The Imposter Page #7

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that it is so bad that they have to come.

It, it made me think

there was something going on,

more than meets the eye. Of course it did.

I knew that DNA samples would prove

that he wasn't Nicholas Barclay.

Mrs. Dollarhide said, "This is my son.

I don't have to provide blood samples

for you for DNA

and she laid down on the floor,

literally laid down on the floor,

and said, "No, and you can't pick me up,

and you can't make me."

I did not want to go anywhere with the FBI,

but I don't remember refusing.

I was stunned.

I've never had that reaction before.

She wasn't just apathetic,

she was hostile.

To be honest with you, I really have

no idea what I was thinking at that time.

My main goal in life was not, not to think.

We didn't need to prove who he was.

We knew who he was.

I no longer saw them as a grieving erm...

victimized family.

I saw them as a very questionable family.

There would be no reason for them

to accept a stranger into their lives...

..unless there was something to hide.

That would be the only reason.

Something was being hidden

and I didn't know what that was.

When Beverly refused

to give her blood sample,

I started to become suspicious.

They knew that I wasn't Nicholas.

Whatever I was telling them,

they didn't believe a word of it.

But they were good at not showing it.

I mean, who wouldn't see it?

That's about four, five years ago now.

I remember in Spain,

Carey did everything for me.

When I didn't know something, she told me.

"You forgot everything

but you're going to remember it now

and, you know, this was Mom at the place

we're living in with... Do you remember?

Oh, this was Chantelle. You remember

Chantelle. That's your niece, my daughter.

Do you remember that? Do you

remember that? Do you remember that?"

Over and over and over again.

That's Jason.

She wanted to put it in my head.

She wanted to put it in my head

so I would never forget.

She just could not say it's not Nicholas.

Did she believe it or not?

If you asked me, I would say,

no, not for a second

did she believe I was her brother.

She decided I was gonna be her brother.

It's like I woke up in a place where...

Lies even bigger than what I did.

You know, it's...

they pretended as much as I did

and even more.

I kept thinking about the kid,

Nicholas Barclay.

At the time of his disappearance,

he was living with Beverly

in the house on Swallow Street

and his brother Jason

was also living there.

Jason, Nick's older brother,

when he moved into their house,

that house changed,

because before he got there,

Nick and his mom

seemed pretty close to me.

She loved him to death.

I mean, she loved him, you could tell...

She, she... He was the light of her life.

This guy moved in,

he was a bum, a drug addict

and he only cared about himself.

And when he got into that house,

it just made things that much more worse.

In fact, I think it even pushed his mom

into doing drugs herself

when he moved into the house.

That house just became

a volatile situation altogether.

I discovered from the police files,

a couple of months

after the disappearance,

that Jason had called the police

and said that his brother

had tried to break into the house.

Well, we see that kind of thing all the time.

People, people

are constantly doing stuff like that

to make people think that person's alive.

I started to put two and two together

and I thought something happened

inside that house to that boy.

I didn't need to be Columbo

to put all the pieces together.

They killed him.

Some of them did it, some of them knew of it,

and some of them chose to ignore it.

I wasn't worried about

Nicholas coming back no more.

Neither Nicholas Barclay

or his mother were cooperating,

so we were going to have to have

a search warrant executed

in order to obtain those blood samples.

I couldn't pretend no more to be Nicholas

and act like Nicholas.

I took two or three other agents with me

to go pick him up.

So inside me, I started getting,

you know, more and more aggressive,

weird.

I couldn't go on.

We got the fingerprints

and we got the palm prints.

Within a few weeks, we would be sending

them out to Interpol, to the embassies,

to see if any of these fingerprints

matched anything that they had on record.

I was trying to find a way out,

not only a way out in San Antonio, Texas,

but a way out, out of my mind.

Nicholas was becoming

much more agitated and angry

and I really felt like

he was going to run away

and if he ran away we might have

a very hard time locating him.

I started tailing him,

I started following him.

I started sitting up on Beverly's place

where she lived

and writing down license numbers of

all the cars that came to her, to see her.

So I took a razor blade

and I slit my face.

Everything was snowballing

and snowballing and snowballing.

I show them, show them that

I was under a great deal of pressure.

On March 3rd of 1998,

the legate in Madrid, Spain, called me

and he said, "We've just identified him."

And I said, "You're kidding?"

I knew that everything was going down

and it was just a matter of weeks.

He said, "What I'm gonna do right now

is fax to you the records that I have."

He agreed to meet with me.

We ordered hot cakes.

And we started to eat.

And he said...

I said,

"You really made your mother angry."

And he said,

"She's not my mother and you know it."

And I thought, well, I'll be damned.

And so I stood over the fax machine,

waiting for, of course, them to come in

because I was screaming

and jumping up and down.

I actually said, "Well, I'll be damned,

you're going to finally tell me

who you are."

I was like doing a dance

and everybody was high-fiving.

It was like, you know, we finally,

we finally know who this person is.

And my heart was beating fast,

just like it is now thinking about it.

And... And I said, "Who are you?"

He said, "I'm Frederic Bourdin

and I'm wanted by Interpol."

The fingerprint cards told me

that he was not 16, he was 23.

That he was not American, he was French.

That he was not Nicholas Barclay,

he was Frederic Bourdin.

We grow up in America thinking Interpol

is kind of the God of the cops.

You follow me?

That's the highest step you can get

in "Copland".

And so I thought, Jesus Christ,

if he's wanted by Interpol,

what has he done? You know.

There is no limit to what he's done.

So he began to tell me.

Frederic Bourdin is delinquent.

Activities and modus operandi...

He has travelled throughout Europe

appearing at shelters for minors

under different aliases.

Spain, 1992.

Spain, September 1993.

Barcelona...

.. stated that he'd run away

from his adoptive parents' house.

Brussels, '95.

Pyrenees...

Milan, 1993.

Glasgow.

I sat there. I could hardly eat,

I could hardly swallow my food.

He always wore glasses.

Giovanni Petrullo.

Michelangelo Martini.

Donovan MacNeph.

- Peter Samson.

- William Thomas.

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