by Dave Shors
The more I thought about the bombs, the more often strange incidents from the past popped up. My mind seemed to be making endless correlations, Ted things that were puzzling at the time, things I hadn’t thought about for years.
For example, I remembered an incident related by a delivery truck driver. He knew Ted and I were friends, he’d seen me talking with Ted.
The driver told me one day he had delivered a package to Ted. It was the first and only time he ever had one for Ted.
Surprisingly, Ted opened the package right in front of him. It contained a blood pressure monitor from a hospital or doctor’s office in Missoula. Ted grabbed the instrument, wrapped it around his arm, pumped it a little bit, and replied, “This should work.” He smiled, removed it, placed it back in its box and then walked off.
The incident had always been an enigma to me. Ted was health conscious, there’s no doubt about that, and he tried to take care of himself physically. But buying a blood pressure monitor, especially from a health care provider instead of a more economical source?
I found out later he was taking his own blood pressure on a regular basis. He thought his heart was going bad, especially when he was consumed with anger.
FROM CODED JOURNAL
… MOTORCYCLE AND SNOWMOBILE
FIENDS. THEY WOULD BUZZ UP AND DOWN ROAD PAST MY CABIN ON MOST WEEKENDS, SUMMER AND WINTER. LAST SUMMER SEEMED THEY WERE WORSE THAN USUAL. SOMETIMES MADE IT A 3 DAY WEEKEND. WHEN THEY WERE NOT BUZZING UP THIS-ROAD I WOULD HEAR THOSE CYCLES GROWLING AND GROWLING OVER BY THEIR PLACE, ALL DAY LONG. IT WAS GETTING ABSOLUTELY INTOLERABLE. MY HEART IS GOING BAD. TAKES EXERCISE OK, BUT ANY EMOTIONAL STRESS, ANGER ABOVE ALL, MAKES IT BEAT IREGULARLY [sic]. IT GOT SO THAT THAT-CONSTANT CYCLE NOISE WAS CHOKING ME WITH ANGER, HEART GOING WILD.
Concerned about his heart, Ted wrote that during 1991 he went to see Carolyn Goren, a doctor of internal medicine/cardiology in Missoula.
She saw Ted in person twice and found nothing irregular about his heart or anything else, but prescribed a low dose and quantity of sleeping pills for stress and to help him sleep.
Ted sent her a record of his blood pressure readings every six months for the next five years.
But now I thought of another possible use for the gadget. What better piece of equipment to test an atmospheric pressure trigger switch? By the time he received the monitor, Ted had already attempted to use a barometer in one airliner bomb, unsuccessfully in that it detonated but did not destroy the plane.
Did he plan to use his monitor as a trigger switch? At the least, it would be a handy and reliable way to test barometric or atmospheric pressure trigger switches in order to gauge how much pressure would be required to complete the circuit and detonate the explosive.
In his journals, he had complained about using a barometer to complete this function.
CODED JOURNAL
DEC 29, 1979. IN SOME OF MY NOTES I MENTIONED A PLAN-FOR REVENGE ON SOCIETY PLAN WAS TO BLOWUP AIRLINER INFLIGHT. LATE SUMMER AND EARLY AUTUMN I CONSTRUCTED-DEVICE. MUCH EXPENSE, BECAUSE HAD TO GO TO GR. FALLS TO-BUY MATERIALS, INCLUDING BAROMETER AND MANY BOXES CARTRIDGES FOR THE POWDER. I PUT MORE THAN A QUART OF-SMOKE LESS POWDER IN A CAN, RIGGED BAROMETER SO DEVICE WOULD-EXPLODE AT 2000FT. OR CONCEIVABLY AS HIGH AS 3500FT. DUE-TO VARIATION OF ATMOSPHERIC PRESSURE. LATE OCT. MAILED-PACKAGE FROM CHICAGO PRIORITY MAIL SO IT WOULD GO BY AIR. UNFORTUNATELY PLANE NOT DESTROYED, BOMB TOO WEAK. NEWSPAPER SAID WAS “LOW POWER DEVICE”. SURPRISED ME.
Scientifically, Ted analyzed the problem. “Possible explanations…defective barometer. Light touch of barometer needle on contact not absolutely reliable in transmitting current. I will try again if I can get a better explosive. At least I gave them a good scare.”
Where is the blood pressure monitor now? It wasn’t in his cabin, and to date it is missing. Did Ted create a device from it that is still out there somewhere in a deadly state of limbo? Or did he dismantle the monitor and use the parts?
One thing for certain, Ted did write he would again attempt to blow up an airliner once he came up with a better and more powerful explosive. The bomb found under his bed, marked as a Newell Channel Reamer, certainly could have been designed for such a commercial plane.
On Wednesday, January 7, NBC began airing my interview early in the morning on Today. I wasn’t able to watch the piece, but they sent me a tape.
It was apparent when it had aired, though, because of an immediate increase in phone calls from the media, which I avoided.
Wednesday afternoon, Dave called and said opening statements were now scheduled for the next day, Thursday, January 8. Ted was in court as we were speaking, in a private meeting with Judge Burrell where the judge was trying to convince him to keep his present counsel. Dave and I agreed it was just another attempt to delay the trial.
Robert Cleary was hoping the judge would make his ruling on the admissibility of the unchargeable offenses before the trial resumed, so he’d be able to choose between his two opening statements.
Dave said he hoped the judge would get the issues regarding Ted’s lawyers resolved that afternoon.
“They just don’t get it,” he said.
Ted’s refusal of an insanity plea made perfect sense to Dave and me. Ted would rather accept the death penalty and go down in history as a martyr for his cause than spend the rest of his life in a mental institution labeled as insane.
The next morning, I received a call that Ted had tried to commit suicide by hanging in his jail cell. He was immediately placed on “suicide watch” twenty-four hours a day.
I had to wonder if it had been a serious attempt or just another ploy to delay the trial.
I went outside to clear my head with some good honest physical work—cutting firewood, milling boards, and working on one of my Cats. More than anything, it got me away from the phone. The whole affair had really changed our lives. Betty would no longer pick up the telephone for any reason and I didn’t blame her.
That evening, while going through all the messages, I was startled to hear something new—a phone call threatening my family if I cooperated with authorities further. It didn’t intimidate me, though, and I was even pretty sure who had made the call.
“Don’t you dare go and confront them! Just let it go, they’re not worth it,” Betty said.
I had to agree, but how dare they try to intimidate me?
“Turn it over to your friends in the FBI,” she said.
That was a good idea.
A few days after Ted had staged his suicide attempt the thing I feared most happened. On Wednesday, January 14, the defense learned from an unnamed media source that Ted’s secret cabin had been found.
I dreaded the stampede that would ensue.
I thought about the buried caches of ammunition and food I had uncovered barely two weeks earlier and wondered if that would leak out, too. The agent I had shared the most information with was Dave, because I was trying to get him back to Montana to finish the job with me.
I really only wanted to turn things over to him, but now he was gone except for his contributions to the trial. I knew it was only a matter of time before other agents would want all the evidence from the secret cabin and caches.
And, the very next day, Thursday, January 15, Helena-based FBI agents Tom McDaniel and Terry Wade drove up to pick up the items from the cache and other evidence.
It wasn’t a shock, since we had played phone tag during the last couple of weeks. I had mentioned it to Dave, knowing the purpose of their calls.
“At least they can’t say you haven’t been returning their calls,” he replied.
Before the agents arrived, my friend Bobby Didriksen called and said they were in Lincoln looking for me.
None of the evidence was at home, but was safely protected. I didn’t want to withhold anything, but I knew I wanted to talk to Dave before making any move.
A white Ford Bronco showed up in my yard and the two agents got out.
Both were nice. Tom, the senior agent, an
d I talked about some mutual friends. After inviting them in and visiting for the better part of two hours, I said I knew why they came, but I wasn’t prepared to turn over the evidence yet. I had been working closely with Dave and needed to talk to him first, and also, the things they wanted weren’t at home and would have to be retrieved from the place where I had them hidden.
I told Tom I wasn’t refusing to give up the items, but I wanted to be careful and get Dave’s advice. Mistrust had developed between others on the Unabom Task Force and me, and because of the way I had been treated regarding the secret cabin, I didn’t want a repeat of events. Tom understood.
When they left I knew there would be repercussions and that Dave would be calling soon.
Sure enough, Dave called Saturday. I told him about the threatening phone call and he said to tell Tom McDaniel so there would be a record.
I already had told Tom and also had saved the tape from the answering machine. I would probably let the incident slide, but if it happened again the young man would be held responsible.
Dave said some of his bosses were mad at me for not turning over the things they wanted. He had advanced that possibility earlier to his boss, Joel. “Why do you want this stuff now?” he had asked. “What if Chris doesn’t want to give up the things?”
The truth was the prosecution had withheld information about the secret cabin and caches from the defense and that risky strategy was now coming back to haunt them.
I told Dave that if I turned over the items it would only be to him, as I trusted him and he trusted me.
I asked what he wanted me to do.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” he replied. “You’ll have to do what you think is best.” He added that he thought I should probably turn over what they wanted and fill out a claim paper so that after the trial I could get the things back.
I still had reservations. I knew the possibility existed that if I gave them everything, it could be hidden or destroyed, or they could deny the items ever existed.
Now that the secret cabin story had leaked out, I was in a position to embarrass the agents and maybe even get them into legal trouble. That was the last thing I wanted to see happen, but now that mistrust had developed I wanted to protect myself, too.
I told Dave to call me in a few days and I would let him know what I would do.
I felt as though I was about to get swept into the middle of a conflict between the defense and prosecution. I also found it interesting that, after all this time, the agents had come to my house unannounced now, when they knew that the secret cabin story had leaked out. I certainly didn’t blame Tom or Terry, who were following orders from the Task Force in Sacramento.
I had no idea what was going on at the trial, but as it turned out the defense team had spent the weekend preparing a motion to compel the prosecution to disclose the location and other relevant information about the secret cabin.
On Monday, January 19, the motion was filed by fax and delivery; the trial was set to resume that Thursday, but on Wednesday the motion was argued in federal court in Sacramento before United States Magistrate Gregory G. Hollows.
According to the hearing transcript, the defense motion stated: “On January 14, 1998, the defense learned from a media source that the secret shack had been located by the government. Based on that information the defense has requested that the government provide all information in its possession concerning the location, contents, and other matters regarding the shack. Although not denying that the government has located the shack, the government refuses to provide any further information. Regardless of whether the government intends to use evidence regarding a secret shack, the defense is entitled to discovery of all information in the government’s possession regarding the shack. The shack, the location, the method of construction, and the contents are all potentially relevant to the issues of the defendant’s past and present mental status, and thus may be admissible on these issues in either the guilt or penalty phases of the trial.”
The secret cabin certainly fit into the defense’s mental defect plan, supporting the argument that Ted lived a pathologically isolated life. But disclosing this kind of evidence didn’t fit the prosecution’s game plan of seeking the death penalty.
The prosecution maintained to the court they weren’t going to use the evidence of the cabin and its contents in the trial, so they didn’t have to disclose the information.
Judge Hollows didn’t buy the prosecution’s argument and came down hard on them, saying the defense had the right to see the evidence. One of the problems facing the prosecution was that the bulk of the relevant photographs were ones taken by me and they had neither extra copies nor the negatives. I had both. Along with the cabin’s contents.
Defense attorney John P. Balazs, answering the judge’s query about what this evidence would add to the defense, stated:
“Well, I think it’s significant….[T]wo points I could make. One is that…Mr. Kaczynski said that he built the shack because he felt there was no place to escape civilization. I think it’s directly relevant to his mental state. We’ve already told the government, and they’ve brought a motion to preclude, which was denied, that we wanted to present information in the guilt phase, and maybe in the penalty phase as well, of his writing, of lay witnesses and other information that could go to his mental state at the time of the offenses. And second, it’s not just a matter of the shack itself but what is in the shack and in the surrounding area. And so we need to know whether or not they found anything in the shack.”
Now Judge Hollows asked prosecutor Stephen P. Freccero whether the defense had been shown the photos. Freccero answered, “No. We’re prepared [pause] the point I want to make is, we don’t know whether these [pause] We have never known whether…[pause]”
The prosecution’s lawyers all of a sudden found themselves facing embarrassment. They hadn’t bothered to get a complete list of the cabin contents, even though I had offered it to them. I had sent them a preliminary list the previous June, but the final one had more than double the entries.
How would they explain that? As the hearing continued, there were a lot of “oh’s,” “um’s,” and pauses in their answers.
“I want you,” Judge Hollows told Freccero, “to define ‘no’ for me. Did you have any knowledge that this might be a shack related to defendant Kaczynski?”
“Absolutely,” came Freccero’s answer. “These are locations which could be or might be or sound similar to locations mentioned in Mr. Kaczynski’s writings.”
“And have you acquired any confirmation that one place or another is probably related to the defendant?” When Freccero hesitated over his answer, Hollows went on, “In other words, have you interviewed the neighbors? Did you talk to any…”
“Yes, we have.”
“All right. And that’s the information that they [the defense] want.”
Freccero turned to legal technicalities of defining the information that would satisfy disclosure, and the judge answered in kind. Then Freccero tried to excuse the delay: “…[W]e have protected the confidentiality of the people who have given that information.”
Judge Hollows was not buying that argument, and replied, “But if they’ve already talked to them…what difference does it make? I could say tongue in cheek, perhaps, inquire of the media; there are probably people crawling all over that place right now as we speak, talking with people. I don’t think privacy’s an issue anymore.”
Judge Hollows pursued photographs and reports, but Freccero almost slipped, in his response to the question about “any other documentation”: “No, nothing besides what we’ve already turned over to the defense. There is no physical evidence. We have seized no evidence from these locations.”
Freccero caught himself by specifying “seized.”
“You seized no evidence,” Judge Hollows asked, “from locations outside of the cabins themselves but that relate to the cabin other than what you’ve told me about, photos, and reports of
some type?”
“That is correct.”
“All right. With respect to any photos or reports that you have in your possession—that relates to utilization by defendant Kaczynski, turn that over to the defense.”
Freccero nodded, and Judge Hollows asked if he had any questions.
“No, Your Honor. And the scope…I’m just trying to understand the scope pertains to those locations they’ve tried to describe in their motion?” The prosecution was still playing technicalities.
“No,” the judge answered. “It refers to any locations that the Government has knowledge of from its report, from its interviews, from its confirmation process that there’s a shack out there that may have been utilized by defendant Kaczynski. I don’t care if they’ve used the right gulch annotation in their motion. If you’ve got some information that relates to that, turn it over. [emphasis added]”
“Okay. Okay. I guess my hesitation…I just want to make sure it’s not a problem; I want to make sure we comply with the court’s order.”
“Correct,” Judge Hollows answered. “That’s what they’re looking for, correct, Mr. Balazs?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Balazs answered.
Judge Hollows concluded, “All right. Thank you. Do the initial disclosure by the end of today; and by Wednesday of next week, everything else.”
Of course, Freccero knew he needed to be cautious here. He said, “…I would just note that we may not have copies of the photographs so we might have to show the photographs and make arrangements for copies, if they actually…if any of those photographs are relevant. I can’t make copies by the end of today, is what I’m saying.”
“Right. Make a Xerox by the end of today. If they need something better, they’ll tell you.”
As the hearing ended, despite all its hedging, the prosecution had managed to pacify the judge. But it wasn’t over. I suspected they soon would be trying frantically to get my pictures, negatives, and the evidence list.