Drops of Jupiter

The following depiction is based on the true story of DB Cooper’s disappearance, which is unsolved to this day. Certain characters and events are fictionalized due to lack of public knowledge in the case.

My heart thumped as I shuffled into the dark interrogation room, a tall man gesturing for me to sit on the metal chair. For decades, FBI agents have requested statements from me about the horrific flight that I cannot stop reliving. To them, keeping this case immortal is the only way to solve it, and I seem to be the only one who can revive it. For me, though, their questions are trapping me into an eternal state of fear, the same fear I had the first time I laid eyes on the DB Cooper.

“Hello Ms. Schaffner, thank you for coming in. Could you tell us what happened on the day of November 24, 1971? You were hired as a Northwest Airlines flight attendant on Flight 305 from Seattle to Portland, correct?”

Yes, the flight was scheduled to depart at 2:50pm and would only be airborne for an hour. There were very few passengers….I believe about 37, which was odd for a Thanksgiving weekend. I thought it would be quite smooth. No one in my position would have anticipated a highjacking.

“Did you deal with DB Cooper prior to boarding the flight?”

I helped him order the ticket, yes. He paid $20 less than an hour before we were scheduled to board, but I thought nothing of it.

“Was he wearing anything suspicious that could indicate him carrying the lethal weapon?”

No! Of course not, I would’ve alerted security. He looked like a typical businessman, wearing a large overcoat and carrying a briefcase.

“Ok, Ms. Schaffner, no one is accusing you of anything. You are invaluable to the FBI in this important investigation. Could you tell us what happened during the flight? Tell us any details you remember.”

Before take-off, a passenger ordered a Bourbon soda beverage, which wasn’t abnormal of the time. Once we were airborne, though, the situation escalated. The same passenger alerted for assistance, and slyly handed me a note on folded white paper. I easily recognized him as the man who ordered his ticket before the flight. As I took the paper, his eyes darkened and a sinister smile grew on his narrow face. “You’re going to want to read that immediately, miss. I have a bomb.” Almost immediately he flashed the briefcase to reveal a handmade bomb, with bright red wires and red-colored sticks.

“What do you remember next?”

I remember feeling paralyzed, until he thrust me into the seat beside him and whispered his list of demands, glaring over my shoulder as I scribbled them onto the note. The bright bomb lay open in his lap, and no one else knew about it yet.

“What did he ask for?”

He wanted $200,000 in $20 bills (which today would be equivalent to $1.4 million) by 5pm. He demanded two back and two front parachutes and wanted to land and refuel as soon as possible. I delivered his list to the Captain in the cockpit and they organized everything with the Seattle police. Once we landed, he allowed all of the passengers to leave once he obtained what he wanted. Myself and the other crew-members remained on as we flew to his destination: Mexico City.

“Why did he want to go there?”

I am not sure. We never made it to Mexico City, anyway. The pilot had to stay at 10,000 ft. before he jumped near Reno, Nevada.

“What do you mean, he jumped?”

Exactly that. He opened the rear door of the plane, strapped on the parachutes, tied the sack with the money to his clothing, and jumped. It was pitch black outside, and the terrain looked mountainous with harsh winds and rain. We assumed he didn’t survive the fall.

“How did he know that the plane would have a rear door?”

I am not sure, but he seemed to be well-versed with the aircraft. During our time in the flight he continually scanned the seats and asked me questions about the flight manufacturing. He used engineering jargon, and I didn’t understand a word of it. It made me on edge, how much he knew.

“Why did it make you on edge?”

It was as if he used to be a pilot himself. I think that if he wanted to, he could’ve taken over the cockpit and flown us into the ground.

“What happened with the bomb?”

We landed and handed it over to the authorities, obviously. Even after 50 years, it disturbs me that this has not been solved. He could’ve murdered us, and who knows whether he did survive and is still out there.

“I know, and the FBI is extremely thankful for your testimony. This cold case will not be unsolved forever, I assure you Ms. Schaffner. DB Cooper will be found.”

Works Cited

Gulliver, K. (2021, December 22). Perspective | D.B. Cooper’s skyjacking continues to fascinate Americans half a century later. The Washington Post. Retrieved June 2, 2022, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2021/12/22/db-coopers-skyjacking-continues-fascinate-americans-half-century-later/

Liles, M. (2022, April 15). Beware: These 50 strangest unsolved mysteries of all time are seriously spooky! Parade. Retrieved June 2, 2022, from https://parade.com/1194770/marynliles/unsolved-mysteries/