It is a thief’s priority to get rid of stolen material: you either sell it or hide it, but never keep it. Four years have passed and the president of the Palau de la Música, Fèlix Millet, has still found in his home numerous pieces of art that he had acquired with the money he had looted from the institution. Perhaps he was not aware that the euros (or perhaps peseta) with which he had acquired them had an illicit origin, or perhaps he never imagined that this could bring him problems. The point is that Millet had been arrested in July 2009, but the first judge who took over the case did not see the need to search his house, so it had to be another magistrate who ordered it, despite the fact that four years had passed and there was little hope of finding anything. Millet, from the beginning, had been a collaborator with justice. He wrote a letter confessing to the embezzlement, although he forgot number two. It wasn’t three millions he had looted, but 23.
In July 2012, we journalists stood for many hours – 12 in total – in front of the door of Millet’s house while we waited for someone to come out and tell us what was going on inside. Outside the gates there was only a police car and two very nice officers who knew nothing about it.
The search began at nine in the morning. A suffocating heat surrounded Ametlla del Vallès and the reporters took shelter in the shade of some trees. The house occupied several acres and we were afraid that the investigators would leave through another door. There were no toilets around and any visit to the bar, which was ten minutes away by car, jeopardized the mission to find out what the Mossos had found in Millet’s house. The hours passed and the information was scarce. Around nine o’clock in the evening the investigators left through the door where we were. Now yes!, we thought. His greeting was as affectionate as his words. It was evening The colleagues from the TV connected with the news and reported that the search was over. They collected their utensils and left. Only Anna Punsí and I stayed there. Backlogged and almost without light. The possibilities of finding information were fading.
Punsí, a great events journalist, had an idea. “Why don’t we call the intercom and see what’s going on?”. We walked up to it and pressed the button next to the grate. A few seconds passed and we tried again. Punsí, who lavishes passion, remained confident. Defeated, I decided to go home. Just as we were about to pass out, a husky voice answered. “Yes, say?” “Mr. Millet, we are journalists who have been here all day. Could you tell us how the search went and if they took anything?” Millet had no objection to telling us about it. He began by complaining that the Mossos had woken him up. Then, very kindly, he detailed to us that between 25 and 30 paintings, four or five sculptures and 43,000 euros in cash that he had in a safe had been stolen.
Millet died on March 16 and with his death closed the last legal case he was facing for the disappearance of several goods he had at home that were seized and could not be sold: a wooden grand piano, a 18th century headboard, some carved ivory tusks, a dozen animal figures, also in ivory, and three stone figures with African motifs. Of the 23 million embezzled from the Palau, Millet and Montull have returned 12,892,930 euros. 10,785,731.61 are still missing.
