The Real Story Behind Boyz n the Hood’s Most Memorable Villain

A Late-Night Bong Hit and a Cryptic Confession

It was 2001, and Lloyd Avery II sat in the family garage with his younger brother, Che. Lloyd passed the bong across the dimly lit space, and Che took a hit that nearly floored him.

“I’ve had a good life,” Lloyd muttered, breaking the silence with a statement that felt like it belonged in a farewell letter rather than casual sibling banter. Then he added, “You want to hear something scary?”

Che, fully aware that nothing good ever came after words like that, didn’t hesitate to shut it down. Instead of replying, he grabbed a knife, flashed it in Lloyd’s direction, and wordlessly suggested the conversation end right there. Lloyd, apparently unfazed, took the hint, inhaled a few more hits from the bong, and retreated to his bedroom for the night.

The Avery Family: A Life of Privilege, Not Hardship

If this exchange gives the impression of two brothers toughing it out in a rough neighborhood, think again. The Avery family wasn’t struggling to make ends meet on the wrong side of the tracks. Quite the opposite. That garage wasn’t in some gritty urban sprawl—it was on Crescent Heights Boulevard, brushing shoulders with Beverly Hills.

Lloyd Avery Sr., the family patriarch, had built a stable and comfortable life as a service technician, earning enough to provide his family with a beautiful home. His wife, Linda Avery, dedicated herself to raising their children—Lloyd Jr., Che, and their sister—with care and precision.

Linda wasn’t just hands-on; she was determined. The Avery kids didn’t just have a home in a good zip code; they had access to opportunities that parents dream about. Education, especially, was a priority. Lloyd Jr. attended Beverly Hills High School, where the student directory read like a “who’s who” of Hollywood royalty.

From Beverly Hills High to Big Dreams

Lloyd Avery Jr. wasn’t just another student at Beverly Hills High School—he was immersed in a world where the children of entertainment legends roamed the halls. Rubbing elbows with Smokey Robinson’s kids and music producer Quincy Jones’ family gave Lloyd more than just bragging rights. It gave him clarity.

He knew what he wanted to be. Not a lawyer. Not a doctor. A rapper.

Driven by ambition, Lloyd threw himself into his music. He worked tirelessly, eventually earning a spot at the Los Angeles Trade-Technical College to refine his production skills. The path seemed set—music would be his future. But fate, as it often does, had other plans.

Hollywood’s Calling: Lloyd Avery’s Breakthrough

Lloyd’s social connections introduced him to aspiring director John Singleton, a man with a vision and a script that would shake Hollywood to its core. Singleton was casting for a movie that would become Boyz n the Hood, and he needed someone for a brief but pivotal role. Lloyd Avery had that intangible quality—the kind of presence that makes people stop and stare.

With two minutes of screen time, Lloyd transformed from a kid with a dream into the unforgettable gang member who gunned down Ricky in cold blood. That sawed-off shotgun became Lloyd’s key to Hollywood, and suddenly, the doors to Tinseltown were wide open.

Chasing Two Dreams: Acting and Music

Hollywood embraced Lloyd, offering him roles in TV series and films that steadily built his resume. Each part took him higher, painting the picture of an actor on the rise. But while the cameras loved him, Lloyd’s heart still beat to a different rhythm—music. He used his growing fame as a platform to reignite his first love, pouring his energy into crafting his own sound.

For a moment, it seemed like Lloyd Avery II was living the dream: a rising star on-screen and a burgeoning musician off-screen. But the spotlight isn’t always kind, and behind the scenes, cracks were starting to form.

A Shift in the Spotlight: Lloyd Avery’s Life Takes a Dark Turn

On the surface, Lloyd Avery II seemed to be living a dream most could only envy. Hollywood success, connections, and the allure of fame—it was all his. But behind the scenes, something had cracked wide open.

Not long after Boyz n the Hood catapulted him into the public eye, Lloyd made a move that left everyone stunned. He abandoned his life in Beverly Hills for a place called the Jungle—a notorious Los Angeles neighborhood firmly planted in Bloods territory. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone: Lloyd had stepped directly into the world his Boyz n the Hood character belonged to.

Malcolm Norrington, one of Lloyd’s co-stars from Boyz, later shared his disbelief: “He was kind of meek. He was not anything near a street guy. Within a year of Boyz, I was hearing about him missing auditions. I don’t remember when I heard about him joining [a gang]. I just remember being perplexed. To me, it was like, ‘What is he doing Blooding? Lloyd? C’mon.’”

But the rumors were true. Lloyd wasn’t just dabbling; he was fully committed. He even had “Jungle” tattooed above his eyebrow—a permanent declaration of his allegiance.

Struggling Careers and Growing Shadows

As his Hollywood trajectory stalled, so did Lloyd’s grip on the life he had worked so hard to build. Family members found themselves fielding visits from detectives looking for him, and his younger brother, Che, began noticing a change.

Che could sense the weight on Lloyd’s shoulders, the heaviness of choices that couldn’t be undone. He also knew his brother had gotten tangled up with dangerous people—people you didn’t cross lightly. The unease simmered, unspoken but palpable.

The answers Che feared would come soon enough. The night in the garage would be their last ordinary moment. By the next day, the truth about Lloyd’s downward spiral would come crashing into the light.

Lloyd Avery’s Final Days of Freedom

By the time police finally caught up to Lloyd Avery II, he wasn’t exactly hiding. It was more like he had grown tired of running. One morning, Lloyd left the house on a bicycle—a stolen one he’d once swiped to get to a movie set on time. He rode up to the driver’s side of a police car stationed nearby and casually asked the officer, “What’s up?”

For a moment, it looked like Lloyd was ready to turn himself in. The officer sprang into action, but Lloyd’s resolve wavered. He took off on his bike, darting through narrow streets in what can only be described as an ill-conceived escape attempt. It didn’t last long. A second police cruiser blocked his path, and Lloyd was arrested.

The Double Homicide That Ended It All

While Lloyd’s Hollywood roles cast him as a criminal, it turned out the line between fiction and reality was razor-thin. Authorities had been searching for Lloyd for over two years, and it wasn’t just for minor infractions—he was wanted for double murder.

In the summer of 1999, Lloyd confronted two people in a park in the heart of the Jungle: Annette Lewis and Percy Branch. The two allegedly owed the Bloods money for drugs. Lloyd, eager to prove his worth to the gang, demanded they pay up.

The situation escalated quickly. Annette and Percy refused, and an argument broke out. Determined to win, Lloyd pulled out a gun and fired. Annette succumbed to her injuries later that day. Percy, hit in the stomach, clung to life for three agonizing weeks before complications from the gunshot claimed his life.

Lloyd’s double life was laid bare. At home, he played the role of the ambitious, well-educated eldest son with a budding Hollywood career. But in the Jungle, he became the gang-affiliated criminal he’d once only portrayed on screen.

From Actor to Inmate: A New Role in Prison

Convicted of two counts of first-degree murder, Lloyd was sentenced to life in prison. Once inside, the man who had worked so hard to shed his privileged upbringing pivoted again. He claimed to have found God, adopting a devout faith that earned him the nickname “Baby Jesus” among his fellow inmates.

But this wasn’t a story of redemption. Lloyd’s cellmate, Kevin Roby—better known by his chilling nickname, “Satanic Christ”—had other plans. In 2005, Roby orchestrated a ritual meant to send a message to God Himself. During a Satanic ceremony, Roby strangled Lloyd to death.

Lloyd Avery II was just 36 years old. His murder went unnoticed by prison officials for two days, a grim and fittingly chaotic end to a life of duality, deception, and unfulfilled potential.