“What’s up, family? So what’s our million-dollar move today?” It’s a phrase Marc-Anthony Santiago Moyer would say often, and now his little brother, Ben, carries on the tradition in the mornings when he comes down for breakfast.
The homage shouldn’t come as a surprise, because even though they were born 17 years apart, they spent all their free time together. Anything his brother wanted, Marc would make sure he got – snacks, video games, cards, anything.
And they never missed an opportunity to pull a prank on each other. One time, Marc cut a sponge in half, frosted it, and put sprinkles on top. He gave the false cupcake to his brother, and one bite of it spurred a furious, loving chase.
“The kids of the family responded so well to him,” his aunt, Amanda Rosario, marveled. “When we couldn’t get them to listen, he would step in.” When Marc passed, she said, “it took away some of their light.”
Marc was born in the Northwood neighborhood of Philadelphia, and had been living in Northeast Philadelphia with his mother, Chrisie, when he passed. Though born and raised in Philadelphia, the hustle and bustle of city living was not for him. Whenever Marc could soak in anything peaceful in nature, he would.
Marc died on July 15, 2022, by gunshot in a carjacking in Kensington. A suspect was arrested in connection to his murder on August 31, 2022. His funeral services were held at Dean Givnish Services on Academy Road. They were private, and his mother, Chrisie, aimed for them to be as beautiful as she could make them, given the circumstances of his death.
After his passing, Amanda, wanted to commemorate Marc’s life in a way that reflected his love of nature. So she named a star near the Little Dipper after him, choosing a constellation that can be seen from the Northern Hemisphere nearly year-round. She wanted it to be visible even from a big city with high light pollution, so Marc’s mother could always find him.
Chrisie said that, a few days before he was killed, Marc said to her, “I don’t think I’m ever going to leave you. I’m going to open a business, make a lot of money, and leave the city.” When she asked him about a wife, he told her, “We’re going to get a big house with a lot of land,” so there would be enough space for everyone.
He had just met his three half sisters the year before he was killed, and they were just starting to get to know each other. The oldest was close in age to him, and they spent a lot of time together and with her children. Since he passed, his sisters reach out to Chrisie constantly. His memory has allowed them to deepen their relationship more than ever before.
Marc is survived also by his stepfather. As a teenager confronted with violence in the city, Marc was like a lot of kids who would resist the guidance his mother offered. Sometimes his stepfather was able to connect with him even when his mother couldn’t. One night, as he was coming home from school, he was robbed at gunpoint around the corner from his home. His stepfather was able to calm him down and influence him in positive ways.
Every day Marc would make his rounds to check in with different family members: his grandmother, godmother, different aunts – “aunts,” although many weren’t actually blood-related.
Amanda and Marc were particularly close. She said she was like his second mom. Marc had lived with her for a few years when he was a teenager. “My house was his house, too,” Amanda said. “It was not uncommon for him to just walk in through the door. Regularly he would stop by just to say that he loved us and to check on us and make sure that we were okay. We were a very closely bonded family.” Often on those visits he would huddle over his grandmother’s shoulder, peeking over it into the pot on the stove in front of her, eager to taste what she was cooking.
Marc also loved to travel, and on the night he was killed, he was supposed to go down the shore to Ocean City, Maryland. He had called Chrisie just 30 minutes beforehand, to let her know that he was stopping by before the the trip. Instead of her son, a policeman was knocking at her door, telling her that her son was in a carjacking. At first, Chrisie wasn’t worried. She knew Marc was a pacifist. He wasn’t going to fight anyone trying to take his car.
Marc would never even touch a gun. Amanda even described him “like a modern-day hippie – very happy, positive, calm.” She said, “There wasn’t a violent or jealous bone in his body. He just didn’t possess it.”
“His loss was so great that it unbalanced the good and bad in this world; too much good was taken,” Amanda said. “Marc was always helpful, always kind. He would lift people up. Marc would continue to, no matter what, look for the best in everybody. [He thought,] maybe they just need a little help. Maybe they just need a little encouragement.”
Whatever kindness Marc extended to strangers, he used it to form a deep bond with his brother. Whenever Marc didn’t plan to spend the night at home, he would call to let Chrisie know. When he came home, he would sneak in snacks for Ben. At first, he mainly brought him candy. Of course, Chrisie knew about the candy, and one day she mentioned it to Marc: “If you’re sneaking in candy, the dental bill will get expensive. And you’re going to have to foot the bill for your little brother.” Soon after that, Marc switched from bringing candy to fruit.
Chrisie said she feels blessed that Marc had such a positive impact on his little brother and that there was more to their relationship than how he died.
Amanda will sometimes have conversations with her older son about the tight relationship between Marc and his younger brother. Her son will say, “I don’t know how Marc was able to have that relationship with his brother. I just want to be more like him.”
Resources are available for people and communities that have endured gun violence in Philadelphia. Click here for more information.
