All language subtitles for Mysteries.Unearthed.with.Danny.Trejo.S02E03.Shady.Secrets.1080p.HULU.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-RAWR_track3_[eng]

Mysteries can be
buried anywhere,

under the earth,

beneath the sea,

or even right
under our own feet.

And when we stumble upon them,

sometimes what we find
can change history.

Tonight,

accidental discoveries that
expose dark secrets,

from a Prohibition era
hideout...

The room looks like no one's
been down here in decades.

Then something
catches their eye.

To a clue
from an infamous crime.

It's more money than
he's ever seen

in his life.

The FBI run the
serial numbers

and what they find is shocking.

To a scandalous secret
hidden in Washington, D.C.

Just steps from
the Capitol was

the ultimate retreat
for Washington's elite.

Join us now, because
nothing stays hidden forever.

In the winter of 1977,
a man named Ron Lykins

and his friends were all waiters

at the famous Ahwahnee Hotel
in Yosemite National Park.

They decide on their day off

that they are going
to go snowshoeing

into the frozen tundra of
the Yosemite backcountry.

About six miles
into their hike,

they spot something surprising.

It's a debris trail,

and then suddenly, they
encounter an airplane wing

just sitting out
there in the snow.

They head back and report
it to the park rangers,

and before along, officials
from four government agencies

swarm to the area.

They follow
the debris trail,

and eventually come
to a twin-engine plane

in a frozen lake.

Officials
fire up chainsaws

and start cutting
it out of the ice.

When they cut open
the cargo hold,

they see something incredible.

They find marijuana,
literally tons of it.

They estimate there are 6,000
pounds of weed in the hold.

Authorities spend the next week

hauling bundles of it out
of the Yosemite Valley.

Unfortunately,
their work is cut short

when a huge snowstorm rolls in.

A full wintertime
salvage operation

would be too hazardous,

so the Feds have to press
pause on the entire operation

and wait for the spring.

Before they leave
for the season,

they run the tail
number to ID the plane.

It belongs to a guy
named Jon Glisky,

who's been on the DEA's
radar for a while.

He's a former Army
helicopter pilot in Vietnam

and now a full-time smuggler.

Authorities
contact Glisky's wife,

and she shares what she knows.

She confirms that
about a month earlier

on the night before the crash,

he loads up three tons of weed
at a dusty airstrip in Baja

and under the cover of darkness

flies it into the United States.

But the
run ends in disaster.

Glisky's plane goes
down in Yosemite,

leaving both men dead

and three tons of
marijuana entombed in ice.

Some people overhear
off-duty DEA agents at a bar

talking about how they had to
leave this wreck until spring

with tons of drugs still inside.

Among those who hear it
are three anonymous hikers

who race to the
scene days later.

When they reach the plane,
one of them sticks his arm

into a hole next to the cockpit

and pulls out a
plastic-wrapped bale.

The plane is packed
with five kilo bricks

of high grade Mexican weed.

Now, word
spreads like wildfire,

and in the days that follow,

a stream of hikers brave the
elements to get to the goods

at what they're
calling Dope Lake.

When April rolls around,
there's an unexpected heat wave.

The snow melts,
the trails clear,

and the looting
goes into overdrive.

It is a full-blown green rush.

Dozens and
dozens of hikers

make the 32-mile
round trip.

Some of them carry
out 200 pound loads

of marijuana worth about
$50,000 at the time.

In just one week, over
a half a million dollars

of marijuana goes missing

at the hands of opportunistic
Yosemite hikers.

Rangers
launch a surprise raid,

but only nab two hikers.

All of the true culprits
are never identified,

and the crime slowly
fades from memory.

It's one of the
wildest forgotten stories

in American crime history.

But for a brief
window in the '70s,

Dope Lake turned Yosemite

into the most lucrative
hiking trail on the planet.

Years later, a
shop owner stumbles

on another set of
mysterious criminals,

this time, a couple
you'd never suspect.

In 2017, a New Mexico
antique shop owner

named David Van
Auker is browsing

an estate sale of
a recently deceased

pair of school teachers
named Jerry and Rita Alter.

He combs through some
various knickknacks,

pieces of art, and tchotchkes.

David picks up a
few inexpensive items.

He also picks up an old abstract
oil painting of a woman.

All in all, he
spends about $2,000,

and he thinks he can
make some money off of it

if he cleans up the oil painting

and a few of the other items.

Van Auker
throws everything

in the back
of his truck,

and when he gets
back to his shop,

he leans the
painting in the back.

Less than an hour later, a
customer approaches David

and tells him that
the painting looks

an awful lot like the work

of a famous Dutch-American
abstract painter

by the name of
Willem de Kooning.

De Kooning became really
popular after World War II

in the abstract
expressionism movement

and his paintings have sold
for millions of dollars.

So it's pretty surprising

that two retired school
teachers would own

an original de Kooning.

After being offered
$200,000 for the painting

by a customer, Van Auker
hides the work in his bathroom

and begins researching
de Kooning.

What he finds
piques his interest.

Sure enough, he soon finds
a de Kooning painting called

"Woman-Ochre" that
looks just like the one

he's propped up
next to his toilet.

And as he reads
about "Woman-Ochre,"

he finds out it was stolen

from the University of
Arizona Museum of Art.

Van Auker is shocked.

Could he really be in possession
of a stolen masterpiece?

He doesn't wanna
get into any trouble,

so he calls the Arizona museum
and speaks to the curator.

She tells Van Auker to
keep the painting safe

and she'll be there to have
a look at it the next day.

Understandably,
he is freaking out.

The next day, museum
officials visit him

to inspect the painting,

and sure enough, it is the
original "Woman-Ochre."

That means it's worth
just a little more

than the $2,000 he spent on it.

It's valued at $150 million.

Turns out
the painting was stolen

during a bold museum heist
nearly 35 years earlier.

The day
after Thanksgiving

in 1985 was a
pretty slow day

at the University
of Arizona Museum.

Shortly after opening,
a man and woman entered.

They were sort of acting
kind of strange and oddly,

and they only stayed around
for about 15 minutes.

A little while later,
as museum security guards

made their rounds, they
discovered the unimaginable.

One of their most
prized paintings,

"Woman-Ochre," had disappeared.

Whoever stole it cut
it right out of its frame

and walked out the front door.

At least that's what
officials assume happened,

because at the time,

the museum didn't
have security cameras.

Museum staff
provided a description

of the odd couple to the police

and mentioned also
seeing a red sports car

in the parking lot
at about the time

that they were in the building.

The couple were
really the only suspects,

but the police had no
idea who they really were.

There were no photos, no
fingerprints, nothing.

It's not
until the estate sale

over three decades later that
investigators are finally able

to start piecing
it all together.

Police sketches of the
suspects do resemble the Alters

and a few old family
photos placed the couple

in the Tucson area at
the time of the theft.

One photo even shows Rita

and Jerry in a rented
red sports car.

All signs point
toward them as the culprits,

but without a living suspect,

it's almost impossible
to prove it for sure.

So David Van Auker
returns "Woman-Ochre"

to the University of
Arizona Museum of Art,

and declines the reward money.

When authorities look deeper,

they start thinking that
a few other paintings

supposedly owned by Jerry
and Rita were also stolen.

They're still investigating,
but it may just turn out

that these two unassuming
school teachers were

some of the best art
thieves of all time.

Yard sales can turn
up just about anything,

junk, antiques,
even hidden gems.

But one Florida man's
discovery carried a secret.

It had been stolen.

Back in 2021 in
Brooksville, Florida,

Jamie Bath and his wife are
browsing a local yard sale.

They like collecting

and looking through
all sorts of things,

old coins, vintage radios,
maybe a rusty tool or two.

As Bath picks
through the goods,

he spots a cool medal
lying on a table.

It's gold and purple

with George Washington's
face right in the middle,

and he doesn't know what it is,

but for two bucks he
figures, "Why not?"

Later, as he's going
through his haul,

he spots an engraving on
the reverse of the medal.

It says, "For military
merit, Gus A. Allbritton."

Bath thinks this
thing might be important,

so he starts digging.

A quick search tells
him all he needs to know.

This isn't just some old medal.

It's a Purple Heart,

the oldest and one of the most
prestigious honors awarded

to members of the US military.

The Purple Heart
is awarded to those soldiers

who are wounded or
killed in action.

Bath discovers that
this is a rare honor.

A very large number of
recipients of this medal

receive it only because they
have been killed in action.

So Bath wants to make
sure that it gets back

to the brave man or the
family of the brave man

whose name is engraved
on the back of the medal,

Gus Allbritton.

Bath does
some sleuthing

and tracks Gus
down through the VA

to a town called
Dublin, Georgia.

He happened to be
alive and well,

and has been volunteering
there for over 30 years.

The VA passes Bath's
message along,

and when Gus calls him
back, Bath is floored

by the veteran's heroic story.

Back in the summer of
1968, Gus graduates high school,

and then receives his draft
notice the very next day.

A week later, he
reports to Fort Benning

to receive infantry
basic training.

And a few months after that,

he's deployed to the
Republic of Vietnam.

Over the
next two years,

Gus defies the odds
in numerous battles.

The war was brutal,

and Gus didn't have it easy.

First, an AK-47 round
tears through his shoulder.

He survives.

Then he's shot through
the midsection,

and again, he survives.

And just when it seems like
he's cheated death enough,

an RPG explodes in his bunker,

sending shrapnel into
his back and chest.

Gus is
both tough and lucky.

He survives and is awarded
the Purple Heart three times.

After the war,

the newly decorated
hero moves to Florida,

and gets a job as
a court bailiff.

While most people would keep
their medals on display,

Gus, he's not most people.

He gives one to his son,
a second to his daughter,

and he keeps the
third for himself.

Until one
day, it disappears.

In 1983, while Gus is at work,

someone breaks into his house.

They steal jewelry,
they steal guns,

and they steal his Purple Heart.

Gus has spent enough
time in law enforcement to know

that stolen items like
these are rarely recovered.

For nearly four
decades, it remains lost

until Jamie Bath finds
it at a yard sale

in the same town
where it was stolen.

Law enforcement
thinks whoever took it

probably had no
idea what they had

and either tossed
it or gave it away.

Once Jamie gets
in touch with Gus,

he mails the medal back to him,

a small but valuable
piece of stolen valor

returned to its rightful
owner after 38 years.

If you think finding a war
medal at a garage sale is wild,

wait 'til you see what
two brothers uncovered

in their bookstore.

It's 2021 in
Evansville, Indiana.

Two brothers, Sam
and Adam Morris,

are about to open
their dream business,

a bookstore that's
appropriately called

Your Brother's Bookstore.

The brothers are eager
to open their doors,

but first they need to
finish some renovations.

As their workers start
ripping up the hardwood,

they find something strange.

One section of the floor
doesn't match the rest.

At first, this looks like
it's just a bad patch job,

but as the workers begin to
pry out the wooden slats,

they find something unexpected.

It's not just
a loose floorboard.

It's a secret trap door.

The workers wave
the brothers over,

and suddenly, this
renovation feels

more like an investigation.

They climb down
into the space below,

expecting to find something
like an old cellar.

But when they shine
their flashlights around,

they discover that
this is much larger.

The room is covered
in a thick layer of dust.

It looks like no one's
been down here in decades,

but then something
catches their eye.

There's a hole in the far wall

about the size of
a dinner plate.

When they look through
it, they see another space,

and what looks like the
entrance to another tunnel.

They assume that this
is simply a passage

that connects to the basement
of the building next door.

That's very mysterious,

but the brothers have
a lot of work to do

to get their bookstore open,

so they head back upstairs
and get back to work.

A few weeks later,
the store opens.

Hoping to pique the
curiosity of new customers,

they place a sign outside
the business that says,

"Ask us about our
secret tunnel."

Soon, someone does.

The Evansville African
American Museum.

For years, the museum
has been researching

the Evansville history of
the Underground Railroad,

the storied network
for enslaved persons

who were fleeing Southern
states in the 1850s.

Museum officials
have heard rumors

that there was a station
of the Underground Railroad

somewhere on Main Street,

but they found no
evidence until now.

The museum officials

take a look at the
mysterious room

under the brothers' bookstore,

then they take a look at
the hole in the far wall,

and eventually decide
to break through it.

That's when they
discover that the tunnel

doesn't just go to the
basement of the next building.

It keeps going.

As they continue to
explore the tunnels,

they begin to notice an
assortment of strange artifacts,

glass bottles, tables and chairs

built into the tunnel walls,

and the real surprise, a
still for making alcohol.

It doesn't look
like a safe haven for slaves.

It looks more like a bar.

They realized this
tunnel wasn't a station

on the Underground Railroad.

It was a Prohibition
era speakeasy.

At the turn of
the last century,

Evansville was well-known
for its breweries.

But in 1918, the
state of Indiana

outlawed the sale of alcohol

two years before the
National Prohibition Law.

Not everyone was
happy about giving up booze.

With its brewing
expertise

and strong German
drinking culture,

Evansville becomes a
center of speakeasies

and underground drinking halls

like the one the brothers have
discovered under Main Street.

The Morris brothers'
find doesn't just uncover

a underground hideaway.

It reveals a hidden

and very interesting
part of Hoosier history.

It is one of America's
most infamous unsolved crimes,

one without any leads,

until a second grader makes
the find of a lifetime.

In 1980, eight-year-old
Brian Ingram is out

with his family camping
along the Columbia River

in Washington State.

It gets cold out, so
Brian's father tells him

to head down to the river
to where the sand is,

clear a spot, and build a fire.

While he's smoothing
the ground for the fire pit,

Brian's arm brushes
up against something.

He immediately recognizes a
signature distinctive green,

and he produces a
stack of $20 bills.

It's more money than
he's seen in his life,

so he calls his dad over.

They start to count the cash,

and all together Brian
has found $5,880.

That's the equivalent
of over 20 grand today.

But some of these
bills have rotted away

down to the size
of playing cards.

They don't know if the
money is real, counterfeit,

lost, or stolen.

They decide that they have
to call up the authorities.

They stuff the cash
in a plastic bread bag,

and when they get home,
his dad calls the FBI.

Soon, agents show
up and collect the money.

The FBI run
the serial numbers

on the dollars through
their database,

and what they find is shocking.

The cash is associated

with one of the most
well-known crimes

in recent American history,

the D.B. Cooper hijacking.

Back in 1971,

a man who is later
known as D.B. Cooper

buys a one-way ticket from
Portland to Seattle.

He sits in the
last row of plane,

and after the plane
takes off, has a drink,

and then casually passes a
note to a flight attendant.

The note read,
"I have a bomb."

And he opened his suitcase

and showed what looked
to be a very real bomb,

and at that moment,
it became a hijacking.

He contacts authorities

and demands $200,000

and a parachute.

With lots of innocent
people on board the aircraft

and with no way of
knowing whether or not

D.B. Cooper's supposed
bomb was real or not,

the authorities had no
choice but to play along.

Authorities get the
money and the chute together,

the plane touches
down in Seattle,

D.B. Cooper makes
good on his word,

and lets the hostages go, picks
up the money and the chutes,

and the plane takes off again.

Shortly after the plane
takes back off into the sky,

Cooper parachutes
out of the plane

over the Pacific Northwest
never to be seen again.

And neither is the
money, until now.

Almost a decade
after the hijacking,

Brian Ingram is the first
and only person to find

any of D.B. Cooper's loot.

This instantly becomes the
FBI's best piece of evidence

in the infamous crime.

So how does
the stolen cash end up

on the shores of
the Columbia River?

Some claim that Cooper
landed in the river

and the cash floated downstream.

Others suggest that
Cooper buried the cash

on that part of the beach and
would come back to it later.

Others even accused
the Ingrams of working

in cahoots with Cooper by
finding this little bit of money

as a way to throw
the authorities

off of D.B. Cooper's trail.

Now, despite the
speculation,

Brian is a hero among his
fellow second graders.

But unfortunately,
this epic monetary find

does not make him rich.

The FBI tells Brian he can't
keep any of the money he found

because it's evidence.

What follows is this
multi-year court battle,

where Brian ends up getting
to keep half the money.

The rest goes to the
airline's insurance company.

Now, Brian hangs onto
this money until 2008,

when he ends up auctioning
off 15 of those bills,

which have a face
value of about $300,

but for collectors, they're
pieces of an unsolved case,

and they're worth
much more to them.

At the auction, these bills
end up going for about $37,000.

To this day, not a
single additional bill

from Cooper's ransom
has been recovered,

and the hijacking remains
the only unsolved case

of air piracy in commercial
aviation history.

Thousands of miles
away and decades earlier,

another shocking discovery
is pulled not from the sand,

but from the sea.

It's April, 1935
in Sydney, Australia.

Fisherman Bert Hobson,
who's out on the water,

attempting to bring
in his daily catch

of things like amberjack
and southern calamari.

As he's hauling in a big catch,

he notices that what he's
caught is no ordinary game fish,

but in fact is a 14-foot
live tiger shark.

He goes to toss it
back in the water,

but then he gets an idea.

His brother runs
the local aquarium,

and he figures maybe they could
use a new star attraction.

Bert's brother feels,

"Oh, having a shark in
the aquarium

would definitely
bring in the crowds.

Bring the shark
over," and they do,

and they toss it in a
tank at the aquarium.

And then there's a problem.

The shark isn't exactly
thriving in its new environment.

At first, the
shark looks agitated,

and then it starts to look sick.

And then one day, in front
of a very stunned crowd,

the shark convulses and vomits.

What the shark coughs
up isn't fish bones or bait.

It's a human arm.

Upon further analysis,
the authorities realize this arm

was not bitten off by a shark.

They don't notice any sort
of jagged teeth markings

on the arm, but more
cleaner incised wounds

from either a
knife or a cleaver.

So now, they realize
that there is a homicide

on their hands.

The severed arm has a
pretty distinctive tattoo

of two boxers fighting.

So authorities release
this information

to the general public,
and not long after that,

a man by the name of
Edwin Smith comes forward.

He says
that his brother James

had a tattoo just like that.

James Smith is a failed
boxer, small-time crook,

and an occasional
police informant.

Edwin tells police that
he hasn't seen his brother

for a few weeks.

Further digging reveals
that the last person

that James Smith
was seen with was

a man by the name
of Patrick Brady.

Now, both Brady and Smith
work for a local crime boss

by the name of Reginald Holmes.

So the police think that Brady

and Holmes might've teamed
up to take out Smith.

Police arrest
Brady first,

but when they go after the
boss, Holmes, he panics.

He jumps in a boat,
speeds into the harbor,

and tries to shoot
himself in the head.

Now, Holmes ends up surviving,

and when questioned
by authorities

gives his own version
of the events.

After he recovers, Holmes
swears that he had nothing to do

with Smith's murder, and he
pins the whole thing on Brady.

Before Holmes can
testify at Brady's trial,

he's found dead in his car
under suspicious circumstances.

Police suspect
that Brady

had Holmes killed
to shut him up.

But without Holmes'
testimony or Smith's body,

prosecutors have no case.

Brady walks free, and lives
a long and peaceful life

for the next 30 years.

The rest of James
Smith's body is never found.

As for what happens
to the shark,

I think it's safe to say

that it never had another
meal like that again.

Washington,
D.C. is known

for its secrets and scandals.

One of the most intriguing
lay hidden for over a century

buried in a place
you'd never expect.

It's 1997,

and the Smithsonian Institution
is looking

to build the brand-new
Museum of the American Indian

near the National Mall.

And so, before they can
build, they want to do

a full survey of the site.

As the team
surveys this piece of land,

they find something surprising.

The workers discover

the remnants of
a palatial estate.

But what's strange is
historians know this area

used to be a working
class neighborhood

populated with the
homes of people

who worked in nearby factories.

The foundation of
this house, however,

is way larger than all of
the modest homes around it.

Archeologists start
a formal excavation,

and they find china,
champagne corks,

and various women's
fashion pieces.

This is all high-end stuff

and it doesn't make
sense to find it

in this old working
class neighborhood.

So who could've owned
such a luxurious home here?

Some of the museum's
researchers start looking

at historical maps and real
estate records of the day,

and they discover
that in the 1840s,

six women in their 20s and
30s lived here in a house

owned by a woman
named Mary Hall.

But Mary
wasn't just any woman.

She was known as the
Madam of the Mall,

and her house was
a high-end brothel.

Mary was born in 1814,

and by all accounts became a
rather successful prostitute.

She was so successful, in
fact, that she was able

to earn enough
money to buy a lot

on what is now the National Mall

and build a rather
impressive house on it.

Today, you find a bunch of
stately monuments in the area,

but back then, it was not the
most respected part of town.

There were streets with
names like Louse Alley

and Murderer's Row, so
it's incredibly clear

that this was a
very unsavory area.

But Mary was a very
shrewd businesswoman,

and she stayed in business
for about 40 years.

And in fact, Mary's
tenure spanned the terms

of about a dozen
different presidents.

Just steps
from the Capitol,

Hall's three-story brick
mansion was the ultimate retreat

for Washington's elite.

While there
are no surviving records

naming her high-end clientele,

it's clear that the
Madam of the Mall was

a talented businesswoman.

Mary found great
success at a time

when women had very
few rights to property

or business ownership.

In 1883, Mary retired
with over $87,000.

That's the modern equivalent
of over $2 million.

After getting out of
the brothel business,

Mary rented the property
to a women's health clinic.

In 1886, shortly after her
death, it was converted

yet again into a school for
African American children.

Even though we can acknowledge

that Mary's field was
a rather illicit one,

some say she has a
better reputation

than many of the politicians
that passed through her door.

In a quiet
neighborhood backyard,

another mystery is
about to surface,

one that will solve what
was thought to be a murder.

In August of 2019,

a man is using some online
tools to take a virtual walk

through his old neighborhood
in Wellington, Florida.

While scanning satellite images

of his former stomping ground,

he notices something unusual

about his former neighbor's
pond in his backyard.

It's white, kind of shiny,
kind of metallic looking,

so he zooms in,

and it looks like a car.

The man calls his
former neighbor, Barry Fay,

and tells him what he saw.

But Fay's not buying it,

because he spent thousands
of hours in his yard,

and he's never noticed
anything weird,

even when the water levels drop.

Just to be sure,
though, Fay asks a friend

to fly a drone over the pond,

and when they take a
look at the footage,

there's no question.

There's absolutely
a car underwater.

Fay calls the police,

and soon, his backyard
turns into a crime scene.

Officers work
late into the night

and wind up pulling out a white
1994 Saturn from the pond,

but that's not all they find.

Inside the car is a skeleton.

Forensic testing
matches the remains

to a man who's been
missing for decades,

a mortgage broker
named William Moldt.

Authorities
look into Moldt

and soon uncover
the shocking details

surrounding his disappearance.

In November of 1997,
Moldt is out partying

with a few of his buddies, and
around 9:30 p.m. that night,

he calls his girlfriend
to let her know

that he's heading home.

But he never made
it home that night.

In fact, no one ever
found a trace of him.

Moldt was
reported missing,

and police opened
an investigation,

but the case went
cold, until now.

Investigators see
no signs of foul play.

They think that Moldt
lost control of his car,

veered off the road, and
crashed into the pond.

Over the next two decades,

the neighborhood
developed around the pond.

Houses were built,
roads were paved,

and all the while, William Moldt

and his car are hidden
beneath the surface.

Thanks to Fay's
former neighbor

and some zoomed in
satellite images,

the case of the missing mortgage
broker is finally solved

22 years later.

Imagine searching
for a legendary wreck

said to hold 10 tons
of gold and silver.

Instead of treasure,
you uncover evidence

of a crime hidden
beneath the sea.

In 2005, a team of
researchers launch a mission

to locate the wreck
of a famous warship

that sank in the Mediterranean
more than 200 years ago.

The HMS Sussex was a ship in
the Royal English Navy's fleet

that sank in 1694
during a violent storm.

The team deploys
an underwater robot,

and begins scanning the seabed
between Spain and Morocco,

where it's rumor that
the ship went down.

Hours pass.

They find nothing
but sand and shadows.

Then suddenly, bingo.

They see a wreck.

When the remotely
operated vehicle moves in

for a closer look,
something doesn't add up.

The Sussex was a beast,

157 feet long, three
towering masts, 80 guns.

But this wreck is a
much smaller ship,

just 45 feet,

a sleek, two-masted
vessel called a tartane.

It's not what
they're looking for,

but it's still something
worth exploring.

Lying 2,700 feet
below the surface,

this wreck is remarkably
well-preserved.

Among the debris they find
pottery and glassware.

They also find
Turkish tea bowls

and liquor bottles made
in Germany and Belgium.

These discoveries all
suggest the ship was made

to pass as a trading vessel,

but its real mission
was more sinister.

The rover shines
its light on the wreck

and reveals four large cannons.

They also see muskets
and 10 swivel guns.

Researchers know that when
a tartane is outfitted

with this type of artillery
that only means one thing.

It's a pirate ship.

Another piece
of evidence,

the shipwreck's location
is on the Barbary Coast,

which stretches along
the western coastline

of North Africa from modern
day Morocco to Libya.

During the late 18th and
the early 19th centuries,

this was a notorious
hunting ground for pirates

who attacked ships and
ran brutal slave raids.

The tartane was one of
their primary tools of terror.

From a distance, it looks
like a small fishing boat,

allowing them to nonchalantly
pursue their target.

By the time the target
realized they were in danger,

it was already too late.

But this ship wasn't
just plundering other boats.

It was abducting people.

When most of us think
about the slave trade

in the 17th and 18th centuries,

we naturally think of Europeans

and Americans
enslaving Africans.

But there was also a
smaller slave trade

working in the other direction,

with Africans from
the Barbary Coast

enslaving Europeans
through the Mediterranean.

It's estimated that

1.25 million Europeans
were enslaved

by Barbary pirates,

and the area that
this ship is in

leads researchers to suspect
that it was en route to Spain,

which is just across
from the Barbary Coast.

By presenting as a
harmless trading vessel,

the pirates could
ambush their target.

And then would use
larger galley ships

to transport the slaves
back to North Africa.

Ships like this
menace the open seas

for another half century after
this particular boat sank.

Eventually, their reign of
terror ended in the early 1800s

thanks to the Barbary Wars.

This amazing discovery
serves as a reminder

that even the ocean
keeps her secrets,

some lost to history,

and some just waiting for
the right time to resurface.

Sorting through a
deceased father's keepsakes

doesn't usually turn
up evidence of a crime,

but that's just what
one family uncovers

to their total surprise.

In 2023, a Massachusetts
family is going through

their late father's house.

As they start rummaging
through bags and boxes,

they find the things that
you would expect to discover,

old documents,
holiday decorations,

and some family heirlooms.

As they make their
way through these boxes,

they find something
totally unexpected,

a collection of
Japanese artifacts.

They carefully
collect the antiques,

bring them downstairs to try
to learn more about them.

With any luck, they figure,

"Maybe this stuff might
be worth a few bucks."

The family
begins researching

the unfamiliar artwork,

and soon, they find
themselves on the last website

they expected,

the FBI's National Stolen
Art File database.

Basically, if something
culturally significant

goes missing anywhere
in the world,

it ends up on this website.

One by one, they start to
see that these dusty antiques

in their living room
seem to be matches

to the black and white
photos on the FBI's website,

and that can only
mean one thing.

All of these artifacts
that they find

in their dad's attic are
stolen Japanese treasure.

The family contacts
the FBI to tell them

how they stumbled onto
these works of art.

They meet up with
FBI Agent Geoffrey Kelly

assigned to investigate
art crime in Boston.

The first thing
that I needed to do was verify

that these objects were the
same ones that were listed

on the FBI's stolen
property database.

And when I compared them

with the old black
and white photographs

that were on our Stolen
Art File database,

you could tell that
they were a match.

In all, there are 22 artifacts

that date to the Ryukyu Kingdom,

the kingdom that ruled Okinawa

from the 15th to
the 19th centuries.

Little of the art from
this time period survived,

and that makes these artifacts
all the more valuable.

These were not
little trophies or knickknacks.

These were incredibly important
pieces of cultural patrimony

for the Okinawan people.

The FBI is
determined to figure out

how these relics ended
up in this attic.

Agents begin
investigating the artwork,

and soon trace them
back to World War II.

In the spring of 1945,

the Battle of Okinawa was
raging in the Pacific.

During the fighting, a group
of American soldiers occupied

the palace of a royal
family that fled the city.

When the
fighting ended

and Americans
vacated this palace,

authorities eventually
returned to the island

and found that many of its
artifacts had been looted.

But according
to the family,

their father was never
stationed in the Pacific,

something that initially
confuses Agent Kelly,

until he uncovers a clue.

As I'm examining
these artifacts,

I see that tucked
inside a ceramic jug is

an unsigned typed letter,

and this isn't just any letter.

This is basically a confession.

The author discusses how he
came to acquire these pieces

when he was
stationed in Okinawa,

and he found them in a palace,

and he brought them
back to Massachusetts.

According to
the letter,

when this author made it
back to the United States,

he tried to sell the
artifacts to a museum.

The museum declines,

and the artifacts vanish
into storage for decades.

How they surfaced in an
attic remains unclear,

but the FBI is now on a
mission to send them home.

In 2024, the FBI teams
up with the Smithsonian

to help pack up all of
these ancient artifacts,

and return them to Japan
to their rightful home.

It was a
big event in Okinawa

for them to finally
get these items back,

items that they never thought
that they would see again,

and I was really proud that
we were able to help out.

It's just part
of the $900 million

that the FBI's Art Crime Program

has recovered over the years.

Whether it's ransom
money, stolen treasure,

or a case gone cold,

sometimes the darkest
secrets have a way

of coming back into the light.

I'm Danny Trejo.

Thanks for watching
Mysteries Unearthed.