There are stories that cut so deeply into the human heart that they leave behind a scar even for those who never knew the victim. Stories that force us to confront the darkest corners of human cruelty, the failures of systems meant to protect, and the silent cries of a child who had no voice, no defense, and no escape.

This is one of those stories.
It begins with a baby named Finley Boden.

He was only 10 months old.
A child who had just learned to cling, to smile, to recognize the faces around him.
A baby who should have been safe, cherished, and protected.

Instead, Finley spent the final weeks of his life trapped in a home where every day brought new injuries, new lies, and new attempts to hide what was happening behind tightly shut curtains.

And by the time anyone realized the truth, it was already far too late.

A Baby Returned — And a Countdown Begins

Finley was born on February 15, 2020, a healthy little boy with soft cheeks and wide, curious eyes. But the moment he entered the world, trouble followed. Social workers had concerns—serious ones. They believed that if Finley stayed in the care of his parents,he would likely suffer “significant harm.”

For the first months of his life, the system protected him.
But then came the lies.
The promises.
The performance.

His parents—Stephen Bodenand Shannon Marsden—told social workers exactly what they wanted to hear. They painted a picture of a reformed home, of responsibility and change, of a future where Finley would be safe. And with Covid-19 restrictions limiting physical visits, oversight weakened. The cracks widened.

On October 1st, a family court made a decision that would soon prove fatal:

Finley was returned to their care.

Thirty-nine days later, he was dead.

The Violence No One Saw — Until It Was Too Late

Christmas Day is supposed to be a time of warmth, joy, and family.
Instead, for Finley, it became the day his tiny body could no longer hold on.

When first responders arrived, they found a baby incardiac arrest. But the truth behind that emergency was far more horrific than anyone imagined.

Finley had:

• 71 bruises
• Two burns on his left hand
• 57 broken bones

Fifty-seven.

Fractures that twisted his tiny limbs.
Fractures that made every movement agony.
Fractures that caused infections to spread through his body—pneumonia, sepsis, and overwhelming pain.

Injury after injury layered on top of each other.
Day after day.
With no medical care.
No safety.
No way out.

It wasn’t just abuse.
It was torture.

A Home Built on Lies and Isolation

Perhaps the most chilling part of this story is not only what happened to Finley, but how carefully it was hidden.

Boden and Marsden worked together, not to parent their son, but to protect each other and conceal their violence.

They canceled a health visitor appointment two days before Finley died.
They told social services—who arrived unannounced—that Finley “might have Covid,” refusing to let anyone inside the house. The pandemic became their shield, a convenient excuse to keep the outside world away.

Behind that door, the abuse continued unchecked.
Every bruise hidden.
Every scream unheard.
Every broken bone ignored until infection consumed him.

Authorities later confirmed that denying Finley medical care directly contributed to his death.
Help would have saved him.
But help was deliberately kept away.

How the System Failed — And Why It Matters

When Finley was first taken from his parents, the warning signs were clear. The risk was documented. His safety was a priority.

So what went wrong?

How did two parents with a history of instability, violence, and manipulation convince professionals that they had changed?

Covid restrictions played a devastating role. Limited home visits meant fewer eyes on Finley, fewer chances to detect danger, fewer opportunities to intervene.

Paper promises were accepted as truth.
And a baby paid the price.

Finley didn’t die because no one cared.
He died because the lies were stronger than the supervision.

A system designed to protect him believed the very people he needed protection from.

The Final Hours of a Child Who Could Not Speak

In the days before his death, Finley’s body was failing. The fractures were overwhelming. The infections ravaged his lungs. His tiny chest struggled to rise and fall.

He needed urgent medical help.

But he wasn’t taken to a hospital.
He wasn’t seen by a doctor.
He wasn’t even given a chance.

Instead, the people who should have protected him were the ones who watched him suffer, who denied him every bit of care, who hid him from professionals who might have saved him.

And on Christmas Day, his little body simply couldn’t take any more.

At 10 months old, Finley’s life ended in terror, pain, and silence.

Justice Arrives—But Only After a Life Is Lost

In the courtroom, as the details of Finley’s injuries were read aloud, even hardened professionals were shaken. The extent of the violence was beyond comprehension.

For their crimes, Stephen Boden and Shannon Marsden were sentenced to life imprisonment.
But for many, the punishment feels hollow.

They will live.
They will breathe.
They will have food, medical care, safety, and years ahead of them.

Finley never had that chance.

A Name That Should Never Be Forgotten

Stories like Finley’s are not easy to read. They shouldn’t be. They’re meant to disturb us, to haunt us, to force us to question how such a thing could happen—and how to make sure it never happens again.

Finley was not “a case.”
He was not “a statistic.”
He was a baby—soft, tiny, innocent, and helpless.

A child whose life lasted only 10 months, but whose story should last far longer.

Because remembering him means refusing to let systems fail like this again.
Remembering him means acknowledging the truth rather than hiding from it.
Remembering him means honoring a baby who had everything stolen from him—health, safety, protection, and a future.

Finley deserved a first birthday.
First steps.
First words.
A childhood.
A life.

He deserved the chance to grow up.

Instead, we are left with the echoes of what might have been—a life cut short not by illness or accident, but by the very people who should have loved him most.

His story is painful.
His story is disturbing.
But his story matters.

And the world must never forget the name Finley Boden.