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January 31, 2025

Drents Museum Heist: Two Suspects Named, Search for Stolen Artifacts Continues

In a significant development in the Drents Museum burglary case, Dutch authorities have publicly identified two suspects: Douglas Chesley Wendersteyt and Bernhard Zeeman, both residents of Heerhugowaard.  The duo is alleged to have been involved in the theft of invaluable Dacian artefacts, including a 2,500-year-old golden helmet of Coțofenești as well as three solid gold spirals, from the museum in Assen. 

The heist, which occurred in the Netherlands on January 25, 2025, has been described by Drents Museum director Harry Tupan as the most significant incident in the institution's 170-year history.  Following the burglary, investigators discovered a bag containing clothing in Assen, which along with other investigative traces, led them to Wendersteyt and Zeeman.  Authorities have since released the names and two photographs of the two of the three suspects under investigation and are appealing to the public for any information regarding their whereabouts or activities in the days leading up to and immediately after the theft. 

In addition to Wendersteyt and Zeeman, the third individual, a woman, also from Heerhugowaard, has been arrested in connection with the case. Her identity has not been disclosed, but Dutch and Romanian news reports suggest that she and one of the male suspects are a couple with two young children. 

Zeeman, aged 34, has (at least for now) a profile on LinkedIn which describes him as a scaffolding fitter and carpenter.  Dutch news agency De Telegraaf indicates he was convicted of a very violent house robbery in Heerhugowaard in 2014 in which he was sentenced to 5.5 years in prison for his role in a home invasion in which a 12-year-old girl, her eight year old brother, and their parents were tied up and threatened with a gun.  In that incident the thieves made off with the family’s Audi A6 as well as jewellery.  

Wendersteyt is also reported as having a criminal record and has been convicted of, among other things, robberies in the Heerhugowaard region.

The stolen artefacts from the Drents Museum are considered Romanian national treasures, and their theft has elicited strong reactions from Romanian officials, who are concerned about the potential loss of such culturally significant items. 

As the investigation continues, Dutch police are continuing to urge anyone with information about the suspects or the missing artefacts to come forward.  The authorities are particularly interested in details regarding the suspects' movements and any potential accomplices involved in the heist.

By:  Lynda Albertson

January 30, 2025

Judge Rules Against Safani Gallery in Fight Over Stolen Marble Head of Alexander

Image Credit: Safani Gallery TEFAF Maastricht advertisement

On 12 November 2019 Safani Gallerym through their attorney David Schoen, filed a Federal lawsuit in the Southern District of New York seeking a declaratory judgment declaring that Safani Gallery, Inc. seeking, along with damages, a declaratory judgment that the gallery was the exclusive owner of a stolen, circa-1st-century CE, marble Head of Alexander and that the country of Italy had no rights in, or claims to, the artefact.  The case was assigned to US District Judge Vernon S. Broderick, in the Southern District of New York.

On 2 August 2021, Judge Broderick dismissed the case, finding that Italy was protected from being sued in U.S. Court by the Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act (FSIA).  Subsequent to that ruling, and through their attorney, Safani then amended its complaint, adding the Italian Ministry of Culture Heritage and Activities and Tourism (“MiBACT”) and the New York District Attorney's Office as defendants, asserting that the DA had violated its Fourth and Fourteenth Amendment rights.

Italy, its Ministry of Culture, and the DA subsequently sought a dismissal of the Second Amended Complaint filed by the New York antiquities gallery which was  attempting to block the return of the ancient head of Alexander the Great as Helios, the Sun God to the country of its origin. 

On Tuesday, 28 January 2025, Judge Broderick, again, concluded that Italy and its cultural ministry were immune under the FSIA and granted the District Attorney's motion to dismiss the Gallery's amended complaint, additionally finding that Safani lacked Article III standing to bring its federal claims against the State's DA.  Accordingly, Count IV was also dismissed. 

In making his ruling Broderick elaborated:
“A finding that the Manhattan DA violated the Constitution by seizing the Head without probable cause and without due process would not change the fact that only the state court can order the disposition of the Head.”
 
“Finally, although “the state-law issues [are] not so groundbreaking as to preclude the exercise of jurisdiction” under 28 U.S.C. § 1367(a)(1), Korshnyi, 771 F.3d at 102, the consideration of comity also weighs in favor of dismissal, because dismissal avoids “needless” federal-court “decisions of state law,” Valencia, 316 F.3d at 305 (quoting United Mine Workers v.Gibbs, 383 U.S. 715, 726 (1966)).”

The backstory on this case

Previously on Monday, 23 July 2018 Matthew Bogdanos, Senior Trial Counsel in the Office of New York County District, through District Attorney Cyrus R. Vance Jr., submitted an Application for Turnover in support of an order pursuant to N.Y. Penal Law §450.10 (Consol. 2017) and N.Y. Criminal Procedure Law §690.55 (Consol. 2017) authorising the transfer of the circa-1st-century CE marble head of Alexander the Great as Helios, the Sun God, seized pursuant to a previously executed search warrant, from the custody of the court, to the custody of Italy.

To that end, and under order of the Supreme Court of the State of New York, County of New York, the antiquity had been seized at Safani Gallery on 22 February 2018, and was taken into evidence as part of a state investigation seeking to demonstrate the crime of Criminal Possession of Stolen Property in the Second Degree.  This seizure was based on suspicions that the object had been stolen and at some point illegally exported from the country of origin in contravention of Italy’s cultural heritage law (No 364/1909).

Since 2018 the object had been retained as evidence by the New York authorities while Safani's complaint and second amended complaint was being heard within the US justice system. 

In terms of its history, DANY's court documents set out that the head was discovered during excavations of the Basilica Aemilia, located on the Via Sacra.  This is the ancient road between the Capitoline Hill and the Colosseum located within the Roman Forum in Rome. While little remains of the Basilica Aemilia today, it was considered by Rome historian Pliny the Elder to be one of the three most beautiful elements of the Roman Forum, this alongside the Forum of Augustus and the Temple of Peace. 

Looking across the remains of the Basilica Aemilia
towards the Severan Arch,
the Tabularium, and the Modern Senate House
Image Credit: B. Dolan
The head was discovered at some point during Italian research excavations carried out by Drs. Professors Giacomo Boni and later by Professor Alfonso Bartoli which were carried out on the Palatine Hill between 1899 and 1939.  Documentation from the excavations suggest that the head belongs to one of the “Statues of Parthian Barbarians” which once adorned the Basilica.

After 20 BCE Roman art often portrayed the people of the Empire and during its restoration in 14 BCE, Augustus chose to line the Basilica with a series of Parthian figurines, perhaps in humiliation of Rome's ancient foreign enemy.  Representing individuals from the Parthian Empire (also known as the Arsacid Empire), these likenesses depicted the conquered Parthians as representatives of the Orbis Alter, subjects of Rome which were not considered to be part of the “civilised” world.  Stylistically, they differ from representations we have from the same period of people from the Orbis Romanus. 

According to court documents, the Italian Soprintendenza alle Antichità Palatino e Foro Romano began keeping archival photographic documentation of the objects discovered during the lengthy excavation starting in 1908.  Based on these records, the head of Alexander the Great, seized from the New York gallery, is believed to have been discovered during the second phase of these excavations which began after 1909. This dating is derived as the Italian authorities have no written, descriptive entries or photographic archival documentation of any marble head finds from the Roman forum of the Barbarian statues prior to 1909.   It was also not until September 1909 that Dr. Professor Bartoli's team began their explorations in the zone of the Basilica Aemilia.  As a result of this and other evidence described in the New York Court's Application for Turnover it seems most likely that the marble head was found sometime around 1910.

Bear in mind 1909 is a critical date as it is this year that Italy's Code of the Cultural and Landscape Heritage (No 364/1909) was made into law.  According to this law, there is a presumption of the State's ownership for all archaeological objects discovered after 1909, unless the cultural Ministry acknowledges that the object does not have a cultural interest, something it would never do for objects located inside Rome's culturally significant Roman Forum.

Italy's archival records from the Forum excavation document an image of the head of Alexander, taken after it was excavated, resting separately on a table at the Museo Forense cloister as well as other photos in which the object is pictured with additional finds.  While the date of the actual theft of this head, and another second missing object which was also stolen, is undetermined, the incident is believed to have occurred sometime before 1959.

What we can define with certainty, on the basis of the dating of the archival photograph, along with the excavation records of the start date of the Basilica site excavation, and documentation of the dates the Museo Forense cloister would have been available to be used as a evidentiary photographic venue, this object indisputably has Italy as its country of origin.  Predicated on the foregoing evidence, it can be proven that the marble head of Alexander was illegally removed from Italian territory after the 1909 law was enacted.

It is on this basis that the object has been defined as stolen property by the State of New York, as its removal from the custody of the Italian authorities was in contravention of the 1909 Italian law.  Also, according to New York law, a thief can never acquire good title.  It should be noted that the removal of the head of Alexander from the Republic of Italy without an export license from the Italian governmental authorities authorising its removal from the territory is also a further violation of Italian law.

Interestingly though, like many stolen works of art illicitly obtained, antiquities remain fairly easy to launder, being sold over and over again through a lack of adequate due diligence in some of the finest, legitimate, marketplaces and to, and through, some of the richest collectors in the world.  

In this instance, the Alexander head has sold in the United States and in the United Kingdom on multiple occasions.

But where was the object bought and sold? 

While the documentation of this object's collection history is spartan, we know that on 22 November 1974 the head of Alexander sold for a mere $650, having been consigned by the Hagop Kevorkian fund to Sotheby Parke Bernet.  Sotheby’s Auction House acquired Parke Bernet Galleries in 1964 and adopted the name Sotheby Parke Bernet throughout the 1970s.  Today, this auction house is known simply as Sotheby’s.  The buyer at the time was listed only as "Altertum Ltd."

Sometime after that date the object was then purportedly purchased by Professor Oikonomides who indicated to others that he purchased the object while vacationing in Cairo, Egypt sometime between 1984 and 1986.  The object was then bequeathed to Dr. Miller by Oikonomides through his estate when he passed away in 1988.

Sotheby's Website Screen Capture
taken 24 July 2018
On 08 December 2011 the object sold at Sotheby's for a second time during Sotheby’s Egyptian, Classical and Western Asiatic Antiquities sale .

At the time of this auction, the purported provenance for the object was listed as:

Hagop Kevorkian (1872-1962), New York, most likely acquired prior to World War II
The Hagop Kevorkian Fund (Sotheby Parke Bernet, New York, November 22nd, 1974, no. 317, illus.)
A.N. Oikonomides, Chicago

But with very little in the way of documentation to confirm this narrative.

The object sold to an unidentified buyer for $92,500 USD.

In May 2017, the head of Alexander surfaced across the Atlantic.  This time the ancient marble head went up for sale in the United Kingdom, having once been in the possession of former Qatari culture minister and cousin of the current ruler of the oil-rich Arab country, Sheikh Saud bin Mohammed Ali Al-Thani.  Before his death in 2014 Sheikh Saud Al-Thani was believed to have been the world's richest art collector.

Through Classical Galleries Limited, UK the Sheikh’s foundation sold the head of Alexander to Alan Safani of Safani Gallery for $152,625 on June 20, 2017.

Object Identified

Safani Gallery Booth - TEFAF 2018
Image Credit: L. Albertson
By an amazing bit of serendipity, on 19 February 2018 Dr. Patrizia Fortini, Director and Coordinator of the Archaeological Site of the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill chanced upon an advertisement which featured a photo of the stolen head in a publication for the upcoming 2018 Fine Arts Expo known as TEFAF.  In the dealer's documentation, a photograph of the marble head had been included highlighting Safani Gallery's offerings for the upcoming Maastricht sale scheduled to be held in the Netherlands from March 10 through 18 in 2018.

The photo in the advertisement and the old archival documentation photo of the head in the Museo Forense’s cloister were identified as one and the same object and as a result, Italy moved forward in requesting the object's seizure.

For now Judge Broderick’s decision has recognised the primacy of state court jurisdiction in adjudicating disputes over the seizure of stolen antiquities. Leaving the ultimate question of who owns the Head to the state court, he observed:
“[a] finding that the Manhattan DA violated the Constitution by seizing the Head without probable cause and without due process would not change the fact that only the state court can order the disposition of the Head.”
For now, Safani has one month to appeal against Judge Broderick's final dismissal decision.  

To view the New York Application for Turnover in its entirety, please see here.
To view the New York February 22, 2018 Seizure Order, please see here.
To view the the US District Court's 28 January 2025 Dismissal Order, please see here.

By:  Lynda Albertson 


Dutch Police Seek Public Help to Identify Fourth Suspect in Drents Museum Theft

In a significant development after four days of searching, Dutch police in Heerhugowaardin have arrested three individuals for their possible involvement in the burglary and theft at the Drents Museum in Assen.  The stolen artefacts, including a priceless 2,500-year-old Geto-Dacian golden helmet and three solid gold spiral bangles —treasures of immense cultural significance to Romania—were taken during a brazen heist that has drawn international attention.

The arrests were made in the northern Netherlands and the arresting authorities have indicated that the suspects come from North Holland.  Their apprehensions were the result of meticulous investigative work, involving 35 detectives and specialists working on the robbery since Saturday morning and examining evidence which included the analysis of CCTV footage and valuable information provided via tips from the public.  This shows that public and police collaborating together can result in criminals being charged and eventually brought to justice. 

Despite these arrests, the four stolen artefacts have not been recovered. 

Authorities are intensifying their efforts to locate these invaluable pieces and are again seeking the public's assistance in identifying this fourth individual. This person may have been observed in a hardware store in Assen days before the robbery and may have purchased the tools depicted here, which could be the goods that were used during the break-in. 

The police have released these photographs and urge anyone with information on this individual or who may have engaged with this many to contact the Dutch authorities.

The Drents Museum has expressed its relief over the arrests and remains hopeful for the safe return of the artefacts. The museum's director emphasised the importance of these pieces to the Romanian people and to the broader historical community. 

As the investigation continues, authorities are also appealing to the public for any information regarding the person/persons who may have been seen traveling in a that could assist in identifying this fourth individual as well as information on a dark Ford Transit van, similar this photo as it is possible that residents of the museum in Assen, or people on or around the location of the burning car under the viaduct of the N33 on the Grolloërstraat near Rolde may have information about suspicious persons or vehicles which may have been used in carrying out the burglary.


Have you seen something or have images available?  Please contact us or share your images directly via this anonymous tip form

Area Ingelandstraat, Alkmaar (theft Volkswagen Golf)
All images from January 22, 8:30 PM to January 23, 3:30 AM.
 
Area of ​​Van Aylvaweg, Witmarsum (theft of license plates)
All images from January 22, 6:00 PM to January 23, 3:30 AM.
 
Area around Julianaplein, Groningen (stolen car reported around 4:20 am)
All images from January 23, 3:45 am to 5:00 am.
 
Drents Museum area (explosion and burglary)
All images from January 25, 3:00 AM to 4:00 AM.
 
Area N33 / Grolloërstraat, Rolde (car fire, stolen Golf and possible escape)
All images from January 25, 03:30 to 04:15.
 
Area around and between Groningen and Assen (Location car wanted)
Images of gray Volkswagen Golf with license plate K-813-BK or P-343-RL.
From January 23 04.20 am to January 25 03.50 am.

January 28, 2025

Tuesday, January 28, 2025 - No comments

An Interview with Noah Charney – founder of ARCA

By Edgar Tijhuis*

Introduction

Dr. Noah Charney founded ARCA in 2006 while still a postgraduate student. He will lecture during ARCA's summer training programmes on his area of expertise: the motives and methods of forgers.

How did you get into art crime?

I became interested in art crime during my postgraduate studies in London at The Courtauld Institute, where I pursued an MA in art history. Initially torn between playwrighting and art history, I chose the latter after encouragement from professors who felt playwrighting could be self-taught.

While studying, I combined my love of art and writing, gaining experience through summer jobs at Christie’s and the Yale British Arts Center. Around this time, The Da Vinci Code and The Thomas Crown Affair remake inspired me to write my debut novel, The Art Thief, blending suspense with accurate art-world research. Its success enabled me to become a full-time writer.

What led you to the concept of an association dedicated to studying art crime?

Researching The Art Thief revealed art crime as an underdeveloped academic field with little structured study.  As I began a PhD at Cambridge on the history of art theft, I organised the first-ever art crime conference, bringing together law enforcement agencies working in the field, including folks with the FBI, Metropolitan Police, the Carabinieri, and academics, thinking academics, art historians, museum professionals, art conservators, and archaeologists could help inform future police enforcement.

The conference gained unexpected attention when The New York Times Magazine featured it, labelling me as a trailblazer pioneer in the field. This success led me to establish ARCA (the Association for Research into Crimes against Art) to bring together and to connect specialists and to promote the serious study of art crime. At the time, there were only a few dozen experts in the field, and no specialised training programs, so I decided we needed to create one. 

What has ARCA achieved?

ARCA has significantly advanced art crime studies. In 2009, we launched the first postgraduate program focused on art crime, held in a picturesque Italian town. The same year, we introduced The Journal of Art Crime, the first peer-reviewed journal in this focused area and hosted the first annual "Amelia" art crime conference.

Many of our forensic analysts and directors in allied sectors. We’ve expanded into documentaries, partnerships with companies like Samsung, and recently launched a book series with Bloomsbury.

Initially, ARCA was a homemade effort from me and my wife, but overtime many others got involved and took over the leadership of ARCA, allowing me to focus on teaching and advocacy.

Today, ARCA continues to grow, connecting academia, law enforcement, and the art world to deepen everyone's understanding of art crime.

What is the purpose of the course you are teaching this summer?

I teach a concise course on art forgery, a subject of my book The Art of Forgery (2015).  A new edition is due in late 2025 with Bloomsbury.

Forgery is a fascinating topic, filled with quirky characters and surprising stories. My approach was the first to apply a criminological framework to what had been anecdotal studies of individual forgers. One concept I developed is “the provenance trap,” which highlights how criminals manipulate provenance research to deceive experts into authenticating forgeries.

Which forger fascinates you the most?

Lothar Malskat stands out for his humorous story. He included hidden “time bombs” in his forged medieval frescoes, such as a turkey and a portrait of Marlene Dietrich, to prove he was a forger. Determined to expose himself, he even sued himself, acting as both the defendant and the prosecution!

What is it like in Amelia, where ARCA's summer program is based?

Amelia is an idyllic Umbrian hilltop town. I discovered it while teaching at Yale University, where their Italian language program was transitioning to Siena. Amelia sought a new academic program, and it was a perfect fit for ARCA.

The town is small enough that our students and professors bring economic and cultural liveliness. It’s ancient, charming, and not overly touristy, offering an authentic Italian experience. Our participants often feel “adopted” by the locals and return frequently to visit.

Amelia is also close to Rome yet affordable, making it an ideal location for our program as it keeps the costs down.  Even best-selling author Daniel Silva, whose protagonist is an art restorer, used to summer here and set a scene in one of his novels at the city's local gelateria.

What is special about this program?

Our programme was groundbreaking when it launched and remains the most comprehensive interdisciplinary programming in art and antiquities crime out there.  It combines group and individualised classroom learning with the experience of living in a beautiful Italian town.

We organize amazing field classes which are connected to the courses, evaluating risk management at museums and exploring endangered Etruscan tombs. It’s a unique blend of intense academia and real-world experiences.

Which course would you like to take yourself?

I’d love to take all the courses, but if I had to choose, it would be Tasha Dobbin Bennett’s. She’s a professor at Oxford College at Emory University and an accomplished Egyptologist and bioarchaeologist. After completing our program herself, she joined our faculty, and her course is a fantastic addition.

Any advice for participants coming to Amelia?

Just go for it. It will be one of the most enriching summers of your life, both academically and personally. And don’t forget to enjoy the cappuccinos!


* Edgar Tijhuis is the Academic Director of ARCA. 


January 26, 2025

Looted Treasures Twice Over: The Daring Heist of Dacian Gold in Drents Museum

Drents Museum 

In the early hours of January 25, 2025, the Drents Museum in Assen, Netherlands, became the scene of a daring heist that sent shockwaves through the world of cultural heritage protection.  An explosion rocked the museum at approximately 3:45 a.m., causing significant damage to nearby buildings on the Brink and among the stolen items taken were some of the most iconic treasures of Romania's ancient Dacian kingdom, pieces already burdened by a complex and troubled history.  In its 170-year existence, such a major incident has never occurred at the museum. 

The Incident

Coinciding with the museum's ongoing exhibition Dacia - Realm of Gold and Silver, the explosion, caught on CCTV camera was engineered by at least three accomplices and facilitated their entry into the building from the landscaped area above the museum's underground extension.  The exhibition showcased 673 artefacts from Romania, many made of gold and silver and offered visitors a glimpse into the grandeur of the Dacian culture that once thrived in the area of modern-day Romania from the 1st century BCE to the 2nd century CE.

Public park and garden above Drents Museum underground extension

During the burglary, four priceless artefacts were recorded by Dutch Politie as having been stolen.  They are:

  • Three gold spiral Dacian bracelets, dating from the 1st century BCE - 1st century CE. They were originally found at the Sarmizegetusa Regia archaeological site, one of the six Dacian fortification systems included on the UNESCO Heritage List.
  • The golden helmet of Coțofenești, from the 5th century BCE.  This masterpiece of Geto-Dacian craftsmanship was discovered by children after a heavy rainstorm in 1927. 

Shortly after the explosion at the museum authorities also discovered a burned-out vehicle at 4:15 a.m. at the intersection of Grolloërstraat and Marwijksoord with the N33, near Rolde. It is not yet known if the thieves were connected to the museum's theft, but it is being speculated that the culprits may have transferred to another waiting car after setting the first ablaze.

Looted Twice Over

Stolen from the Drents Museum - Image Credit: Vibeke Berens

This is not the first time that three of the four stolen artefacts have been the target of criminals.  The heavy gold polyspiral bracelets, one of the most original creations of the Dacian artisans that survived through ages, were part of a group of 24 royal bangles plundered from the Sarmizegetusa Regia archaeological site between 1998 and 2001.  The bangles were part of a high value cache of Dacian material which some scholars believe may have been hidden as part of the gold reserves of Dacia's last king, Decebalus.


Once in circulation, the bracelets were dispersed into private collections in several countries.  Of the 24 spirals stolen between 1998 and 2001, only 13 were recovered by Romanian authorities with the assistance of collaborating law enforcement agencies in eight countries, including the United States, Germany, Serbia and Switzerland, many of which had to be purchased back from good faith purchasers.  The last was returned in May 2011 and despite the heavy costs involved, their recovery was hailed as a major victory for the protection of cultural heritage.


Sadly discussing the Drents Museum theft, former Prosecutor General of Romania, Augustin Lazăr, who worked the looting case for ten years, informed Radio Romania that:
"The stolen spirals are 3 of the first 4 Dacian royal gold bracelets recovered by Romanian authorities in January 2007."

Romanian authorities bought back these four artefacts from a U.S. collector paying US$307,000.  The bracelets, weight approximately 1 kilo each,  


Stolen from the Drents Museum
Image Credit: Vibeke Berens
The golden helmet of Coțofeneșt                                                                Weighing in at .72608 kilograms, this Getae helmet's discovery in the Romanian village of Poiana Varbilau in 1929 spared it from being lost, unlike many pieces of Romania’s National Treasury confiscated by  Russia in 1916.  It serves as a vivid reminder of the wealth and culture of these ancient peoples as craftsmen and artists.

Can (and should) priceless art be displayed in Museums?

The Drents Museum theft raises significant questions about the security needed for internationally loaned artefacts and the persistent risks tied to high-value museum thefts like those we have witnessed these past months. 

Exhibitions like Dacia - Realm of Gold and Silver or Luxe de poche. Petits objets précieux au siècle des Lumières at the the Musée Cognacq-Jay which both suffered thefts, aim to bring cultures together by sharing the marvels of our past with the world, and by fostering a greater appreciation for our shared human history.  However, incidents like these expose the real vulnerabilities inherent in displaying priceless treasures in museum settings as for every step these institutions take to make global heritage more accessible, they also must grapple with the complex challenge of safeguarding irreplaceable pieces from increasingly violent and sophisticated criminals.

While cultural exchange through artefact loans enriches global understanding, museums thefts while objects are on loan can also discourage future collaborations making these recent thefts that much more painful. Along the same theme, museums face mounting pressure to balance public access with enhanced security protocols, a task made even more daunting with limited budgets or when, like this weekend, thieves utilise heavy explosives to cary out their crimes.  

A Reflection on Yesterday's Loss

The looting of cultural heritage is not merely a theft of snuff boxes where diamonds can be pried off or Dacian gold that can be melted down, but the theft of history, identity, and shared human achievement.  To understand how these golden bracelets made their way out of Romania and onto the antiquities market, Boston-based Kogainon Films, interviewed many people, including Hungarian born and London-based antiquities dealer William Veres for a documentary film that explored the complexity of this 10+ year investigation. 

That three of these artefacts now find themselves stolen for a second time is a grim reminder of the ever-pressing challenges faced in protecting the past while still allowing for public access to cultural material which shaped our existence. 

Can you help?

Dutch Authorities are urging anyone who may have been near the Drents Museum, the site of the car fire, or along any potential escape route to come forward with any information which could prove beneficial to their investigation. If you noticed unusual activity, suspicious individuals, or vehicles between 3:00 and 4:30 a.m. on January 25, your observations may be critical to learning more about the suspects in this case.

Residents are encouraged to check any available footage from doorbell cameras or dashcams during that time frame as even minor details might provide a significant lead.

Do you have tips or information about the explosion, burglary, or the stolen artifacts? Did you see individuals lingering near the museum in the days leading up to the heist? Have you heard anything about the whereabouts of the stolen treasures, which may already be circulating in criminal circles?

If so, please contact the authorities through the following channels:

  • Tip Line: 0800-6070
  • Online Tip Form: Accessible via the police website
  • Anonymous Reporting: Meld Misdaad Anoniem at 0800-7000
  • Criminal Intelligence Team: For confidential tips, call 088-6617734

In urgent cases, dial 112. Every piece of information counts in the effort to recover these priceless cultural treasures.

January 25, 2025

Crimes, Canvases and Money Laundering: It's an older (and more complicated) crime than many think

Art is a distinctive asset class, often defined by subjective valuations and discreet sales.  It is also traded in markets where the identities of the "ultimate beneficial owner" can be concealed via shell companies and proxy buyers, making its sale's venues ideal for disguising a range of problematic transactions.  This inherent opacity makes art an appealing medium for laundering the proceeds of crime, as the anonymity of its sales transactions can obscure not only the identities of buyers and sellers but also how the purchaser's capital has been derived

While some might view money laundering through art as a contemporary misuse of the art and antiquities markets, the practice is far from a new phenomenon.  In fact, it dates back centuries as this article will discuss.

History gives us some compelling examples of how art and architecture have been leveraged in the past as a tool for wealth laundering.

While commissioning art is not inherently criminal, the Renaissance saw a diverse class of patrons—from influential nobles to emerging merchants and bankers—many of whom facilitated artistic endeavours in order to shape and define their legacies.  Likewise, some of these same patrons, accumulated at least a portion of their fortunes through morally or legally questionable means, including influence peddling, extortion, usury, smuggling, and even in some cases, theft.

As their fortunes flourished, Renaissance patrons looked beyond mere aesthetic enjoyment, leveraging their wealth as a powerful tool to secure prestige, shape influence, and cement legacies.  Much like the museum benefactors of today, the period's philanthropic commissions by the wealthy memorialised their places in their communities, presenting them as paragons of prosperity, beauty, and cultural achievement.

Through these investments, Renaissance patrons brought to life some of the era’s most iconic masterpieces—magnificent architectural achievements, from grand libraries to stunning churches, as well as sculptures, altarpieces, and paintings. Beyond enriching their communities with artistic and cultural treasures, patron endeavours could also serve a strategic purpose: rehabilitating the benefactor’s public image and diverting attention from the questionable origins of their wealth. As such, lavish support of the arts became a powerful form of social currency, cementing a patron's prestige, earning them admiration and loyalty, as well as  bolstering their political and religious influence.

The French Ambassador's Arrival in Venice (1726-1727) by Canaletto

At the crossroads of East and West, the merchants of Venice profited greatly from smuggling, and, later, by evading embargoes.  Earlier, during the Fourth Crusade, the city-state's ships conducted military campaigns that led to the sack and plunder of Constantinople, which provided vibrant embellishments to the city's Basilica di San Marco.  By the Renaissance period, this maritime republic had made its mark as the dominant force in Mediterranean commerce and benefited substantially from trade with the Islamic world, including the Ottoman Empire and Mamluk Sultanate, both of which provided Venetians with all manner of luxury goods.

Trade with Islamic states was so profitable that the Venetians were known to intentionally ignore papacy-imposed embargoes on commerce with Muslims, which the Catholic church deemed adversaries of Christendom.  Rather than comply wholeheartedly with the church's restrictions, Venice pursued pragmatic defiance, often negotiating exemptions, or sometimes more simply, simply paying fines, chalking up the latter as a justifiable cost of doing business.  

In some cases, Venetian authorities openly turned a blind eye to illicit trade, seeing it as it as an indispensable pillar of their thriving economy.   As a result, this smuggler-backed commerce played a critical role in solidifying the Venetian gold ducat as the preferred currency for seafaring merchants across the Mediterranean.  And with this steady influx of wealth, the city's patrons funnelled their coin into grand artistic commissions which furthered artistic competitiveness from artists such as Titian, Tintoretto, and Veronese, each of whom helped define Venice’s cultural legacy as a flourishing hub of not just power, and commerce, but also great art. 

Lorenzo the Magnificent receives the tribute of
the ambassadors by Giorgio Vasari
In Florence, the Medici, as influential merchant-bankers, built their own vast fortune through their financial institution, developing ingenious bookkeeping techniques, as well as creative ways to bypass the Catholic church's definition of usury, a sin in the 15th century.  By circumventing religious prohibitions of the period, the family's florins contributed to some of the city's great art and architectural feats, including Sandro Botticelli's iconic Birth of Venus (c. 1484–86), Michelangelo's Tomb of Lorenzo de Medici, Duke of Urbino (c. 1525), and Donatello's flamboyant bronze statue of David (c. 1428–32).  

The Medici's financial prosperity also resulted in the commission of grand civic spaces including the now famous palace built on the banks of the River Arno, designed by the multitalented artist Giorgio Vasari to unite the uffici (offices) of the city's thirteen magistrates under one roof.  Later, as the House of Medici's fortunes waned, the palazzo would become home not just to the Medici art collection, but one of Europe's first modern museums, the  Galleria degli Uffizi.

When a coin in the coffer rings,
A soul from purgatory springs.

Pope Julius II orders the works of Vatican and Saint-Peter basilica, 1827
by Horace Vernet

Farther south in Rome, when Pope Julius II laid the cornerstone for his grand basilica over the burial place of St. Peter, he too resorted to unique funding schemes.  One of which was the financing of his new construction project through 
Jubilee indulgences.  

The Catholic Church taught that sin has a dual consequence: both guilt and temporal punishment.  When an individual committed a sin, they offended god and disrupted their relationship with him, thus incurring guilt.  Said guilt could be addressed through the sacrament of confession (also called reconciliation), where the sinner could receive absolution.  Through this process, the guilt of the sin was forgiven, and the sinner could be reconciled with God.  

The Church however also held that sin causes lingering effects, often described as temporal punishment.  This refers to the spiritual or moral consequences of sin that remain even after absolution.  Temporal punishment in the Renaissance was viewed as a necessary process of purification, where the repenter could absolve him or herself, on earth, or in purgatory, through acts of penance or almsgiving.  And in the case of the upcoming celebratory Jubilee, charitable donations which benefited the papal godfather's new St. Peter's Basilica. 

In European art history, one of the boldest examples of art intersecting with unsavoury dealings is the outlandish escapades of Fabrizio Valguarnera.

Valguarnera was a Sicilian nobleman from a once-prominent Palermo family, which had included the barons of Godrano.  His daring criminal scheme emerged within the vibrant and rapidly expanding 17th-century art market—a reflection of the sweeping societal and economic changes which were reshaping Western Europe during the Baroque era.

His manipulation of purchase records, by employing a fabricated identity to mask his role as the buyer, and his commissioning of both original artworks and copies with illicitly obtained funds, underscores the timeless appeal of art as a tool for disguising the origins of "dirty money," a place where it could be transformed into seemingly legitimate wealth.

Beneath the façade of Valguarnera's declining familial pedigree, he carefully cultivated the image of a sophisticated man-about-town.  Draped in the well-tailored veneer of noble respectability, he understood that his aristocratic lineage, however diminished, could grant him access to influential circles and thereby open doors otherwise closed to the lessor bred.  

From 1628 to 1629, after leaving behind his wife in Sicily, he followed his uncle Mariano, the chaplain to King Philip IV to Spain.  Arriving to Madrid during the Spanish Golden Age, Fabrizio set his sights on becoming the court's physician,  supporting himself along the way as art dealer and by initially selling four Italian artworks that he had brought with him from Palermo.  

During his sojourn in Spain, Valguarnera befriended influential artists and boasted that he had cured (albeit unsuccessfully) Peter Paul Rubens' gout, during the Flemish artist's stay in the capital.  His close relationship and business transactions with Rubens are documented in the grandiloquent letters the Baroque period diplomat wrote to him.  In one of these Rubens speaks of the Sicilian's seemingly forgotten commission for the not yet completed painting "Adoration of the Magi."  In that missive the painter signs off adoringly, referring to himself as Fabrizio's "most affectionate servant." 

But Valguarnera was not your archetypal 17th-century art patron, casually apportioning some of his fortune on grand commissions which showcased his religious, political, or social ambitions.  As fate would have it, he had been born into a noble family of more modest means, and failing to succeed at his quest to become physician to the Spanish Court, had come to rely on his art dealing to keep pace with those around him. 

But in a twist straight out of a TV crime series Valguarnera did more than simply buy and sell paintings.

In the summer of 1629 Valguarnera's Portuguese friend, Manuel Alvarez Carapeto, had been hired as a cashier for a syndicate of Iberian and Flemish merchants.  In this role, the gentleman was tasked with receiving and securing an important incoming shipment of rough diamonds belonging to the wealthy buyers which was scheduled to arrive from the East Indies aboard a vessel docking at the Port of Lisbon. 

Not for the faint of heart, the highly volatile diamond trade during this period was volatile.  Once the motor of Eurasian exchange, control of the flow of gem stones from India was no longer dominated by the Iberian crown.  

Merchant consortiums, like the one which had hired Carapeto, had only recently overcome a 1627 embargo on diamonds coming from the fabled Golconda mines, north of Pitt's base in Madras.  Known to Europeans since the time of Marco Polo, these mines —in the Godavari Delta— were then (still) the only known source of diamonds in the world.

To keep these diamonds flowing towards the insatiable European market, and at a profitable level, diamond merchants formed strategic relationships with highly placed traders who brokered powerful trade alliances with the backing of rich financiers.  Anchored by the funding provided by these syndicates, these networks formed the colonial arteries of period's diamond commerce, hoovering-up rough stones directly from indigenous traders before, during, and after the embargo and bringing them to the heart of Europe.

Diamonds, (as well as other jewels) were transported from India to Portugal in small leather draw-string bags, called bulse.  Light and discreet, the colorless gemstones were popular, not only for their value in jewellery, but because they were easily transportable, sometimes serving as a universal currency which was much lighter than gold and easier to conceal.  

Pouches containing the gemstones could also be easily be smuggled, hidden in nondescript containers like those which carried spices, or even in the wooden heal of a shoe worn by a ship's passenger.  Together with other contraband, smuggled diamond parcels could travel unregistered and arrive undeclared to the port in Lisbon, avoiding the payment of duties, a fact that in 1621 is even testified to by the records of Portuguese merchants.

After the Mughal embargo was lifted, to better secure their valuable cargo, diamonds could also be officially packed and marked with a cargo number, merchant's mark, and transport seals.  These bags would then be entrusted for safety with the captain or ship's purser, along with the stone's bill of lading, locked away for the duration of the voyage.  

Once the diamonds were delivered to their European purchasers, the raw stones would be sent to lapidaries who were just beginning to cut diamonds using the newly created techniques like the rose cut, inspired by the spiral of petals in a rose bud.  With laskes and table stones falling out of fashion, this innovative technique enhanced the diamond's brilliance and scintillation, giving the stones a larger, yet lighter, surface area that maximised the stone's carat weight.


But even if fuelled by the period's insatiable demand for more glittering jewellery that looked good by candlelight, the merchant's diamond trade was filled with risk, including any number of risks from unpredictable land and maritime conditions, to piracy, and as was the case with this story, outright banditry. 

Arriving to the port of Lisbon in October or November 1629, the consortium's  shipment of rough and laske diamonds were picked up at the moored Iberian galleon in the harbour by Domenico Fernandez Vettorino from “Hebbas” and Martino Alfonso della Palma receiving agents for Balthasare and Ferdinand de Groote.  The stones were then transported via a muleteer over the Pyrenees mountains, a formidable land barrier between Spain and Portugal. 

Once the journey from Lisbon to Madrid was complete,  the stones were to be received by a young Manuel Alvares Carapeto, acting as cashier for a banker named Mendez de Boito and the other diamond brokers.  He was tasked with holding the shipment until the stones could be apportioned to each individual stockholder, based on that merchant's financial contribution. 


Carapeto is recorded as having taken possession of thousands of diamonds.  However, almost immediately, he vanished.  

His mysterious disappearance was particularly enigmatic, as he left behind his young wife in the Spanish capital, a woman named Giovanna di Silva.  Even so, her abandonment failed to evoke pity among the frantic merchants, and instead raised their suspicions.  Had her husband, their emissary been ambushed?  Or was it more likely that Giovanna's presence in Madrid was simply an alibi; a emotional ruse played out to imply that her husband had either abandoned her for the jewels, or had been set upon by thieves.

Believing that Carapeto and his newly abandoned wife had played a role in the larceny of their diamond cargo, the brokers approached Fabrizio Valguarnera, who was known to have a relationship with the couple and who maintained a relationship with Giovanna even after Manuel's sudden disappearance.  The merchants offered the Sicilian a reward, hoping that through his intercession, Giovanna, or the missing husband, could be persuaded to hand back their stones, if he had skipped town, as they suspected.

On or around this period Manuel is said to have wrote to his friend, initially denying the theft and later admitted to it.  But still the diamonds were not returned.  Becoming increasingly frustrated by Valguarnera's seeming lack of progress, the merchants began to suspect that the cashier's art dealing friend, may have formed an alliance with Carapeto to keep the diamonds for themselves. 

Turning to intimidation, the tradesmen had Valguarnera followed.  They even went so far as to enlist enforcers, who confronted the nobleman, ambushing him one evening as he left Giovanna's house, in an attempt to extort him into revealing what he knew about the whereabouts of the stolen diamonds. 

Following that incident Valguarnera too hightailed it, vanishing from Madrid in March 1630. 

To find the fugitives, the merchants spent thousands of scudi, hiring private investigators to try and track the pair's movements in what would eventually grow into an international manhunt.  Focusing primarily on Valguarnera, as they believed he would be more recognisable and therefore easier to spot, the trackers searched for him in locations they believed a Sicilan noble gentleman may have fled to, had he intended to lay low and escape the bounty hunters.

Tesoro del Mondo,
1598-1600 f. 7v
Ars Preparatio Lapidum
by Antonio Neri
The merchants first sent their scouts to Barcelona, Seville, Messina, and Palermo—all cities Valguarnera wisely avoided.   To avoid anyone who might be linked to the merchants in the jewellery trade, he also steered clear of Europe's gem cutting cities, where rough diamonds were cut and mounted.

Instead, after vanishing from Madrid, Valguarnera travelled a circuitous route starting out in France, where he met up with the jewel thief Carapeto in March 1630 in the fortified city of Bayonne, in the Basque Country region of southwest France.  From there the two travelled as a pair heading south, with stops in Toulouse, Lyon, Orange and Toulon.

By June 1630 Carapeto and Valguarnera had made it to Genova, though they remained in the city only briefly.  Continuing farther south to Livorno, before pushing on to Naples, Fabrizio would later testify that his friend squandered the diamonds alla gagliarda or rapidly.

Upon reaching Naples in October of that year, Valguarnera sold nine diamonds to the second Principe di Conca, Giulio Cesare II di Capua, for eleven hundred scudi 
and purchased two paintings worth two hundred and sixty scudi using another two diamonds worth three hundred scudi, accepting a medallion and vase for the change. 

Unfortunately, historical records don't confirm when, or why, the two accomplices parted ways.  After his later arrest, Valguarnera told the investigators that he sent Carapeto back to Spain with thirteen pouches of diamonds stored in a small trunk so that he could return them to the brokers, something that seems highly unlikely given the penalty for thievery in Spain during the period for a theft of this scale ranged from imprisonment, forced labor, branding, amputation or even death. 

In any event, Valguarnera claimed that he lost contact with his cohort after receiving a final letter from him, sent from Genova.  Tales of the period claim that as Carapeto's frivolous purchases, using the diamonds on "clothing and whores" caused friction between the accomplices, his partner in crime considered eliminating him through nefarious means in order to  keep what remained of the stolen gems for himself.  Urban lore goes so far as to claim that the religious Sicilian was ultimately decided against murdering his companion, when the Virgin Mary herself spoke to him during a dream and warning him that such a dastardly deed would damn his mortal soul. 

What can be surmised is that at some point it simply made sense for the two men to distance themselves from one other.  Being of higher standing, Fabrizio's noble background afforded him some cover allowing his spending to go less noticed, likewise, working as an art dealer, he could more easily convert the cache of larger diamonds into artistic currency.   What we do know, from one of the last written documents recorded in this case, is that the pair likely remained at least tangentially on good terms, as Valguarnera's will and testament, written while he lay dying in prison, discussed sending funds to Careptos wife.

While on the lam, Valguarnera assumed the persona of Antonio Siciliano, buying and commissioning artworks using this not-so-original pseudonym.  When settling on purchases with those of higher standing, as well as when commissioning original artworks or copies of preexisting paintings from established artists, he paid for his purchases using the cache of stolen diamonds, or a combination of diamonds and local currency.

Harder to convince, were several of the up and coming artists he approached for commissions.  Leading more spartan lifestyles, the painters had little interest in being paid in gemstones they would find difficult and time consuming to convert.  Or perhaps they simply saw through "Antonio's" too simple ruse and simply wanted to avoid being asked awkward questions about how they came to possess valuable gemstones from far away mines.

Eight or nine months after the fateful diamond heist, Valguarnera arrived to Rome and is reported to have settled down in the city sometime between November and December 1630.  There, in 1631, he continued to close deals with artists and dealers and even went so far as to brazenly loan some of his new aquisitions to Don Matteo Catalano, the regent of the Roman church of Catalan Sicilians, for his June exhibition at Santa Maria di Costantinopoli.

But while Valguarnera was laundering the diamonds into painting purchases, playing man about town, the diamond merchants had lodged a formal theft complaint with the Governor of Madrid a month into his disappearance. This resulted in an arrest warrant being issued by the courts in Madrid. And despite having brokered his purchases and commissions using his assumed name, Valguarnera's shopping sprees  and his payment method using precious stones had people talking.  

Traced to a residence in Rome, on 12 July 1631 a complaint was registered with the Governor of Rome, filed in the names of: Balthasare and Ferdinando de Groote and one of the merchant investors, Paulo Sonnio, which outlining the theft of the gemstones and alleged that Valguarnera's international travels and artistic buying spree had been funded through the sale of the stolen diamonds.

The international merchant's request for arrest is intriguing as its execution in Rome prefigured a sort of informal letter rogatory, not unlike the international arrest warrants used between police agencies today.  In their deposition, the merchant representatives offered a reward, and listed the shipment of diamonds stolen in detail stating they were pietre straordinarie.

Their complaint listed a total of 6,979 diamonds stolen from the consortium. 

Some are detailed in t he complain as: 

Bulse 1, one polished diamond, “una pietra grande puntaquadrata” “in rozzo” valued at more than twenty thousand ducats,
Bulse 2, nine. 
Bulse 3, 4, and 5 were listed as come sopra, (as above), including one in which the diamonds are described as valued as quelati d'antique. 
Bulse 6 contains 500 polished laske diamonds 
the rest described as come sopra.   

Their formal complaint also illustrates that a group of private businessmen, several countries away, could still hold powerful sway in another countries regardless of the fact that the person being sought was of Sicilian origin living in Rome.  Documents in this case state that Valguarnera was arrested that same day the Spanish and Portuguese mens' filed their complaint in Rome, at a house he was sharing near the Monastery of S. Silvestro.  

But by the time this formal complaint arrived in Rome most of the diamonds had been laundered, exchanged for paintings or sold onward to jewellers for other purchases used to buy paintings. 

At Valguarnera's residence, officials found and subsequently seized an array of belongings, including a total of thirty-seven paintings, some of great value.  Also seized were: a silver clock which had four faces covered with red and gold ceramic; a silver ink-pot, etched with the coat of arms of the Valguarnera family; a box containing medallions of carnelian and cameos; a small box with three rings set with diamonds; and two pawn tickets written for other items written out by Isaac Tedescho Hebreo.   

Some curious items documented among Valguarnera's belongings include: "a little box, in a sack;  a stone of a porcupine from India; and the bones (relics) of Saint Simeon the Prophet and Saint Andrew.  The arresting party also seized Valguarnera supply of lapis lazuli which he had in both stone and powder form.  Ground and washed, this rare naturally occurring pigment was as expensive as gold and favoured by artists of the period to create ultramarine blue.

Due to the legal complexities of papal power, Valguarnera trial was a speedy one, expeditiously starting the very next day in Rome.

Before, during, and after his trial, the art dealer was confined to the pontifical prison, Tor di Nona, a medieval stronghold of the Orsini family, located across from Castel Sant'Angelo.  A dank and dire place, where prisoners ranged from ordinary criminals and heretics of the period to famous individuals including Benevenuto Cellini (himself charged with having stolen jewels from the papal treasury), Caravaggio, and Giordano Bruno.  

It was in this very court, 19 years earlier, a year after her rape, that Artemisia was brought to face her assulter, Agostino Tassi, an artist Valguarnera later had interactions with.  We know by that case, that under the judge's supervision, the female artist was tortured using the sibille (cords wrapped around the fingers and pulled tight) during her testimony, so one can assume that Fabrizio's interrogation, as well as his short-lived time in the prison's dungeons, were equally unsavoury.

Appearing in court on 13 July 1631 and throughout the summer as his trial progressed, Valguarnera initially insisted that he had not laundered someone else's diamonds and that his purchases had to do with his passion for paintings, even as his surely under extreme duress confessions directly contradicted his earlier documented actions.  He told his inquisitors fanciful stories including one where he said he  purchased eighteen diamonds from an old Spaniard, who dressed in greenish cloth and lived on via Frattina, paying this unidentifiable man seven hundred scudi in doppie, and again on a separate occasion a sack of embroidery pearls for an additional diamond.   

Valguarnera told investigators he took this group of diamonds to Alessandro Moretti, a lapidarist, returning later with another twenty-six carat diamond he claimed belonged to a prince in Naples.  In another instance he claimed to have pawned one diamond, as well as rubies and an emerald that he purchased in Livorno from Antonio Piscatore, the owner of a galleon. When Moretti, the diamond cutter, appeared in court, he confirmed several of the stories as being those Valguarnera had also told him. 

Witnesses at Valguarnera's trial amounted to "Who's Who" of celebrated artists in residence in Rome. 

Documents from Valguarnera trial, include statements from art dealers and some of the painters he purchased works directly from, including Giovanni Lanfranco (1582 - 1647), Alessandro Turchi (1578-1649), and Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665).  Each had half-finished artworks that they swiftly completed upon receiving lucrative commissions from the nobleman.  Turchi, also known as Orbetto, testified that Valguarnera had visited his workshop and commissioned Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, to be painted on a copper plate supplied by the client for the sum of two hundred scudi.  

The French artist Poussin reported that he too had refused the Sicilian's diamonds as payment, telling the court that he had demanded instead to be paid in scudi, as had fellow French artist Valentin de Boulogne, who touched up a painting, The Judgment of Solomon which the dealer had purchased from another collector/dealer in 1631.

The Judgment of Solomon by Valentin de Boulogne
Valguarnera visited Poussin's studio at the end of 1630 and at the his request, the Frenchman produced two original paintings, The Kingdom of Flora for ninety scudi, and a painting the artist called Il miracolo dell'Arca nel tempio di Agone, which is based on a story from the biblical Book of Samuel.  An extremely macabre subject for an easel painting, and perhaps a reflection of the contemporary experience of the bubonic plague outbreak which ravaged Italy from 1629 to 1631, this second painting depicts the miracle of the ark in the temple of Agone, and is now known as The Plague of Ashdod

This painting is based on the Old Testament account of an epidemic affecting the Philistines, as punishment for their destruction of the sacred Ark of the Covenant and for worshiping a false idol.  Paid for by Valguarnera in coin after it was completed, in  February or March 1631, this dramatic painting now hangs in the the Musée du Louvre. 

Nicolas Poussin's (upper)
and Angelo Caroselli's (lower)
versions of the Plague of Ashdod
Perhaps slyly, while Poussin’s work was not yet complete, Valguarnera almost immediately commissioned a second, almost direct copy of the the French painter's Plague, this time from a talented Roman copiest named Angelo Caroselli.  Completed with remarkable speed, just days before his arrest, Caroselli's work closely replicates Poussin’s narrative, with minor changes in the background.  

It is unclear if the art dealer intended to utilise the second artwork as a forgery of the first, or if Valguarnera was simply impressed with the depiction of the suffering masses which so recently and aptly mirrored recent plague events.  In either case, Caroselli's version of the painting now hangs in the National Gallery in London and carries the modified titled After Poussin

Interesting, from a documentation standpoint, Valguarnera's confiscated art assets were meticulously recorded, showing transactions involving 37 paintings, mostly works by living artists, including Pietro da Cortona who sold him a copy of his famous Il Ratto delle Sabine which now hangs in Rome's Musei Capitolini for one hundred and forty scudi and a diamond worth forty scudi

Il Ratto delle Sabine by Pietro da Cortona

Each artwork is described by its pictorial theme and size, listed as large, medium or small and demonstrates that the Sicilian purchased some paintings directly from their artist creators and others, like those by Italian Renaissance painters Correggio and Titian and early-Baroque artists Ludovico Carracci and Giovanni Lanfranco through dealers he knew like Ferrante Carlo, a member of the Borghese family, and Giovanni Stefano Roccatagliata.  When the haggling was complete, the latter were paid, sometimes in instalments, in stolen diamonds or jewellery pieces. 

But despite well documented details on the paintings Valguarnera purchased, the artists who created them and the sellers of these artworks, little is known about where most of the thousands of gemstones went.  Some have speculated that any evidence directly tying the Sicilian to the merchant jewel heist may have been intentionally hidden by Valguarnera while he was still on the lam, to avoid implicating himself to the theft.  

Others have hypothesised that the diamonds may have simply been liquidated into currency, or if found in Valguarnera's Rome residence, were made to disappear by those who had control over the incarcerated dealer at Tor di Nona in hopes of bribing his way out of custody, or used as payment towards improved prison conditions.  Possibilities documented in the records of other inmates held at the same prison. 

The last entry in relation to Valguarnera's trial is dated 7 September 1631.  A little less than four months later, he died in prison on 2 January 1632.  An entry on his incarceration record reads: "This morning D. Fabritio Valguarnera died, who found himself prisoner in Tordinona on the charge of the theft of diamonds after having been sick with fever many days."

Little mention is made of how most of Valguarnera's valuable possessions were disbursed after his death.  We do know that suffering from what may have been malarial fever, he dictated his will on Christmas day.  

In this document, the money laundering art dealer left Pope Urban VIII a cross in precious wood and the stone called Indian porcupine.  He also instructed his wife to build a chapel in the church of San Domenico or Maria del Carmine in Palermo, implying some wealth remained with or was sent to his widow, and lastly, he asked that 3000 scudi be sent to Manuel Alvarez Carapeto.

When Peter Paul Rubens's father in law, died in 1643 he left a considerable quantity of jewellery as well as a great many single diamonds, some polished and some rough.  One has to wonder if some of these passed through our Sicilian's hands. 

Leaving behind a legacy of mystery even after he died, one thing is clear, Valguarnera's exploits reveal how art, even in its golden age, could be both a canvas for human creativity and a mirror reflecting society’s darker impulses.  And these same vulnerabilities—manipulated provenance, possible forgery, and laundered funds and suspect transactions —persist in the art market today.

By:  Lynda Albertson

NB: For those who want to learn more about the Fabrizio Valguarnera arrest and trial, records on this incident are preserved in the Archivio di Stato, Rome ((cf. Appendix, pp. 269-84 ). Events discussed in this blogpost, including the chain of events immediately following of the crime and the events leading up to court action in Rome are taken from the initial complaint of 12 July (iii3r-iii6v) and the formal accusation of 6 August (ii97r-ii98v).