Aaron Hernandez's recap, episode 2

This is a step in the right direction. “Consequences, With Extreme Prejudice” may have many of the same problems as the first episode, including some rambling dialogue and an almost total lack of subtlety. But now that the setting has changed from Bristol to Gainesville, American sports history has time to actually get into the “sports story” part. And the phenomenon of college athletes getting away with murder (both figuratively and literally) provides plenty of room for further investigation.

Like the first episode, this one starts with a confusing flash-forward, but the plot quickly catches up. Aaron wastes no time getting into trouble; his smart-ass attitude on the field doesn't serve him well when spring practice 2007 begins, especially with a coach like Urban Meyer who expects him to know the playbook inside and out. And his brother DJ is still breathing down his neck, trying to convince him to transfer to UConn. At least he makes a few friends on the team, including Cam Newton and Maurkice Pouncey. But even without them, you get the feeling Aaron wouldn't consider transferring. He'd rather compete with the very best than settle for something less ambitious, even if a spot at UConn meant starting every game.

The guys' first night quickly turns violent. At a local Gators bar, Aaron punches the bartender in the face after there is a “misunderstanding” with the bill. It's worth noting that the bartender in this version of the incident is gay – earlier in the evening, Aaron pointed this out to him when speculating with his teammates about who might be a “faggot” in the bar. Internalized homophobia is a consistent theme in Aaron Hernandezand that's clearly at play here. There's also an element of racism, as the bartender calls him “Chico,” a line that clumsily deflects our empathy away from him just before the underhanded blow.

But Aaron faces minimal consequences thanks to the help of the quirky Huntley Johnson (Jeffrey Nordling), the Gators' unofficial defense attorney. Johnson's arrival at the scene is a huge relief for Aaron, who is now free of handcuffs and can walk with the certainty that no one will press charges against him. And so, for the first of many times, Aaron Hernandez escapes the consequences.

Nordling brings an amusing, eccentric energy to Johnson, who warmly emphasizes his loyalty to the Gators and describes himself as a “fan who can be useful from time to time.” In his view, it is difficult for football players not to get into trouble now and again, given how famous they are on campus and across the country. The best way out is to pay bribes, as Johnson does when he offers the district attorney seats on the bench as a “thank you” for her leniency.

“Consequences, With Extreme Prejudice” is about Aaron going to college and learning all the wrong lessons. In theory, Urban Meyer should be the role model who forces the 17-year-old (!) to think straight again after a mistake as big as this one. Aaron does indeed get an inspirational coaching monologue after dinner at Meyer's house, in which Meyer appeals to both his ego and the lingering influence of his father, who would be disappointed in his actions if he could see him now. But Meyer's story about his own harsh father – a man who punished him for not looking good during a Little League game by forcing him to walk 10 miles home – only further normalizes a form of parenting that isn't normal. Aaron should learn to understand that his father is abusive to him, but these lessons only reinforce his hero worship.

As Aaron's freshman year begins in the fall of 2007, the Gators' troubles with the law are mounting. This month alone, five players have been arrested, including team captain Tony Joiner, who stole a car from a depot (and who, in real life, was sentenced to 25 years in prison just last year for the death of his girlfriend). The fan club has reason to be concerned.

The actual fall football season starts well: Aaron dominates against Western Kentucky University and enjoys the attention it brings him. But he still pretends to be someone he's not, as evidenced by his discomfort having sex with a woman while his teammates sow their own wild oats just feet away. Aaron has no desire for campus groupies; he'd rather discreetly connect with men in online chat rooms. When he meets one of them in the final scene, however, his newfound fame and resulting paranoia come to the fore. Fearing that someone has seen him, he skips the planned meeting and heads home.

It's hard to know how to categorize the real Aaron Hernandez's sexuality, although stories from friends (like the real Dennis SanSoucie) suggest he was almost certainly attracted to men. But this series so far has leaned pretty heavily toward the queerness aspect, with the script and acting portraying the man as clearly gay and isolated, having almost no interest in women. (Even when he shared a tender moment with Shayanna at the dance in the first episode, he couldn't help but let his gaze wander to Dennis.)

This is sure to be a controversial decision for some viewers, especially because of the potential implications of Hernandez's crimes. It's early days, but I'm a bit skeptical about the design; most of it has at least some basis in reality, with countless stories and interactions that come from the gladiator Podcast, but the editing and writing run the risk of drawing too clear a line between queerness, toxic masculinity and, well, murderous intent.

The show actually holds my attention much more easily when it comes to the real details of college sports: the pain mixed with the joy of getting more time on the field after, say, a friend and teammate gets injured. Aaron's second brush with the law (and his second attempt to take advantage of the program's protections) comes after a two-game losing streak five games into the season, during a fateful visit from his older friends Carlos Ortiz and Bo.

On the whole Aaron Hernandez did a good job of resisting the temptation to draw a clear distinction between Aaron's teammates and some of his tougher hometown gang buddies (Bo and Ortiz, who were incarcerated together). Perhaps the players and coach would encourage that distinction, but we see in this episode that Aaron was far from the only player breaking the law and profiting from Johnson's bribes. Cam Newton certainly never did anything like approach a car outside a nightclub and shoot two passengers, but the system that protects him from a minor offense like stealing a laptop is the same system that protects Aaron from much worse crimes.

We don't see the shooting take place, perhaps because so many of the true details are still unclear. But it seems as though Ortiz's immediate antagonism in the bar sparks the brawl that leads to the shooting, possibly an act of revenge after the theft of a Pouncey twin's necklace. When we next see Aaron, he is being questioned by the police, which leads back to the opening scene.

Something has to happen; the arrests keep piling up, and UF President Bernie Machen is naming Aaron and Cam, along with Jamar Hornsby, Jermaine Cunningham, and someone I assume is Jacques Rickerson (though it sounds like he's saying “Richardson”?). Meyer, who gets a panic attack whenever he thinks too hard about the risk of leaving the problem unresolved, has to make an example of someone – throw out one bad apple to convince everyone the rest is still good. Who would be the best scapegoat? It's certainly not the promising new star tight end.

Cam Newton's scapegoat role works quite well narratively, even if it didn't quite work out that way in reality. There is an element of black humor in Meyer's conversation with Aaron, in which he insists that Aaron “understands that there are consequences for [his] actions,” only to have him given a mild suspension for many months. When Aaron steps out as a free man, he is met with a chorus of cheers. Lesson learned?

• Director Carl Franklin shoots the actual football scenes quite emotively, giving them a grainy and stylized look. Perhaps the high contrast and sharp edges are meant to evoke televised games. I don't like it, but I wouldn't have minded a more natural atmosphere.

• I'm no expert, but as far as I can tell, the chronology here is largely faked. In real life, Cornelius Ingram doesn't injure his knee until fall practice of the 2008 season, forcing Hernandez to step in. Cam Newton's arrest also didn't happen until November 2008, although he did in fact steal a laptop and “throw the computer out of his dorm window in a humorously ill-advised attempt to hide it from the police.” And while Aaron did had to miss the game against Hawaii at the beginning of the 2008 season because he failed a doping test.