We know how things started. He answered one of your fan letters, and then an unlikely correspondence began, et cetera, et cetera. Why don't you just back it all the way up to how things started with you and John F. Donnerbln? I had just turned 11. Kids at school were mocking me to being a new guy. Rupet! I'm sorry. My mum and I were barely speaking anymore. All my dreams had disappeared. The only one that had survived was John. We'll get out of approval, right, both. Yeah, and you're getting a pony for Christmas. He, on the other hand, had everything. Fans. Fame. Life. I'm the luckiest guy in the world. That's the time around which some people started to wonder. Was it all a lie? I went a letter to John F. Donnerbln about five years ago. It was rather foolish to me to think he would answer, but he did. Now I'm only 11 years old, but later I'll be like him and we'll act in movies together. Rupet, you made a fuss to worry. I did it! You lied, and you lied for years. I just didn't say anything. Did you or did you not write letters to that kid? Do you have a pen pal? Child pen pal, do you job? Next. You are never to write to that man again. Do you understand? So why release the letters now? It's been 12 years, and frankly, have things really changed? This is about us, as a society, but we'd want what we seek. I mean, what should an artist reveal of himself? And why does it matter to us? I feel like I've done everything wrong. And if I don't belong here, what if I've stolen someone else's place? The question is, how could you have stolen a place that was made just for you? Ma, can I stay here tonight? You can stay here for the rest of your lives. Dear Rupert, I cannot think of a more singular friend. No one will understand this friendship. Until the day you want them to.