COATESVILLE, Pa. – It was just another Thursday night, four friends hanging out. Two of them played video games, one lay resting on the couch, and the other asleep in his room in the back.

The door to the apartment was left unlocked – an uncommon coincidence that led the night’s series of unfortunate events.

At approximately 12:20 a.m., on June 29, 2012, three men stormed into the apartment at 744 Merchant St. and attempted to rob the residents of drugs and money, police said. The intruders wore T-shirts wrapped around their faces to conceal their identity.

The robbery quickly turned into a murder after 22-year-old Dominique Williams was shot in the groin. While the intruders carried out their mission, Williams lay on the floor bleeding out from the bullet that pierced an artery. He died at Paoli Hospital later that Friday.

Within minutes, police officers Christopher McCarthy, Stephen Galletta and “the entire shift was on location,” Galletta testified.

From inside the home to out on the nearby street blocks, the officers went on a hunt for evidence. About a block from the apartment, a clear jar was found shoved in a hedge row. Some 15 feet from the jar, a black T-shirt was discovered.

According to court records, the fingerprints of Dominique Lee matched those on the jar and the DNA of his half-brother, Marquis Rayner, was found on the shirt.

Commonwealth exhibits 10 (jar) and 11 (T-shirt), as referred to by court officials during a three-day trial in November 2014, are the reason the two are currently incarcerated, serving sentences of life plus 65 years.

The case stunned the small town of Coatesville and its 13,000 residents. Family and friends mourned the loss of Williams. Those close to Lee and Rayner grieved over the thought of their loved ones never returning home.

I know this to be true because I’m from Coatesville. I remember hearing all about the case. I also recall the stories that surfaced as a result of “the streets talking.” That’s what initially drew me to investigate.

“Marquis is innocent,” many residents told me over the years and when I came back home. I wanted to know why I heard the statement both back in the day and recently.

So, I flew from California to Pittsburgh, slept a few hours, drove two hours to Marienville and visited Rayner at the place he calls home: SCI Forest, one of 24 Department of Corrections state facilities.

We talked for almost five hours about the case, his journey from free man to prison inmate, and the many different theories he believes led to his conviction.

I was interested to learn all he wanted to share, but one central question really gnawed at me throughout the years: How did a shirt with Marquis Rayner’s DNA end up down the street from the scene of a brutal crime?

“I do believe there is a possibility someone else might’ve had my shirt on,” Rayner said.

He repeatedly asserted his innocence and suggested his shirt could've been taken from the home he and his half-brother shared and ended up at the crime scene because of someone else.

But before we got to that point, he took me through what it was like the morning of his arrest on suspicion of murder.

“Marquis are you in there, don’t move! We’re coming up!”

He thought it was a bad dream, a nightmare he’d soon wake up from. It didn’t take long to realize it was anything but.

Twenty-three-year-old Rayner slowly opened his eyes as he was met by at least three cops standing tall on top of him, shining what was the brightest light his pupils had ever adjusted to. The men sported husky black vests with the words “U.S. Marshall” etched across their chests.

He cautiously rose from the bed, out of his deep slumber. Scared, shocked and extremely confused, he followed the instruction of the men who towered above him, spitting orders and watching him chaotically grab for clothes to prepare for the ride ahead. He tossed on a burgundy Nike hoodie, blue jeans and Jordan fours and proceeded out of his room, down the stairs.

His focus was jaded by the handcuffs that were cold and fastened too tight as he passed by his mother. She was preparing for another day of work at the Brandywine Hospital, a place of employment she shared with her son. She stood in disbelief alongside Rayner’s stepdad – who had answered to the loud thumps on the door – with no control over the unfortunate series of events that played out right before her eyes.

He scuffled passed his younger sister, who sat on the couch covered only in a towel, after her morning school routine was interrupted by the excessive banging and yelling from voices not recognized.

On March 12, 2013, Rayner walked out the door and down the stoop of 101 Chester Avenue, for what he didn’t realize may have been the last time.

His body experienced shock as he was positioned on the frigid seat of the truck that waited for him. He attempted to piece together what was transpiring.

“What the fuck is going on?” Rayner whispered to himself as the truck slowly drifted down the hill.

After the prison visit, I drove four hours to Coatesville. I needed to talk with Rayner’s family, to get a better sense of his character.

“He is goofy, funny, sarcastic,” Aaliyah Lee said.

Rayner’s 25-year-old sister sat next to her mother on the couch, grinning as she described her brother’s personality.

“His spirit is everything,” she said. “Even though he’s inside right now, he still has a good personality and keeps good faith.”

His mother, Shawn Lee, patiently waited her turn to brag about her first-born.

“He’s funny but can be serious,” she said. “He has a good heart and loves his family.”

The mother-daughter duo shared laughs and tears while reminiscing.

She didn’t want to leave anything out about her son’s past. She was sure to include the one time Rayner did find trouble.

At the age of 15, he was arrested for robbery. He spent about 13 months in a juvenile detention center.

According to a report by the Daily Local News, Rayner’s lawyer Samuel Stretton said that Rayner “changed his life” and that “there is another side to this young man.”

And there was. Getting in trouble once was enough for him. Before lock up he had a job as a dietician at the Brandywine hospital and worked at a daycare. He was in a relationship with his girlfriend at the time. He was gearing up to study video production at the Art Institute of Philadelphia.

More recently in 2018, while incarcerated, he graduated from school with certifications in heating, ventilating and air condition and electricity.

His mom and sister were just as eager to describe Dominique, Marquis and his brother, Dominique Lee, on prom night. the other brother and son they lost to the prison system.

Aaliyah Lee started, “Me and Dom were like two peas in a pod.”

She described their close-knit relationship and said her brother served as a protector growing up.

Her mother chuckled as she recalled all of the headaches she experienced raising her younger son. She said that Rayner and Lee have different fathers and she felt it was necessary to give her younger son a bit more attention growing up.

The two women spent most of the time reminiscing about the relationship of the brothers throughout their childhood. Rayner and Lee fought. A lot. They disagreed sometimes. It was a “love-hate relationship” according to their mom. But they definitely loved each other and that was very clear.

Despite all of the love, Lee pointed out that there were significant behavioral differences between the two brothers.

“Quis was always the one that didn’t want to be in trouble,” she said. “You know, he didn’t want to go that route.”

Lee grabbed her daughter’s hand as a way to console one another through tears while they reiterated to me the biggest takeaway: a sister lost both of her brothers and a mother lost her only two sons. Regardless of who might’ve been right or wrong, they care deeply for them both.

“Every time something happened, I was always there to save them,” said the mother as she tried to contain her emotions.

“This time I just couldn’t help them, I couldn’t save them. And it’s hard.”

"I feel like I lost a brother,” Rayner told me during the prison interview.

He said he can't know for sure but felt his brother must have played a role in the crime. After all, Lee’s prints were found on the jar recovered as evidence. But Rayner insists he wasn't involved.

“The murder happened in June 2012, I was brought in for questioning in December of 2012. They didn’t arrest me until March 2013,” Rayner said.

“I asked my brother what the hell was going on, how is my name wrapped up into this?”

Rayner said authorities came to arrest two people on March 12, looking for not only him but also his brother; Lee was not home. According to Rayner and reports, Lee turned himself in to authorities not long after.

I tried to get Lee to speak to me for this story. I wanted to hear his side. But after some back and forth on a prison messaging system, he declined to comment.

Rayner recalled some of the statements authorities made at the time of questioning, “‘We know your brother is in the streets and you aren’t.’”

In that same meeting, they requested to swab Rayner, seeking saliva samples they could run through systems for possible matches.

“I didn’t hesitate,” Rayner said.

“I knew I had nothing to hide. And maybe it wasn’t the greatest decision without a lawyer, but I had nothing to hide!”

One question lingered and I had to press him: How did your DNA end up on that T-shirt?

“Someone else could’ve had it on,” Rayner said.

If true, Rayner’s situation could be similiar to that of 2,604 inmates exonerated since 1989, according to the National Registry of Exonerations.

Nov. 17, 2014 was just day one in Courtroom No. 1 led by Judge James P. MacElree.

Rayner anxiously sat through trial as the prosecution team and two defense lawyers argued back and forth, attempting to persuade the 12-person jury to side with them.

Lee was also present as the judge tried both men together in a joint trial.

Originally, each brother was scheduled to have his own trial but the lead prosecutor, Mark Conte, filed a motion for a single trial. The story seemed to tell a perfect tale for jurors: two brothers in action.

Rayner said the brothers had a close relationship throughout their childhood years, but the storyline no longer held for them as adults.

The trial lasted three days and fills 800-plus pages of court transcripts.

On multiple occasions Judge MacElree denied motions requested by Rayner’s lawyer, Stretton, during trial. MacElree didn’t seem too fond of the attorney who had been practicing law for over 35 years.

Things grew intense when Stretton requested a mistrial after a key witness – one of the men in the house at the time of crime – allegedly offered an inconsistent statement. His description of the black T-shirt changed over time and the discrepancy prompted Stretton to call it out.

The judge denied the request and instructed Stretton to “have a seat.” He even explained to the court that, “It is not uncommon for the witness to be innocently mistaken in his or her recollection of how something happened.”

The black T-shirt was the only piece of evidence that linked Rayner to the case.

Forensic scientist Timothy Gavel confirmed he found three other DNA samples on the shirt, but only Rayner’s was identified.

According to trial transcripts, the jar had a pack of Newport cigarettes, cash and marijuana in it before it was taken from the apartment. The pack of cigarettes was also entered as evidence.

Detective Kenneth Beam, an expert in fingerprint analysis, was questioned.

“And you were not able to identify any prints of Mr. Rayner either on the jar or that pack of cigarettes that was given to you for a review, fair statement?” Stretton asked.

“That is correct,” Beam answered.

A few other important arguments that supported Rayner’s defense were brought up over the course of the three days:

• Witnesses testified that the assailants used guns in their right hands. Rayner is left-handed, as confirmed by family members at trial.
• Phone records indicated constant calls and text messages at crucial times on the night of the crime. Rayner says he was communicating with his girlfriend.
• Four alibi witnesses placed Rayner at the VFW, a local Coatesville bar. They say he was there the entire night.

There was no preliminary hearing in the matter. Instead, according to an article by The Times, District Attorney Tom Hogan convened a grand jury, which indicted the brothers. In most murder cases, a judge convenes a preliminary hearing and weighs whether sufficient evidence is presented to warrant a trial.

A lot transpired in those three days. Most of the individuals involved in the case spoke at some point.

Except for the defendants. Rayner and Lee watched silently as the fate of their freedom lay in the hands of their attorneys. But Rayner was also keeping an eye and ear out for something else. Still very unsure, he said he was hoping his brother knew something, anything, and would stand up in court, on his behalf.

That never happened.

Before talking with Rayner’s mom and sister, I stopped by his nana’s house to chat with Hoggard. Though only related as cousins, they seemed more like brother and sister. Rayner and Hoggard spent lots of time together growing up.

Hoggard and her mother, Tara Lee, the brothers’ aunt, spearheaded initiatives to try and help get the word out about Rayner’s innocence. They quickly became the voices on the outside.

In addition to providing funding, they attended wrongful conviction meetings and created social sites (Instagram, Webnode, Change.org petition).

The two have been advocating for more than seven years since Rayner’s arrest. It was obvious when I spoke to Hoggard how passionate she was about supporting her cousin.

“This situation is near and dear,” she began. “Not just because he’s my cousin and he’s serving life without parole but the fact that he’s innocent and serving life without parole.”

Her efforts in spreading the word coalesced into a city-wide rally held this year on Feb. 22, Marquis’ 30th birthday.

After my night of interviews ended, I rested for a few hours and woke up the next day, prepared to attend the rally but unsure of how many people would show up.

I drove up to a small crowd of residents, some of whom I knew, finalizing poster decorations and gathering around Hoggard and her family.

The four-way intersection quickly became packed with people from the community who held up signs and chanted, “No justice, no peace, free Marquis!”

I know the city was divided over the case: loved ones lost, different stories floating around. But in those moments, I also witnessed the opposite. The case brought many people together.

A nearby barbershop even closed its doors for a couple hours and showed up to support.

The message of the residents of the city rang clear: Marquis is innocent, the city has been affected and they won’t stop fighting until justice is served.

"You can’t say when the DNA was put there,” Stretton said as he stressed to the jury to make a decision without any reasonable doubt. “Was it deposited playing basketball two weeks ago? Brothers live together, and people share T-shirts, we just don’t know.”

In Marquis Rayner’s case, the argument wasn’t enough. He was found guilty of most of the charges brought against him, including murder of the second degree.

Of the two defendants, Rayner was the only who spoke after hearing the jury’s decision.

“My prayers and thoughts go out to Dominique Williams and his family. I can only imagine what they are going through,” he said. “But not only has an innocent man been killed, an innocent man is getting sentenced to life for this.”

He went on, “I am innocent. I did not set this up. This is a big mistake, and justice has not been served. You all got the wrong guy.”

Time flew by during our prison interview. We must’ve talked for maybe four hours straight before he looked up at the clock for the first time. At this point in the visit, his energy somewhat deflated, I could see he was exhausted from recalling the incident as well as dealing with the emotions that came with it.

“I feel like I lost a brother,” Rayner said, repeating himself from earlier.

The last few minutes of the interview were spent discussing the coincidence involving key players in his case. The judge (MacElree) and head district attorney of Chester County (Tom Hogan) both retired after the Lee/Rayner case. Mark Conte switched sides from prosecutor to defense attorney and joined forces with Evan Kelly, which led to the inception of The Law Offices of Kelly and Conte.

Due to a terminal illness, Mark Conte died on Thursday, Mar. 12.

Rayner's case is currently in the appeal process awaiting a decision from the Supreme Court.

After three denied appeals, Rayner is hoping the high court will order a new trial.

“It definitely is a bad nightmare,” he told me. “But I’m starting to see the end, I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

He made it clear that despite his situation, he tries to stay in good spirits, thinking positive thoughts and imagining the day he might be released.

He stood up to stretch and prepared to head back to his cell. “I haven’t cried throughout this process yet. I’m waiting to save these tears for the day I’m set free.”

He joined the others, waved goodbye and waited for the buzzer to sound, signifying the door was unlocked for him to walk down the hall, back to his cell.