In a sense, the climax that the entire series has been meticulously building towards is the harrowing murder incident that led to Aaron Hernandez's arrest and subsequent life sentence. We have unequivocally embarked upon the harrowing descent of this individual's narrative. Prior to witnessing these events unfold on screen, I harbored reservations regarding how they would be portrayed. The adaptation of true-crime stories can often go awry in myriad ways, and this series' screenplay hasn't exactly been subtle in its approach. (Lingering questions still persist regarding the apparent defamation of Hernandez's late uncle.) However, upon viewing these scenes, a sense of relief washed over me. Regardless of the show's inherent necessity, nothing here strikes as particularly distasteful. "Odin" excels in its endeavor: presenting the intense and tragic pinnacle of Aaron's escalating paranoia.
The series has scarcely endeavored to delve into the backgrounds or personalities of Hernandez's victims, particularly in the case of Daniel de Abreu and Safiro Furtado, the two individuals he fatally shot at a Boston traffic light. Whether for better or for worse, Aaron himself remains the focal point of this narrative. Yet, this episode introduces a slight shift, albeit it still doesn't dwell extensively on Odin's life beyond his fleeting friendship with the protagonist. In their shared scenes, Odin serves as the primary perspective, a stand-in for the audience.
When Odin first encounters Aaron, he's a bundle of nerves and starstruck, much like any semi-professional football player from Boston might be. His girlfriend, Shaneah, is the sister of Aaron's fiancée, Shayanna, so to Aaron, this gathering might seem like an ordinary family affair. However, for Odin, the grandeur of Aaron's opulent abode is impossible to overlook. That night, the two strike up a swift friendship, indulging in a game of Madden, and the surreal nature of the experience becomes apparent to Odin. Even more surreal is Aaron's unexpected appearance at one of Odin's Bandits games, cheering him on and subsequently entering the locker room to take pictures and celebrate. Odin, as of yet, fails to notice any red flags.
This begins to change when the duo ventures out to Rumor Nightclub post-game. While Aaron might have seemed carefree during dinner that first night, aided by wine and marijuana, at the club and thereafter, he reverts to the paranoid, unstable individual we've frequently witnessed lately. He consumes alcohol and marijuana as usual, but he also indulges in prescription drugs and PCP, still hallucinating Sherrod. Back at his second apartment, he reveals his fully stocked gun cabinet to Odin and rambles incoherently, neither of which assuages his new friend's concerns.
Even with Odin’s new positive influence on his life, Aaron can’t stop unraveling. The news that Sherrod is filing a civil suit, while distressing, could offer a way out of this endless cycle of paranoia — but agreeing to settle doesn’t stop him from spending more time at his secret pad than with his family. Learning about Tanya’s cancer only compounds the bad feelings.
It’s significant that the most joy we see Aaron experience in this episode is through his bond with Odin. It’s not just about having a new pal; Aaron seems to see Odin as an earlier, or at least alternate, version of himself. If Aaron had been born with a bit less natural talent, would he be happy with a humble existence of working construction and paying yearly dues just to play football semi-professionally? He admires Odin’s genuine love for the game and his simple but happy life. Odin might think of Aaron’s life as aspirational, but to Aaron, the reverse is true. Maybe that’s what he struggles to articulate late that night, passing out before he can complete a thought.
For how ham-fisted this show can be, the parallels drawn between killer and victim are relatively subtle here. When Aaron does eventually murder Odin, it’s not like Hadi Nicholas Deeb’s script frames the moment as a self-hating man killing another version of himself or something cheesy like that. It’s just that Odin represents something meaningful to Aaron. Maybe the real-life Hernandez didn’t consciously look at Odin Lloyd and long for that life, but it’s pretty believable in this context.
There are some valuable insights Aaron could take from this new friendship if he were sober or more reflective. But the next day, he shoves it all out of his mind as usual, jolted back into reactive mode when Shayanna confronts him about the secret apartment. It’s Odin’s act of unintentional snitching that seals his fate; after Shayanna says she knows “everything,” Aaron becomes convinced that he may have revealed more than just the existence of another apartment. Scanning his memories, he can’t recall how much detail he used in telling Odin about Sherrod and the shooting in Boston. Is it possible Odin could even know about Chris?
The sequence depicting Aaron, Carlos Ortiz, and Ernest Wallace's brutal kidnapping of Odin and their subsequent drive leading to his untimely demise is as harrowing and terror-inducing as it must have been in reality, irrespective of whether Lloyd was fully aware of the impending doom when he texted his sweetheart. At the industrial park, director Steven Canals employs intimate close-ups, encapsulating us within the minds of Aaron and Odin during their poignant final exchange. Despite Odin's steadfast assertions that he hadn't disclosed anything further to Shaneah—claiming there was nothing worth mentioning—Aaron remains unconvinced. His self-righteous conviction is unshakeable, and he's deeply entrenched in the belief that his darkest fears are materializing. The pressures of fame, especially when acquired prematurely, are daunting enough, but when compounded by such incriminating secrets, the exposure becomes profoundly harrowing. The query, "Why did Aaron Hernandez murder Odin Lloyd?" may not lend itself to a straightforward answer, yet witnessing these scenes makes the harrowing event almost palpable.
Aaron's arrest is imminent, for he has woefully neglected to conceal his tracks with any semblance of forethought. However, it's not solely the dramatic climax that elevates "Odin" to one of the most potent episodes of Aaron Hernandez. It's also the director's willingness to venture beyond Aaron's narrow perspective, shedding light on those most profoundly impacted by his actions. Odin is portrayed as an amiable and inherently kind soul, without resorting to an overly sentimental depiction that might manipulatively evoke emotional ties solely for their subsequent rupture. Moreover, accounts of the real-life Odin Lloyd universally depict him as a gentle and widely admired individual.
In the closing scenes, Shayanna emerges as another intricately layered character—a woman grappling with a tumult of conflicting emotions.Barely moments after breaking the heart-wrenching news of Odin's demise to Aaron, she agrees to dispose of the murder weapon for him, without a hint of hesitation. Her deceitful account to her sister about her whereabouts upon returning home is eerily repellent. When a detective arrives to quiz Aaron, his muttered invocation of his attorney immediately raises suspicion. Inside, he ignores Shayanna's probing question, ascending the stairs in silence, as if nothing untoward had transpired. Shayanna's gaze directed towards her slumbering sister mirrors this same denial. Despite the myriad ways Aaron has harmed his fiancée, there's perhaps a strange kinship between them. I hadn't anticipated the show drawing parallels between these two, yet this conclusion has sparked a keen curiosity within me about Shayanna's psychological state in the forthcoming episodes. When Aaron Hernandez steps aside to let its narrative breathe, it offers a profoundly different viewing experience.
