In September 1985, a devastating earthquake rocked Mexico City. But it was the brazen robbery three months later that shook the world. Known in Mexico as the “robbery of the century,” this is the story of the Christmas Eve Heist.
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December 25, 1985. Before that particular Christmas, Carlos Perches Treviño and Ramón Sardina García, both in their twenties, were considered quite boring. Belonging to middle-class families, the pair was studying veterinary medicine at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM). In addition to their interest in animals, both Perches and Sardina shared a fascination with pre-Hispanic art. And perhaps because it was much more interesting than sticking a thermometer in a dog’s ass, their shared passion led to a collective obsession with the National Museum of Anthropology. That locale was central to both the conservation of Mexican heritage and the young men’s get-rich-quick crime.
1am. Just an hour after Christmas Eve slipped into Christmas, Perches and Sardina slipped behind the National Museum in search of a secret passage into the building. Their moves, however, did not rely on luck. The soon-to-be thieves had spent the prior six months casing the joint. While other veterinary students may have enjoyed their summer respite, this pair spent more than 50 visits learning the daily routines of the museum’s security guards. They examined display cases, took photographs and studied construction layouts. They had also identified key vulnerabilities in the institution’s defenses. Early morning Christmas, they had determine was the best time for their plan. And the air conditioning duct was the most discrete way to execute it.
While visions of sugar plums bailado en las cabezas de the security guards, Perches and Sardina Die Hard-ed their way into the building. By belly crawling their way through the air ducts, the pair eluded security cameras and the alarm system, and soon breached the museum. The criminals soon arrived in gallery to find not a creature was stirring, not even an underpaid security guard. Their surveillance had paid off. As anticipated, the museum’s personnel—who were charged with patrolling the 161,000 square feet of the 26-room building every two hours—were gathered in one room, celebrating the holiday.
As security presumably exchanged white elephant gifts of Care Bears and Transformers, Perches and Sardina quietly made their way to the galleries featuring the artifacts of the Maya, Mixteca and Mexica civilizations. Ignoring dozens of display cases, the thieves focused on the most valuable exhibits. Their targets, the pieces that were worth the most per square inch, were placed inside a suitcase. And after toiling away for an undisturbed three hours, the pair slunk away as surreptitiously as they arrived. Once outside the museum, the two robbers fled in their waiting Volkswagen and disappeared.
Christmas morning 1985. While Three Kings hadn’t yet delivered gifts to Mexican children, the morning shift at the National Museum of Anthropology learned that Two Jokers had robbed them. The museum reported 124 precious objects had been stolen. Those included objects from the sacred cenote of Chichén Itzá, more than 60 Mayan pieces from the Temple of Palenque, gold jewelry from the Mixteca, and the famous mask of the Zapotec Bat God. The treasures were made of gold, jade, turquoise, and obsidian. The value of just one of these pieces exceeded $20 million at the time (about $58.5 million today). Still, the greatest damage was cultural. Museum curator Felipe Solís lamented, “What they’ve stolen from us is a piece of our history… [something] of inestimable anthropological and historical value.”
The scandal became worldwide news. The authorities responded quickly. The value and cultural significance of the stolen artifacts led authorities to suspect the work of international thieves. So, in addition to the cooperation of the immigration body, personnel from the General Directorate of Customs, workers from the country’s airports and Interpol, more than 30 people were tasked with solving the case. And while police plastered Mexico with wanted posters at docks, airports, and railroad stations, Interpol kept an ear out for black market sales of archeological items. But for the next four years, not a single clue could be found.
Immediately after the heist, the hopeful-veterinarians-turned-cat-burglars first fled to Perches’ parent’s home in the suburbs on the outskirts of Mexico City. The suitcase filled with the priceless artifacts was hidden on the top shelf of the closet in Perches’ room. With the world looking for them, the pair decided to lay low. But in actuality, they duo had no plans of selling their ill-gotten loot. That changed, however, after Perches moved to Acapulco. Upon taking refuge there, Perches established tied with drug traffickers, who offered to help sell the pieces on the black market. But it would be Perches who would be sold out.
January 1989. When police arrested drug trafficker Salvador Gutiérrez (aka El Cabo), Gutiérrez offered authorities information he hoped would reduce his sentence. He told tale of the enterprising thief he had met in Acapulco—and share the whereabouts of the stolen museum pieces. With the location of the invaluable items known, all that remained was to capture the elusive thieves. That required some subterfuge by authorities. The deputy prosecutor in the “War on Drugs” placed wiretaps in prisons and monitored all calls between Gutiérrez and Perches. Soon, their work was rewarded. In one not-so-private conversation, Perches negotiated the sale of gems from what he describes as “the greatest art [collection] in Mexico.” This would prove enough to capture him.
June 1989. Just six months after Carlos Perches had been identified as the most brazen thief in Mexican history, police raided a home in the suburb of Jardines de San Mateo. There, authorities recovered 111 of the 124 stolen pieces. They were found in a duffel bag, wrapped in toilet paper, still in the closet of Perches’ room at his parent’s house. Of the missing pieces, Perches exchanged two for cocaine, seven remained with Perches cohort Ramón Sardina, and the whereabouts of four others was unknown. Regardless of the initial difficulties they faced, the authorities managed to recover practically all of the most valuable pieces, including the mask of the Zapotec Bat God.
During his interrogation, Perches admitted to being the mastermind behind the robbery. Among the details the loquacious criminal provided to investigators, however, Perches didn’t explain why he and his accomplice Sardina had committed the crime of the century. He was also unable to provide the location of Sardina, who remains at large today. It is believed that the seven pieces Sardina controlled never left Mexico. Likewise, Perches never left the country. Having been sentenced to 22 years, he was released early in 1995. Shortly thereafter, he was murdered under mysterious circumstances.
Following what must be the easiest heist in world history, the National Museum of Anthropology implemented stricter security measures, installed electronic alarms and a closed-circuit television system, and increased the number of guards. Likewise, the legislature reformed the Penal Code to punish crimes against cultural heritage more severely.
