Terry Rozier's lawyers are trying to get his federal charges thrown out. At the same time, prosecutors in the Eastern District of New York have filed to lock up his childhood friend and co-defendant, Deniro Laster, accusing him of trying to muscle witnesses in the same case. Both stories are unfolding side by side as of early August 2026. One asks a judge to see a thin, over-reaching prosecution. The other hands that same judge a picture of people allegedly trying to bend the outcome from the outside. Those two narratives can't both win the room.
Start with what the government actually alleged, because the details do the heavy lifting. Prosecutors say Laster "repeatedly and flagrantly violated the conditions of his release." They say he reached out to co-defendants directly and through intermediaries. According to the filing, he called another defendant around December 2025 and suggested they'd all be better positioned to fight the charges if they didn't cooperate with law enforcement. Then there's the part that reads less like a legal brief and more like a warning: Instagram accounts tied to Laster posted rat emojis on at least two occasions, and in one instance the emoji went out from an account bearing a photo of a dead man. Assistant U.S. Attorney David Berman wrote that it "appears to be calculated to intimidate and imply the threat of violence."
You can argue about whether an emoji clears the bar for tampering. Prosecutors clearly think it does, and they're asking the judge to revoke Laster's bond and hold him until trial. They also flagged two more alleged incidents still under seal because they touch grand jury material. The version the public can see may not be the full version.
Now put that next to the dismissal fight. The defense case for tossing the charges rests on the idea that the evidence is weaker than advertised, that the government is stretching. That's a legitimate argument on the merits. But merits arguments live and die on credibility, on the sense that the accused are simply people being over-charged who want their day in court. It's a lot harder to sell "leave these guys alone, the case is flimsy" while prosecutors are telling the court that someone in the group is allegedly threatening witnesses to keep them quiet. Even if the two motions are legally separate, judges are human. Optics travel.
That's why this filing matters beyond Laster himself. The government now has a story, not just a stat sheet. The story is that the inner circle of an alleged betting operation isn't only contesting the charges, it's trying to strangle the case before it reaches a jury. True or not, it's a far more compelling frame for a prosecutor than the dry recitation of wire-fraud elements, and it lands right as the defense is trying to convince a judge the whole thing should go away.
Rozier's camp sees the danger, which is why his attorney, David Markus, came out swinging on one specific point. The government tied Rozier and Laster to a group it called "GMB," describing it as a crew with a reputation for guns. Rozier isn't accused of any tampering, and Markus made sure everyone knew it, calling the GMB reference a "dog whistle." His counter: GMB stands for "Get More Blessings," the motto of Rozier's foundation, a nonprofit that raises money for disadvantaged kids. He called the government's attempt to paint it as a criminal organization absurd.
