The Autobiography of FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper

by Mark Frost

  Those are the facts. What they don't say is that no amount of training can prepare one for the reality of this kind of crime.

  January 10, 5 P.M.

  Diane, in the snow next to where the cigarette butt was located, a small black mustache hair was found. It is not much, but a start.

  January 10, 11 P.M.

  Diane, I hope that you will not mind that I address these tapes to you even when it is clear that I am talking to myself. The knowledge that someone of your insight is standing behind me is comforting. The Roe house is quiet now. We wait for the phone call that we know must be coming.

  January 11, 9:30 A.M.

  Diane, passed the long night without any word.

  January 11, 11 A.M.

  Diane, have discovered that the tobacco contained in the cigarette found near the getaway car is of an unusual origin. Have located two tobacco shops in the surrounding communities and am on my way there now. Still no word from the kidnappers.

  January 11, 1 P.M.

  Diane, am outside the Petrini Smoke and Book Shop. Please look into the bank records of the owner of the shop, a Steven Petrini, to see if there are any financial difficulties at present. My instinct, and his black mustache, tells me there is. Am also sending some tobacco to the lab to see if it's a match.

  January 11, 3 P.M.

  No doubt our bookseller is one of the kidnappers, Diane. That was a match on the tobacco. Have a tap on his phone now and are waiting for them to make their move. His accomplice appears to be a beekeeper named Tess with a reading habit. He's visited the shop four times in the last hour.

  January 11, 6 P.M.

  They've made their move, Diane, and are asking for $100,000. Apparently the trade in poetry books is not what it once was. The only question that remains now is whether the little girl is alive and where. The father is to drop the money at a site that he will receive over a CB radio, and will then be given directions to his daughter's location.

  January 11, 7 P.M.

  Waiting.

  January 11, 7:15 P.M.

  All units are moving, shots have been fired at the tobacco shop. I'm going for the little girl.

  January 11, 11 P.M.

  Diane, I have seen things today that no man should ever see. The little girl is safe and alive, but no child should ever go through the ordeal she has. What memories will haunt her for the rest of her life can only be imagined.

  I found her chained to a tree, a cold and frightened animal. Other than suffering from exposure, she had not been harmed in any way physically. Time will tell how the rest of her wounds heal. The monsters who carried out this act are in custody. Both will have plenty of time to read where they will be spending the next twenty years.

  I had hoped, Diane, that the successful conclusion of my first case would give me a sense of satisfaction like none I've ever experienced save for a moment I spent with a Bryn Mawr student near a faculty barbecue. Sadly, I feel for the most part empty. The sight of a scared and frightened child chained like an animal is too fresh in my mind. Perhaps tomorrow I will allow myself a moment of satisfaction. . . . Perhaps not. Good night, Diane.

  January 20, 3 P.M.

  Diane, please make a note to the procurement division about the coffee they now supply the Bureau with. Until coming to this office I had never met a bean I didn't like. I can only wonder what hellhole of a government surplus warehouse they unearthed this blend from, and what war it was captured in.

  February 4, 10 A.M.

  Diane, I am standing in the basement of an abandoned tenement building. The floor is dirt. What appear to be several fresh graves are lined up in a row. Extending out of one of these is a hand. It appears to be female, there is a thin silver band on the ring finger. Forensics is on the way and will begin the excavation.

  I am quickly realizing that reality is quickly outdistancing the worst my imagination can conjure.

  February 4, 11 A.M.

  Diane, what do you know about a special agent named Albert Rosenfelt, and why is he so angry?

  February 4, 8 P.M.

  There are three bodies, Diane. All appear to be female between the ages of sixteen and thirty. The cause of death is as yet undetermined. Whatever could have done this, Diane, I can't imagine it was entirely human.

  February 5, 1 A.M.

  I fear the force at work here is the same one I encountered while at Haverford. I have not expressed this to anyone. The recognition that evil exists as an entity outside our understanding of life is not official policy of the Bureau.

  The file on this case remains active; all tapes pertaining to it have been withheld.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  April 3, 10 P.M.

  A new special agent arrives tomorrow to head the Pittsburgh office. His name is Windom Earle. I believe we have met before.

  April 4, 2 P.M.

  To my surprise, Agent Earle remembered our meeting at the job fair. Said he has been following my progress since the day I arrived at the academy, and has not been disappointed. I suspect there is much I can learn from this man.

  April 16, 7 A.M.

  Mr. Baldini, the owner of the bakery downstairs, has taken to leaving a bear claw at my door every morning. Must remember to buy his wife a nice big sausage.

  May 1, 2 P.M.

  Diane, am positioned outside of the Eastern Savings and Loan. Two suspects are inside, holding an undetermined number of hostages. A policeman lies dead on the pavement outside the front door. We are prepared to move if - That was a shot! Dammit!

  May 1, 11 P.M.

  Diane, I would like very much right now not to be a law enforcement officer. I would like to be in a high meadow in the Himalayas, living only for and within the moment. I took a life today. The events were as follows. Two suspects holding six hostages were holed up in an office inside the bank. We were positioned at the back, front, and roof doors of the building. One policeman lay dead. For reasons still unclear, one of the suspects put his gun to the head of the bank president and fired one round, killing him instantly. We then reacted. I was part of the entry team on the back door. The front-door team had to retreat because of heavy gunfire from the suspects. The roof team was blocked by a fire door inside the building and did not complete a successful entry.

  Windom and I were the only two agents to get inside without resistance. I engaged one suspect as he walked out of the office firing a pistol in the direction of the front door. My written report states that he was ordered to freeze and drop his weapon. He did not. I fired two rounds from a service shotgun, striking him in the chest with both. The suspect fired one round into the floor and collapsed. The other suspect then surrendered without further resistance.

  It was never my intention or goal when entering the Bureau to take life, but rather to protect and save it. I have crossed a bridge that no training can prepare one for, and I do not know where this bridge leads. As is customary whenever deadly force is used, I have been given several days off to come to grips with the events. Windom has invited me to his house tomorrow for dinner and a game of chess.

  Called Dad and told him about the events of the day. I could detect sadness in his voice. He knows that I am now a member of a club that no thinking, feeling person would ever wish to join. He had no words for me, because he knows none exist that can speak of the feelings I'm now experiencing.

  May 2, 9 A.M.

  Received flowers from Diane and an assortment of half a dozen doughnuts from Mr. Baldini. Slept very badly, could feel the kick of the shotgun on my shoulder all night long.

  May 2, 11 P.M.

  I have much to learn about the game of chess. Windom beat me in seven moves. His wife, Caroline, is a remarkable woman. During a private moment together she told me about the first time Windom was forced to use his weapon, and that she hoped I would not let it affect my life the way it did Windom's. I wonder what she meant.

  May 12, 3 P.M.

  As part of the post-shooting guidelines, I spent an hour to
day with a Bureau psychiatrist to discuss the incident. I strongly suspect that the shrink was an emotionally isolated child who may have grown up with animals in a cave.

  May 15, 11 A.M.

  I find myself assigned to desk duty with no hope of escape in the immediate future. It may have been a mistake to suggest to the psychiatrist that he reconcile with his father and stop blaming his mother for his attraction to other men.

  June 10, 1 P.M.

  I believe I have encountered my first real mystery without a solution. How do they get the little snowflakes inside paperweights?

  July 2, 3 A.M.

  Diane, I have just woken from a dream that I fear is far more than random synapses discharging electrodes into my subconscious. In it a man with no legs is sitting across from me in a green chair. For a moment he says nothing, then begins to laugh and tells me that I cannot run, that It is right behind me and is sure to kill. I then woke to the sound of screaming.

  The question then is, what is It, and how do I stop It?

  July 15, 9 A.M.

  I have been released from the bondage of desk duty. The Bureau's psychiatrist is apparently resting comfortably in intensive care after he stuck his head in the oven and turned it on. Found out that it was Windom's doing getting me back on the street. We are to be partners. The image of the legless man and his words refuse to let go of their grip on me.

  July 28, 5 P.M.

  Diane, I am standing over the body of a male, approximately thirty years of age. His wrists are tied behind his back, and it appears he has been shot once in the back of the head. His hands have been cut off, his teeth smashed, and his face destroyed. Who and what he was may never be known. This appears to be the work of organized crime.

  August 1, 9 P.M.

  Diane, have just received a call from Windom. I am on my way to meet him in area known to be frequented by crime figures. There was a tone in his voice that I have never detected before. This does not in any way adhere to standard Bureau procedure, but I feel compelled to bend to Windom's years of experience.

  August 1, 11 P.M.

  Diane, found Windom's car. He is nowhere to be seen. Am moving into an abandoned building. . . . I have a very bad feeling about this I'm moving in through a hole in the side of the building turning down what is left of a hallway toward a stairway There's something up there. . . . Diane, at the top of the stairs I've found Windom's wallet and ID . . . I'm moving on. . . .

  August 2, 1 A.M.

  Diane, at approximately 11:10 P.M. I came upon a door with a large X drawn on it in chalk. Entering, I found the room was empty except for two items. In the center of the room on the floor illuminated by a streak of moonlight coming through a hole in the wall were two severed hands.

  They belong, I assume . . . check that. An assumption by any other name is a guess. Lab test will determine whether they belong to the body discovered on the 28th. If it is so, they would certainly have been refrigerated, for they appear little affected by the degenerative effects of decomposition. There is no sign of Windom.

  August 2, 3 A.M.

  Diane, have just left Windom's house after a long talk with Caroline. According to her, Windom received a phone call last night around seven o'clock. Soon after, he left the house, telling Caroline not to wait up for him. Who had called and why, he did not confide to her.

  I find my ability to give aid and comfort greatly lacking. I could offer no words to help Caroline shoulder the uncertainty of he husband's disappearance. But she is strong, and I believe a very remarkable woman.

  August 2, 8 A.M.

  Diane, another body has been found. The circumstances the same. Wrists tied behind the back, hands cut off, face, teeth destroyed, and one bullet to the head. Reports from the lab on the other body report a very disturbing fact. The wounds to the face, and the severing of the hands, were inflicted while the victim was still alive. He was tortured. Fingerprints on the severed hands ID them as belonging to Louis Dante, a minor figure in organized crime in the Pittsburgh area with convictions for extortion and attempted murder. Will know within hours if the hands and the body are former partners. My bet is yes.

  Windom must have been on to something. I would very much like to know who made that call to his house last night. I greatly fear for his safety.

  August 2, 9 P.M.

  Windom has been missing for twenty-four hours. Diane, with each passing hour, Windom's fate is more and more in doubt. Talked to Caroline. She is holding up as well (a phone is heard ringing) - excuse me . . . I've been told to go to an abandoned barge on the Ohio River am to come alone. What awaits me there I do not know.

  August 2, 11 P.M.

  I am standing in the shadows of a crane. Below, half submerged in the river, is the barge. In the faint moonlight two white items are visible in the center. . . . They are hands severed at the wrists like the others. There is a difference, however. One holds a small black square of cardboard, the other a white square, the significance of which I do not know at this time. What kind of game is being played out here, Diane?

  August 3, 10 A.M.

  The deputy director of the Criminal Investigation Division has arrived to oversee the investigation. His name is Gordon Cole. Seems to have a hearing problem, and one of the strongest sets of vocal cords I have ever encountered in my life. Went over the case with him, the directions we're going, and he gave it the thumbs-up, then blew back to Washington just as fast and loud as he came in.

  August 3, 4 P.M.

  Caroline has received a communication from Windom. I'm on my way there now.

  August 3, 5 P.M.

  Diane, at two minutes before four this afternoon Caroline received a phone call. The voice was barely audible, but she is confident it was Windom. He spoke only two words, repeating them once: "I'm sinking, I'm sinking." The call was cut off at that point. The origin of the call is uncertain. I had, without Caroline knowing, put a tap on their line, but the call was so brief, all that could be determined was that it came from within this area code. Caroline is quite understandably upset. She is very strong, however, and I find my admiration for her growing by the hour. I fear that if we do not find Windom soon, he may not survive.

  August 3, 7 P.M.

  The second victim has been identified. He was Jimmy Lester, a minor thief with a long list of arrests. The connection between the two victims is unknown. There is no evidence that they ever had any personal dealings with each other, or any connection in the crime world. One was a petty thief, the other a strong-arm man for organized crime.

  August 4, 10 P.M.

  Central Medical. At 9:30 A.M. this morning Windom walked into the office and collapsed. The answers to his whereabouts for the past three days will have to wait until he regains his strength. He is currently resting, and under close observation. What if any permanent damage he has suffered will have to wait to be discovered in the morning. Caroline is at his side waiting, as is the Bureau.

  I know there is an answer to this puzzle. Two murdered criminals, severed hands, a black square, a white square, Windom's words to Caroline, "I'm sinking, I'm sinking." The connections elude me. I need his help.

  August 5, 7:30 A.M.

  I recorded the following conversation with Windom one hour ago:

  WINDOM: Is that the sun?

  COOPER: Yes.

  WINDOM: Good.

  COOPER: Can you tell me about the events of the past four days?

  WINDOM: You're a good student, Coop.

  COOPER: The last four days. Do you remember where you were?

  WINDOM: (Laughs) Cracks in the door.

  COOPER: What did you see?

  WINDOM: See?

  COOPER: Yes, what did you see?

  WINDOM: Dale Cooper.

  COOPER: What did you see?

  WINDOM: The abyss, Coop. The abyss.

  COOPER: What did you find there?

  WINDOM: Find?

  COOPER: Yes.

  WINDOM: Wonderful things.

  At that poin
t Windom lost consciousness. I will try again when he wakes. Whether these were lucid thoughts or those of a man still in shock I do not know.