The Autobiography of FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper

by Mark Frost

  May 3, 5 P.M.

  If I'm not mistaken, the large mounds of earth on the horizon should be the Rocky Mountains.

  May 3, 9 P.M.

  Diane, a hint for future outdoor adventures: never camp next to a family from New Jersey in a large silver trailer.

  May 5, 2 P.M.

  The Great Salt Lake. A large number of Mormons seems to be floating in formation just offshore.

  May 6, 11 P.M.

  Reno, Nevada. Diane, last saw Dad with a tall blonde in a red dress the size of a postage stamp, leaning over a roulette table. I believe he was telling her that a crater on the moon was named after him.

  May 7, 9 A.M.

  Will be making the rest of the trip to San Francisco on my own. Was unable to locate Dad until almost dawn, at which point he had been married for three hours. My new stepmother is named Shamrock. Interestingly enough, she is an old Bryn Mawr grad with a degree in Germanic languages. They plan to spend their honeymoon in a little hut with a sauna on top of the Continental Divide.

  Diane, do you ever wonder if you were left on your parents' doorstep by Gypsies?

  May 10, 4 P.M.

  San Francisco. What a town. Have checked in at the Bureau and am now heading out to locate adequate housing.

  May 11, 3 P.M.

  Diane, have found a fine apartment with a view of the Golden Gate, and in walking distance from a Chinese bakery that makes the smallest doughnuts I've ever seen. Have two days before I'm due to report, so I think I will take in the sights.

  May 12, 11 A.M.

  Diane, you won't believe this, but I've just driven through a hole cut in a redwood tree. Never saw a tree like this in the eastern forests. These are the trees that legends are born from. Can't imagine what a druid would have done if he was faced with this monster.

  May 12, 2 P.M.

  Alcatraz Island. Diane, if these are the kinds of monuments that man is going to be leaving behind, then I am afraid our future is not a terribly bright one.

  May 15, 7 A.M.

  Four Chinese doughnuts, a cup of coffee, and I'm on my way, a new beginning, and an ending. I am ready.

  May 15, 11 P.M.

  Diane, the first days of any journey are often rough. It appears the story of the incident in Pittsburgh has preceded me. I believe I am going to have to prove myself to these people. What I need now is a case.

  May 20, 10 P.M.

  It would appear that I do have one supporter here in San Francisco. Agent Robin Masters, who I went through the academy with, is here. When we last saw each other on the shooting range of the academy, life was so very simple. I wish we had realized it at the time. So very much has happened since that day. She is still a damn fine shot, however. For old time's sake we went down to the range and each emptied a full load. It was a clear tie. She is now assigned to the white collar crime division, so our paths will probably not cross a great deal. It is just as well. The past should remain firmly behind one. The present holds enough obstacles.

  June 15, 2 P.M.

  Diane I have a case.

  June 15, 4 P.M.

  I am standing over the body of a young man approximately twenty years of age, dumped next to a highway. He has been bound and gagged, and shot multiple times. He is naked, and shows signs of sexual abuse. Local authorities assumed kidnapping is involved with the case, which is why we have been called in.

  Diane, ran a check of all murders involving young males of approximately the same age that have occurred over the past year that remain unsolved. Also check all deaths of male prostitutes, whether listed as accidental or other. Start within the San Francisco district and widen the search as far as necessary to determine if this is a repeat offense. It feels to me that we have all the makings of a serial killer here.

  June 23, 4 P.M.

  Our victim was indeed a prostitute. He was nineteen years old, addicted to speed, and had run away at the age of sixteen. His parents live in Minnesota. My guess is that he was abused. There also are two known murders involving male prostitutes that are outstanding, both occurring over the last eight months. Death, whether violent or by drug overdose, is not uncommon among this group, so local authorities never made the connection.

  Have interviewed a young man named Spider who claims to have seen the victim the night of his disappearance. He last saw his friend getting into a late model blue sedan. He does not remember what the driver looked like. There are also at least two male prostitutes in the Mission District who are known to be missing.

  Diane, run a check through Washington on all outstanding murders or disappearances of male prostitutes across the country. Then chart the dates and geographic location according to the time of death.

  June 28, 11 A.M.

  Diane, if my hunch is correct, we have a killer who has killed eight times over the last two years in a straight line from Illinois to San Francisco. And if he is true to his pattern will probably kill again sometime in the next several weeks.

  Nothing has turned up on the blue sedan. I notified all authorities that a serial killer is working in this area and most likely will kill again in a very short time. Getting cooperation from the male prostitutes, however, is another matter. Few of their experiences with law enforcement officials in the past have given them a sense of trust.

  We do know this much. Of the eight murders, six of the victims were last seen in gay bars. It would appear that the only available action to take at this point is to go undercover. Have made contact with a gay desk sergeant of the local PD . . . let me rephrase that. Am being assisted by another officer who wishes to remain unidentified. He has lent me some leather goods, and directed me to the most likely nightspot where the killer would show up. The last victim was known to frequent this establishment, though I cannot place him there for certain on the night of his death.

  June 28, 10 P.M.

  The feel of leather against skin is a surprisingly sensual experience.

  June 28, 10:10 P.M.

  Am standing outside of Club Y. Do not believe I've seen such a large group of men gathered together since my time in the Boy Scouts. I may be mistaken, but I am quite sure nothing in the scout handbook has prepared me for what is behind those red doors.

  June 29, 3 A.M.

  Surprisingly, I met three people on the dance floor who were also Eagle Scouts. One of them still seemed particularly interested in the tying and use of knots. Met no one who fit the profile of the killer we're looking for. I was, however, invited to spend six days on a yacht sailing to Hawaii. Will try again tomorrow.

  June 29, 9 P.M.

  Received a cable from Gordon telling me to watch my backside. Have gotten the cooperation of local PD and the Bureau to add six people in the field for the next week. What we need now is a break.

  June 29, 11 P.M.

  Club Y. Diane, have been propositioned five times in the last hour. Not one fit the profile, though several were exceptional dancers. I must be doing something I didn't do when I was in college, because I never had that kind of luck before.

  June 30, 2 A.M.

  A light blue sedan has been seen circling the club. I'm moving outside to attempt to make contact.

  June 30, 2:15 A.M.

  The vehicle is a blue Ford LTD, license plate California 203-CYH. I suspect we are looking for an out-of-state plate, but this is still the biggest fish on the line at the moment. He's headed my way.

  June 30, 2:30 A.M.

  Diane, that was not the fish we were looking for. A salesman from Mill Valley. I suggested he go back to his wife and talk about this or it is going to cause severe problems for his marriage in the long run. I'm back on the street . . . I believe that was a scream.

  June 30, 2:38 A.M.

  Diane, I am in pursuit of a late model blue Dodge Dart. The occupant is believed armed and dangerous. He attempted to run over a male prostitute when an argument erupted over the amount of money required for the services rendered. As a point of reference, it should be noted as I am about to round this
corner that more law enforcement officers are injured in high-speed pursuit than any other kind of job-related incidents . . . think I may have a problem. . . . Please find out the last time this vehicle underwent routine maintenance.

  June 30, 4 A.M.

  Diane, a hint for future driving safety: always be sure your brakes are in good working order before attempting the descent of any large hills. I am unhurt, but half a block of shrubbery will have to be replaced at the Bureau's expense. The suspect is in custody, though I suspect he is guilty only of simple assault and has no connection to the string of murders.

  June 30, 10 A.M.

  The people in the lab have just identified the last remaining piece of evidence found on the last victim. A fiber found under one of the toenails. It came from a carpet of a car. The color was blue, possibly from a Ford, though several makes use the same manufacturer. I'm on my way to Mill Valley now to visit the salesman who picked me up last night. His name is Bush, he is not married, and his last known residence was Chicago one year ago. I think this qualifies as a break. Am getting a warrant.

  June 30, 1 P.M.

  There are three units placed outside. I am inside Bush's small one-bedroom house. It has a white picket fence, roses, window boxes, new carpeting, a severed penis in a jar, and four Polaroid pictures of naked men lying on their stomachs with their hands tied behind their backs. One appears to be the latest victim. Without going into a description, it is clear that the picture was taken after he was killed. The lab will want to go over all of this very carefully. Now we wait for Mr. Bush to come home.

  June 30, 6 P.M.

  Diane, Bush is pulling into the driveway. We will take him as soon as he puts the key into the door.

  June 30, 7 P.M.

  Bush is in custody. He has waived all rights. The following is a portion of his confession. He was calm, at times appeared happy that the killing was over as he gave this account.

  COOPER: On the night of June 14 you picked up a male prostitute by the name of Randy?

  BUSH: Yes, I think it was his name.

  COOPER: Where did you take him?

  BUSH: Here . . . my house.

  COOPER: What did you do once you got here?

  BUSH: We had drinks, and I touched him, then I tied him up and shot him.

  COOPER: Have you killed others?

  BUSH: Yes. I shot them too, strangled one.

  COOPER: Why?

  BUSH: They asked me.

  The rest is more of the same. Diane, I think I want to get out of violent crimes for a while. A nice bit of embezzlement or espionage, I think, is just what the doctor ordered. It has been a very long day.

  July 30, 11 A.M.

  Diane, it took some doing but I've been assigned to the counterintelligence task force.

  * * *

  For the next six years Cooper remained in the counterintelligence division. If any tapes exist for that period of time, the FBI does not acknowledge it. The following "letters" to his father are the only pieces of audio released for these years.

  * * *

  1983

  Dear Dad,

  Sorry to hear about Shamrock's accident. The lab people here at the Bureau all agree that most people can function quite normally with only three toes, so she should not have any difficulty at all. If any of her shoes need special work, I know a Chinese cobbler who, years ago, worked on shoes for women who had had their feet bound.

  I'm well. Work, though I can't acknowledge that I actually do any, is going well. Met a very nice Russian dancer. Interestingly, she also has problems with her feet. Rest assured that all borders are secure, and life as we know it should continue for a good number of years. Glad to hear about the tool calendars.

  Dale

  1986

  Dear Dad,

  To the best of my knowledge and those here at the Bureau, you cannot contract Legionnaires' disease from unwashed fruit. From the sounds of it, you had a common case of food poisoning. Suggest Shamrock rethink the diet you both are on. I don't seem to remember a ban on refrigeration being an integral part of a macrobiotic life-style.

  Thanks for the black socks for Christmas, they were just what I needed. Thought I would let you know that I have applied for a transfer within the Bureau. Gordon Cole wants me back on the streets instead of hiding in dark alleys. He says hello, by the way, and thanks for the tip on the eardrops.

  Hope you're out of bed soon. Will keep you posted at this end.

  Dale

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  The summer of 1987 Cooper left the counterintelligence division to work on a joint drug interdiction program with the DEA.

  * * *

  August 24, 9 A.M.

  Diane, I have spent three days with the people over at DEA now and I have yet to meet one person in a coat and tie. Also notice that they all seem to wear their body armor even when sitting in the office drinking coffee. They may be just the kind of people who can evaluate a new investigative technique I'm working on based on the writings of a Tibetan monk named Gumm.

  August 26, 11 P.M.

  According to the results of my first substantial test of Gumm's work, Lee Harvey Oswald did not act alone on that fateful day in Dallas, and Jack Ruby is still alive and living in Peru. . . . This may need some more work yet.

  September 2, 10 A.M.

  Diane, Mexican authorities have alerted the DEA to a large shipment of cocaine being moved to a border town. With the cooperation of the federal police in Mexico, the DEA is going to act as a buyer of the shipment in the border town of Tijuana. The buyers are supposed to be a pair of insurance salesmen from the Midwest. For some reason, the DEA people seem to think that this is right up my alley. My counterpart in the DEA is an agent named Dennis Bryson. We leave for San Diego tonight, where we pick up a car and coordinate with our Mexican counterparts.

  September 2, 11:30 P.M.

  San Diego. Diane, remind me the next time I am heading south of the border to bring along water purification tablets, a good compass, and a wide-brimmed hat.

  September 4, 9 A.M.

  Diane, when we cross that border we are in another country. That may seem like an obvious statement; however, the full implication of this action is more complicated. We will be entirely on our own. There will be no one to call for backup. Our badges, which every lawman regards as a slice of his identity, will be left behind in the States. Should something go wrong, no one will know where we are because we are not officially in the country. In essence, once we cross that border, we do not exist.

  September 4, 10 A.M.

  Bribed the border guard five dollars to expedite our crossing. It may be my imagination, but I am quite sure that we have been followed. Since there are only two officials of the federal police who know of our mission, I do not take this as a good sign.

  September 4, 11 A.M.

  The mess that results when two cultures meet in one place on a common border is food for the imagination. It is also the stuff of nightmares. Every imaginable sin, vice, perversion, and degradation is laid out in the open in living color. It is also a definite affirmative that we are being followed. A tan pickup truck with two Mexican males inside has been tailing us since the moment we crossed the border. For the moment, they seem content to remain at a distance and observe. Should that change, we may have to adjust our plan accordingly.

  Next stop the Casa de Vista motel, a hot lunch, and a phone call from the supplier to set up the meeting.

  September 4, 12:30 P.M.

  Diane, one thing that never seems to change regardless of the country a traveler finds himself in is the lack of a view in accommodations advertising one. The only vista I presently gaze out at is a large brown dog dragging a dead snake across a dusty road. I would not be surprised from the look of the dining room if I find that snake as the featured course of the midday meal.

  September 4, 1:30 P.M.

  Diane, never underestimate the truly unique eating experience reptile
affords the adventurous palate. Tender slices of white meat gently simmered in a sauce of chilis and cactus meat. Americans as a group undervalue a number of valuable members of the food chain just because we find the thought of consuming them disgusting.