I used to work at the FBI Laboratory Division in the Trace Evidence Unit. Living in Alexandria, Virginia, at the time, I was the closest employee to FBI Headquarters where the laboratory was located (it’s now on the FBI campus in Quantico). Being a short drive or Metro ride away meant that occasionally I would get a call to go in and deal with something during off hours. On a Saturday evening, I got one of those calls to go in and process some evidence that was being “walked through” the laboratory. “Walking through” meant that the evidence was in the possession of a Special Agent (all FBI agents are Special Agents; ask Hoover1) and would be taken to the relevant Units, in a relevant order, to be processed for subsidiary evidence or analyses. It did not happen often and meant that the case, whatever it was, was important, like federally important. I canceled my plans for the evening (to the chagrin of my then wife) and drove to Headquarters.
I parked my car in the garage and took the elevator security and badged in. In the elevator to the laboratory on the third floor, I wondered what was the case was, what I’d be asked to do, and how long it would take. I prepared a workspace by cleaning it, laying out craft paper to work on, pulled a stereomicroscope out, cleaned tweezers, and got some long cotton swabs (we didn’t use the swab ends; we snapped the sticks in a particular way to make a flat, neutral tool to manipulate small objects). I sat in my lab coat, wearing gloves, waiting.
A Special Agent came through with a bundle of packaged evidence. We chatted briefly and he said I was to look for anything I thought would be considered trace evidence on the items. The items themselves had to move on to other Units, so I was there only to examine the items and collect the tiny bits. Other Special Agents would be coming through with similar kinds of items, so it would be a long evening. I didn’t ask what case it was because the FBI operates on a “need to know” security basis. All FBI employees at a minimum have a Top Secret clearance, so the onus is on each employee to monitor the flow of classified information. I was there to collect evidence and what the case was didn’t matter; given the kind of evidence I was looking at, context didn’t really matter. I wouldn’t be doing the analysis anyway.
I opened the first package of evidence and it was a collection of standard letter-size envelopes. They were all opened and some had letters in them, others were empty. I started examining the outside of the envelopes, checking along the openings, under the sealed flaps, and around the edges of the stamps. I found small fibers, some hair fragments, and the occasional tiny bit of feather fluff. The collected trace materials were packaged, sealed, labeled, and noted according to the laboratory protocols.
As I painstakingly examined the flaps and corners of the envelopes and folds of the letters, I couldn’t help reading them. I didn’t recognize the names on the envelopes but the letters were wild. Long, rambling screeds and philosophical rants about technology, industrialization, and the loss of wilderness. The words and topics sounded oddly familiar. I spent the entire evening at the laboratory and didn’t get home until after midnight. My then wife asked what had happened and why did I have to go in. I said, “I can’t tell you, sorry.” She didn’t have the need to know.
In June of 1995, the New York Times and The Washington Post received packages containing 56 typed, single-spaced pages, plus 10 more with footnotes and typographical corrections, titled, "Industrial Society and Its Future." The author, "FC" (for Freedom Club), offered the Times and Post a choice: Publish the manuscript and he would stop sending bombs to his targets or decline and he would start building his next bomb. The FBI determined that the author was the Unabomber (from the UNABOMB case, because his early targets were a university and an airline: UNiversity, Airline, and, duh, BOMB). FBI major cases get a nickname like that to speed reference and correspondence and UNABOMB was definitely a major case. The Unabomber had been terrorizing the public for 17 years, sending hand-crafted bombs to people he felt were responsible for industrialization and the loss of wilderness. The newspapers wrestled with whether to publish the manifesto but ultimately did on 19 SEP 1995.
David Kaczynski read the manifesto and recognized the writings of his brother, Ted, a mathematical genius who had moved to Montana in 1971 and lived like a hermit in a remote cabin. David consulted with an attorney and private investigator, who approached another attorney who talked with the FBI. The letters and envelopes were submitted to the FBI Laboratory for examination.
Those were the letters and envelopes I examined that long evening staring through a stereomicroscope. When I joined the FBI, it never occurred to me that I would play a part in something as big as this case. Life is funny.
Ted Kaczynski was arrested in his cabin on 3 APR 1996. He was found guilty on multiple felony counts and sentenced to eight lifetime sentences. Ted Kaczynski was recently found dead in his prison cell, after having been transferred from a maximum security facility.
The term "Special Agent" is derived from the type of powers they have as agents of the U.S. Government. They do not have general agency powers which would allow them to do anything on behalf of the government. They have limited or "special" powers of investigation and arrest.