On the evening of November 24, 1971, a man who would become one of the most infamous figures in American history walked into Portland International Airport. Dressed in a smart suit, with a black tie and white shirt, he introduced himself as "Dan Cooper" and purchased a one-way ticket on Northwest Orient Airlines Flight 305, bound for Seattle, Washington. This routine 30-minute flight would soon become one of aviation's greatest mysteries.
Cooper was assigned seat 18C on the Boeing 727-100 aircraft. He appeared to be an ordinary, middle-aged businessman, about 45 years old and around 5 feet 10 inches tall. Nothing about him stood out—until the plane was in the air.
Shortly after takeoff at 2:50 PM, Cooper handed a note to flight attendant Florence Schaffner. Thinking it was just another businessman passing his phone number, she tucked it into her pocket without a second thought. But Cooper leaned in and whispered something that would change everything: "Miss, you'd better read that note. I have a bomb."
Schaffner's hands trembled as she unfolded the note. Written in bold, clear letters, it read: "I have a bomb. I can use it if necessary. I want you to sit beside me. You are being hijacked." Shocked, she slid into the seat next to him. Cooper then opened his briefcase just enough for her to glimpse a mass of wires and red sticks—convincing her that the threat was real.
Calmly, Cooper laid out his demands: $200,000 in cash, four parachutes, and a fuel truck standing by in Seattle to refuel the plane for further travel. Schaffner relayed the hijacker’s demands to the cockpit, and the pilots, in turn, informed air traffic control in Seattle.
Captain William Scott, the pilot, informed the passengers that their arrival in Seattle would be delayed due to a minor mechanical issue, while behind the scenes, law enforcement and airline officials scrambled to gather the ransom money and parachutes. The FBI collected 10,000 $20 bills from local banks, each one photographed for potential tracking. Cooper had specifically requested civilian parachutes, rejecting military-grade equipment, so the authorities sourced them from a local skydiving school.
As the clock ticked toward 5:40 PM, Flight 305 finally landed at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Following Cooper's instructions, the plane taxied to a remote area of the tarmac. The cabin lights dimmed, and the window shades were drawn to avoid any potential snipers.
Once Cooper's demands were met, he allowed all 36 passengers and two flight attendants to leave the aircraft. In the dimmed cabin, Cooper seemed oddly at ease, as though he were merely going through the motions of a well-rehearsed plan. With the plane refueled and only the crew remaining on board, Cooper issued new orders: they were to fly southeast toward Mexico City, but at a speed of just 190 km/h (about 120 mph), an altitude of 10,000 feet, with the landing gear down and the wing flaps set at 15 degrees.
Refueling the aircraft
Cooper’s request was highly unusual—almost as if he had an intimate knowledge of the aircraft’s capabilities. The Boeing 727-100 had a unique feature: a rear airstair that could be lowered mid-flight, which was exactly what Cooper had in mind.
See the back door
At 7:40 PM, the plane took off again, with two F-106 fighter jets discreetly trailing it from above and below, just out of Cooper's sight. The atmosphere inside the cockpit was tense, with the crew strictly confined to their posts. Not long after takeoff, Cooper instructed the remaining flight attendant to join the others in the cockpit and not to come out, under any circumstances.
At approximately 8:00 PM, a warning light flashed in the cockpit, signaling that the rear airstair had been deployed. Moments later, the pilots noticed a sudden change in cabin pressure, indicating that the rear door had been opened.
At 8:13 PM, somewhere over the dense forests of the Pacific Northwest, D.B. Cooper—parachute strapped to his back and the ransom money in hand—stepped into the night and vanished.
The plane landed safely in Reno, Nevada, at 10:15 PM, where authorities quickly confirmed what they already suspected: Cooper was gone. A massive manhunt ensued, but the mysterious hijacker had disappeared without a trace.
In the weeks, months, and years that followed, the FBI conducted one of the most exhaustive investigations in its history. Agents interviewed hundreds of suspects, tracked down every lead, and even created an extensive profile of Cooper. Yet, despite all efforts, no definitive trace of D.B. Cooper was ever found.
In 1980, a young boy named Brian Ingram discovered a decaying package of $20 bills on the banks of the Columbia River, some 20 miles downstream from the suspected jump zone. The serial numbers matched those of the ransom money, reigniting interest in the case, but offering no answers. To this day, the fate of D.B. Cooper—and the bulk of the ransom money—remains one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in aviation history.
D B Cooper Drawing
You can check the note number by following link.
http://www.check-six.com/lib/DBCooperLoot.htm
The legend of D.B. Cooper has since permeated American culture, inspiring books, movies, TV shows, and even songs. His daring escape has turned him into a folk hero of sorts—a symbol of rebellion and the ultimate unsolved mystery. And while the FBI officially closed the case in 2016, citing a lack of new evidence, the story of D.B. Cooper continues to captivate the imagination of those who wonder: could he still be out there, living under a new name, or did his audacious leap into the unknown end in tragedy?
No one knows for sure, and perhaps, that’s just the way D.B. Cooper would have wanted it.
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