54 Years Ago, One Man Hijacked a Boeing 727 – and Never Got Caught 

On November 24^th, 1971, a man calling himself Dan Cooper hijacked Northwest Orient Airlines Flight 305 and parachuted off the plane into the Washington wilderness, never to be seen again.

The D. B. Cooper Case—a misprinted name that ended up sticking—would become one of the most iconic mysteries in aviation history, to be closed unsolved in 2016. 

To this day, no human remains have been found. The only trace of Cooper was $5,800 worth of bills found on the banks of the Columbia River, identified as part of his ransom through their serial numbers.

The hijacking

One day before Thanksgiving 1971, Cooper boarded flight 305 from Portland, Oregon, destination Seattle, Washington. He slipped a note into flight attendant Florence Schaffner’s purse. “Miss,” it read, “I have a bomb in my briefcase and want you to sit by me.”

Upon request, he opened his carry-on and showed Schaffner what appeared to be sticks of dynamite wired to a battery. 

He instructed Schaffner to deliver his demands to the captain, Cpt. William A. Scott, who relayed them to Northwest Flight Operations: $200,000 cash in a knapsack and four parachutes by 5:00 p. m. at Seattle-Tacoma airport.

The normally 30-minute flight stretched to almost 3 hours. Cpt. Scott assured passengers that delays were due to “a minor mechanical difficulty” while authorities on the ground hurried to assemble the ransom.

As soon as the parachutes and money were delivered, the passengers were released.

Schaffner and her fellow stewardess Alice Hancock also disembarked—Tina Mucklow, who had been helping her colleague Schaffner deliver messages to and from the cockpit, stayed behind along with the pilots and flight engineer.

Mucklow told the Rolling Stone, “I was there for the hijacker to kind of keep him feeling safe, reassured, comfortable and not detonating that bomb.” 

The escape

Cooper demanded to be flown south toward Mexico. He instructed the pilots to fly at minimum possible airspeed and at a very low altitude of 10,000 feet. They planned to stop in Reno, Nevada to refuel.

As they flew, Cooper told Mucklow to lower their plane’s airstair, located in the aft of the Boeing 727. Afraid of being sucked out of the plane, she negotiated—Mucklow gave him instructions on how to lower it and retreated to the cockpit with her three remaining colleagues. 

No one would know exactly when Cooper leapt from the plane into the stormy night, never to be seen again.

Wouldn’t fly nowadays

Cooper bought his one-way ticket with cash. His alias went undetected because he wasn’t screened pre-flight. He waltzed through an airport without metal detectors. His bags were not subject to any searches.

Cooper and later copycats pushed the FAA to improve airport security, one of the many steps along the way to our modern pre-flight rigamarole.

The case also led to the development of “Cooper vanes,” a device that prevented the 727’s airstair from being opened mid-flight. 

Gone for good?

Cooper likely landed in the Dark Divide, one of the most heavily wooded areas of Washington, leading many to think he died in the act. But Cooper’s calm attitude, apparent flight expertise, and lack of body leaves doubt in the minds of many, including communities of civilian sleuths. 

He remains a staple of local folklore, spawning yearly treasure hunts, conventions, and even a themed restaurant. 

He was also a dark moment in the lives of the six flight 305 crew members. “We were very, very scared to death,” Schaffner told Unsolved Mysteries. “I was thinking about dying. That’s all I thought.”

To others yet, Cooper is a mystery close to home. At least three people have pointed the FBI to family members: a disappeared father, a mysterious uncle, or even an apparently-copycat hijacker.

54 years on, he endures—the man responsible for the only unsolved hijacking in the history of the United States to date.