The text arrived at 1:04 in the morning. “Hey, are you awake?”
Tara Walker was on the phone with her boyfriend, former NBA player Adrien Payne, when her best friend Tatiana Mesa sent the message. Tara responded yes. Then came the ask: “Please meet me at my house in 15 minutes.”
“Is everything okay?” Tara wrote back.
No response.
“I was on the phone with my boyfriend, and he was on his way to my house,” Tara later testified. “I told him, ‘I gotta stop by Tatiana’s. Something’s going on. She asked me to come.’”
Adrien Payne, 31 years old, a 6’10” gentle giant who had once carried a dying child in his arms at Michigan State’s senior night, refused to let her go alone.
“Well, get off the highway and meet you there,” he told her. “I’m almost there.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lawrence Doherty—Tatiana’s fiancé, a 5’8″, 145-pound barber with a criminal record—fired a single shot that ended Adrien Payne’s life.
Three years later, when the jury found Lawrence guilty of second-degree murder and he faced sentencing, Tatiana Mesa stood before the judge. The same woman whose middle-of-the-night text brought Adrien to that driveway. The same woman who wasn’t even present at the time of the shooting.
She begged for mercy for the man who took her best friend’s boyfriend’s life.
“Your honor, Lawrence is not just a defendant in this courtroom,” Tatiana said. “He is the head of our household. He’s a provider for our family. He’s a man who leads our home with love and guidance. He’s a father that every child deserves. I ask you to see Lawrence the way we see him. As a man with a future worth saving. I respectfully ask for your mercy.”
Meanwhile, Tara Walker had to spend the rest of her life mourning a man who died protecting her—and raising a son who would never meet his father.
Their son, Armani, was just a baby when Adrien was taken. Tara brought a photo of him to the sentencing.
“That’s Armani. He’s three now,” she said, her voice breaking. “He doesn’t know his dad because of you. He asks me all the time, ‘Can we go visit his dad in heaven?’ May God forgive you because I cannot.”
Adrien D’Angelo Payne was born February 19th, 1991 in Dayton, Ohio. His father went to prison on drug charges when Adrien was five. His mother, Gloria Lewis, raised him mostly alone while managing a chronic asthma condition that ran in the family.
One evening in 2004, while making dinner, Gloria was overcome by smoke. She climbed the stairs and collapsed in the throes of an asthma attack. Thirteen-year-old Adrien frantically searched for her inhaler before cradling her as she passed away in his arms.
She was 41 years old.
Just like that, the person who had fought to keep him safe was gone.
He went to live with his maternal grandmother, Mary Lewis, who became his legal guardian. But the challenges didn’t stop there. At sixteen, Adrien had a learning disability that left him in special education classes where he could barely read a full page of text.
That’s when Jefferson Township High School’s principal, Dr. Richard Gates, pulled him out of special ed. He told Adrien he was headed toward becoming the tallest janitor the school had ever seen—unless something changed immediately.

Gates tutored Adrien personally for nearly three years.
By senior year, the kid who couldn’t read at sixteen had grown to 6’10” and was averaging 15.6 points, 11.3 rebounds, and four blocks per game. He led Jefferson Township to the 2010 Ohio Division 4 State Championship, earned Player of the Year honors, and committed to Michigan State—ranked 27th nationally.
He barely qualified academically for Tom Izzo’s program.
Then, during his freshman year, he was diagnosed with the same permanently reduced lung capacity that had taken his mother’s life. He played anyway.
The summer before his junior year, his grandmother Mary Lewis passed away from an asthma attack. Both of the women who had raised him were now gone.
But he kept going. He led the Big Ten in free throw percentage at 84.8% his junior year—remarkable for a 6’10” center who wasn’t supposed to make it this far.
In late 2011, during a routine team hospital visit, Adrien met eight-year-old Lacy Holsworth, a neuroblastoma patient. She asked him to stay behind because she liked his smile.
“I haven’t colored like this in a long time,” Adrien told her. “Last time I colored was when I was with you.”
“Really?” Lacy asked.
“What color you want?” he said.
“Pink.”
“Pink? That’s your favorite color?”
“Yellow.”
“Yellow? Alright, I’m gonna make sure I get yellow in this.”
On senior night, February 6th, 2014, Adrien carried Princess Lacy in his arms during the ceremony in front of thousands of fans at Breslin Center. When Michigan State won the Big Ten tournament, she helped cut down the nets alongside the team.
“You gonna be strong for me?” he asked her.
On March 20th, 2014, against Delaware in the NCAA tournament, Adrien scored 41 points and went 17-for-17 from the free throw line—setting an NCAA tournament record that still stands today. Michigan State reached the Elite Eight before losing to eventual champion UConn, 60-54.
Eleven days before the NBA draft, on April 8th, 2014, Lacy passed away at home with her parents. She was eight years old.
Adrien had to bury another person he loved.
That May, Adrien became the first person in his family to graduate from college, fulfilling the promise he’d made to his grandmother before she passed.
“I grabbed my degree. I thought about my grandma and just wished that she was able to be there,” he said.
On June 26th, 2014, the Atlanta Hawks selected him 15th overall in the NBA draft. The announcer called his name, and Adrien Payne—the kid who couldn’t read at sixteen, who lost his mother and his grandmother and his little friend Lacy—walked across that stage.
Plantar fasciitis delayed his debut until December 26th. After just three games with Atlanta, he was traded to Minnesota on February 10th, 2015. His best NBA performance came on March 9th, 2015: 16 points and 15 rebounds, starting for Kevin Garnett in a game where it looked like he had finally found his footing.
But in 2017, he was diagnosed with thrombocytopenia, a blood condition that added another layer of complexity to his career. He signed with Orlando on August 21st, 2017.
Then, on January 26th, 2018, ESPN reported a 2010 allegation of sexual assault from his freshman year at Michigan State. Orlando waived him that same day. No criminal charges were ever filed. Adrien maintained his innocence.
But his NBA career was over at 27. Final stats: 107 games, four points per game, 2.9 rebounds per game.
He took his game overseas. Won championships with Panathinaikos in Greece—the 2018 Greek League title and the 2019 Greek Cup. Signed with ASVEL in France, where he won both the 2019 French Pro A title and the French Cup in a single season. After stints in Turkey and Lithuania, his final professional game came on February 17th, 2022.
Less than three months before his life would end in a driveway in East Orlando.
By spring 2022, Adrien was living in Orlando with his girlfriend Tara Walker. In September 2021, he had publicly disclosed a hydrocephalus diagnosis—fluid buildup in the brain. Another medical issue. He wrote on social media: “Basketball has my heart and Armani is my heartbeat,” referring to his older son.
Lawrence Doherty was 29 years old, 5’8″, 145 pounds, working as a barber. He lived in a townhome on Egret Shores Drive in the Econ Landing neighborhood with his fiancée Tatiana Mesa and their family.
At the time of the shooting, Lawrence was on probation for dealing in stolen property following a no-contest plea with withheld adjudication. Court records also showed a prior arrest for domestic battery against Tatiana—though he was never convicted on that charge.
Their relationship had been volatile for years. Tara had known Tatiana for fifteen years and had played the role of mediator more than once when their fights got out of hand.
On the evening of May 8th, 2022—Mother’s Day weekend—Lawrence and Tatiana had been at his father Larry’s house celebrating. At some point that night, an argument erupted between them.
Tatiana later described it: “We’re just talking about some past and my past specifically. He was just getting upset. I was getting upset. He mentioned some things about my past that really upset me. So when he was in front of me in my face talking about it, I kind of pushed him back, and he pushed me back. That’s when he said he wanted to go home.”
He drove Lawrence home with their ten-year-old son. Tatiana stayed behind.
Around 1:04 a.m. on May 9th, Tatiana texted Tara: “Please meet me at my house in 15 minutes.”
Tatiana wasn’t at the townhome when she sent that text. She was calling her best friend to come to a location where she herself wasn’t even present.
Adrien arrived first, parking his vehicle on Egret Shores Drive. What he didn’t know was that Lawrence and his father Larry were on their way back to the house with Lawrence’s young son in the vehicle.
Lawrence would later testify that Adrien was aggressive and threatening. According to Lawrence, when he walked over to the car, Adrien got out, looked down at him, had his hand in his waistband with something silver sticking out, and said, “I’m not playing with you. I’ll smoke you.”
No other witness at the scene—including Lawrence’s own father, Larry, who was sitting in the truck nearby—corroborated hearing Adrien make any such threat.
Tara was on the phone with Adrien during the initial confrontation. “I could hear Lawrence telling him, ‘Why are you at my house? Why are you at my house?’” she testified. “There was no argument. It was just like, ‘Why are you here?’ And Adrien was just like, ‘I’m not dealing with you.’”
After this initial confrontation, Lawrence turned around and walked back toward his townhome. Tara arrived while Lawrence was inside the house. She immediately went to Adrien’s car.
Then Lawrence came back out.
Tara saw it happen. “Lawrence comes out. I turn around and I see him coming. I slow down because I can see he has something under his white shirt.”
“Could you tell what it was right away?” prosecutors asked.
“Yeah, I knew it was a gun.”
She heard Larry say, “Lawrence, what you got? What are you doing?”
Then Lawrence pulled the gun out and raised it.
Tara raised her hands. “Please, Lawrence, Tatiana told us to come. She told me to come. He’s here for me. He’s here to make sure I’m good.”
According to Tara, Lawrence responded, “Why are you here? Come here. Come here.”
At 1:37 a.m., Orange County deputies arrived to find complete chaos. Tara was screaming and crying over Adrien, who was unresponsive in his vehicle. Lawrence was standing nearby in handcuffs, telling deputies he was the shooter and that he’d acted in self-defense because Adrien had tried to attack him.
Deputies pulled Adrien from the vehicle and began performing CPR while waiting for paramedics. He was rushed to AdventHealth Hospital East, where he was pronounced deceased at 2:23 a.m. on May 9th, 2022.
The investigation moved quickly. Deputies searched the scene for any weapon that Adrien might have had. They searched his vehicle. The surrounding area. They checked with witnesses.
No gun was ever found.
Lawrence was initially charged with first-degree murder with a firearm, though prosecutors would eventually proceed to trial on the lesser charge of second-degree murder with a firearm.
In 2024, Lawrence’s attorneys filed a Stand Your Ground motion, arguing that he had a legal right to use force to defend himself and his property. After a hearing in mid-2024, the judge denied the motion, ruling that the evidence didn’t support Lawrence’s claim that he reasonably feared imminent danger.
Lawrence’s legal team filed an interlocutory appeal in October 2024, but that appeal was unsuccessful. The case was scheduled for trial in July 2025—more than three years after Adrien Payne lost his life.
On July 28th, 2025, the courtroom in Orlando was filled. The prosecution was led by Assistant State Attorney Michael Smith. The trial moved quickly because the facts weren’t complicated: Lawrence shot an unarmed man who never entered his property nor touched him.
The prosecution’s case was straightforward. Lawrence had retreated to safety inside his home after the first confrontation, meaning any perceived threat had ended. His decision to retrieve a firearm and go back outside showed he wasn’t acting in self-defense—he was making an offensive choice.
“It doesn’t matter how tall you are when the other person has a gun,” Smith told the jury.
Tara Walker took the stand and walked the jury through the events of that night. She testified that Adrien never got out of his car to approach Lawrence, never raised his voice or made threatening gestures, and never gave Lawrence any reason to believe he was in danger.
Her testimony was consistent with what she told detectives on the night of the shooting—which made it difficult for the defense to poke holes.
Lawrence’s own father, Larry, testified that he was sitting in his truck with Lawrence’s son when the confrontation happened. When prosecutors asked him if he heard Adrien threaten Lawrence or say anything like “I’ll smoke you,” Larry said no.
He didn’t hear anything like that. That directly contradicted his son’s claim.
On July 29th, Lawrence took the stand in his own defense. This is where the prosecution’s case really came together—because Lawrence’s testimony under oath directly contradicted statements he’d made to detectives on the day of the shooting.
The prosecution read Lawrence’s May 9th, 2022 interview transcript, where he admitted he couldn’t say he necessarily saw a gun on Payne. “Has his memory suddenly improved over three years?” Smith asked.
Now testifying, Lawrence claimed he definitely saw something shiny that looked like a weapon. He said he was in shock during the initial interview and wasn’t thinking clearly.
During cross-examination, Smith dismantled Lawrence’s self-defense claim. Why did he tell detectives he didn’t communicate with Payne before shooting if he now claimed he asked him to leave? Why never mention seeing a shiny object in his initial interview if it was so important? Why go back outside with a gun if he was truly in fear and had already made it safely inside?
“I thought I was going to die,” Lawrence said.
Smith pressed him. “Why did you feel that way?”
“He’s outside my house. He’s telling me he’s going to smoke me. I have my son outside. My father outside.”
But no one else heard that threat.
In his closing argument, Smith told the jury that Lawrence’s decision to go back outside after retreating to safety was a conscious choice to escalate rather than de-escalate. He pointed out that Lawrence had been drinking cognac shots earlier that day and that his judgment may have been impaired.
Lawrence denied being intoxicated at the time of the shooting.
The defense countered by asking the jury to put themselves in Lawrence’s position—to imagine being confronted by a 6’10” stranger outside their home in the middle of the night. They argued that the crime scene had been contaminated when Tara entered Adrien’s vehicle after the shooting, suggesting without evidence that she might have removed a gun.
The prosecution dismissed this as desperate speculation. No gun was ever found. No witness ever saw Adrien with a weapon. The defense’s contamination theory was based on nothing more than the fact that Tara had opened the car door to try to help Adrien after he’d been hit.
On July 30th, 2025, after three days of testimony and closing arguments, the jury retired to deliberate. Just ninety minutes later, they returned with a verdict.
“We, the jury, find the defendant guilty of second-degree murder with a firearm.”
The courtroom erupted. Tara and Payne’s family broke down crying. Lawrence sat stone-faced. Deputies immediately took him into custody.
The ninety-minute deliberation said everything. The jury didn’t need hours or days to debate self-defense. The facts made it clear.
Sentencing was scheduled for August 29th, 2025. That hearing would become one of the most emotionally charged moments of the case.
The defense called three character witnesses to speak on Lawrence’s behalf. Starting with Tatiana Mesa. Yes, that Tatiana. The same woman whose 1:04 a.m. text set this entire tragedy in motion.
Lawrence’s mother, Demetria, told the judge her son would never act out of malice. “I know my child. I raised him, and I know he would never do anything out of maliciousness. I know his heart. I feel really bad for the family that this happened to. It’s a tragic situation. I just ask for mercy.”
His godfather, Carl Davis, a retired military veteran, said Lawrence had been raised by leaders and was deeply sorry.
Then Lawrence’s thirteen-year-old son broke down on the stand. He called his father his mentor and coach. He asked the judge not to take his father away.
Then came the prosecution’s turn.
Adrien’s brother, Antoine Payne, stood before the judge. “Adrien wasn’t just my brother. He was my inspiration. He was my friend. He was a man that I looked up to. But more than anything, he was a father. He loved his sons with his whole heart. I ask that you give him the maximum sentence and that he never be free to do these heinous things again.”
Then Tara Walker stood up. She held a photograph of her son.
“That’s Armani. He’s three now. He doesn’t know his dad because of you.”
Her voice was steady, but it broke with every word.
“I’m here today as the girlfriend and more importantly, the mother of Adrien Payne’s child. On the night of May 9th, not only did you take Adrien from us, you took away any future we were supposed to have. You stole the man who was supposed to guide our son through life. The man who was supposed to be there for his first steps, his birthdays, his first day of school, his graduations, and every special moment in between. Our son will never know what it feels like to run into his daddy’s arms after a big game or to hear his voice cheering for him from the stands. That was stolen from him, and it can never be replaced.”
She looked directly at Lawrence. “Because of you, my son has to grow up without his father. He will never know what it’s like to have a father-son conversation as you and your son have. He will never be able to talk to his father and ask for advice. He will never experience unconditional love as you have for your three children. All of that has been ripped away because of your senseless actions.”
“My son is only three years old. He’s far too young to understand what happened and why Daddy is never coming home. He asks me all the time, ‘Can we go visit his dad in heaven?’ What do you say to that? How do you explain that someone took your dad from a child? How do I tell him?”
“My son will grow up without any real memories of Adrien. He only has pictures and the stories of his legacy online.”
She paused, collecting herself.
“I hope that you relive May 9th for the rest of your life. I relive it every night. Every time I close my eyes and every time I look at my son, I see what you took from us. On that night at 1:30 in the morning, you decided to become the judge, the jury, and the executioner.”
“It’s not fair that you get to live, even if it’s behind those brick walls. Adrien’s gone. He’s buried six feet under. He was 31 years old—the same age you are today. For that, may God forgive you because I cannot.”
Lawrence was given the opportunity to address the court. He begged for mercy. He said he had no intent to harm anyone. He promised to be a positive figure for his community. He promised to be a law-abiding citizen.
He called a long prison sentence a “generational curse” that would be bestowed upon his family.
Judge Keith Carsten looked at Lawrence Doherty and told him he made a choice on May 9th, 2022.
“I’m going to adjudicate you guilty of the offense,” the judge said. “Sentence you to life in the Florida Department of Corrections with a life minimum mandatory for possession, discharge, and death of the victim with a firearm.”
Lawrence reportedly said, “I will not spend my life in prison.”
As if the jury’s verdict and the judge’s sentence were somehow negotiable.
The sentencing brought an end to a case that had dragged on for more than three years. But it didn’t bring back Adrien Payne. It didn’t give Armani the father he deserved. It didn’t undo the damage done when Tatiana Mesa sent that text at 1:04 a.m. asking her friend to meet her at a place where she never showed up.
In the aftermath of the guilty verdict, Tatiana organized a GoFundMe titled “Justice for Lawrence Doherty,” seeking $14,000 for his legal defense and appeal. She publicly asked strangers to help fund his fight against the conviction.
As of now, Lawrence remains in a Florida state prison serving his life sentence. His family has indicated they plan to appeal, but the likelihood of overturning a verdict reached in ninety minutes based on overwhelming evidence seems remote.
Tara Walker is raising their children alone—navigating life without the man who was their foundation. The man who insisted on going with her that night because he refused to let her face danger alone.
Adrien Payne’s story began with loss. His mother. His grandmother. Little Lacy. Each time, he got back up. He graduated from college when no one in his family had before him. He made it to the NBA. He became a father.
And on May 9th, 2022, he died trying to protect someone he loved.
The man who ended his life claimed self-defense. The jury didn’t believe him. The judge sentenced him to life.
But for Tara and Armani, the sentence is permanent too. No parole. No appeal. Just a lifetime of missing someone who should still be here.
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