Sixty-one years ago today, on a hot summer morning, the fishing trawler Ferruccio Ferri, worked the waters off the coast of Fano, and accidentally hauled in an extraordinary and controversial catch.  Tangled in the vessel's nets was a magnificent bronze statue of a young athlete.  One which only later would be attributed by scholars to the great Greek sculptor Lysippos.  

Encased in barnacles yet still gleaming with history, the Victorious Youth had rested for millennia on the shallow Adriatic seabed, his whereabouts unknown until a fishing net tore him from obscurity. That single, chance, encounter would serve to ignite one of the longest and most fiercely contested restitution battles in modern cultural heritage law.  And from the moment he surfaced, the fate of Italy’s bronze became the stuff of cultural crime legend. 

His odyssey, from his first appearance on the fishing docks of Fano, through bathtubs and cabbage patches, and into the hands of smugglers, restorers, and art dealers, took years of painstaking investigation to unravel. By the time he arrived, scrubbed of incriminating barnacles, on the polished marble floors of the Getty Villa, his journey had already drawn the full attention of Italy’s police and cemented the Atleta di Fano as the nation’s most contentious and emblematic case in Italy's global fight to reclaim looted antiquities.

Maurizio Fiorilli, the country's formidable prosecutor and one of the most respected cultural heritage lawyers of his generation, devoted his life to the long and often uphill battle to see the Atleta di Fano returned to Italy.  His passing this week leaves a profound void in the country's fight for cultural justice, but the attorneys who are following in his footsteps are carrying his case forward with the same resolve, unwilling to let his work, or Italy’s claim, fade.  

Fierce in the courtroom yet meticulous in his reasoning, Fiorilli spent decades untangling legal knots, gathering evidence, and navigating the diplomatic minefields that inevitably surrounded this high-value restitution case before retiring and passing the fight to the next generation. In his 2020 book Il Caso dell’Atleta Vittorioso (The Case of the Victorious Athlete), published by Edizioni Efesto, he documented the bronze’s twisting journey and the court’s ruling in precise detail, preserving for posterity not only the established facts of the case but also the Italian judiciary’s reasoning. The result is an enduring and accurate account of one of Italy’s most contentious cultural property battles.

In 2018, Italy achieved a milestone victory when its Supreme Court (Corte di Cassazione) affirmed what Fiorilli and his successor Lorenzo d'Ascia had long maintained—that the Atleta di Fano was Italian property and had been illegally exported. The ruling upheld the decision of Magistrate Giacomo Gasparini, whose decisive 46-page ordinance had already ordered the statue’s immediate seizure and restitution, unequivocally affirming that the bronze is the inalienable property of the Italian state and restoring the confiscation order previously issued in February 2010.  

With the Court of Cassation's ruling verdict, the legal pathway was clear. The John Paul Getty Museum, it seemed, would have no choice but to comply.

And yet, sixty-one years to the day after his discovery, the Atleta di Fano remains in Malibu, a centerpiece in the Getty Villa’s collection. Over the passing decades, the museum has continued to stubbornly defend its possession, steadfastly resisting Italy’s legal claims and sidestepping the mounting body of evidence that points to the statue’s illicit removal. 

Despite definitive court rulings affirming the nation’s ownership and repeated calls for his repatriation, the Getty has stubbornly held firm, clinging to its incorrect narrative while ignoring the clear and compelling evidence which concretises the statue's theft. The result is a stalemate that has stretched on for decades, emblematic of the wider struggle over cultural property and the unwillingness of some institutions to right historical wrongs.

In a 2018 statement, Ron Hartwig The Getty Trust's Vice President of Communications called Italy’s Supreme Court ruling “disappointing,” vowing that the museum would “continue to defend our legal right to the statue.”  He further insisted that “the facts in this case do not warrant restitution of the object to Italy,” claiming that “accidental discovery by Italian citizens does not make the statue an Italian object.” 

Such statements sidestep Magistrate Giacomo Gasparini’s detailed and well-reasoned judgment of 8 June 2018, which fully endorsed earlier rulings from the Court of Pesaro acknowledging the statue’s illicit export. The judge grounded his decision in clear violations of Articles 666, 667, and 676 of the Italian Criminal Code, as well as Article 174, paragraph 3 of Legislative Decree No. 42/2004 and Article 301 of Presidential Decree No. 15/1972. He concluded that the Atleta di Fano had been illegally exported and that the Getty’s later acquisition did not qualify it as a “holder unrelated to the offense.” 

The Court of Cassation upheld this reasoning, rejecting the Getty Museum’s appeal and declaring the confiscation final—a decision further validated by the European Court for Human Rights. 

Despite the ECHR decision, the Getty maintained its stance, asserting that the “Getty’s nearly fifty-year public possession of an artwork that was neither created by an Italian artist nor found within the Italian territory is appropriate, ethical and consistent with American and international law”  invoking arguments that run counter to both the letter of the law and contemporary museum thought on what constitutes the spirit of cultural stewardship. 

Given this unbroken chain of rulings at every judicial level, in both Italian and European jurisdictions, one must ask: what is gained by prolonging the dispute? 

The Getty’s continued refusal to comply transforms a settled matter of law into an exercise in obstruction, undermining not only the authority of Italy’s judiciary but also the credibility of international cultural property agreements, not to mention the Getty's own stance on responsibility taking when it comes to problematic pieces purchased for their collections. 

Each year of inaction sends the message that legal victories in the restitution of looted art can be neutralised by institutional intransigence—a dangerous precedent for such an important museum and a disservice to the principles the Getty itself claims it strives to uphold.

Meanwhile, the city of Fano waits for the Atleta, not just an Italian treasure; but as part of the city's shared cultural patrimony. 

Objects like this ancient statue do not belong behind the walls of intransigent institutions that ignore court orders.  They belong within the landscapes and cultural narratives from which they came. For Italians this bronze is more than bronze—it is a tangible embodiment of the ancient Greek world which once vibrantly stretched along the shores of their country and shaped a population.  He is the embodiment of Le Marche's multicultural identity, and a story rooted in the soil and sea of the people of the Adriatic coast.

Fiorilli understood this better than anyone. His career was defined by victories that returned looted masterpieces to their rightful homes, from ancient vases and silver hoards to entire archives of stolen books. But for him the Atleta di Fano was different. It was this case that crystallised the need for perseverance in the face of deep-pocketed resistance.  It was also proof that the legal fight for cultural reparations is not a matter of months or years—it is a multi generational struggle which must be passed on.

As we mark the sixty-first anniversary of the athlete's discovery, and as we mourn the loss of one of Italy’s most brilliant legal minds, we must also confront the uncomfortable truth: justice delayed is justice denied. To honour Maurizio Fiorilli’s work, the call must be clear, loud, and unrelenting: the Victorious Youth must come home. 

Every day it remains in California is a day that injustice is prolonged—and a day the J. Paul Getty falls short of the reparations it owes to history.

By:  Lynda Albertson

Maurizio Fiorilli, the tireless public prosecutor whose career redefined the global struggle against looted antiquities, has passed away today leaving behind a legacy etched in justice and cultural diplomacy. He also leaves behind a wife and a son, as well as a community of scholars and colleagues across the world who were privileged to learn from his insight, integrity, and unshakable belief in the power of cultural heritage, to unite people across time and borders.

From 1965 to 2017, Fiorilli represented Italy in various courts around the world.  Through his painstaking legal battles, unwavering diplomatic negotiations, and meticulous research, Maurizio secured the return of countless Italian masterpieces: from ancient vases and silver treasures, to stolen books and monumental sculptures, restoring them to the public trust where they belong. 

Vice Avvocato Generale dello Stato, Maurizio Fiorilli, Paolo Giorgio Ferri, Deputy Prosecutor of Rome (1991-2010), and Francesco Rutelli, former Culture Minister of Italy.

But his work was not simply about the objects; it was about righting historic wrongs, repairing the wounds of cultural loss, and affirming that cultural patrimony is not a commodity, but a shared inheritance that demands protection. 

Uncompromising in his principles, Fiorilli confronted the art market and museum world's most powerful players and institutions with a clarity that could not be ignored. He reminded museums, dealers, and governments alike of their legal obligations and their deeper moral responsibilities. His approach was direct, relentless, and unwavering: stolen heritage must go home.

Yet his most emblematic fight remains unfinished. As Italy’s Vice Avvocato Generale dello Stato, Fiorilli devoted years of his work to pursuing the return of the Victorious Youth bronze, sometimes referred to as L’Atleta di Fano. An ancient Greek masterpiece hauled in by fishermen from the Italian waters in the Adriatic, it was smuggled out of the country, and eventually acquired by the J. Paul Getty Museum. 

The Victorious Youth bronze—L’Atleta di Fano just after its discovery and after restoration.

Fiorilli’s dedication was not confined to transatlantic battles abroad. He played a pivotal role in confronting cultural crimes at home, most notably in the Girolamini Library scandal in Naples, which uncovered the systematic theft of thousands of rare books under then-director Marino Massimo De Caro. In pursuing this case, Fiorilli reaffirmed that the fight for cultural heritage must defend against threats both outside and within, and that no one, no matter their position, or political friendships, stands above accountability when entrusted with a nation’s treasures.

Known as “Il Bulldog” for his unbreakable grip on the most complex cases, Fiorilli’s victories were more than legal successes.  They were acts of cultural restoration and moral reparation.  His guiding conviction; that cultural heritage is humanity’s shared memory, now resonates with even greater urgency. And with his passing, Italy and ARCA mourn the loss of a master negotiator, a moral compass, and one of the most formidable defenders of history our generation will ever know.

In 2007, Maurizio Fiorilli convinced the J. Paul Getty Museum to return 39 works excavated in Italy, including a 2,300-year-old vase depicting the Rape of Europa. At the time of his passing, he was still waiting for the museum to do the right thing regarding the "Getty" Bronze.  "Our successes have always been a team effort and are the result of patient and skillful work in "cultural diplomacy." It's been a challenge of dossiers, counter-dossiers, reports, analyses, descriptions, lengthy, scathing correspondence with buyers who deny any responsibility, and complicated face-to-face meetings to convince collectors and museums to return the stolen goods. Collection directors always make a point of ownership: "It's mine," they repeat, "it's proven, look how much I paid for it." We, on the other hand, make a point of culture." --M. Fiorilli 2014

The Getty still refuses to relinquish the Victorious Youth. To honour Maurizio Fiorilli’s memory, the world should demand its return—and continue his fight for justice, and the rightful homecoming of stolen heritage everywhere.

By:  Lynda Albertson