Marves Fairley swears he can help you win money.
Under his online moniker, “Vezino Locks,” Fairley supplies gambling tips to customers who pay $60 a pop for his daily picks. His social media is a flood of diamonds, celebrities and winning betting slips.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementSubscribe to The Post Most newsletter for the most important and interesting stories from The Washington Post.
“We’re cashing all day,” he posted on Instagram one recent NFL Sunday, “and every hour you’re not tapped in is money you’re leaving on the table.”
With sports betting more popular and accessible than ever, it’s an increasingly common hustle: self-proclaimed experts using social media to offer picks for a price. But Fairley really did have an edge, federal prosecutors say.
Last month, prosecutors unsealed an indictment charging Fairley with bribery and wire fraud and accusing him of coordinating one of the biggest match-fixing networks in American history. And that was just one of the sports betting corruption sagas in which Fairley plays a central role.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementFairley, 40, is accused of paying for inside information that NBA player Terry Rozier would intentionally underperform. He was named among the gamblers who allegedly knew then-NBA player Jontay Porter would take himself out of a game to satisfy bets. And he made bets, prosecutors say, based on information furnished by Portland Trail Blazers Coach Chauncey Billups and Los Angeles Lakers assistant Damon Jones.
But the most sweeping allegations focus on Fairley’s college basketball bets. Prosecutors say he was at the center of an international match-fixing ring that rigged dozens of NCAA men’s games, enlisting recruiters with deep ties to local basketball communities and targeting athletes who played on bad teams and didn’t earn much name, image and likeness (NIL) money.
Dozens of players have been implicated, and at least 20 face charges. From February 2024 to January 2025, the indictment alleges, Fairley and associates collectively wagered more than $3 million on at least 29 games involving those players.
The operation, as described in court records, offered players five-figure payments to manipulate their performances to satisfy bets Fairley placed through a national network of gamblers. As the integrity of major American sports comes under growing scrutiny amid the online betting boom, Fairley has emerged as one of the top beneficiaries of the alleged corruption.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementFairley has pleaded not guilty to all charges. He didn’t respond to interview requests, and his lawyer, Eric Siegel, declined to comment.
But last year, when Fairley’s name emerged as the suspected ringleader of a match-fixing scheme, he briefly discussed the situation on his podcast.
“It comes with the territory with success,” Fairley said. “They hung Jesus to the cross. … I’m built for this. We’ll just keep going.”
- - -
With a charming persona and a muscular physique, Fairley offers advice beyond gambling to his more than 33,000 Instagram followers and 500 YouTube subscribers. His podcast episodes include “How Do I Not Go Broke?” and “Do Sex Fix Relationship Problems?”
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisement“I want to give you the right picks,” he said on one podcast, “but also I want to teach you about managing money.”
The way Fairley tells it, he has had a keen sense for growing his money since he was young.
Back in his 20s, when he was “indulging in illegal activities” and “making money so fast,” he was more frugal than his peers, he said in an online video. “The only thing that I did that other dope boys wasn’t doing was saving my money.”
Gambling was part of his financial calculus. He played craps. He picked up his “Vezino” nickname at poker games. He ran an underground sportsbook. On a podcast episode last year, Fairley said he has been in the sports betting business since “before it was legal.” In 2016, when Fairley was arrested in Mississippi on charges of selling weed, he told an officer that he made most of his money as a bookie, according to a police report first reported by Sports Illustrated.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementFairley used his money to bring in famous musicians for concerts, throw nightclub soirees and organize prizefights. In a video promoting a potential documentary about his life, he described that period fondly.
“We popped 10, 15 bottles a night, we had all the money, all of these women … flying them in from Florida, from Cali,” he said.
Then, “one day, I wake up, there’s 60 federal agents outside my door.”
In 2018, local prosecutors charged Fairley with capital murder, accusing him of ordering the killing of a woman and her husband, who was alleged to have robbed Fairley’s brother. He pleaded not guilty, and prosecutors eventually dropped the murder charges. Fairley pleaded guilty to illegally possessing a gun that officers found while searching his home, and he was sentenced to a year in prison. He also pleaded guilty to possessing a contraband cellphone that a sheriff’s officer had smuggled to him in jail, resulting in five years of probation.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementHe didn’t hide his troubles with the law. He posted his mug shots and newspaper clippings about the case on Instagram. “Turn your stumbling blocks into stepping stones,” he wrote in the caption. “Making mistakes is better than faking perfection.”
Fairley moved into new business ventures. “I’m not letting my setbacks determine my destiny,” he wrote on a post commemorating a convenience store he helped open in his hometown. Other posts promoted a restaurant called Vezlicious that specialized in wings. He invested in a party bus, “The Vezino Express,” that had strip poles and three TVs, as he described on his podcast.
He presented himself as a well-connected figure, posting photos with celebrities that included high-profile athletes. He played pickup hoops with NFL star Deebo Samuel Sr. and organized a donation drive for teachers with a childhood friend, retired NBA player Al Jefferson.
Between posts flaunting his lavish lifestyle and entrepreneurial endeavors, he promoted his gambling advice service. Photos depicted winning betting slips from a Mississippi casino. A November 2022 post showed his face on a $100 bill under the words “In Vezino We Trust.”
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisement“I wasn’t satisfied,” he wrote in the caption, “until all of US got RICH.”
Gambling regulators already had their eyes on him. In December 2022, according to an email obtained through a public records request, the Mississippi Gaming Commission sent out an alert about “suspicious wagering activity” linked to Fairley and urged casinos “to track all of his wagering.”
- - -
By 2023, prosecutors say, Fairley was in touch with the man who would help him into a lucrative new enterprise: fixing basketball games.
Antonio Blakeney, a former McDonald’s all-American from Florida, was one of the Chinese Basketball Association’s leading scorers. In March of that year, Blakeney’s Jiangsu Dragons played the Guangdong Southern Tigers, and sportsbooks around the world favored Guangdong to win by more than 11 points.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementProsecutors say Fairley had money on that game and oversaw a network of “straw bettors” who placed bets on his behalf. To wrangle the wagers, he partnered with Shane Hennen, a poker player from Philadelphia who posted on social media about the sports betting wins that helped fuel an extravagant lifestyle of private jets, bottle service and courtside NBA seats. The group wagered at least $198,300 on Guangdong, the indictment alleges.
Blakeney, who averaged 32.7 points that season, scored 11. His team lost by 31.
Nine days later, Fairley, Hennen and others working with them bet around $100,000 that the Dragons would lose by more than 15, prosecutors say. Though Blakeney wasn’t playing in that game, prosecutors say he told Fairley and Hennen that one of his teammates would ensure the bet paid off.
The Dragons lost by 41, and prosecutors allege Fairley and Hennen agreed to pay the teammate $20,000. After the season, according to prosecutors, Fairley delivered a package containing nearly $200,000 to Blakeney’s storage unit in Florida. Sami Azhari, a lawyer for Blakeney, declined to comment.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisement“Nothing [guaranteed] in this world but death taxes and Chinese basketball,” Hennen later texted another participant in the scheme, the indictment alleges.
A week after the second Dragons game, Fairley got a tip about a higher-profile basketball league: the NBA.
Deniro Laster, a childhood friend of Miami Heat guard Rozier, passed along that Rozier told him that he would take himself out in the first quarter of that night’s game because of an injury. Fairley agreed to pay Laster around $100,000 for the information, prosecutors allege, and Fairley, Hennan and associates collectively wagered around $260,000 on Rozier “unders” across several sportsbooks. (Laster’s lawyer didn’t respond to a request for comment.)
That night, Rozier left the game with an injury after 9½ minutes with five points, two assists and one three-pointer. Those numbers fell below the lines that oddsmakers had set, so the under bets won.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementIt was the first of a series of NBA bets that Fairley and his associates placed based on confidential information, prosecutors allege. The tips kept coming: The syndicate wagered $100,000 based on information that Fairley got from a gambler who played poker with Billups, the Trail Blazers coach who prosecutors said revealed that he planned to sit top players; another $100,000 based on information from Jones, the Lakers assistant; and, finally, $100,000 on long-shot parlays tied to Porter, then a Toronto Raptors forward, performing below expectations, in a scheme coordinated by New York City poker players who looped in Hennen.
One of the New York bettors in touch with Porter texted Hennen, “Please don’t leak it.”
“I’m not,” Hennen replied before sharing the information with Fairley.
- - -
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementGetting an illicit edge in NBA betting means persuading one of 450 multimillionaire athletes to risk their livelihoods. College basketball, on the other hand, offers thousands more players who have much less to lose.
To recruit players, prosecutors say, Fairley worked with Blakeney and Jalen Smith, a basketball coach who trained players preparing for the NBA draft. To place wagers, Fairley partnered with Hennen and a circle of proxy bettors.
The recruiters reached out to players on social media or through mutual connections in the basketball community. They offered players $10,000 or more to ensure their team lost by more than expected and failed to cover the first-half or full-game “spread” set by oddsmakers. Smith often served as the players’ main point of contact, prosecutors say. (Court records do not yet list a lawyer for Smith, who could not be reached for comment.)
The bets rolled in: $100,000 wagered against Nicholls State, $140,000 against Tulane, $150,000 against New Orleans, $242,000 against Saint Louis, $458,000 against North Carolina A&T.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisement“Too easy,” a Robert Morris player texted Smith after a game on which the bettors had wagered $256,000. “Might as well do the next one too.”
Winning bets weren’t assured. The bettors lost $247,000 wagering against La Salle and $231,000 wagering against Northwestern State despite offering money to players, according to the indictment. When a Fordham player’s subpar performance wasn’t enough to doom his team, foiling $195,000 in bets, Smith reassured him, “You did your job for sure.”
When a Coppin State player played too well, Smith reminded him, “U supposed to be f*cking losing[,] you costing us money.”
The player apologized, explaining that his opponents were “so ass I couldn’t even keep they lead together … swear I tried everything in my power.”
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementFour DePaul players signed on to shave points, rigging three games on which the bettors collectively wagered more than $200,000 in late February and early March 2024. Smith was particularly impressed with Jalen Terry, marveling at his ability to shift gears between tanking his performance when money was on the line and racking up points once the bets were secured.
“He perfected his job,” Smith texted one of Terry’s teammates.
Terry’s lawyer declined to comment.
After the season, Fairley posted photos from a beach vacation in Turks and Caicos.
In April, the NBA banned Porter for manipulating his performance to satisfy bets in two games, a ground-shaking scandal that drew new scrutiny to the threat of match-fixing in American sports.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementThat summer, Porter and four others were charged in New York with conspiring to rig bets. Porter pleaded guilty, and two other defendants followed suit, including the New York City poker player in touch with Hennen. The federal investigations expanded.
The following college basketball season, Fairley and associates picked up where they left off with players they had worked with previously.
Two of the DePaul players, including Terry, transferred to Eastern Michigan. Terry expressed impatience while Smith urged him to recruit a third participant. “I’m lowkey pissed we could’ve did 2 games already,” he texted Smith. They went ahead, fixing a game in November and another in December 2024, according to prosecutors.
A Buffalo player who transferred to Alabama State complained to Smith that he didn’t “even touch the floor tonight” and “at this point … I’m just tryna get paid bro!” He said he had other teammates “on board.”
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementOn Jan. 8, Fairley’s betting partner Hennen was arrested and charged for his alleged role in the Porter scheme. He pleaded not guilty. His lawyer declined to comment. Fairley, meanwhile, kept fixing games, prosecutors say.
On Jan. 11, the same day a car dealership posted a video congratulating Fairley for his purchase of a rare BMW, New Orleans players allegedly rigged another game. The surge of money against New Orleans in that game and another Jan. 28 raised flags at sportsbooks.
- - -
As the sports betting industry has boomed, so has a surveillance network aimed at catching corruption, with boutique analytic firms sending “suspicious bet” reports to clients at sportsbooks, regulators and leagues.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementAround the time of the New Orleans bets, betting monitors flagged games that involved teams with players that Fairley’s ring had allegedly recruited. At least two of the suspected wagers were placed in Mississippi, where Fairley lives, according to suspicious betting reports obtained by The Post through a public records request.
The NCAA pounced. Universities across the country, including New Orleans and Eastern Michigan, launched investigations, talking with players and scouring their phones. The NCAA banned around a dozen players, and around a dozen others have been suspended by or dismissed from their teams.
By late January, the NCAA had contacted the Mississippi Gaming Commission for information about Fairley’s bets on Eastern Michigan games, according to emails obtained through a public records request. Meanwhile, industry investigators found some of the bettors identified in the NBA cases had also wagered on college basketball games flagged as suspicious. By mid-March, FanDuel was reviewing and suspending accounts belonging to Fairley, Hennen and other Porter bettors, according to emails obtained through a public records request.
By mid-2025, according to prosecutors and defense lawyers involved in the cases, investigators were speaking with gamblers who had placed bets with Fairley on compromised games and players who had shaved points for a syndicate that funneled to him.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementIn October, Fairley was one of 34 people indicted across a pair of overlapping cases alleging poker scams and corrupt NBA bets. He pleaded not guilty and continued running his picks business.
A week later, he posted a video apologizing for an “exclusive” pick that failed to pan out. “I had two restless nights, just like I know some of my customers had,” he said. “I mismanaged my money on that bet.” But basketball season was starting, he said, and “that’s when we go on our biggest streaks.”
Weeks later: “Been on [fire emoji], and all of our customers have been eating,” he posted. “Tap in and don’t miss this money.”
He promoted his new buffet restaurant and a rodeo-themed costume party “featuring a mechanical bull!” For Christmas, he organized a toy drive and the restaurant gave out free meals.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementThe morning of the January indictment, he posted a prayer: “I may not know how every thing will unfold, but I know Who holds my future,” it stated. “Nothing the enemy tries can stop what You have already spoken over me.”
Then he shared photos of his daughter celebrating her 10th birthday at an LSU women’s basketball game.
The next day, he was posting more picks.
“So confident in this play tonight,” he wrote, posting a link to his paywalled podcast. “This is the one you don’t want to watch from the sidelines.”
That night, Fairley posted clips from Samuel’s birthday party: a kitchen counter lined with Patrón bottles and mounds of cash, a group of men in white outfits raising their cups, Fairley with diamond necklaces stacked on his turtleneck.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisement“Drink all that pain away,” he wrote in the caption, “wake up tomo and become a winner.”
Related Content
Brace for brutal cold as bomb cyclone drives bitter winds into D.C.
Crossing guard’s assist prompts $8K in donations: ‘I like being a helper’
A teddy bear, an ice skate, a wife’s note: DCA crash relics return home
AdvertisementAdvertisement
