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Two months later, in June 1995, the Unabomber moved again. Letters postmarked from San Francisco appeared on the desk of editor Jerry Roberts  at the San Francisco Chronicle in which “FC” threatened to blow up an airliner out of Los Angeles International. The bomber wrote the New York Times, the Washington Post, Penthouse Magazine, Scientific American. He enclosed a 35,000-word Manifesto titled “Industrial Society and Its Future,” outlining his opinion of technology and its impact on society. He demanded that it be published within 90 days. If editors complied, he claimed, he would stop killing. But the addendum to the blackmail letter announced that, no matter what, he would retain the right to commit “acts of sabotage.”

Photo illustration by Will Moss

The Unabomber's Manifesto, called "Industrial Society and Its Future," was the key that helped identify him.

The press brought the Manifesto to the UTF.

The UTF read it carefully, had it assessed, then contacted the authors of all the books, newspaper and magazine articles to which the Manifesto referred. Each writer traveled to San Francisco and was given a copy of the Manifesto. UTF members picked their brains, but gained nothing.

The big question,” said Noel, “was, do we publish it or not?” Traditionally, the FBI never gave in to the demands of terrorists. But the Unabomber wasn’t a traditional terrorist. He had been stealthier. He had been more evasive. At the recommendation of the UTF, Director Freeh and Attorney General Reno decided the Manifesto should be published because it contained unique details that someone was bound to recognize.

The Washington Post published excerpts in August 1995, then published the complete Manifesto on Sept. 19, 1995.

At the time, David and Linda Kaczynski were vacationing in Europe. According to agent Noel, Linda Patrick Kaczynski had already harbored creepy suspicions about her husband’s brother, Ted. When she returned from Europe, she read the Manifesto and then prodded her husband to read it. He recognized details. As boys, their mother always urged them to say, contrary to custom: “You can’t eat your cake and have it, too.” The Manifesto contained another term that was a Ted Kaczynski favorite: “cool-headed logician.” There was also a pattern of misspellings. In words containing two “l’s,” the Manifesto often used only one: “wilfuly” and “instalment.” The Manifesto misspelled “analyze,” replacing the “z” with an “s” the way Ted Kaczynski always did.

It took the Kaczynskis four months to contact the FBI. They first conducted their own investigation, which led to linguists and lawyers and finally to a young FBI agent named Mollie Flynn. Flynn read a letter from Ted Kaczynski to his brother and believed its ideas were similar to those in the Manifesto. She sent it to the UTF, which examined it and agreed.

UTF members consulted their computers. Theodore J. Kaczynski, former math professor at the University of California at Berkeley, where two of the bombs exploded, was already on file. In February 1996, Kaczynski became suspect No. 2417.
 
Montana, February 1996
The phone rang in the office of FBI agent Tom McDaniel in the Arcade building in downtown Helena. The voice on the line identified itself as a member of the UTF. The voice said that an excellent suspect for the case was living in Lincoln.

 Oh no. We don’t have the manpower for this, McDaniel thought. His office was already swimming in responsibilities with the Missouri River Drug Task Force and the high-profile Freemen case in eastern Montana.

The voice asked McDaniel if he knew any law enforcement in Lincoln that he trusted. McDaniel didn’t hesitate. Jerry Burns. He had worked with the U.S. Forest Service officer before. The two men were good friends.

Max Noel, case agent supervisor for the UTF, and four other UTF agents arrived in Helena. They stayed at a bed and breakfast there.

Noel had told his bosses he would take that assignment only if he could do it the way he knew best — with a small group of people. He grew up in a small town. He knew what it was like. He later read about the droves of residents who claimed to have known that the FBI was crawling all over Lincoln. But they didn’t know, he thought. Not for the longest time.

Photo by Sara R. Gale

Nearly 10 years after they helped capture Kaczynski, Jerry Burns, left, and Tom McDaniel visit the nearby cabin where he was interrogated.

The first order of legal business was to gather information and enough probable cause to obtain a search warrant for Kaczynski’s cabin. At first, Burns, McDaniel and FBI agent Dave Weber rode snowmobiles to within a half hour’s walk of the cabin, then sneaked down through the snow. They came close. They heard the wood-on-wood sound of Kaczynski’s door open. But the photos weren’t good enough to describe the cabin for the affidavit.

They came up with a Plan B. They knew that Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks flew over regularly to count big game in the area. A Helena-based FBI agent with a pilot’s license flew over the cabin. Weber hung out the aircraft window and shot photos.

Then Kaczynski’s neighbor, Butch Gehring, escorted Burns and Noel up a skid road past Kaczynski’s cabin. Noel needed to describe the cabin for the affidavit and was posing as a gold mining representative interested in Gehring’s land — going so far as to lay a placard of the mining company’s name on the dash of the old pickup he had rented in Helena.

It was a story that shouldn’t have surprised Kaczynski — Gehring had already told the Unabomber to expect mining people on the land, that he had sold exploration rights. Gehring hadn’t lied. He and his wife needed money; they were expecting twins.

As they passed his cabin that day, the Unabomber opened his door and poked his head out. The men waved to each other.

At the end of March there was a leak. CBS News asked the FBI whether reporters could tag along when Kaczynski was served the search warrant. If they couldn’t, they said, they would break the story. Jim Freeman, administrative head of the UTF, called Noel.

Do we have a plan to get him at the cabin? Freeman asked.

Yes, said Noel. They had planned to wait for Kaczynski to ride his bike into town and take him into custody on Stemple Pass Road — away from the bomb-factory he called home, but if they had to, they could approach his cabin.

Okay, we’re going in on Wednesday.
 
 
April 1996
The day before the arrest every Delta flight into Helena was bulging with FBI: agents, bomb squads, SWAT teams, administrators — well over 100 people.

The UTF rented the 7-Up Ranch in Lincoln for its headquarters. Wednesday morning all rose early. SWAT teams positioned themselves around the perimeter of the area in case the Unabomber tried to run. It took about an hour and a half to get in place and just minutes for three men — Noel, McDaniel and Burns — to reach Kaczynski’s cabin. In a flash, McDaniel and Burns restrained the Unabomber as Noel pointed his pistol into Kaczynski’s face. 

Holding his FBI credentials in his other hand, he said, Mr. Kaczynski, FBI. We have a warrant to search these premises.

Am I under arrest? Kaczynski asked.

No, you are under investigative detention, Noel replied. He invented the term. They didn’t have an arrest warrant, only a search warrant. Before CBS threatened to blow the whistle, the UTF thought it had more time. But on that day, with Kaczynski in custody, they used the search warrant hoping to find enough evidence to arrest him.

The lawmen handcuffed Kaczynski and walked him to a neighboring cabin the UTF had rented. Kaczynski sat in a chair. It was 12:27 p.m. One FBI agent placed a coat around Kaczynski’s back and a blanket over his legs. His black jeans had foot-sized holes in them. His hair looked like a big, black greasy mop. He smelled so bad, some agents said, that it would take a week for the stench to work its way out of their sinuses.

An ATF agent started a fire in the stove and the room turned smoky. Do they know how to build a fire? Kaczynski asked Noel. Ask him if he opened the flue. The agent opened the flue; the cabin began to warm.

Noel laid a “Wanted” poster, a data sheet, a composite sketch and three photographs of Kaczynski on a table in front of him.

Over the next five hours Noel and a postal inspector named Paul Wilhelmus interviewed Kaczynski, who refused to speak about the case. But he was happy to talk about gardening, hunting and hiking. The agents offered their lunches, packed by the 7-Up Ranch. The Unabomber passed up the chicken but ate two Snickers bars.

Up at Kaczynski’s cabin, evidence response teams conducted the search very, very slowly and very, very carefully. There were bomb-sniffing dogs and a robot. Robots work well in parking lots in cities, but not on mountainsides with ice and snow.

After several hours Noel heard a commotion from Kaczynski’s cabin. It was a joyous sound, and he knew they had found enough evidence to charge him. At 5:55 p.m., Noel advised Kaczynski that he was under arrest for possession of explosive material.

After an 18-year hunt, the Unabomber had finally been snared.

McDaniel drove his white Ford Bronco, loaded with three other agents and the Unabomber, over Stemple Pass, trailed by hordes of press. Noel watched Kaczynski look out across the mountains in the evening sky. His look was wistful — as though he knew it would be the last time in his life he would see those mountains.

 How is the flu season in Helena? Kaczynski asked.

I think it’s over, replied Noel.

That’s good, because I didn’t get my flu shot this year.

En route to Helena, the group learned that the Department of Justice attorney in charge of the investigation wanted them to release Kaczynski and charge him later. The men in the Bronco refused and made calls to Freeh, who in turn spoke with Reno. As they reached the outskirts of town, the press peeled off trying to beat the Bronco to the Lewis and Clark County Jail. They didn’t know there was an internal battle about what to do with the Unabomber.

The Bronco, instead of going to the jail, veered off to the FBI office on Last Chance Gulch in Helena. It arrived at 7:20 p.m. It was then that a group of University of Montana photojournalism students shot their prized photos, the only photos made public of Kaczynski as he looked that day — filthy and unkempt.

McDaniel told Kaczynski he was going across the street to the Rialto for dinner. What would he like to eat? Kaczynski asked for a peanut butter sandwich on whole wheat bread and a quart of milk. But peanut butter sandwiches on whole wheat bread weren’t on the Rialto’s menu, so the Unabomber settled for a grilled cheese and two large Coke cups filled with milk.

At 10:30 p.m., word came from the attorney general. Noel, McDaniel and the postal inspector drove Kaczynski to the county jail and put him in a holding cell. As they turned to leave, Kaczynski called them back.

Thanks for the good treatment, the Unabomber said.

Copy photo by Meghan Piercy

The typewriter used to create the Manifesto was found in Kaczynski's cabin. Retired FBI agent Max Noel keeps this photo of how the typewriter was found.

Back at the cabin, the search team found all the incriminating evidence a nation could ask for. There was a bomb wrapped in tinfoil to keep moisture out. It was fully functional, fully operational. They found the gray hooded sweatshirt. The aviator sunglasses. The blonde wig. And, among the many Quaker Oats containers in which the Unabomber stored sundry things, they found an arming device, a unique style designed by the mind and hands of Kaczynski.

They found carbon copies of all the UNABOM letters. A handwritten copy of the Manifesto. Roughly 10,000 pages of bomb experiments carefully written in Spanish. A .32-caliber automatic gun loaded by the door. A 30.06 rifle. An automatic pistol. A hand-made zip gun. 

The search teams also found three antique typewriters. Kaczynski used one of them to type letters to his family. He used another to type his answers to the local paper’s mistake-finding contest and to the telephone company when he lost money in their payphones.

The third typewriter, the last one they opened, was an L.C. Smith-Corona, circa 1925-1930, with pica style type and 2.54 spacing.