All-American Murder: The Rise and Fall of Aaron Hernandez, the Superstar Whose Life Ended on Murderers' Row

If anything, Bradley seemed to believe that Hernandez owed him recompense for his injuries.

u did that bullshit for no reason n me being the real friend I was to u I didn’t try to ruin u even after u tried to kill me, Bradley had written in one text message. think about how real that is…the tears should be in my eyes after the way u betrayed me I never crossed u n no way…

I luve u and u r not gonna frame me for some bread, Aaron replied.

I would never try to frame u u left me with one eye and a lot of head trauma u owe for what u did n its too bad u don’t know me enuff to know that this convo is private between us this ain’t for no lawyer or cop too see we both know what happened the truth is the truth if I dealt with police my boy this woulda been over n done with that’s whats crazy about this situation we know each other so well u know i aint on no bs u too paranoid that’s what made u do this shit u did N last but not least i always wanted the best for u remember that you obviously didn’t feel the same.

I will always be there for u till the day u die, Aaron texted, but not in the state of mind ur in nd been in and I don’t kno wat gotten into u after all the yrs we were inseparable but everything aside ur always on my mind and I love u and always will no homo.

Whats crazy is I believe that part is true, Bradley replied. u prolly do think about how real of a nigga I am n how u even flipped on me but what sickens me is the fact that u r denying this shit like its for the lawyer or cops yo u must really not know me but i guess i didn’t know u either cause i woulda never thought, ud try to end me…

At around this time, Aaron updated his contacts in his phone. From now on, Alexander Bradley would come up as “Lies.”

On April 11, the day that Aaron wired $15,000 to Papoo Hernandez’s parents, he and Bradley had yet another exchange.

do u have trust worthy niggaz like me around doubt it dog, Bradley texted. 6 strong wit a lot of weapontry so hey u turned this convo into this…

Once again, Aaron denied having done anything wrong.

if u ever got me in trouble or ruin my life for suttin I didn’t do I don’t even wanna get back at you but u will pay!!!, he texted. I’ll be back around the way in a couple months too and I can’t wait to see u cuz I see u still be at ur baby mothers crib a bunch! Love u cuz can’t stop loving someone that was the only person that I fucked wit and was like a brother to me but dam u are trying to sue me for suttin I didn’t do and don’t even kno about!!! If u could win that then God is on ur side but I doubt something can be proved that isn’t true!!!

Here u go threaten again u know that dont scare me tho if u knew how g eed up i am u wouldnt even say that, Bradley told Hernandez. Then he told Aaron how exactly how “G’d up” he’d gotten, with AK-47s, MAC-11s, MAC-90s at the ready, four bulletproof vests, and Oh, almost 4 got da right niggaz 2 use the weopontry…

if you think them wolves ain’t on deck then try what u gotta try, Bradley wrote.



The two men went back and forth, mixing threats, veiled and unveiled, with endearments:

What makes u think I wanna kill u u da one who tried 2 kill me n oh I promis ull pay 4 that n u r so boxed in ull be number one suspect… (Bradley)

I swear to God either you know you’re trying to ruin my life and kill me when all I did was be there for you I still love you no homo I will always love you. (Hernandez)

Now if it aint gonna be this way say fuck it u aint gettn shit from me i file civil suit u loose it al n we hold court n da street u think im scared 2 die… (Bradley)

I MISS U AND LOVE YOU and still watch videos of us having fun every single day and can’t believe this and will keep saying I can’t believe all of this cuz I truly can’t believe all of this shit is goin on!!…if I would really try and kill u when we were that close!! I wouldn’t and never would wanna hurt u and u kno that…Love u good nite. (Hernandez)

Not to bother u but feel me on this, Bradley wrote back, sounding like a scorned lover. When u did that…its like u coming home 2 yr crib n catching ur broad in bed with another…U stole my trust n tore my ego.





Chapter 45



At around this time, Hernandez had Bo Wallace contact a company called International Armored Group and place a $120,000 order for a used armored Ford Expedition.

Then, on April 19, Aaron showed up at the Chelsea Pub & Lounge, a few blocks north of his Hermosa Beach house. There, he began to drink—hard: double shots of Patrón Silver, alternating with the bar’s “Adios Motherfuckers” cocktail, which blended vodka, rum, tequila, and gin. This had become Aaron’s preferred way to drink: a shot of something stiff, followed by some sort of cocktail. On this night, the alcohol went to his head.

Twice, Aaron tried to take his cocktail out onto the sidewalk in front of the pub. Twice, a bouncer had to come out onto the sidewalk to ask him to come back inside.

It was a cool night in Hermosa Beach. Aaron could hear the sea pulling out, the cries of birds. The bar’s music blared from inside as he drank. He tried to ignore the bouncer, but the man was persistent:

“Sir,” he said. “You can’t take drinks outside the bar.”

Hernandez sighed as went back inside. He finished his drink, went to the bar, ordered another round, and headed toward the door for a third time.

The bouncer stopped him before he could reach the sidewalk. This time, the bouncer asked him to leave. Hernandez refused, and sat down at a table to finish his drink. He did not seem to understand why he could not take it outside.

As he sat there, fuming, Aaron began to curse at the staff. A few more bouncers approached, and he cursed them, too.

It was the kind of conflict that Alexander Bradley had gotten used to defusing. But Hernandez had pushed Bradley out of his life. By shooting his friend in the head, he had tried to make it a permanent arrangement.

Now, Bradley was one more thing that Aaron Hernandez felt paranoid about.

Sitting there at the table, with the bar’s bouncers and staff all around him, Aaron hesitated for a moment. He’d already had run-ins with the cops in Hermosa Beach. If Shayanna had been less loyal, two weeks earlier, he would have gotten arrested.

Aaron did not want to get arrested. Scowling at the staff, he paid his bar tab and left.





Chapter 46



That same week, in Florida, Bo Wallace walked into a True Value hardware store—a family-run shop located at the back of a parking lot used by parishioners of the First Baptist Church of Belle Glade.

He passed a display of Wolverine boots and a rack that held silver machetes and cane knives, stopping at the “Guns and Ammo” counter, and asked the clerk for a .22-caliber pistol.

According to Massachusetts State Trooper Jeremiah Donovan, Wallace liked small guns. “He likes having a little gun on him because it doesn’t stick out and it does the job,” Donovan explains.

According to Carlos Ortiz, Wallace’s name for a .22 was a “deuce deuce.”

The clerk had just the gun Wallace wanted. He pulled out a small silver-and-black Jimenez, and Wallace bought it, paying with cash that Papoo had given him, and left.

Wallace knew Belle Glade well. He had grown up sixty miles south, in Miramar—another small, dying American town. His mother, Angella, still lived in Miramar and he would visit her often, swimming in the pool behind Angella’s house.

It was a welcome break from the kind of trouble Wallace got into up north, in the company of his old friend Aaron Hernandez.



A month later, on May 18, Hernandez and Wallace were drinking at Viva, a bar one block away from Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island. It was two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, and Viva was packed with football fans. But the Patriots had lost the championship game that year, and not all of them were happy to see Hernandez. When Aaron and Wallace exited the bar, a large group followed them out to the street.