On the evening of November 24, 1971 — Thanksgiving Eve — the unassuming ticket of a man calling himself “Dan Cooper” transformed the skies of the Pacific Northwest into a stage for one of the most chilling crimes in U.S. aviation history. A Boeing 727, a note reading “bomb,” a demand of $200,000 and four parachutes — and then, into the starless November sky he leapt, into legend. The man known to millions as D.B. Cooper vanished into the dense forests of Washington state, leaving behind only a clip-on tie and a mystery that has haunted investigators and thrill-seekers for generations. Now, after 54 years, something found in a dusty storage unit may finally pull aside the curtain on this myth.

It began simply: a short flight from Portland to Seattle, Oregon. The man in a dark suit boarded without fanfare. Minutes after take-off, he handed flight attendant Florence Shaner a note. She swallowed the casual gesture, until he leaned in and whispered: “Miss, you’d better look at that note — I have a bomb.” Inside his briefcase sat what appeared to be dynamite sticks wired to a battery. He demanded $200,000, four parachutes, and a refuelling truck. The Boeing 727 landed in Seattle, the ransom was handed over, passengers released — and then the aircraft took off again. Somewhere over the dark forests of Washington, the rear stairway opened — and the man jumped into the night.

From dawn the next morning, search teams, helicopters, bloodhounds, FBI agents flooded Washington’s wilderness. Yet no trace: no body, no parachute, no clear tracks. One of the only physical lead pieces surfaced in 1980 — a young boy camping on the Columbia River found some of the ransom money buried in the sand. The case grew into obsession: thousands of tips, hundreds of suspects, forensic tests on a clip-on tie, but identity remained elusive. In 2016 the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) announced the case was no longer being actively pursued — unless new physical evidence emerged.

Just five months later, in April 1972, a man named Richard McCoy Jr. staged a nearly identical hijacking: a 727, four parachutes, ransom money, the rear stairs open and a jump into nowhere. McCoy was caught, convicted, escaped prison, died in a 1974 shoot-out. Because of the similarities, many suspected him of being Cooper. But the FBI officially ruled him out, citing physical differences and alibis.

Decades of silence. Then, in recent years, an amateur investigator – aviation YouTuber Dan Gryder – turned his obsession into action. He unearthed a parachute rig from a storage unit in North Carolina, buried under a family property linked to McCoy. The parachute bore modifications so rare they were described as “literally one in a billion.” McCoy’s children, Chanté and Rick, only came forward after their mother’s death in 2020, handing over the parachute, a log-book of jumps and a DNA sample. The FBI, which had previously closed the file, quietly pulled the new evidence into its custody — raising the possibility that the mysterious hijacker known as D.B. Cooper may at last have a name. And that name points to Richard McCoy Jr.
Some investigators argue: if McCoy was Cooper — then the myth shifts to a tragic story of a war-veteran, sky-diver, father and outlaw.
Others remain unconvinced: McCoy didn’t perfectly match the description of Cooper, and the FBI remains cautious.

The revelations have stirred new debate. If Richard McCoy Jr. was indeed the man who became D.B. Cooper, then one of America’s greatest unsolved crimes may finally be answered — decades late, shadows long. His siblings say they “always kind of knew it was him.” For the FBI, retrieving the parachute and DNA evidence suggests the quiet reopening of the case, perhaps even plans for exhumation to match DNA against the ransom tie.
Yet many questions linger: did Cooper survive the jump and live under another name? Or did he perish that cold November night? Will the parachute tell the full story? The public remains fascinated not just by the crime, but by the mystery — the vanishing act, the leap into legend, the elusive face behind the name.
Share the story, weigh the clues, and decide for yourself: was D.B. Cooper Richard McCoy Jr.? Or is the truth still hidden in the forest, somewhere between myth and reality?