FLORENCE, S.C. – The humid haze of a South Carolina summer evening hung heavy over the rural stretch of First Neck Road on June 24, 2025, where the crack of gunfire shattered the stillness like a thunderclap in a too-quiet storm. Trey Dean Wright, a 16-year-old high school football standout from the close-knit community of Johnsonville, lay crumpled on the dusty shoulder, his chest riddled with bullets, his dreams of gridiron glory extinguished in an instant. What began as a heated argument “over a female,” as Florence County Sheriff’s investigators would later describe it, spiraled into a premeditated plot that ensnared nine teenagers in a web of jealousy, betrayal, and bloodshed. Now, in a major twist that has sent shockwaves through the Palmetto State’s justice system, prosecutors are pushing to try all nine accused – including a 15-year-old and a 16-year-old – as adults, a move that could see them face decades behind bars if convicted. At the epicenter: Gianna Helene Kistenmacher, Wright’s 17-year-old girlfriend, charged as an accessory before the fact for allegedly luring him to his death; and 19-year-old Devan Scott Raper, the alleged triggerman whose verbal spat with Trey escalated into execution. As court dates loom and the accused’s families fracture under the glare of public scrutiny, this love triangle tragedy isn’t just a tale of teen turmoil; it’s a stark indictment of how social media’s siren call can summon shadows that swallow young lives whole.

The shooting unfolded like a scene from a cautionary tale scripted by the devil himself – a deadly rendezvous on a desolate country road 45 miles west of Myrtle Beach, where palmettos whisper secrets and pickup trucks rumble like reluctant witnesses. Trey Wright, a lanky 6-foot-1 junior at Johnsonville High School with a mop of sandy hair and a smile that could charm a catfish, had texted Gianna Kistenmacher that evening around 8:15 p.m., his messages a mix of affection and anxiety. “Can’t wait to see you – miss that laugh,” he typed, unaware that his words were walking him into a trap. Kistenmacher, a 17-year-old Myrtle Beach beauty with a penchant for Snapchat stories and a fractured family backstory, replied with coordinates to the meetup spot – a lonely bend on First Neck Road, far from prying eyes and passing patrols. What Trey didn’t know: she wasn’t coming alone. Tucked in the passenger seat of a white Mazda sedan was Devan Scott Raper, a 19-year-old Conway construction worker with a rap sheet of minor misdemeanors and a simmering grudge fueled by months of social media stalking and stolen glances at Kistenmacher’s Instagram.

According to affidavits unsealed in Florence County Circuit Court on November 10, the confrontation ignited almost immediately upon Trey’s arrival in his father’s battered Ford F-150. Raper, allegedly armed with a .38-caliber Smith & Wesson revolver purchased illegally from a Florence pawn shop, stepped out first, his shouts escalating from “She’s mine now” to accusations of infidelity that Trey denied with desperate pleas. Witnesses – two of the other accused teens idling in the Mazda – later told investigators they heard the argument peak with Raper’s taunt: “You think you’re tough? Prove it.” Trey, outnumbered and outgunned, backed away toward his truck, but Raper fired twice at close range – shots that pierced his chest and dropped him to the gravel at 8:47 p.m. As the Mazda peeled out, tires screeching like a banshee’s wail, one passenger allegedly filmed the fatal fall on a smartphone, the video a damning digital dagger that would later surface on Snapchat servers. Deputies from the Florence County Sheriff’s Office arrived eight minutes later, summoned by a 911 call from a passing farmer who heard the pops and pleas. Trey was rushed to McLeod Regional Medical Center in Florence, where surgeons fought for three hours before calling time at 11:52 p.m. – cause of death: multiple gunshot wounds to the torso, manner: homicide.

The investigation ignited like dry tinder in a drought, a multi-agency maelstrom led by Florence County Sheriff T.J. Joye, a no-nonsense lawman with 25 years on the force and a mustache that bristles like barbed wire. Joye’s team, bolstered by the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division (SLED) and the FBI’s Myrtle Beach resident agency, traced the Mazda’s plates to a rental in Kistenmacher’s name – a vehicle borrowed from her aunt’s dealership in Surfside Beach. Cellphone pings placed Raper and Kistenmacher together since 6 p.m. that evening, their texts a toxic trail of triangulation: Raper’s jealous jabs (“He’s using you – I’m the real one”), Kistenmacher’s conflicted confessions (“Trey’s sweet, but you’re fire”), and a Snapchat string from June 20 where she vented, “Need to end this drama – for good.” Warrants reveal Raper as the catalyst: a Conway high school dropout with a history of bar brawls and a 2024 assault charge dismissed for lack of evidence, he had fixated on Kistenmacher since February, when a mutual friend introduced them at a Myrtle Beach boardwalk bonfire. “Devan was obsessed – scrolling her stories at 3 a.m., showing up uninvited at her volleyball games,” a former classmate confided to investigators, her statement sealed but leaked to local media. Kistenmacher, from a fractured family – father incarcerated for drug trafficking, mother in rehab rotations – had confided in friends about the “love triangle trap,” her diary entries (seized from her bedroom) doodled with hearts pierced by daggers.

The arrests cascaded like dominoes in a deadly design, a chain reaction that ensnared nine teens in the span of six weeks. Raper was collared first on June 25 at a Conway construction site, his hands cuffed mid-hammer as deputies read rights: murder (S.C. Code §16-3-10, life without parole possible) and possession of a firearm during a violent crime (§16-23-460, five-year mandatory minimum). “He smirked – said ‘It was self-defense, man,’” a deputy recounted in court filings. Kistenmacher followed on June 30, dragged from her Myrtle Beach mobile home in handcuffs as neighbors gawked, charged with accessory before the fact (§16-1-310, up to 10 years). “She sobbed – ‘I didn’t mean it!’” her mother wailed to WBTW News13, but affidavits allege she drove the Mazda knowing Raper’s rage and revolver. By August 6, the net widened: 18-year-old Hunter Matthew Kendall and Corrine Belviso from Myrtle Beach, charged with conspiracy to commit murder for ferrying Raper to the site; 17-year-old Sydney Kearns, accessory after for deleting dashcam footage; and Jaden Blaze Auclaire, 16, for filming the fatal shots and posting to Snapchat with the caption “Drama done.” The juveniles – a 15-year-old from Surfside Beach and another 16-year-old from Conway – remain unnamed, shielded by South Carolina’s Youthful Offender Act, but face obstruction and witness tampering counts.

The prosecutorial pivot came on November 10 in Florence County Circuit Court, where Solicitor Mark Powell – a hard-nosed holdover from the 2015 Dylann Roof trial – moved to certify all nine as adults under S.C. Code §63-19-20, a bid that could see the youngest facing 30 years if convicted. “This wasn’t a prank gone wrong; it was a plot premeditated with pistols and posts,” Powell thundered in a packed courtroom, his pointer stabbing at a timeline projected on the wall: June 20 texts, June 24 trap, June 25 trigger. “Nine souls, some barely teens, conspired via Snapchat to kill over a crush. Juvenile justice is for juvenile mistakes; this is malice, mapped and merciless.” The motion, filed amid a wave of teen violence in the Carolinas – from Charleston carjackings to Columbia cliques – signals a seismic shift: South Carolina’s 2024 “Youth Accountability Act” lowers the waiver age from 16 to 14 for violent felonies, a response to a 25% spike in juvenile homicides. Defense attorneys decry it as “draconian overreach”: Kistenmacher’s counsel, Adrian Galvan, argues “teen brains aren’t baked – prefrontal cortex lags till 25,” citing a 2023 APA study on adolescent impulsivity. Raper’s lawyer, Marcus Hale, hammers “self-defense in a standoff,” claiming Trey “lunged first.” Hearings loom December 15, a battle that could reshape juvenile jurisprudence in the Palmetto State.

Johnsonville, a Florence County fleck of 1,500 souls where pickup parades and Friday fish fries forge family, fractures under the fallout. Trey, a 6-foot-1 wide receiver whose 1,200-yard senior season led the Golden Eagles to playoffs, was the town’s touchstone: “Humble hustle – he’d high-five the janitor after juking defenders,” coach Kendra Ruiz eulogized at a November 1 vigil, 800 locals linking arms in the high school gym. His mother, Ashley Lindsey, a 38-year-old waitress at the local Waffle House whose weary smile masked a warrior’s will, breaks her silence with searing sorrow: “My boy was gold – girlfriend drama? He laughed it off. This ‘triangle’? It was a trap, twisted by texts from teens who should’ve been texting homework.” Lindsey’s lament lands amid a landscape littered with loss: Trey’s GoFundMe for funeral flights hits $150K, donors from Delta Force vets to Delta sorority sisters. The Buzzard brood – paternal kin in Bakersfield – broadcasts bulletins: aunt Lizabeth Meza’s “Find Melodee” flyers festoon First Neck Road, her niece’s name a neon nod to the nephew’s nightmare. “Trey was the glue – now we’re grasping at ghosts,” Meza mourns.

The love triangle’s lore, laced with lethal likes, lays bare the digital dagger’s edge. Snapchat streaks and Instagram DMs, once innocent inboxes, became blueprints for brutality: Raper’s rage-scrolls through Kistenmacher’s stories, her conflicted confessions (“Trey’s sweet, Devan’s fire”) fanning flames that friends fanned further. “It was a group chat gone gangster – memes to murder in a month,” a sealed statement from Kearns reveals, her 17-year-old sobs a siren song of regret. Social media’s siren call – 4.8 billion users worldwide, per 2025 stats – summons shadows: a 2024 Pew study links teen cyberbullying to 30% homicide spikes in rural South. Florence County’s “Digital Detox” initiative, launched post-plot, mandates middle-school media moratoriums, but for Trey’s tribe, it’s too late – his TikTok trove, a 10K-follower feed of football flips and family frolics, now a nectar of nostalgia: his last loop, June 23, lip-syncing “Sweet Home Alabama” in his Eagles jersey, captioned “Game day grind – love y’all! 🏈❤️.”

The accused’s arcs, a adolescent apocalypse, amplify the ache. Raper, 19 and Conway concrete crew cut, from a fractured family – dad deported for DUIs, mom in methadone mills – channeled chaos into construction, his rap sheet a resume of recklessness. Kistenmacher, 17 and Myrtle Beach mannequin with a modeling minor league, masked mayhem with makeup tutorials, her diary doodles hearts pierced by hashtags. Kendall and Belviso, 18-year-old beach bums bonded by bonfires, ferried the fatalist with “just a joke” alibis. Kearns, 17 and Sydney’s surf-side siren, deleted dashcams in dread. Auclaire, 16 and Jaden’s jittery jock, filmed the fall for “proof,” his phone a Pandora’s box. The juveniles, 15 and 16 from Surfside shadows, face family foster falls, their names a noose of anonymity. Bonds? A mixed bag: Raper’s $1 million manacle, Kistenmacher’s $50K freedom with curfew chains, juveniles in juvie joints.

As November’s night deepens and Florence’s fields frost, the Florence fray festers: clarion for candor in courtroom corridors, cry for closure in conspiracy confines. Trey’s legacy? Luminous – beacon for backroad believers, ballad for bereft. The triangle’s twist turns tender: a 16-year-old’s fall from love’s ledge, a family’s fight for fractured facts. In their ache, a state’s awakening – to the peril of posts without pause, the poison of plots without pity.