Murder in the First is on my list of favorite movies.

Despite the fact that it was based on a true story – yet strayed quite a bit from the truth – it still proved to be an entertaining movie.

Christian Slater and Kevin Bacon played the key roles, and they were good. Gary Oldman was outstanding as usual. And adding a nice touch of irony was having Kyra Sedgwick play a hooker who was hired to service Kevin Bacon in his cell. Kyra Sedgwick was then – and is still – married to Kevin Bacon in real life.

Guilty of murder in the first is also the decision that a Massachusetts jury reached yesterday in the trial of accused killer Aaron Hernandez.

I knew that Hernandez was guilty as soon as I first heard the particulars in the case almost two years ago. In June of 2103, Hernandez was arrested and charged with killing Odin Lloyd.

I knew Hernandez was guilty because I gained a tremendous perspective on the mechanics and machinations of murder by spending four years writing about the same. Detective magazines published more than 100 of my homicide stories that took place over the years in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Florida, California, and the Virgin Islands. In addition, my first book, Born to Be Wild, was a true-crime saga about sex, drugs, and murder in the misogynist underworld of outlaw motorcycle gangs during the 1970s.

In the process of writing those stories, I spoke with family members of the victims and interviewed some of the killers themselves. In the process of researching the cases, I interviewed prosecutors and judges, police officers, state troopers, and U.S. marshals. I picked the brains of some of the best homicide detectives in the world, and I spent time with John Walsh at America’s Most Wanted.

When you spend as much time as I did with so many law-and-order crusaders, you gain a knack of looking at most murder cases and pretty much figuring out what happened.

Early on, in the case of Aaron Hernandez, I put two and two together and figured out that the victim, Odin Lloyd – loving son and protective brother though his family maintains – was a piss-boy for Aaron Hernandez. In contemporary parlance, Odin Lloyd was Aaron Hernandez’ “bitch” – his “bluntmaster” – the man who kept Hernandez supplied with marijuana.

There was some sort of falling out between the two men – most likely over money, or women, or both. Hernandez then took Odin Lloyd for a ride from which Lloyd never returned. His bullet-riddled body was found lying on a mound of dirt in a secluded industrial park.

I wondered why Lloyd agreed to take the ride, but that’s a question I couldn’t answer. Perhaps he didn’t perceive the gravity of the rift between himself and Aaron Hernandez. Perhaps he underestimated the evil that lurked within the heart of his cruel task-master. In either case, Lloyd’s shortsightedness proved to be his Shakespearean tragic flaw of character.

When confronted by investigators in the aftermath of the discovery of Odin Lloyd’s body, Aaron Hernandez’ actions were consistent with the actions of someone who was guilty. The destruction of evidence was a dead give-away – pun intended – that he either killed Lloyd or ordered the killing.

All of that said, you still never know what’s going to happen when a murder case goes to trial. Witnesses sometimes recant their testimonies and evidence sometimes disappears. High-profile criminal lawyers sometimes dazzle the jurors with so much fancy footwork that the jurors can’t separate fact from fiction. And jurors sometimes harbor a bias that prevents them from convicting.

In this case, justice prevailed and Aaron Hernandez – barring a prion break – will never again be a free man. He is sentenced to spend the rest of his life behind bars with no chance for parole.

Pardon my French, but I’ll never understand a man like Aaron Hernandez. He had the world by the balls. He was a handsome man with proficient enough football skills to earn a $40-million contract from the New England Patriots. If he invested his money wisely and continued to play, he would live a life of luxury that escapes most of us.

But because of that abundance of athletic talent, Aaron Hernandez was coddled most of his life. His indiscretions – of which there were many – were overlooked. He was never held accountable for his actions. As a result, he continued living his life as a gangsta – turning his body into a billboard of tattoo artwork, packing heat, and associating with the wrong crowd.

He never made the break that many high-profile athletes have to make in order to lead successful lives. He never separated himself from certain individuals from his past who had the potential to drag him down. Street cred remained more important to him than breaking away from his past and becoming an upstanding, law-abiding citizen. And now he’ll pay the price – every day – for the rest of his natural life.

The ominous sound of a cell door slamming shut behind him will be ringing in his ears for as long as he lives.

Aaron Hernandez just never got it.

Barry Bowe is the author of Born to Be Wild, 1964 – The Year the Phillies Blew the Pennant, and 12 Best Eagles QBs.