Tom Voigt thinks he knows who was behind the crime of the century.
By
Jordan Michelman
12/16/2020 at 5:00am
Published in the December 2020 issue of
Portland Monthly
âJordan?â I feel a tap on my shoulder. Once I confirmI am indeed the writer who asked him to meet me here, at a well-distanced two-top outside NE 28th Avenue German beer bar Stammtisch on a crisp fall day, the man hands me a small cellophane package.
âHere, I brought this for you,â he says in the quick, deep voice of a former radio announcer. The package contains a customized face mask, flecked in arcane symbols, handwritten in black letter notation. Even inside the plastic, I know these images: itâs a 50-year-old cipher code from the deranged mind of a murderer, remade into the grand totem of 2020. In the center of the mask sits the unmistakable crosshair mark of a pistol, blood red.