
Years later, Paul Walker’s passing remains as hard to wrap our heads around as it was in 2013.
From the sounds of it, Paul Walker was having a pretty good day on November 30, 2013. By then, 20 years had passed since he’d made his daytime debut as Brandon Collins, the teenage dreamboat to whom Victoria Newman wouldn’t give the time of day. The 40-year-old was not only a movie star, boasting a resumé that went from thrillers such as
Joy Ride to blue-chip films like Clint Eastwood’s Flags of Our Fathers, he was central to the hit The Fast and the Furious franchise; at the time, he was working on the seventh movie in the series.
But that all changed at about 3:30 in the afternoon. After leaving an event for his charity — Reach Out Worldwide, which sought to provide aid to victims of Super Typhoon Yolanda — Walker was involved in an accident with his friend Roger Rodas, who drove his sports car into a lamp post and two trees. So horrific was the incident that it left both of their bodies burned beyond recognition.
The world, understandably, was devastated. Walker hadn’t just been a modern-day matinee idol, he’d been a hell of an actor and, on top of that, one who had seemed like an innately decent fellow. Actually, he hadn’t just
seemed innately decent; as Eric Braeden told KCAL9 in Los Angeles in 2013, what you saw was what you got with Walker.
The two had worked together twice. The first time was during Walker’s short
Young & Restless’ stint, when Victor’s daughter (then Heather Tom, now Katie on The Bold and the Beautiful) was so besotted with older man Ryan McNeil that she hardly noticed that oceans were envious of the blue of Brandon’s eyes. (Check out the then-newbie below, tearing Scott Reeves a new one).
Braeden and Walker then re-teamed as father and son in the 1998 comedy Meet the Deedles, with Steve Van Wormer (below) as Walker’s brother. The up-and-comer “was just so unpretentious,” Braeden told the CBS affiliate. “An easy-going, Southern California guy.

“I’ve worked with quite a few young people over the years,” he added. “But I had a feeling that he would make it on the big screen. You find very few actors with his basic honesty or sincerity.”
On this sad occasion, maybe you can perk yourself back up by perusing the below photo gallery of The Young and the Restless through the years. Say, while you’re here, maybe you can also tell us WTH that is on Braeden’s shoulder above? A squirrel in sunglasses? A ferret that got lei’d? We legit have no idea and have been majorly fixated on it to keep this article from leaving us depressed.
THE GRIEVING SON WALKS THROUGH
On the night of November 25, 2025, the Dancing with the Stars ballroom fell into a silence no one expected. Robert Irwin, 21, khakis swapped for a simple black tux, stood alone under the mirrorball lights holding the Len Goodman Mirrorball Trophy he had just won with partner Emma Slater. The confetti was still falling, but the room felt suddenly heavier than glitter.
Then he spoke, and 8.2 million viewers watching at home learned what the show had truly cost him.
“I need to say this out loud,” Robert began, voice cracking the way it hadn’t since he was eight years old and standing graveside in Beerwah. “I’ve spent nineteen years trying to be strong enough for Dad not to worry about me from wherever he is now. I thought if I just kept moving (feeding crocs, filming documentaries, smiling for cameras), the grief would stay quiet.”
He looked straight into the lens.
“This ballroom didn’t let it stay quiet.”
He described how every week brought a memory he’d buried. The foxtrot to “What a Wonderful World” triggered the exact song playing on the radio the morning Steve left for the last time. The contemporary routine about “letting go” forced him to choreograph the moment he had to release his father’s hand in the hospital. Even the quickstep’s relentless energy felt like trying to outrun the quiet that settled over Australia Zoo the day the world lost the Crocodile Hunter.
“Every eight-count was a flashback,” he said. “Every lift made me remember being lifted onto Dad’s shoulders so I could see over the croc enclosure fence. I cried in the bathroom more weeks than I didn’t. Emma saw it. The crew saw it. I was terrified the audience would see a grown man falling apart instead of a dancer.”
Then he held the trophy higher.
“But tonight I’m not hiding anymore. This Mirrorball isn’t mine. It belongs to the eight-year-old boy who stood on national television and promised the world he’d make his dad proud. I carried him through every rehearsal when my feet bled and my heart felt worse. And tonight, for the first time, I get to tell him: ‘We did it, mate. Dad saw everything.’”
He turned the trophy so the dedication engraved on the base faced the camera:
“To Steve Irwin — the original Wildlife Warrior. Love, your khaki-clad kids forever.”
The ballroom erupted, but Robert was already crying too hard to hear it. Terri Irwin, Bindi, and Chandler rushed the floor. For thirty unbroken seconds the four of them stood in a tight circle under the lights, foreheads touching, sobbing the way they hadn’t allowed themselves to in public since September 4, 2006.

Later, backstage, Robert told reporters the simplest truth:
“I thought winning would feel like the finish line. It doesn’t. It feels like the starting line, because now I’m not running from the grief anymore. I’m dancing with it. And Dad’s right there in the music.”
Somewhere in the rafters of the DWTS studio, a single piece of silver confetti is still stuck, catching the light every time the mirrorball spins.
Robert Irwin never has to look up to know his father is watching.
He just has to dance.