“Everyone wants to blame somebody,” says Bruce Irons.
Bruce is sitting in a dark room. His face is dramatically lit, and small beads of sweat form on his forehead. Above him hangs a photo shot by Bryan Bielmann of Andy standing on a surfboard, suspended in the water between a razor-sharp reef and a crashing wave. The photo is out of frame, but it’s symbolic.
“They never want to accept the fact that me and my brother were big fucking monsters,” Bruce Irons continues. “Believe it or not, we were manipulative in getting what we wanted, especially if it came to drugs. You know, you start getting into heavy fucking addiction with these pills. I know that was ruling my life, and I know it was ruling my brother’s life, too.”