I vividly remember the moment this technique paid off and Frank admitted to pulling the trigger. He called my cell phone as I walked out of Cristina’s restaurant in Ketchum, Idaho, after lunch in October 2000, almost two years after our new round of interviews had begun. “That matter we’ve been talking about…” Frank said. “Sure.” “That matter, you could say that I did it.” “I could say anything, Frank, as long as it’s the truth. Did you do it? Are you telling me you did it?” “Right.” “Are you telling me you shot Hoffa?” “Right. Yeah.” “Good for you, Frank. You knew I knew it, anyway, but it’s
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