The news is shocking but hardly surprising. Aaron Hernandez hanged himself in his prison cell Wednesday morning.
After a minute, you should have realized a murderer murdering himself was the perfectly tragic ending for a perfectly tragic story.
The analysis and psychoanalysis immediately kicked in, of course. People are asking what lessons can be learned.
All of that stuff was really played out long before Hernandez took a bed sheet and fashioned a noose.
The simple, horrible truth is Hernandez was a cold-blooded killer. I feel sorry for his soul, but I just can't feel any sympathy for this devil.
Yes, his father died when Hernandez was 16 and that brought untold emotional strife. But a lot of kids have fathers who die young and they don't turn into sociopaths.
Hernandez was luckier than most. He was blessed with incredible football skills, and there were plenty of people in his hometown of Bristol, Conn., who tried to steer him away from drugs and gangs.
He got a full ride and a fresh start at Florida. Perhaps more tough love and less coddling from Urban Meyer would have helped, but I doubt it. And it's not as if Meyer didn't try.
He met with Hernandez in his office many mornings and they read Bible passages. He had players babysit Hernandez, and even had Tim Tebow act as a life instructor.
"Aaron Hernandez was in my home many, many times, sitting with my kids, playing with my kids -- 'Yes, ma'am, Miss Shelly,' " Meyer told HBO. "I mean, just excruciatingly sad to see a kid that we know, that was part of our family, make decisions that are just horrible."
Key word there -- decisions.
Nobody forced Hernandez to take so many wrong turns. He did it to himself.
And despite all his bad moves, it appeared he'd survived and learned from the mistakes. He signed a $40 million contract and gushed with praise for Patriots owner Bob Kraft.
"He changed my life. Now I'm able to basically have a good chance to be set for life, and have a good life," Hernandez told ESPN. "(Kraft) trusts me to make the right decisions. It means a lot. It means he trusts my character.
"I just feel a lot of respect and I owe it back to him."
He paid Kraft back by lying to his face about any involvement in a string of murders. In retrospect, it's mindboggling to realize there was homicidal maniac catching passes for an NFL team.
Hernandez would do his day job. At night, he'd go out looking for trouble. When you're an expert at it, trouble is not hard to find.
If some poor sap spilled a drink on him or challenged him in any way, that person was likely to stop at a red light, have an SUV pull alongside and see flashes from the barrel of a .38-caliber handgun.
If you want to feel sorry for anyone, feel it for Daniel de Abreu and Safiro Furtado. Hernandez was acquitted last week of murdering them, but that was more a case of crafty lawyering than justice being served.
Feel sorry for Odin Loyd. Hernandez didn't just shoot him. He executed him in a deserted industrial park.
Feel sorry for Hernandez's young daughter, Avielle. She could have led a princess's life in a New England mansion. Instead, her shamed father opted to spend the rest of his life in prison.
That life is now over at 27, which is about 10 years too late for quite a few people who crossed paths with Hernandez.
He never seemed reflective, much less repentant. In court, the familiar smirk would often appear as witnesses relived their nightmares.
If Hernandez had at least one decent bone in his body, he would have left a suicide note instructing that his brain be donated to science.
Perhaps all those researchers looking into head trauma could find some clue why how a guy like Aaron Hernandez can become a guy like Aaron Hernandez.
It wasn't concussions that caused it. It wasn't lack of opportunity or finances or health problems or people who cared.
Now many of those people are wondering what more they could have done, what lessons can be taken from the tragic life of Aaron Hernandez.
The only lesson may be that some people are simply incapable of learning a lesson.
Sports on 04/20/2017