Steve McNair’s death on July 4, 2009, shocked the sports world. The former NFL star was found shot dead alongside his mistress, Sahel “Jenni” Kazemi, in a Nashville condo.
The official story from the police is that Kazemi, distressed over financial troubles and McNair’s infidelity, killed him in a murder-suicide. But not everyone is convinced.
Did the Nashville police get it wrong about NFL star Steve “Air” McNair’s death?
That’s the burning question at the heart of Netflix’s latest “Untold” documentary, “The Murder of Air McNair.”
The 58-minute film dives into the tragic end of the former Tennessee Titans quarterback, who was found dead alongside his 20-year-old girlfriend, Sahel “Jenni” Kazemi, on July 4, 2009. While police ruled it a murder-suicide, with Kazemi as the shooter, the documentary suggests there might be more to the story than meets the eye.
McNair’s journey from small-town Mississippi to NFL stardom is well-documented. A standout at Alcorn State, an HBCU, he finished third in Heisman Trophy voting – a rare feat for a small-school player. Drafted third overall by the Houston Oilers (now the Tennessee Titans), McNair led the team to a Super Bowl appearance and was named co-MVP in 2003.
But it’s the circumstances surrounding his death that continue to captivate and confound.
The official story goes like this: McNair, 36 and married, was having an affair with Kazemi, a waitress he met at a Dave & Buster’s. Stressed about finances and allegedly distraught over discovering McNair’s other affairs, Kazemi shot him four times before turning the gun on herself.
However, private investigator Vincent Hill, featured prominently in the documentary, isn’t buying it. “Police made a lot of mistakes,” Hill claims, pointing to discrepancies in the investigation.
At the center of Hill’s doubts is Adrian Gilliam Jr., the man who sold Kazemi the murder weapon. Cell phone records show a whopping 203 calls and texts between Gilliam and Kazemi in the three weeks before the murders. Gilliam was also one of the last people to speak with Kazemi, at 12:02 am on July 4th.
“The only person to have that gun was Gilliam, his alibi was contradicted, but he was cleared as a murder suspect,” Hill argues. He even tried to get the case reopened in 2010, but a grand jury found insufficient evidence to do so.
The documentary also raises eyebrows about McNair’s friend, Wayne Neely, who discovered the bodies. Footage shows Neely offering detectives cash during his interview – a bizarre move that goes unexplained in the film.
Another intriguing figure is Robert Gaddy, McNair’s longtime friend and Alcorn State teammate. Gaddy admits to a $13,000 dispute with McNair over a business venture, which had strained their relationship. It was Gaddy who called 911 after Neely contacted him from the crime scene.
“You think I’m involved with my best friend’s murder over 13 freakin’ thousand dollars?” Gaddy says in the documentary, clearly frustrated by conspiracy theories surrounding his involvement.
Jeff Fisher, McNair’s former coach with the Titans, adds fuel to the fire of speculation. “I could make a case that things don’t add up,” Fisher says in the film. “I don’t want to speculate. Just let it go.”
But for many, including the filmmakers, letting it go isn’t so easy. The documentary paints a picture of a complex man living a complicated life. McNair was still married to Mechelle, his wife of over a decade, while pursuing a relationship with Kazemi. Friends of Kazemi claim the couple had discussed adopting children and building a life together.
Text messages released by police show Kazemi asking McNair for financial help and expressing that she “might have a breakdown” due to stress. Just days before their deaths, Kazemi reportedly confronted McNair about another woman she’d seen leaving his condo.
The film doesn’t shy away from McNair’s other alleged affairs either. Police discovered he was involved with multiple women, one of whom was interviewed by detectives.
While the documentary raises these questions, it doesn’t definitively answer them. Netflix really did a bad job of bringing anything new here. Instead, it leaves viewers to grapple with the complexities of McNair’s life and death.
Critics of the film argue it doesn’t offer much beyond what’s already been reported. The Athletic’s Joe Rexrode notes, “Perhaps it was best to let McNair’s football legacy stand on its own rather than rehash how he died.”
Indeed, the documentary spends considerable time on McNair’s football career, including his legendary Super Bowl run with the Titans in 2000. This focus on his athletic achievements sometimes feels at odds with the murder investigation narrative.
Notably absent from the film is Mechelle McNair, Steve’s widow. Her perspective could have added crucial context to McNair’s life off the field.
So, what are we left with? A tale of tragedy, unanswered questions, and the dark side of fame. The documentary doesn’t solve the mystery of McNair’s death, but it does reignite interest in a case many thought was closed.
As viewers, we’re left to wonder: Was Kazemi really the killer? What was Gilliam’s true role? And how much don’t we know about the private lives of our sports heroes?
In the end, “Untold: The Murder of Air McNair” serves as a reminder that even in death, the line between public figures and private citizens can be blurry. It challenges us to consider the weight of speculation and the human cost of unresolved questions.
What do you think? Was justice served in the McNair case, or is there more to uncover? Does this documentary change your perspective on the NFL legend?
Averagebeing’s Take: While the Netflix doc doesn’t crack the case wide open, it does remind us that things aren’t always as clear-cut as they seem. McNair’s story is a sobering look at how quickly life can unravel, even for those at the top of their game. Whether you believe the official story or not, one thing’s for sure – this tragedy goes far beyond the football field, touching on issues of fame, fidelity, and the price of living in the public eye.
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