Danny Casolaro: The Octopus

An investigative journalist chasing down an international conspiracy with tendrils reaching into every recent, major scandal. It sounds like something out of a Netflix movie. Surely such a screenplay-worthy story couldn’t have any basis in reality. Or could it? How does an undistinguished writer from Northern Virginia end up tangled in such a convoluted conspiracy? The better question would be how he died in pursuit of this story.

According to Wikipedia, Joseph Danny Casolaro was born on June 16, 1947 in McLean, Virginia. Growing up in Northern Virginia, he attended mostly Catholic schools throughout his childhood. Danny was the second born to a family of seven children. The large family lived quite comfortably due to his father’s occupation as an obstetrician. As financially fortunate as they may have been, the family suffered much loss and tragedy. One of Danny’s brothers died from a heart defect at the young and tender age of just one. Then one of his sisters, Lisa, took off during the Summer of Love in 1969. She ran off to Haight-Ashbury at only seventeen-years-old, where she died from a drug overdose.

Danny didn’t take the loss of his sister well at all. The way she had died effected him deeply. There was a degree of anger that he held towards her for running away and ending up as she did.

A Washington Post article best described Danny Casolaro as the charismatic kind of soul that could quite literally light up a room. He had the ability to make everyone around him feel special and truly seen. A friend of his was quoted by the Washington Post as saying that you may very well meet fifty people that knew Danny that would tell you they were his best friend. These weren’t just leeches, clinging on after his death. No, Danny genuinely made each and every person in his life feel that important because to him, they really were.

Though he liked to hang out in bars, he wasn’t known to drink heavily. He liked Budweiser, but beautiful women were his vice. If one was to ask him what he liked best about his life though, he would’ve probably said his friends. A writer himself, he was a particularly big fan of musician and composer Tom Waits, singer-songwriter Randy Newman, and author Ernest Hemingway.

He’s been fondly remembered as a compassionate and caring person, especially around holidays and birthdays. Many of his friends’ most cherished memories of him exist within these special days, where so many good ones do. Danny just couldn’t stand the idea of someone spending such a day alone, or depressed. Any friend of his having a lonely holiday or birthday was always invited to his home to spend it with him.

Ann Klenk was close with Danny and holds many warm and special memories of him. One in particular took place just weeks after her fortieth birthday. She had been depressed when she went out to meet her old, dear friend for drinks. Upon returning from a trip to the bathroom, she found Danny with his back turned to her and his arms raised. He turned to give her a wink before conducting the entire crowd in singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her. When the singing concluded, she told him that her birthday has passed weeks ago. He responded by saying that every day should be her birthday. She was quoted by the Washington Post as saying that Danny could make any night of the week feel as though it were New Years Eve.

He had the ability to walk into a room full of strangers and make friends effortlessly. His personality could draw people in and hold them there. Ann recalled a time that he had escorted her to her high school reunion. Danny had never met any of the people that she attended high school with, but that didn’t matter. He made such an impression on her classmates that one expectant couple in attendance decided to name their child after him.

Another friend of his, Arthur Weinfield, commented on his quality of character. He wasn’t one to speak ill of another person behind their back. When Arthur would speak about someone else in his presence, he would quickly remember himself and stop. Though Danny never said a word to him about it, Arthur would become very aware that his friend didn’t do such things. He wasn’t that kind of person.

While there are many people that will exaggerate and embellish their own accomplishments, Danny wasn’t known to. In fact, he was more likely to embellish the accomplishments of his friends than his own. As Ann recalled, he “made us larger than life.”

A journalist by trade, he was a natural writer. Songs, poems, short stories, anything he set his mind to, he could write. When an old man that he’d known well passed away, Danny wrote a song just for him and sang it at his funeral.

The man with a weakness for beautiful women met his match in Terrill Pace. A former Miss Virginia, Terrill was a striking beauty that Danny fell hard for. They were married for ten years, having their only child shortly after tying the knot. Their son, Joseph Daniel, was the apple of his father’s eye. Danny called him “Trey.”

The happy family lived on a few acres of land in Fairfax, Virginia, where they raised Arabian horses. They never had a lot of money, but that wasn’t what mattered to them. They had each other and many friends, with whom there was a standing open-door policy at their home. Any time of the day or night their friends were welcome to drop by unannounced for some beer or wine, and good conversation. Arthur recalled Danny’s knack for entertaining on a budget. He could make a spread out of just “a couple of chickens from the Giant and some cheese” Finding a good bottle of wine anywhere from four to six dollars almost seemed a talent of his.

He was a smoker, but he’d never used drugs in his life. Likely a decision made out of the mixed feelings over losing his sister. Not once did he ever even as much as smoke a joint. Not until the final days of his life did he ever drink excessively, either. He was known to be in control of himself.

Though he had been deeply in love with his wife, the marriage fell apart when she began to suspect him of being unfaithful. Their divorce was ugly and ended with Danny obtaining full custody of their son. Being very close with Joseph Daniel, this was the best possible outcome for the newly single dad.

His next long relationship would last for seven years. He met Wendy Weaver at a party in 1985. After their meet-cute, he anonymously sent her a bouquet of roses signed, “Possibly yours.” He won her over with this simple gesture and the rest was history. Wendy never tricked herself into believing that her boyfriend wanted any kind of serious commitment. He loved gorgeous women and she knew that. Regardless, she opted to stay with him, even living with him for a time before moving back into a place of her own. Even after moving out, the couple continued their relationship for some time.

Money troubles were the common state of Danny’s life, but it never bothered him. He was even quite generous with what little he had. Wendy recalled his selflessness in an act committed at the Madison Hotel. Witnessing a homeless woman in front of the hotel, he decided to help. He argued with the desk clerk until he secured a room for her. On top of that, he also left her with $150 for whatever she may need.

By 1991, he had been working for more than a year on a story involving a global conspiracy. This conspiracy tied together several known scandals as well as alleged ones. The Iran-contra affair, the Bank of Credit and Commerce International, even the Justice Department’s alleged theft of software from the computer company, Inslaw. All of this and more tied into a conspiracy that Danny Casolaro dubbed “the Octopus.” He really felt that he was hot on the trail of something big.

To say that investigative journalism was his bread and butter would be a major overstatement. All That’s Interesting stated that his career path was one that he had fallen into rather than chose. Originally journalism had been nothing more than a hobby, like boxing, writing poetry, and raising Arabian horses had been to him. The articles that he wrote involved current events, like the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Cold War. Much of his work was never published, though. He was talented with a pen, but he just couldn’t seem to find success as a writer. His rather light portfolio included articles written for such publications as Home & Auto, El Dorado News Times, and Media Horizons. He also published a novel after paying a vanity press.

Because his portfolio didn’t carry the same weight of other journalists, he fudged the details of his resume. It stated that he had pursued some very “important investigative efforts of the last twenty years.” Supposedly he had also published articles for both newspapers and scientific journals. This was not true.

An attempt at entrepreneurship ended in a flop that would’ve devastated and discouraged most. Danny never let his light bank account or his money troubles burden him, though. He was also quite good at keeping his head held high while life continued to throw curve balls. For several years he worked as a freelance writer from home, giving him the opportunity to spend more time with his son.

The biggest challenge his career had to toss at him was in the form of a small company responsible for printing specialized newsletters. They also printed Computer Daily, which was very popular at the time. When he acquired the company there was no writing staff to speak of. He was the only writer churning out all of the newsletters on his own. The hard work and long hours took a toll on him and he sold the company in 1989, not making much from the sale. He may have been a good writer, but he was no businessman. The buyer was described as a “sharp negotiator.” Poor Danny just didn’t stand a chance at getting a good deal.

For a brief time after selling, he actually stayed on as an employee. The transition from owner to worker bee turned out to be harder than he’d anticipated, though. He ended up forced out of the company not long after the sale. It was at this time that his preoccupation with the Insalw case would take root, growing into a dangerous obsession.

It was likely the overwhelming amount of downtime he found himself with that led him directly down the rabbit hole, never to return. It’s not uncommon for those faced with unemployment to find a distraction from the depression that the sudden instability can bring. Distractions can be a great coping mechanism, but it’s important not to lose yourself to them.

It began as most conspiracy theories do. With one allegation. Inslaw accused the Justice Department outright of stealing software from their company. From there, Danny began tying threads together as he concocted his “octopus” theory. It involved an untouchable crime lord with international reach.

As he devoted all of his time to the pursuit of this story, he found that he wasn’t the only one diving down a hole of such intrigue. There was another writer investigating a very similar story until he was contacted by Danny. Perhaps as a way of scaring his competition away, he informed the writer that he had already been offered a book and a movie deal for his story. This turned out to be a lie.

Danny had tried to have his ramblings on the subject published, but it didn’t go well. Roger Donald, top editor of Little, Brown Book at that time, commented on his proposal for the book. He said it was nothing that would’ve ever been published. Roger found his submitted proposal to be “very unprofessional.” Just a couple of weeks before he would be found dead, Danny made another try at submitting his proposal. Roger said that it showed no improvement whatsoever. If he had been onto something, Roger commented, he didn’t seem to be able to express it. He added that if someone had actually killed him over that manuscript, they “made a mistake.”

His persistent search for answers was running him out of money. It’s not as though this were something he wasn’t used to, but it seemed that for the first time in his life he was actually starting to feel the burden of his financial troubles. He wrote to his agent that he would soon “be looking into the face of an oncoming train.” Though his burden was heavy, he still didn’t outwardly behave as such.

His good friend, Arthur Weinfield, put no credence into his “octopus” theory. A retired National Security Agent, Arthur found much of Danny’s so-called evidence to be a lot of nonsense. He wondered if his friend hadn’t concocted a conspiracy within his own mind, tying nonexistent threads together until he was left with a mess of incomprehensible junk.

Danny would often call Arthur about depositions he’d found, or information he’d run across. The experienced former agent was always a little more than skeptical. Not only did his sources sound sketchy, but the information was out there. After his death, many old newspaper clippings, names of CIA employees, and arms dealers were found within his notes. Arthur was worried that his search may lead to some kind of trouble. He was looking into some powerful people as well as some shady places. The intrepid writer could’ve found himself in deep with the wrong people over a mistaken belief.

Out of concern, Arthur urged Danny to read “Foucault’s Pendulum,” by Umberto Eco. The story follows protagonists that invent a fictional conspiracy. A group of people come to believe their conspiracy and eventually kill them. He thought that his friend may benefit from reading such a story. In his mind Danny was unintentionally creating a conspiracy all his own, and it had the potential to lead to consequences if he found himself digging too far into the wrong places.

Several scandals all came together like a Transformer robot to create Danny Casolaro’s theory. He deeply believed them all to be connected by an international cabal. The October Surprise theory, which stated the Iran hostage crisis was deliberately holding Americans in order to help Reagan win his 1980 presidential election, tied right into Inslaw’s allegations in his mind. The collapse of the Bank of Credit and Commerce International and the Iran-contra affair also found their way into his ever-expanding theory.

The research that was left behind after his death didn’t tell much. It did, however, reveal that he’d gotten in over his head. His notes had been heavily influenced by the Christic Institute, a public interest law firm founded by Daniel Sheehan, his wife, Sara Nelson, their partner, William J. Davis, and a Jesuit priest. The group founded the firm after their work on the Silkwood case. Danny was also receiving information from a reporter working for Lyndon LaRouche.

By the time he found himself at the bottom of the hole he so enthusiastically dove into, he was deep into guns, drugs, and organized crime. One source of his was only ever identified by the name Danny had given him. “Danger Man” connected many of the dots for him. This unnamed source even claimed to know what was really going on at Area 51. When he began to receive harassing phone calls it should’ve come as no surprise given the kind of research he was doing.

On August 8, 1991, Danny arrived in Martinsburg, West Virginia on the hunt for more information. Set to meet with “Danger Man” in person, he checked into the Sheraton Hotel and prepared for his much anticipated meeting. He spent two days in Martinsburg before a hotel staff member made a very grim discovery. He was found in the bathtub, the victim of an apparent suicide. At only 44-years-old he departed from this world in what would turn out to be rather strange and suspicious circumstances.

The brief note left behind would lead one to believe it had been suicide that ended the life of this talented writer. The fact that his family has never been allowed to view this note throws it into the shade, though. Authorities claimed that procedure was followed to the letter concerning his case, but he was embalmed with all haste on a Sunday before his family was even notified of his death. Friends and relatives all thought this to be extremely strange. His death was initially ruled a suicide given the way he was found, but no one believed that he would’ve done such a thing.

Many argued that Danny wasn’t the type to have killed himself. The feelings he had harbored over his sister leaving their family spiraling in grief was enough to tell those who truly knew him that he wouldn’t have left his loved ones behind willingly. Ann Klenk commented that even if he were to do such a thing, he would’ve leapt from the Empire State Building “with firecrackers.” Instead he was found completely naked in the bathtub with his wrists slashed up to twelve times. Given the fact that he was both squeamish of blood and embarrassed of being seen naked, no one was buying that Danny had killed himself in such a way.

His ex-girlfriend, Wendy, had the hardest time of anyone believing the details of his so-called suicide. Having lived with him for some time, she was well aware of his aversion to blood. She also knew better than most how he felt about being seen naked. Even if he were to do such a thing, he most certainly would’ve been fully clothed.

Longtime friend Joe Lane recalled just how wrapped up Danny had become in his theory when he last saw him. When his old friend made the drive to Richmond to visit, he noticed how much “more reserved” he had become since the last time they met. It was just a couple of months before he would be discovered dead in his hotel room and he revealed to Joe the threatening phone calls he’d been receiving. Joe asked why he didn’t just drop the story and move on. Danny just couldn’t let it go. He said that he was in too deep to the biggest thing he’d ever encountered. This, he assured Joe, was bigger than anything he could’ve dreamed of.

Covering his bases, he also informed his family of the menacing phone calls. They have firmly believed since his death that he was killed by the powers he was trying to expose. It’s the only sense they’ve ever been able to make out of his sudden and suspicious death.

His final days were a confusing mess to anyone trying to figure out what was really going on. The only thing we can say for sure is that the crushing weight of his financial problems had finally started to squeeze the life out of him. He was very upset about not yet being offered a book deal for “The Octopus.” The harassing phone calls that exclusively occurred throughout the night were disturbing his sleep, ensuring that he could never get a full night of peaceful rest. He was drinking more heavily than he ever had in his life as he seemed to hit the rock bottom of his spiral. Just five days before his death he informed a friend that Time magazine asked him to write a piece on his deep, dark research. His claim was never proven to be true, though.

His housekeeper was given short notice of his trip to Martinsburg as he prepared to leave that very day. She recalled him hastily packing a briefcase with a stack of papers before rushing out in a hurry. All he told her as he left with all haste was that he was meeting with a source that would break his story wide open. She couldn’t have imagined that she would be relaying this information to the police within just a couple of days. After her employer took off on his fateful trip the housekeeper was left to look after his home. While she was there she received several of the threatening, foreboding calls that were meant for him. She was asked to pass along such messages as her boss being “fed to the sharks.” These calls set her on edge as she waited for him to return.

The two days that he spent in Martinsburg, Danny was not easily traced. Only a few mentions were made of him from witnesses that either shared a quick meal or had a brief meeting with him at the Sheraton. These witnesses were able to confirm that he did not appear suicidal when they encountered him, though. His neighbor at the hotel was the last person to see him alive. He commented to the neighbor that he had come to meet with a source, but it appeared that he had been ghosted. After this brief encounter, he left for some coffee, never to be seen alive again.

When police entered his hotel room there wasn’t much to be found. It appeared that no struggle had taken place. There wasn’t much in the room aside from a beer can, some trash bags, and a single razor blade. They made no attempt at collecting evidence from the tub before draining the water. One look at the note scribbled down on a notepad in the room gave authorities all the reason they needed to write this off as a suicide.

The FBI actually requested further work on this case. They weren’t satisfied with the ruling of his death and wanted it looked into more carefully. It was found that some documentation had been withheld from the public with no explanation whatsoever. Despite the FBI’s urging for answers, none were ever found. No investigation into this case has ever provided any sense of clarity.

The strange and menacing phone calls were never looked into. The missing documents never shared with the public have never been discovered or explained. For the last thirty-two years his family and close friends have been left to wonder why more wasn’t done for the man that made life bigger than itself. If they can agree on nothing else they can all agree that he most certainly didn’t kill himself. They firmly believe that whatever he had stumbled upon in his research, it led to his death.

Even after all of these years no one knows what really happened in that hotel room in Martinsburg, West Virginia. Many conspiracy theories have been spun, but that’s all they are. Theories. Due to missing documents, half-assed investigations, and piles of notes and research that made no sense to anyone but Danny, this case will never be solved. The sad and unfortunate truth is that no one aside from Danny and whoever was in that room with him that day will ever know the details of Danny Casolaro’s death.