“My joy was in pissing on people and seeing how much humiliation I could inflict on anyone uglier, dumber, weaker, or less fortunate than me. I have been despised by most of the people in my life, and I didn’t give a s**t. I was a walking god, just one pathetic step away from narcissism, maybe not even a full step. I didn’t do s**t in college but play ball. I was catered to in every way. Hell, all the players were. We expected it. My life was disgusting and self-serving, and I just didn’t give a s**t. But that all changed one night, July 4, 1999.” Blake’s eyes were pools of agony as he looked at Briggs.
“I was on my way to the third party of the night with two of my buddies. We were all wasted drunk. My friend Peter was driving, Bart was in the passenger seat, and I was in the back. Peter
