I was 12 when I first became fascinated with the Alcatraz escape. While other kids were reading Goosebumps, I was flipping through a dusty library book about America’s most notorious prison breaks, completely mesmerized by three men who might’ve pulled off the impossible. (My mom was concerned, to say the least.)
The Escape That Haunts My True Crime Dreams
On the night of June 11, 1962, three inmates vanished from Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary, leaving behind dummy heads made of soap, toilet paper, and real human hair in their beds. Talk about arts and crafts with a purpose.
Frank Morris and brothers John and Clarence Anglin didn’t just escape—they disappeared into thin air, leaving behind one of the most fascinating cold cases in American history.
Their plan was as meticulous as my true crime podcast spreadsheet (which Ryan regularly mocks me for maintaining). Using stolen spoons and a homemade drill cobbled together from a vacuum cleaner motor, they spent months digging through the walls of their cells to access an unguarded utility corridor.
The Masterminds Behind the Mystery
Frank Morris wasn’t your average criminal. With an IQ of 133, he was the brains of the operation—the Ted Bundy of prison escapes, minus the murder and creepy charm. He’d already escaped from other prisons, making Alcatraz his ultimate challenge.
The Anglin brothers were bank robbers who’d grown up swimming in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan—a skill that would prove crucial if they had any hope of surviving the bay’s deadly currents.
Allen West, a fourth conspirator, got stuck in his cell when the cement around his vent hardened. Poor guy missed the boat—literally—and ended up being the key source for investigators trying to piece together what happened. Talk about FOMO.
Did They Make It? (The Question That Keeps Me Up At Night)
The FBI maintained for decades that the escapees drowned in the frigid waters of San Francisco Bay, their bodies swept out to sea. Case closed, nothing to see here, move along.
But I’m not buying it. And neither are plenty of others.
Evidence found on Angel Island suggests they at least made it that far. A homemade paddle and some personal effects washed ashore, but no bodies were ever recovered. For a prison surrounded by what guards called “nature’s perfect escape deterrent,” that’s pretty suspicious.
The Anglin family has maintained for years that the brothers survived and fled to Brazil. In 2013, the FBI received a letter allegedly written by John Anglin: “Yes we all made it that night but barely… I’m 83 years old and in bad shape. I have cancer.”
Is it legit? The FBI couldn’t verify it, but my true crime spidey senses are tingling. (Ryan says I need to stop saying that.)
The Investigation That Never Ends
The Alcatraz escape remains an active case even though the FBI officially closed their investigation in 1979. That’s about as satisfying as a Netflix documentary that ends mid-sentence.
U.S. Marshals have continued investigating, following up on alleged sightings and family claims. The case is slated to remain open until the escapees’ 99th birthdays—which means we’ve got until 2030 for John Anglin and 2031 for Clarence.
Morris would be 96 now, making survival increasingly unlikely—but not impossible. I mean, Betty White made it to 99, and she didn’t have the motivation of escaping federal prison.
Why This Case Lives Rent-Free in My Head
What fascinates me most about this legendary prison break isn’t just the Shawshank-level ingenuity—it’s the complete disappearance. In today’s world of surveillance cameras, facial recognition, and social media, vanishing completely seems impossible.
These men either died anonymously in the bay that night or pulled off the most complete disappearing act in criminal history. Either way, they became legends.
I’ve spent countless hours poring over the case files (much to Ryan’s dismay—”Can we please watch something that’s NOT about prison escapes?”). The more I learn, the more convinced I am that at least one of them made it.
Maybe it’s because I want to believe people can beat impossible odds. Or maybe it’s because the alternative—three men dying alone in dark, cold waters—is just too depressing for my true crime-loving heart to accept.
What do you think happened? Did they survive the swim, or did San Francisco Bay claim three more victims that night? Let me know in the comments—I’ve got theories for days and no one to share them with (Ryan has officially instituted a “no Alcatraz talk during dinner” rule).