Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.
------
[TRANSCRIPT]
[click, static]
I’m tired of taking all the blame, Harry. I know—I know it’s my fault that we’re here, it’s my fault that Junior’s here, it’s my fault that Don is dead and Leann lived the end of her life alone, but it’s not only my fault. I’m not the only one that led us here.
I made a choice—a bad choice in terrible circumstances—and, you know what? I’m not sure I did choose it. It was an accident, I got unlucky, I made a mistake. I chose to try and escape, I chose to try and help you escape and it cost a man his life.
But we would have never been there in the first place if it hadn’t been for you. And I’m fucking tired of pretending like I’m not mad at you for it.
[click, static]
Who am I kidding? I haven’t been pretending anything—it’s more that I’m mad at you for a different thing every other week. But I’ve been keeping your secret. I’ve been keeping it from Birdie and Fox and Junior and whoever else is listening here and I kept it from Don. And he died thinking he had two friends in this world. Me. And you.
And that’s a lie. I’m done with telling that lie.
You weren’t his friend. Not really. I’m not sure you’re even my friend, even if you think—
[click, static]
Did you hear my conversation with Birdie the other day? That they have a not-quite-friend-not-quite-enemy in Fox? That they tried to meddle in things and it went very very badly? Any of that sound familiar?
You betrayed us, Harry. You—you cut a deal with the fucking FBI to get off scot-free and you set us up. I don’t know how I spent so many years not suspecting a thing because we’d never even been close to caught before but that night, out of nowhere—
[click, static]
Maybe I haven’t been pretending to not be mad at you for it, maybe that has been very fucking apparent, but I think I’ve been pretending—even to myself, especially to myself—that I can forgive you for it.
I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure I will.
[click, static]
See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.