So is his wife, Hailey Page.

And there’s nothing I can do to explain away any of it, so I won’t; in fact, I wasn’t going to even mention it here, but here I am…doing what I thought I’d never do.

Kinda like making dirty movies.

I didn’t know Hailey at all…never met her once. Chico shot Hailey for my site Spunkmouth, but he also shot other scenes, too, which means the only thing really special about Hailey’s scene is it features a (now) dead girl shot by her (then) boyfriend-director who, most certainly, had some sort of responsibility for her demise.

Chico Wang’s body was found — half in his bed and half on the floor — in a cheap motel near San Jose, California, on September 29th. I spoke with the reporter from Morgan Hill, CA, who covered the story, and from what her sources say, it appears Chico OD’d on something, but they’re not sure, and toxicology reports “take forever” in that county to come back.

Hailey died in a hotel in King City, California, a month or so before.

And a month or so before that, Hailey and Chico were married in Las Vegas.

It was a love / hate relationship, the relationships Chico established with people in this industry; there was no in-between with him. He was my friend, but I’m not sure I would have befriended him if I had fully known who he was when we first met.

Chico Wang was a Three Ring Circus — a real porno cliché: he drank too much almost all the time and he farted on set and thought up outlandish scenarios for the movies he made; he asked his talent to do ridiculous things and his shoot houses were always filthy: cum-stained sofas with garbage everywhere and broken toilets and showers that never completely drained and back yards littered with dog shit and empty beer cans.

With The Minion and Hung Lo taking the brunt of it all.

And somehow, someway, hanging out at a Chico Wang Shoot House was really fun and really stupid — all at the same time.

It’s mentally exhausting to deal with anyone who’s physically and verbally abusive, who likes to drink to oblivion, or get so fucking high that you know The End is near.

But do I really need to mention that?

The last time I spoke to Chico, it was about a week before his problems kicked into high gear. He wanted me to swing by and check out his new HD camera, and he was excited because he had left the DVD company he shot for and was about to start shooting internet content for some big-shot investor friend. Chico also told me he and Hailey were “monogamous”, which I found kinda strange: I don’t believe in monogamy, and I find monogamous people in my business to be an oxymoron so striking and stupid that it’s certainly a lie.

“I’m helping her get her clean, too.”

“Oh, man…I’m sorry to hear she’s fucked up. But you know Hailey will only clean herself up when Hailey decides to do it.”

Chico got short with me as said, “Don’t you know all these anal girls are on something?”

I wanted to tell him no, none of the “anal girls” I knew had any kind of drug problem; they didn’t have to use pain killers to have butt sex, and, in fact, almost all the anal girls I know prefer anal sex to vaginal sex, but he sounded agitated, and I didn’t want to engage him in a pointless debate.

Depending on which gossip blog you’re reading, Hailey was using Oxycontin and / or heroin, and Chico was hiding a cocaine addiction.

But this is all something I never intended I Shoot Porn to become: gossip may be fun to read, but it ain’t no fun to write, and it certainly ain’t no fun to deal with the people you’re gossiping about on any sort of level.

I work in an industry with fuck-ups and degenerates, con men and frauds, sex addicts and drug addicts and misogynists; their lives are train wrecks and everyone knows it.

I also work in an industry with kind, fun, professional people who are great to be around; they’re people who love sex and don’t think there’s anything dirty or wrong with it, and their lives are filled with ups and downs and days they hate their job and days they love it and in-between days, too.

But hey, that’s our life.

Maybe it’s yours, too.