The next day I expected the lead news story to be my confession. I prepared for this by setting up camp in the woods in a spot close enough to a town to be able to pick up a network station on a portable TV. The Mercedes sports car was not designed to go off road, so I carefully picked a fire road that it could negotiate. So for two days I camped in the woods waiting for something to break, but nothing did.

On the third day I went back into civilization, to get on the Internet. The only place I could find any reference to my confession was on Neal's site. Everyone else seemed to be ignoring it. I wasn't that bothered by this. After giving the interview I had begun to think it was a mistake. Perhaps it was best if everyone did ignore it.

One of the stops I made was at a spy shop in Birmingham, Alabama. That was interesting in that one of the items the guy tried to sell me was a cheap $80 lie detector that he was proud of. It looked like a toy to me so I wasn't interested. The guy wanted to prove his point so he held it up to me and said, "Is your name really John Walker?" I said yes and the machine beeped twice, indicating that I was lying. I said, "See, it doesn't work." So he said, "One more try. Are you wanted by the FBI?" I laughed and said no. Two beeps. "That thing sucks," I said. "How much for the bullet proof vest." After I dropped a considerable amount of cash on goodies and left, the guy went to the FBI web site and found my face. Turns out he was so sure of his little gadget that he knew I was lying. I barely made it out of Birmingham.

By November 29th I had put my confession out of my mind and was moving on. That night I checked into a motel room and as is my habit, turned the TV on for background noise. With my back to the TV I heard my name, so I turned around to see Attorney General John Ashcroft and the Director of the FBI standing in front of a large version of my FBI 10 Most Wanted poster. The story had broken and the FBI was on the case. They still insisted that I had help with the attack, but that I was the prime suspect.

With my face on the news I left the room and found a place in the woods to spend the night.

The next morning, I stopped at a rural gas station to get coffee and a snack for breakfast. The small town local paper was on the counter and on its front page was my face. The clerk didn't recognize me, but after a few more stops I figured out that this was a full court press with my face on every newspaper in the country. It was back to the woods for a few days. I didn't know how long they would keep up that level of pressure, but I knew my days were numbered.