There is one question I still don't have a good answer for. It happens to be the one I get most: "Who do you think he is?" Then, when I began to scroll through the thoughts in my mind, and enact another verbal do-si-do around the obvious, I get cut off. "Seriously, how could you not have even a hunch as to who the hijacker is? You wrote a whole book about him."
It's true, and it's a good point.
"But don't you have a feeling? A hunch?"
That's the problem. I tried to feel my way through the case for nearly four years, acting on hunches, and piecing together clues by following my instincts, pretending to be a quasi criminal profiler and questing to understand the skyjacker behind the horned-rim glasses, Mr. D. B. Cooper. But aside from a few rare occasions where I did my best to enact cold logic, my investigation into the identity of the unknown hijacker, who on a stormy fall night in 1971, boarded a Northwest Orient plane, ransomed its passengers for four parachutes and $200,000 in cash, then parachuted out the back over ...