistic—police confirmed she was not a targeted victim, yet the unlocked doors and Dickey’s unchecked freedom turned a safe haven into a nightmare. Columbia Police Chief Skip Holbrook stated at a press conference, “Logan was not an intended target,” but her loss “touches all of us in a way that it’ll never leave us.” The discovery of her phone and the night sky photo has become a symbol of stolen potential, evoking widespread empathy and calls for reform.
Stephen Federico’s anguish has propelled him into a vocal advocate against systemic failures. In emotional testimonies, including a viral House Judiciary Subcommittee hearing in Charlotte on September 29, 2025, he described Logan’s final plea: “She was begging for her life, begging for her hero, her father, me, that couldn’t be there… Bang! Dead. Gone. Why?” He slammed lawmakers for policies allowing repeat offenders like Dickey— with 39 arrests and 25 felonies, including first-degree burglaries—to receive lenient pleas, such as probation for a 2023 third-degree burglary guilty plea. “There is only one thing that would have kept my daughter alive, and that is putting a career criminal in prison,” Stephen declared. He even confronted a congresswoman for mistaking Logan’s photo for another victim’s, roaring, “This isn’t Iryna. This is my daughter.”
Dickey’s history underscores the father’s fury: despite charges carrying minimum 15-year sentences, procedural errors like unentered fingerprints and plea deals kept him free. South Carolina Lt. Gov. Pamela Evette called it a “clear illustration of our failed justice system.” In October 2025, Attorney General Alan Wilson urged the death penalty and assigned a senior attorney, while Stephen pushes for federal handling, believing state courts failed Logan. “Logan believed in accountability,” he said, vowing to fight “until my last breath.”
Logan was more than a victim; she was a “biggest Taylor Swift fan,” who adored children and had recently found her calling in education at South Piedmont Community College, planning to transfer to the College of Charleston. Her brother called her his “rock,” and family cherished her as a light. A pink-themed memorial in Waxhaw drew crowds, with Stephen reflecting, “We train our kids to live without us… but nobody trained me for this.” The last family photo, a reminder of her devotion, haunts them.
The case has sparked debates on criminal justice reform, with Stephen’s pleas echoing in hearings alongside other victims’ families. “You pissed off the wrong daddy,” he warned lawmakers, turning personal tragedy into a crusade. As Dickey awaits trial, the night sky photo—Logan’s final capture—stands as a testament to a life full of promise, extinguished too soon. Her story demands not just justice, but systemic change to prevent the next “bang… dead… gone.”
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