Bearsden Academy Form 5C can all recall when a Canadian boy, Brandon Lee, joined the class in 1993.

Not just because of his desperately sad back story — his mother, an opera singer, had been killed in a car crash and his father, who sent him to Glasgow’s leafy suburb of Bearsden to live with his grandmother, died soon afterwards.

Or for his gawky looks — he was tall and thin and rather frail-looking with permed hair, oddly fine eyebrows, and sported a briefcase and a deeply unfashionable anorak with a draw-string waist.

Or even that he shared a name with the recently deceased son of the late, great, martial arts guru Bruce Lee — though it did cause a bit of a giggle when the register was first taken.

But mainly because Brandon — now the subject of a major new film starring Alan Cummings — was kind, good, funny and a bit different.

He was a mentor to bullies and helped them become better.

His intelligence was impressive (reportedly a 161-level genius-level intellect), but he was also very intelligent. He joined the football team and the debating club, played in the school musical, and introduced his friends to many cool retro bands.

In addition to all this, he also got five excellent grades, glowing references, and was offered a scholarship at the University of Medicine.

What’s the catch?

‘Brandon’ was not, in fact, the preternaturally bright 17-year-old that many thought he was, but Scotland’s most notorious imposter: a 30-year-old failed medical student called Brian MacKinnon who had already attended Bearsden Academy, back in the 1970s when he actually was a teenager.

Brian MacKinnon as a teenager...

... and aged 30, as 'Brandon Lee'

Pictured left: Brian MacKinnon as a teenager… and right: aged 30, as ‘Brandon Lee’. ‘Brandon’ was not, in fact, the preternaturally bright 17-year-old that many thought he was, but Scotland’s most notorious imposter: a 30-year-old failed medical student called Brian MacKinnon who had already attended Bearsden Academy, back in the 1970s

Nearly 30 years later, the extraordinary lies of his deceit have been captured in a film directed by Jono Mcleod, an old 5C classmate, and featuring old school friends and teachers.

It will premiere in the U.S. later this month. The interview will provide a fascinating insight into Brian’s extraordinary story. It all began with his 1970s stint at Bearsden. This was followed by a move to Glasgow University.

But Brian’s dreams of pursuing a career in medicine unravelled when an unexplained illness caused him to drop out. 

He was determined to still become a doctor — but after six or seven years of false starts, failed exams and second attempts, and missing the window to return to university, it became clear that ‘Brian MacKinnon’ wasn’t going to be admitted into any university for medicine.

But that’s when, after the death of his father in 1993, he set a master plan into motion.

As he says in the film: ‘The thing you have to do if you really want to prevail is do the unimaginable’.

He’s not joking.

Who in their right mind would return to their old school in their 30s, pretend to be a spotty teenager again — and think nothing would go awry?

To be fair, Bearsden was not Brian’s first choice. His mother shared the home that he remained in with him, and it wasn’t within reach of other schools.

‘Time was running out between the inception of my plan and the beginning of the school academic year, I had been unable to find another school,’ he later said.

So, he continued, believing that his Canadian accent and 3 st weight reduction, freshly permed hair, and meticulously plucked eyebrows would be enough to get the job done.

Amazingly, they succeeded.

Despite having been to the school in the not too distant past, and him looking more like a member of staff than a pupil, the school didn’t bother to ask for his birth certificate or check his references — one of which was from a ‘Marsha Hunt’, the name of one of Mick Jagger’s former girlfriends.

It is impossible to put two things together.

Not Mr Blair, the maths teacher who’d taught him 13 years earlier, or headmaster Mr Norman MacLeod, who said Brandon ‘fitted in so well, it was as if the school had been made for him’, or even his new form teacher Mrs Gwynneth Lightbody, who thought he perhaps suffered from ‘some illness that made him age rapidly’.

‘We were a right crowd of dopes!’ she later admitted.

Instead, ‘Brandon’ was welcomed with open arms.

Imposter: Brian MacKinnon out for dinner at TGI Fridays with his friends in Glasgow, Scotland

Imposter: Brian MacKinnon with friends, Glasgow, Scotland to dinner at TGI Fridays

After all, he was the perfect student — eager, polite, super bright and forever with his hand up, answer ready — he was a teacher’s dream. But, of course, there were plenty of hairy moments — and on one occasion he claimed to remember the day Elvis died, in 1977 — the year Brandon had supposedly been born.

In retrospect, there were countless clues that things weren’t right.

‘We used to see him driving about and that was quite strange aged 16,’ said one Bearsden contemporary at the time. ‘He always seemed to know more about physics than we did, his contributions to the school newspaper were always very impressive!’

Former classmate Gordon Barron even told a local newspaper: ‘I thought he was a teacher but when someone looks older you just get used to it. He was popular and outgoing and told jokes like anyone of our age.’

Nicola Walker, a friend he went on holiday with, added: ‘He was really into older music. Totally weird stuff, like Joy Division.’

And he was also said to be extremely reluctant to kiss his co-star Val Douglas — an actual child — in one school musical. ‘It wasn’t what you’d call a great snog,’ Val recalled. ‘It was the kind of kiss you’d give your dad.’

But overall, form 5C liked him, accepting him into the fold with the retrospectively rather unfortunate nickname of ‘Thirtysomething’ (because he seemed that bit more grown up than the rest)

Soon, he began to be invited to parties, pub quizzes and climb trips. He impressed all with his vast general knowledge.

It was a wonderful time. Maybe even more than the Bearsden first attempt.

He seemed genuine in his friendships and kept up contact with old school friends even after they left for university.

Brian MacKinnon went back to school as a pupil when he was 32 years-old and pretended to be a 17 year-old. Picture shows him in a school production of South Pacific at the age of 32

Brian MacKinnon was 32 when he returned to school and claimed to be seventeen years old. Picture of him performing in South Pacific school play at 32 years old

It must have been exhausting keeping up the pretence, and the accent, and the plucked eyebrows, and the perm and the tragic back story — but he did it well.

He was funny, kind, thoughtful, and determined.

‘I had to take my foot off the pedal a bit, I didn’t want to be winning any exams and end up in the papers,’ he said.

After four exhausting terms, though, it all seemed to be worth it — the master plan worked, and in 1994 he progressed to Dundee University to study medicine.

After a 15-year hiatus, Brian’s sought-after career was back on track — albeit under another name.

It was that way until 1995, when all of it blew up in his faces in the second term. It still isn’t quite clear how the truth came out but there are several theories.

One involves a medical textbook for ‘Brandon’ being delivered to a neighbour who knew him only as Brian and joined the dots.

Another, less credible, is the story of him being arrested during a drunken brawl while on holiday in Tenerife and being found to have two passports — yet he barely drank, was forever lecturing friends about the perils of alcohol and always fervently denied he had more than one passport.

But whatever the truth, Brian’s hoax had come crashing down. Brandon was asked him to verify his identity and he was immediately called back to school. Bearsden soon found himself surrounded by reporters from all corners of the world.

The school’s admissions team became the subject of intense ridicule — and questions swirled about the potential severity of the scandal.

Did the children really have to be at risk? But when it all became clear — ‘Brandon’ had simply, if desperately, wanted to further his education — his friends refused to give up on him.

A group of friends wrote to the local paper, thanking him and saying that they will always support him. They also wished him good luck.

Headmaster Norman MacLeod was remarkably forgiving, saying: ‘He will be remembered here as an unselfish, considerate, bright, friendly former pupil. Many of the staff, I think, understand his motives and do not feel hostility to his deception.’

Even parents could see the positive side of things. Yes, there was frustration, but no real resentment lingered because there was nothing remotely threatening about Brian, and he wasn’t harming anyone.

As one of them said at the time, ‘He wasn’t beating up wee old grannies.’

There wasn’t even any proper outrage at the fact that he’d been on holiday with two teenage female friends.

Perhaps because, as form teacher Mrs Lightbody put it, ‘you would have worried about Brandon’s safety in their hands, rather than the other way round’.

He was actually a positive influence.

Someone who possessed a strange sort of magic that made everyone — students and teachers alike — behave better.

Brian was naive, but the consequences of his unmasking were devastating.

His story was told by many reporters, who followed him around calling him Walter Mitty (or Peter Pan) and offering great riches until he could not leave his house.

His mother — who had been under the impression he’d returned to Bearsden as a mature student — was devastated.

But worst of all, he was thrown off his medicine degree at Dundee University for ‘lack of integrity’.

It was ultimately futile. He didn’t get the medical degree he’d so desired.

He has lived in horrible limbo since then.

His entire life was put on hold.

You could see that when the Daily Mail traced him to his small flat in Glasgow, where he lived for many years on benefits, had poor health, and spent most of his time at the library, researching conspiracy theories and other bizarre beliefs about assassination attempts. He looked pale and uninterested in speaking.

Hopefully Brandon’s old pal Jono from 5C will have had more luck — and, finally, we’ll hear in his own words how and why he did it, when the film is finally released.

Brian/Brandon might then be able, perhaps, to put his life on the right track.

Gavin Madeley provides additional reporting.

My Old School will be shown at Sundance Film Festival this week.