Who was behind the €1 billion gem heist?
It bears all the hallmarks of the Pink Panthers, says Havana Marking, the documentarymaker who filmed the criminal gang
On hearing about last week’s audacious Dresden museum heist, my thoughts turned to the gang of criminals I first met a decade ago. After all, not many thieves would have the wherewithal to carry off what is believed to be the biggest jewel grab in history, making off with an estimated €1 billion (£855 million) in loot.
Among the treasures stolen from the Green Vault, one of Europe’s oldest art museums, is its most precious treasure: the “Dresden White” – a 49-carat diamond worth £9 million. Augustus the Strong, the 18th-century prince of Saxony who founded the Vault, is said to have been so enraptured by its beauty that he paid $1 million for it – an even more fabulous sum in 1728.
The audacity of the raid aside, there are other signs. The fact the thieves made their escape in an Audi A6 (their car manufacturer of choice) and the meticulous planning that had gone into the operation: from torching an electricity box on a nearby bridge to knock out the alarm system, to selecting what police have described as “conspicuously small” gang members to squeeze through the museum’s window grille. CCTV footage shows them breaking into a display case with an axe.
Few would attempt such a brazen raid, and fewer still could pull it off. But what has always marked out the network known as the Pink Panthers is their ability to target places that other criminals wouldn’t even dare dream of.
The Panthers have been responsible for some of the most daring gem heists of the past 25 years: carrying out hundreds of raids across Europe, Asia and the Middle East. They like to do things “in style”: dressing in disguise – as Hawaiian tourists, socialites, golfers – and escaping by car, speedboat and motorbike.
In 2007, two Audi A8s smashed through the glass doors of Dubai’s Wafi shopping mall, and the gang looted the Graff jewellery store. Several Panthers were arrested, but the loosely affiliated network of 200 or so operatives has remained active. Only last year, police named the prime suspect in the theft of a £2 million diamond ring, from an art fair at London’s Royal Chelsea hospital, as Vinko Osmakcic, believed to be one of the Panther’s leaders. He remains at large.
I first met the Pink Panthers in 2009, when I arrived in Podgorica, the capital of Montenegro, with the ambition to make a documentary on the gang, which had evolved in the aftermath of the Balkan conflicts and the break-up of Yugoslavia. The sanctions imposed by the West on Milosovic’s government in 1992 had created a powerful black market.
The gang had earned their nickname following a £23million raid on the Graff jewellery store on New Bond Street in London in 2003, after detectives discovered a blue diamond ring in a jar of face cream – as attempted in the Pink Panther films.
A local contact had arranged my introduction. I was told to go alone, with no mobile phone, to a deserted war memorial on the outskirts of town. Having just shot a documentary in Afghanistan, I was pretty gung-ho – but as I stepped out of the taxi I wondered what the hell I was doing. It was stupid, but I knew the gang wasn’t violent: if people got hurt, the police would come at them 10 times harder.
A clapped-out blue Peugeot estate pulled up and a tall man in his fifties, wearing white trousers and a pink polo shirt, got out. He had a scarred face and glinting gold tooth. As we drove to a local bar, he apologised for his car but said it was sensible to keep a low profile. In reality, I’m not sure how much money the Panthers make, with the proceeds divided up and those higher up the criminal chain claiming most of the profits.
The man with the gold tooth was one of five gang members I met during filming, and he was surprisingly charming. He explained that he had smuggled newspaper reporters in and out of Sarajevo during the Bosnian war, and procured them false documents. It proved the perfect training for his current work: adrenalin, cash, danger.
He talked me through the detailed planning that goes into every Panther operation. For one heist, in Barcelona, they rented the shop next to a jeweller and waited for a fireworks festival to begin so they could noiselessly pickaxe through the wall and steal the safe.
They often use women as scouts. I interviewed one; she was very beautiful and spoke numerous languages. She told me how she would wear Chanel and pretend to shop in whichever high-end jeweller they were planning to target next – making mental notes of everything.
The Panthers I met possessed a certain old-school charm. They didn’t, they explained, want to get mixed up in violence, prostitution or drugs, and saw their crimes as somehow “honourable”. But I started to see their dark side as I worked my way up the chain. In truth, they are only a small part of a huge criminal network. After a heist, they will pass the swag on to a courier who then takes it to a so-called “fence”, who is responsible for selling the items on.
Diamonds can be recut and sold back into the market – as it has been speculated may happen to the oneof-a-kind Dresden jewels – or kept as currency in the criminal empire. After all, a small diamond is easier to get through customs than a suitcase of cash.
I met one of the “fences” in my Montenegro hotel: he had been in the Serbian paramilitary, where he had made his criminal connections. Indeed, many of the Panthers have served in the military or security forces, giving them access to forgers who can create identities – one reason the police have found them so difficult to pursue across borders.
The “fence” told me he was also involved in drugs and people trafficking. He radiated menace. By this time, I was seven months pregnant and swiftly decided it was time to pause the project.
My documentary, Smash & Grab:
The Story of the Pink Panthers, came out in 2013. Since then, Balkan crime syndicates have increased their power and influence. Just a few weeks ago, I spoke with a Swiss detective on the trail of the Panthers, and he told me they had now diversified into drugs and people trafficking.
The Panthers I interviewed had worried that this would happen: a younger, less disciplined generation was coming through the ranks. Many said they were hoping to retire, although I don’t know how sincere that wish truly was. The cliché of “one last job” is very real. And if a Pink Panther spots a golden opportunity, they are not going to pass it by.
A clapped-out car pulled up and a man with a scarred face and gold tooth got out
The Panthers I met possessed a certain old-school charm and sense of ‘honour’