D.B. Cooper – Disappearing in the Wilderness
The crisp afternoon air of November 24, 1971, held a sense of normalcy at the Northwest Orient Airlines counter in Portland, Oregon. This tranquility, however, was about to be shattered. A man, self-assured yet unremarkable in appearance, approached the ticket agent. Identifying himself as Dan Cooper, he calmly purchased a one-way ticket to Seattle, Washington, for Flight #305. The transaction was unremarkable, paid for in cash, yet it marked the genesis of a mystery that would confound investigators and capture the imagination of the public for decades – the enigma of D.B. Cooper.
The man known as D.B. Cooper presented a composed demeanor. Witnesses described him as being in his mid-40s, approximately six feet tall, and weighing around 170 pounds. His attire was equally unassuming: a dark business suit, a neatly tied black tie, a crisp white shirt, and sunglasses that shielded his eyes from view. He exuded an air of quiet confidence, a facade that masked his audacious intentions.
While awaiting takeoff, D.B. Cooper ordered a bourbon and soda, a seemingly ordinary act that further solidified his image as a regular passenger. The flight departed shortly after 3:00 p.m. Soon after, Cooper subtly initiated his plan. He summoned a flight attendant and discreetly handed her a note. The message contained a chilling demand: $200,000 in ransom (equivalent to roughly $1.17 million in 2015) and an instruction for her to sit beside him. The stewardess, understandably taken aback, complied. Cooper then opened a cheap briefcase, revealing its contents – red cylindrical objects connected by wires. He claimed it was a bomb. He dictated further instructions, which the flight attendant was ordered to write down, and then relay to the pilots in the cockpit. The demands were simple yet staggering: the aforementioned ransom money, to be delivered in twenty-dollar bills, and four parachutes.
Pilot William Scott, upon receiving the message, immediately contacted air traffic control at Seattle-Tacoma Airport. The authorities were notified, setting in motion a chain of events that would grip the nation. The 36 other passengers on board were informed that their arrival in Seattle would be delayed due to a "minor mechanical difficulty," while the plane began circling Puget Sound. Meanwhile, Donald Nyrop, the president of Northwest Orient Airlines, authorized the ransom payment and instructed all employees to fully cooperate with the hijacker. In Seattle, frantic efforts were underway to gather the requested money from several local banks and secure the parachutes. Once the FBI had assembled the ransom and the emergency personnel were mobilized, the pilot received the go-ahead to land.
With his demands seemingly met, D.B. Cooper allowed the 36 passengers and two stewardesses to disembark. He then issued new instructions to the pilot: fly to Mexico City at an altitude no higher than 10,000 feet and at a low speed. After securing the remaining crew members, Cooper remained alone in the frigid cabin, the rear door open, the airstair deployed. En route, the pilot made a stop in Reno, Nevada, for refueling. At this point, it was assumed that Cooper was still on board. However, upon inspection, the unthinkable was confirmed: the hijacker, the ransom money, two parachutes, and the briefcase with its ominous red cylinders were all gone.
Sometime between Seattle and Reno, shortly after 8:00 p.m., D.B. Cooper had executed his audacious plan, leaping into the darkness with the stolen money. The only sound would be the roar of the engines and the rush of wind.
The disappearance of D.B. Cooper triggered an immediate and extensive investigation. Codenamed NORJAK, for Northwest Hijacking, the investigation would span decades. The FBI interviewed hundreds of individuals, pursued leads across the country, and meticulously examined the aircraft for any trace of evidence. By the fifth anniversary of the hijacking, the FBI had scrutinized over 800 suspects, ultimately narrowing the list to a mere two dozen.
Initially, investigators speculated that Cooper was an experienced parachutist. However, this theory was soon challenged. Experienced skydivers, they reasoned, would be unlikely to jump on a dark, rainy night with 200-mile-per-hour winds, wearing loafers and a trench coat, into a densely forested area. The odds of survival were simply too low. Furthermore, Cooper apparently failed to notice that the reserve chutes of the parachutes he had been given were sewn shut – a detail that an experienced skydiver would have undoubtedly checked. The possibility of an accomplice on the ground was also explored, but ultimately dismissed due to the logistical challenges involved in coordinating with the flight crew and hitting a designated drop zone. Cooper’s simple instruction to "Fly to Mexico" suggested a lack of such coordination.
Over the years, numerous suspects were considered. Richard Floyd McCoy, arrested for a similar airplane hijacking and parachute escape less than five months after the Cooper incident, was initially a prime candidate. However, he was ruled out due to discrepancies in physical description and a strong alibi. Duane Weber, a man who claimed to be Cooper on his deathbed, was also investigated, but DNA evidence ultimately exonerated him.
In 1978, a significant piece of evidence surfaced: a placard containing instructions for lowering the aft stairs of a Boeing 727 was discovered by a deer hunter near a logging road about 13 miles east of Castle Rock, Washington, within the general flight path of Flight 305. Two years later, in February 1980, an eight-year-old boy vacationing with his family on the Columbia River about 9 miles downstream from Vancouver, Washington, stumbled upon a deteriorating package containing twenty-dollar bills ($5,800 in total) that matched the serial numbers of the ransom money.
Despite these discoveries, no further conclusive evidence has ever been found. The prevailing theory among investigators is that Cooper likely did not survive the jump. The harsh weather conditions, his unsuitable clothing and footwear, the lack of survival equipment for the wilderness, and the apparent absence of an accomplice on the ground all pointed to a fatal outcome. Even for a seasoned professional, the scenario would have been exceedingly dangerous; for someone with limited or no skydiving experience, the odds were overwhelmingly against survival.
In July 2016 – 44 years, seven months, and 18 days after the hijacking – the FBI announced that it was officially closing the D.B. Cooper case to focus on higher-priority matters. However, the agency made the volumes of evidence gathered over the years available to the public. In 2017, a purported parachute strap, decades old, was found by a group of volunteer investigators. That same year, a piece of foam, believed to be part of Cooper’s backpack, also surfaced.
The case of D.B. Cooper remains one of the most enduring and captivating unsolved mysteries in American history. Whether he perished in the wilderness or successfully vanished into anonymity, his audacious act continues to fuel speculation and inspire countless theories. The legend of D.B. Cooper lives on, a testament to the allure of the unknown and the enduring power of a well-executed disappearing act.