Unabomber : the secret life of Ted Kaczynski

by Waits, Chris

  When he broke the hair in half, he saved one piece to use in a later device.

  Ever methodical, Ted compiled a chart of pros and cons.

  Plus Minus

  1. Confuses them about hair 1. May make them suspect

  we're not from CA.

  2. Removes their idea we 2. May make them suspect may have brown hair we wore wig

  3. May make them doubt false verbal clues

  Ted's deception wasn't relegated solely to the physical. Like a multi-level chess game, he constantly was trying to outwit the FBI in the psychological arena as well, twisting information used in his letters to enhance his smoke-screen, writing as if several people or a group were responsible, rather than an individual, or by implying that he resented people with advanced degrees so agents wouldn't look to the academic world for suspects.

  FROM BOMB NOTEBOOK

  In a letter say that, "scientists consider themselves very intelligent because they have advanced diplomas (advanced degrees) but they are not as intelligent as they think because they opened those packages." This will make it seem as though I have no advanced degree.

  The very essence of his subterfuge can be seen in a letter sent to Yale University computer scientist Dr. David Gelernter, who was injured by one of Ted's bombs in 1993.

  FROM LETTER TO GELERNTER POSTMARKED APRIL 20, 1995 ...People with advanced degrees aren't as smart as they think they are. If you'd had any brains you would have realized that there are a lot of people out there who resent bitterly the way techno-nerds like you are changing the world and you wouldn't have been dumb enough to open an unexpected package from an unknown source....any college person can learn enough about computers to compete in a computer-dominated world. Apparently, people without a college degree don't count....

  As usual, this piece of correspondence was written as if several people were responsible so authorities would think it was a terrorist group at work (FC, Freedom Club). At one point, Ted came up with an idea that he should write a letter to "Dear Abby" in Spanish, referring to his membership in the "Freedom Club," the supposed group behind the Manifesto.

  Ted's explosive mixtures found in his cabin were often prepared from common objects—first matchheads, then black powder from shells and bullets, and then from common household chemicals, making them untraceable.

  He was constantly at work developing mixtures that ranged from flash powder to incendiar^ thermite, w hich he carefully stored in containers with numerical identifying labels. Ted even prepared and built his own detonating caps; the mixtures used in the caps were logged and numbered as well.

  Ted kept careful, laboratory-like records of his experiments— 'iii;niter charf^e mixture ~S," "Tube mixture-5"—a practice ini^rained durinj; his days in academia.

  His experiments extended to ingenious de ices used to house his bombs, inciudini^ books that exploded w hen opened,
  It seems he left no stone unturned, though he apparently oxer-looked one important item—the DA left in saliva from licking glue

  v^k*.^ i#a«v t^ iti mS

  5<*

  'l-f y#u ^»k *-'*

  1.. - - r

  iS)

  Ai3

  «r ^

  11^ ^^ A«

  Kaczynski the scientist carefully tracked materials and methods he used in bomb-building.

  on envelopes. But even the DNA samples frustrated the FBI, since they did Httle good until a suspect was apprehended.

  On Monday, December 15, Dave called and left a message since I was outside. He missed me the next day as well. On Wednesday, we finally made contact and he said rumors about Ted's secret cabin had resurfaced and the two of us discussed possible leaks.

  It became apparent the leak was in Sacramento. Dave explained some people in law enforcement can't keep information to themselves; they become those "unnamed" or "reliable" sources often quoted by the media.

  The whole process was starting to frustrate me and I let him know as much the next day when we talked again.

  To make matters worse, it seemed like I was being accused of the leaks by a few in charge. At one point I even said to Dave I w^as going to stop helping them because of the distrust and manipulation brought on by some of his superiors.

  It also was upsetting that the FBI had never offered to reimburse me for film, processing, more than $500 worth of long distance phone calls, plus countless hours spent on the case, including some sixty days helping them with field investigations.

  I felt I was being used. If the FBI could hold a party at a local steakhouse after Ted's arrest, then they could be more appreciative of all I had done. I told Dave I was tempted to take everything I had and knew to the press.

  He encouraged me not to, and he knew^ I w^ouldn't.

  "You can trust me," he said. "The FBI hasn't always treated people the way they should and have taken some bad press because of it, but we've tried to change that."

  Dave was sincere, but I wasn't so sure about the people in command.

  I told him when I solved the remaining pieces of the case that I might just keep the items and not even send them more pictures.

  "Don't do that," he replied. "They are still interested in the help only you can provide."

  Dave encouraged me to send copies of any bills and a list of hours and days spent working for the FBI and said he would try to obtain

  reimbursement. I didn't hine much faith that would happen since I barely had received a thank-you from anyone other than Dave.

  After we hung up, I studied Ted's hiking-trail map. Even though I had caught glimpses of the map during our field work in July, it was astounding to be able to carefully study all the miles Ted had co -ered, and how he had hiked irtually everv* accessible area around our homes, e erything that wasn't a sheer vertical cliff. He left few places unexplored.

  Looking down at the paper I could isualize every trail, ridge, and gulch he had crossed and could almost see a bearded and long-haired Ted standing there in the forest, protected by a poncho, a pack on his back, oblivious to the sleet and snow.

  While leafmg through some of Ted's other documents, I began to understand the unusual structure of the journals themselves and how they were organized.

  His writings were voluminous, to say the least. More than 22,000 pages were found in his cabin after the arrest, all organized in three-ring binders and spiral notebooks. They chronicled his entire life from early childhood to the time of his arrest. Much of his work about lifestyle—what he ate, details about the weather and country—was written during his early years in Lincoln; it tapered off in the '80s and '90s when he was spending much more time building better bombs, testing them, then delivering them.

  Ted's early life was described in an unpublished autobiography, which documented every^ important aspect up to the age of twenty-seven.

  That's when he started to keep a daily journal, w^hich early on was written in great detail. His notebooks quickly became his constant companion and best friend as he carved a new life for himself as a mountain hermit. He carried on conversations with himself in them, expressing his feelings, frustrations and most of all, his plans for revenge upon society.

  Ted's daily journal entries described where he hiked, camped, and what he ate, and elaborated his views about everything from philosophy to environmental issues.

  As his precious papers and journals grew in volume, he developed a library-like system that organized everything from his autobiogra-

  phy to secret documents written in sophisticated numerical code, a code that Ted the mathematician had devised.

  This substantial library of his own work was divided and organized into series and volumes, including his autobiography; then Series I, Volumes #1 to #7; Series II, Volumes #1 to #6; notebooks with bomb experiments, tests, and diagrams; a notebook containing entries written in his own numerical code;
and a notebook written partly in Spanish to disguise "misdeeds": vandalism and illegal hunting activities.

  This was a fairly academic way to organize his documents, which contained the bizarre and twisted stories of a serial killer. Much of the writing was extremely dangerous and sensitive if ever seen by outside eyes. Ted realized that and knew in the military they deserved at least a "Classified" or "Top Secret" stamp.Top secret didn't appeal to Ted, though, so he devised his own system, classifying his writings according to his "Queer Ratings," based on the sensitivity of the material, and were assigned as follows:

  Queer #1—embarrassing but not dangerous;

  Queer #2—embarrassing, not dangerous, but past the

  statute of limitations; Queer #3—embarrassing, not dangerous, past the statute

  of limitations, but very bad public relations;... Queer #10—Most sensitive, embarrassing, incriminating, and dangerous.

  If in a hurrv; he also used a quick-and-dirty rating system with two letters maximum. It read as follows:

  S—Slightly Queer

  R—Moderately Queer

  Q—Very Queer

  QQ—Super Queer

  Other notations used in the documents addressed the disposability of items:

  B—Burnable

  NB—Not Burnable

  There was another classification system devised to help him quickly decide how to deal with all his jars, containers, documents, maps, drawings and journals.

  Class #1, Hide carefully, far from home

  Class #2, Hide carefully, far from home, but can be destroyed at a pinch

  Class #3, Hide carefully, far from home, but can be burned at a pinch

  Class #4, Burn away from home

  Class #5, Burn in a stove, eventually

  Class ^6, Burn with glass jars

  Class #7, Destroy with glass jars

  Class #8, Treat to make safe

  Class #9, Burn in stove, then dispose of remains

  Class #10, Dump in trash far from home

  Ted's systems and classification codes seemed to cover every conceivable possibility: how to treat postage stamps, what to do with refuse, how to dispose of a container of chemicals, the sensitivity of a particular document or complete notebook, w^here to hide or stash a document or writing, and finally how to burn or dispose of "Top Queer" items quickly.

  FROM FBI INVENTORY OF ITEMS SEIZED AT KaCZYNSKI home CABIN

  L-31—Two rolls of brown paper marked "3QQ," can containing ware marked "QQ" and documents...

  L-32—Box marked "All 1 or 10 Q or QQ" (HandwTitten), metal tubes, wiring, springs, ball trigger in tin foil, stapler, 9V battery, and small copper color tubing....

  L-33—Books with "5Q" on container...

  L-52—Five bottles labeled "SaltPeter" and plastic bag "3Q"

  Despite this all-encompassing system, Ted occasionally found it wasn't enough, so he also wrote special instructions for certain journal sections.

  Series ly #3 ^frX4l-Z6t . fi*.««r ?

  Serial I >-^4'. Atijw^ it^ u^c4( c«.« tic wk«l«

  " I ^ —--■

  «-»i

  FROM JOIRNAL OF VANDALISM, THFFTS, AND OIUFR CRIMFS

  Here I am going to confess to—or, to be more accurate, brag about—some misdeeds I have committed in the last few years.

  He ended this multi-page section of confessions (which are quoted throughout the present book) with this entry:

  By the w ay, my motix e for keeping these notes separate from the others is the obvious one. Some of my other notes contain hints of crime, but no actual accounts of felonies. But these notes must be very carefully kept from e eryone's eyes. Kept separate from the other notes they make a small, compact packet, easily concealed.

  Just as he switched between English words and Spanish, in his numerical code certain words and non-sensitive phrases were written in English, then he would revert to the sophisticated numerical code for the rest of the text.

  It was a marvel, the great effort and thought that had gone into all his codes, classifications, methods, and categories set up to conceal, and yet at the same time protect, his legacy, led explained in his journals that the reason he kept such meticulous notes was to prove that his acts were planned and were not random acts committed by a crazy person, or as he labeled it, a "sickie."

  Yet he was writing his own detailed expose about a secret world that he also tried so diligently to conceal. There was a conflict raging inside his mind, pitting Ted the master criminal, who was making e"ers- effort to deceive, and Ted the scientist and historian, who wanted to archive his work so that at some point the world could marvel at his ingenuity and see him as a jungle fighter in a w^ar against the modern world.

  As if all this wasn't enough—the codes, Spanish, Queer Ratings— Ted also had a "No Queer" rating for benign information.

  It was nothing more than a non-rating, and it helped complete the classification of almost every aspect of his life.

  His system did have one practical application; it enabled him to

  Z40

  quickly find a sensitive page or group of pages, containing embarrassing or incriminating information. Once the FBI understood his system, it was a time-saver for investigators. Coupled with the fact Ted conveniently had placed the key to his numerical code within the walls of his home cabin, his organizational skills were greatly valued by the FBI.

  FBI agents admitted his numerical code was sophisticated and would have been difficult to crack, requiring a great deal of time and resources.

  Time was critical, but resources didn't seem to be a problem. At one point certain agents in Lincoln said money was no object. I was told that, in all, upwards of $70 million was spent on the Unabomber case, not including final court costs.

  Monday, December 22 arrived, and even though it was almost Christmas, the weather was incredibly mild. It just didn't seem like the holidays. I was still building outside, making a final effort to enclose our garage for the winter.

  I walked out to the mail box and found a Christmas card containing notes from both Dave and his wife, Sue. It was a nice gesture, and made me feel good.

  In Sacramento, jury selection had been completed and Ted's trial was slated to begin before the New Year. That seemed unlikely, though. Ted and his defense team were determined to delay the trial and would probably file some sort of motion or plot another tactic to compel Judge Garland Burrell to postpone opening arguments until after the holidays.

  The upcoming trial promised to be fascinating for technocrats around the world and feature never-before-seen methods. I had learned all the exhibits, documents, interviews, supporting evidence, etc. had been recorded on CD ROMs, a first in U.S. criminal trial history. Kodak, I learned, was working with the prosecution on the technical details and how the evidence would be presented.

  This technological advance was to be initiated in the trial of a man who epitomized anti-technology.

  Dave told me Ted had been held in the Bay Area's Dublin Federal Correctional Institution from September 3 to November 6, then he

  was moved to his Sacramento County jail cell near the federal building. Dublin was a high-security, low-profile women's prison where Ted was housed to answer his complaints about noise in the Sacramento jail, but mainly to axoid excessive media attention.

  From e erything Dave had told me, Ted had apparently adapted remarkably well to prison so far, and if convicted and sentenced to life, incarceration would mirror his reclusive mountain ways—quiet, contemplatie, a place where he could write extensively and communicate \ ith himself through those writings. His punishment would be not roaming in the wilds.

  At the time of his arrest led was still plotting more acts of terrorism, despite the vow in 1995 to stop if the manifesto was published.

  It was hard not to think about the people who were on the "hit list" found among his papers in the home cabin. By fate's hand they were now spending Christmas with their families.

  The list consisted of a cros
s-section of people with diverse occupations, but all were employed in technology-related fields. For instance, the list included people working for Pegasus Gold, which operated mines in Montana; Potlatch, a large wood-products manufacturer; and a helicopter-charter business. Along with the list were maps of the cities where these targets lived, with their neighborhoods marked.

  Everything found in his home cabin, my gulch and the secret cabin clearly pointed to a life of continued violence. Also, he seemed prepared for nearly every conceivable situation, except his arrest, which truly caught him off guard. Because of the surprise, he wasn't able to carry out his plan to destroy the plethora of evidence in his cabin with an incendiarv,^ device and then escape.

  All the carefully documented schemes proved useless once he was handcuffed. He didn't have a clue as he walked out his door when lawmen pretended to need his help interpreting a map that it would prove to be the last time he would ever step out of his cabin.

  He moved too far from the cabin door that April day in 1996, while his .25 caliber Raven automatic sat just inches away behind the door. If he had just reached inside, he could have grabbed the gun and held law enforcement officials at bay.

  A completed device lay under his bed. It lacked an address and

  Z42

  name, but seemed to be earmarked for an airliner or an airline-affiliated person. Written on the wrapping was a misleading note that inside was a "Newell Channel Reamer," a tool commonly used by aviation mechanics.

  Was Ted planning another sabotage attempt on an airliner, like the one in 1979—where not one, but hundreds of lives could be taken at once.^ Who knows.^ But one thing is certain, he wouldn't have labeled the package as containing an airline related tool if he were planning to send it to a microbiologist. Maybe his threat to blow up a plane at the Los Angeles airport by July 4, 1995, wasn't as much a hoax as he claimed.