Agent Dale Cooper (to handheld recorder): …and so Diane, that now brings me to where we stand, or rather, I sit…seated alone in the fifth row inside a plane for a flight in which I was gifted the ticket by a man I’ve never met.  And, to give you an update, I still feel absolutely fine after being violently revived from a years-long coma and, within minutes, busting through an 18th floor window and falling to the hospital courtyard below. My muscles are relaxed. Suit fits well. Hair looks good. It’s a great day to be alive. Alive, Diane, and four hours and forty minutes from my destination in in Los Angeles, California’s Los Angeles International Airport. Yes, LAX — the world’s fifth busiest airport; second in the nation behind Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson which, if you go, has a wonderful pizza place where you can get the biggest airport pepperoni pie you have ever seen, Diane. I do recall reading as well, perhaps in an issue of Skyways, the Alaskan Airlines in-flight magazine, that a notable sweets store was opening at the Atlanta airport and I really must —

Flight Attendant: Excuse me, sir. We are being asked to rearrange the seating on this flight. Would you mind if we move the other passenger from the rear to this seat in row ahead of you? Having both passengers near the front really helps us with regard to post-flight sanitation. We would graciously return your consideration with complimentary drinks for the remaining duration of this flight.

Cooper: Well I am sure that would be just lovely. And a black coffee would be an absolutely perfect accompaniment for meeting my new travel companion.

Flight Attendant: And, I’m sorry to have been eavesdropping — it is such an empty flight, you see — but LAX is actually the world’s fourth busiest airport after Atlanta, Dubai, and Beijing.

Cooper: Fourth now? I see. (pulls out pen and scratches in his notebook as she positions a black coffee on his tray table.) Things have really changed.

— First Class Curtain Flies Open —

Bob Costas: Good day there, buddy. Thank you for being reasonable with the stewardess. With everything going on, it feels a bit funny having the staff ask other passengers if I can sit near them as if I cannot speak for myself. Like who am I, Joe Buck? No matter though. So what are you going to LA for? That’s a nice head of hair, actually. Haven’t seen such healthy locks since…since visiting Tampa Bay last week, actually. You should be looking at getting in front of the camera.

Cooper: Thank you but, in fact, I’m FBI. I am….I am working a case.

Costas: In Los Angeles?

Cooper: It would seem so…

Costas: Interesting. Well, I never think it’s a bad thing to be getting out of Ohio. The state, you know, the fertile soil itself is fine but the people — good god, the people here — are absolutely disgusting. Or, hell, you’re with the FBI. I don’e need to tell you that. You work that case of the dead Ben Gal a couple years back?

Cooper: Well, I actually had a — no. In fact. I uh — well, are you familiar with it?

Costas: Goodness yes. Being a sports journalist allows — nay, I say requires that I perform a sophisticated analysis of every story that reaches my broadcast booth. With the untimely and unfortunate death of Miss Lin Sue, I can….well…look, I know you’re with the bureau but I have to say the absolute mismanagement of that investigation was borderline criminal. I mean, just absolutely shocking to think this woman was found dead on the bank of the river and law enforcement came up with nothing.

Cooper: Nothing at all?

Costas: They had a guy assigned to the case. I don’t remember the name because the then-chief of police kept an airtight seal on what was released to the press. Hell, I don’t even remember his name now that I think about it.

Cooper: Isaac.

Costas: Sounds about right. In any manner, it was so obvious that the Bengals football club was somehow involved but the investigators were stubborn from the start that the team’s association with the victim was completely unrelated to the murder. I mean, really? But, as it were, the news continued through the cycle and, wouldn’t you know it, three years later the team is extending Joe Mixon on a contract that, I’m sorry, says they’re paying him to keep his mouth shut as much as it is for him to ball out.

Cooper: You liked Mixon for the murder?

Costas: I don’t think he did it. I mean, he had an alibi but it was as swiss cheese as every other story we got about where Bengals players and staff were the night before the body was found. Mixon is a punk though and, when there’s trouble, he’s always around. Always. But Mike Brown put the kabash on player interviews until after the season and, by then, the FBI was on to more pressing matters.

Cooper: So no one from the Bengal organization was ever questioned?

Costas: No need, or so said the police. The working theory is that the evidence is there, just every agency is hamstrung to put it together. The obvious assumption is that finding the killer is somehow more politically damaging than a killer roaming the streets of Cincinnati.

Cooper: But the killer didn’t strike again in Cincinnati, did he?

Costas: You’re right so, if you buy the political cover up theory, it worked. If you consider that murders are a thing we should probably be getting to the bottom of, regardless of political damage, then the Lin Sue investigation is a national disgrace. Wow, you’re really going at that coffee, huh?

Cooper: Disgraceful, indeed. What did you ever feel about Marvin Lewis’ role in the murder? As the head coach, I have to wonder how he could not have been interviewed considering his familiarity with the team roster. Though I understand he does not hold that position today.

The flight attendant approaches from the front of the plane and sets fresh drinks before Costas and Cooper.

Flight Attendant: I hope both of your flights are going well. I brought fresh drinks for each of you — Mr Cooper, how is your coffee?

Cooper: Miss, I have to tell you, this may be the best cup of coffee I have had in years. Damn good. And served with a smile on my way to lovely Los Angeles. What could be better?

Flight Attendant: Well, I’m sorry to inform you both that, due to a flight traffic condition, we are unfortunately going to have to divert to Phoenix. We assure you that, once accommodations are available, we will have you to LA. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. We will begin making arrangements for landing in a moment.

Costas (watching the Flight Attendant walk away): Nice yams on her, eh pal?

Cooper: Sure. So what do you think of the new coach that replaced Lewis? I mean, do you think his appointment to the position had anything to do with covering up the murder?

Costas: Marvin Lewis was not a good postseason coach and Mike Brown doesn’t know how to hire. These types of truths are all over this murder mystery. I guess that’s what is so damn perplexing about all this — these are 21st century organizations here, we’re talking about. The FBI, the Bengals, the NFL, the Cincinnati PD — and they all came out looking like fools. They’re either incompetent or corrupt and I’m not sure anyone hopes to find the answer that.

Cooper: But you think Lewis may still have some valuable information then? And may speak more openly now that he is no longer with the team?

The intercom comes to life as the pilot informs “all passengers” that the flight crew is preparing for the descent to Phoenix’s Sky Harbor Airport. 

Costas: You can ask him yourself. Lewis is the co-defensive coordinator for the Arizona State Sun Devils in Tempe. Just take the light rail east from Sky Harbor and it’ll take you right to the university. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to begin my breathing exercises to get through this landing. Good luck with your case in LA.