\💔 HEARTBREAKING: Just hours before she was k//il//led, Logan Federico texted her mom: “Don’t wait up, I’m safe.” But phone data shows her message was never delivered — it disappeared from the system entirely…….Full story👇👇👇

In the fragile hours before tragedy struck, 22-year-old Logan Federico sent what would become her last message to her mother—a simple, reassuring text: “Don’t wait up, I’m safe.” But phone data reveals a cruel twist: the message was never delivered, vanishing from the system entirely, as if fate itself conspired to withhold that final comfort. This undelivered note amplifies the heartbreak for her family, particularly her father Stephen Federico, who has transformed unimaginable loss into a relentless battle against the systemic failures that allowed her killer to roam free.

Logan, a vibrant college student from Waxhaw, North Carolina, was visiting friends near the University of South Carolina in Columbia on May 3, 2025. Described as a “strong, fun, loving individual” who dreamed of becoming a teacher, she was an avid Taylor Swift fan and someone who “fought for the underdog” and cared deeply for others. At just 5 feet 3 inches and 115 pounds, Logan’s life was cut short in a brutal home invasion. After a night out, she returned to the rental home on Cypress Street around 3 a.m. Alexander Devonte Dickey, a 30-year-old career criminal with 39 arrests and 25 felonies, had already burglarized the neighboring house, stealing wallets, cards, and a firearm. He then entered Logan’s room, dragged her from bed—naked and vulnerable—forcing her to her knees with hands raised, begging for her life before shooting her execution-style in the chest with the stolen shotgun.

Her body wasn’t discovered until around 11 a.m., prompting a frantic 911 call. In the interim, Dickey fled in a stolen vehicle, used Logan’s stolen credit cards for purchases—spending her money just 90 minutes after the murder—and continued his crime spree with more break-ins and arson before his arrest in Gaston, South Carolina. The Richland County Coroner confirmed the homicide, leaving her family shattered. Stephen Federico later recounted the horror at a press conference: “You can’t kill my spirit. You might be able to kill my body… but you cannot kill my love that my family and friends shared with me.”

The undelivered text adds a layer of eerie mystery to the timeline. Sent hours before the invasion, its disappearance from phone records—never reaching her mother’s device—has fueled speculation and deepened the family’s grief. Why did it vanish? Technical glitches, network issues, or something more sinister tied to the intruder’s actions? Investigators have not publicly explained, but for Stephen, it’s another symbol of how Logan’s final moments of perceived safety were stolen not just by violence, but by unseen failures. This echoes the unidentified loud sound in her last voicemail to her father, replayed over a hundred times, blending joy with foreboding.

Dickey’s extensive record exposes glaring judicial lapses. Despite first-degree burglary charges that should have mandated 15-year minimums, he was often treated as a first-time offender due to missing fingerprints and poor record-keeping from 2013-2015 arrests. Over a decade, he spent only about 600 days in prison, released repeatedly via cashless bail and lenient pleas—policies Stephen decries as “soft-on-crime.” A WIS-TV investigation revealed these errors might have kept him incarcerated, potentially saving Logan’s life.

Stephen’s testimony at the U.S. House Judiciary Subcommittee hearing on violent crime in Charlotte on September 29, 2025, was a raw outcry. Flanked by Logan’s photo, he implored lawmakers: “Think about your child… dragged her out of bed. Naked. Forced on her knees… Begging for her life. Begging for her hero. Her father.” He corrected Rep. Deborah Ross’s mix-up with Iryna Zarutska’s name, vowing, “Logan Federico, not Iryna. You will not forget her… You pissed off the wrong daddy.” No Democrats, including Rep. James Clyburn, reached out post-murder, contrasting Republican backing.

Held without bond at Lexington County Detention Center, Dickey faces murder, burglary, weapons, larceny, and theft charges. South Carolina AG Alan Wilson urges the death penalty, citing the burglary-murder and Dickey’s history. Rep. Ralph Norman calls for impeaching Solicitor Byron Gipson over communication delays, though officials claim ongoing updates. Stephen pushes “Logan’s Law,” a federal bill inspired by North Carolina’s “Iryna’s Law,” to detain repeat offenders pre-trial and expedite appeals for capital cases.

Public fury erupts on X, with posts decrying media silence—”ZERO MEDIA OUTRAGE” for Logan’s case versus others—and sharing Stephen’s testimony. Users like @EndWokeness highlight the lack of national attention, while @BWLH_ details the execution-style killing. A DOJ report underscores recidivism risks, with 68% rearrested within three years, fueling demands for reform.

Governor Henry McMaster called Logan’s death “unacceptable,” echoing calls for bond reform. Stephen vows persistence: “I will fight until my last breath for my daughter… She was what this country needed.” The undelivered text, like the voicemail’s mystery sound, symbolizes lost chances— a safe night promised but erased.

Logan’s legacy drives change, from congressional halls to social media. Her family’s pain, intensified by that vanished message, demands accountability: stricter sentencing, better records, and policies protecting the innocent over repeat threats. As Dickey’s case progresses toward potential execution, Stephen ensures her name endures. Will the system finally deliver justice, or will another undelivered promise claim a life? For Logan—teacher hopeful, Swiftie, beacon of kindness—her unheard “I’m safe” urges America to act before silence turns fatal again.