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Gold coin collection discovered behind a wall after owner's death sells — for nearly $4 million

Gold coin collection discovered behind a wall after owner's death sells — for nearly $4 million

New York Post2 days ago

All in all, it was hiding behind just another brick in the wall.
A collection of rare gold coins nearly lost to history after its owner passed away has fetched nearly $4 million at auction.
The gilded stash had been amassed over a lifetime by numismatist Paul Narce, who lived in Castillonnès, France, until his death last year at 89, the Times of London reported.
Unknown collector Paul Narce managed to amass a top-notch cache of gold coins that was only discovered after his death.
Beaussant Lefèvre and Associates
'I have never seen such a major collection go on sale from the point of view of quantity and quality,' coin expert Thierry Parsy said in a statement ahead of the sale, which went down at the Beaussant Lefèvre auction house in Paris, CNN reported.
'Narce, who lived a modest life and didn't see a lot of the world, spent all of his money on his collection,' said Parsy.
His rare prizes were meticulously labeled — the collection reportedly numbered more than a thousand pieces, some dating back centuries.
These included pieces from the Kingdom of Macedonia, dating to 336-323 BC, and nearly complete sets of coins exchanged during the reigns of French Kings Louis XIV, Louis XV and Louis XVI — including some minted just before the latter's execution by guillotine in 1793.
'Narce, who lived a modest life and didn't see a lot of the world, spent all of his money on his collection,' said Thierry Parsy.
Beaussant Lefèvre and Associates
Parsy said that Narce clearly 'knew what he was buying,' which seemed unusual given that he was an unknown.
In fact, the coin expert said that the treasure trove 'could have remained undiscovered forever' — had the notary in charge of the deceased's estate not heard of Narce's unique hobby from local villagers.
The elderly collector had no children or heirs and had moved to a nursing home after his sister Claudette, with whom he collected the coins, passed away a year prior.
Along with the aforementioned collection, they found 'masterpieces of gothic art' and ten cloth pouches, each containing 172 'Napoléons' (golden 20 franc coins) — amounting to an ingot of gold.
After an extensive search of the property, the notary finally located the treasure chest — hidden behind the picture on the wall of a storage room.
The coin collection went under the gavel for an eye-popping $3.8 million, far exceeding the pre-auction estimate of around $2.3 million.
Meanwhile, the francs, valued at around $115,650, will be auctioned off separately.
The money will reportedly go to distant cousins of Narce.
Pierre Sicaud, mayor of Castillonnès, couldn't believe that the senior and his sister had amassed such an incredible collection under the radar.
'They were very polite, very modest people who lived in an ordinary house,' he explained.

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4 years after Haiti's president was killed, the investigation drags on

time4 hours ago

4 years after Haiti's president was killed, the investigation drags on

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti -- Not one suspect imprisoned in Haiti has faced trial after being charged in the killing of President Jovenel Moïse, who was gunned down at his home in the nation's capital nearly four years ago. Gang violence, death threats and a crumbling judicial system have stalled an ongoing investigation defined by outbursts and tense exchanges between suspects and judges. 'You failed in your mission. And you are not ashamed to declare yourself innocent,' Judge Claude Jean said in a booming voice as he stood and faced a Haitian policeman responsible for protecting the president, who was shot 12 times in Port-au-Prince on July 7, 2021. Jean is one of six Haitian judges investigating whether there is enough evidence to warrant a trial for the 20 suspects held in the troubled Caribbean country. Authorities said some of the suspects envisioned a coup, not an assassination, leading to lucrative contracts under a new administration. The suspects include 17 former soldiers from Colombia and three Haitian officials: an ex-mayor, a former policeman and a former Haiti Ministry of Justice employee who worked on an anti-corruption unit. Missing are several key Haitian suspects who escaped last year after a powerful gang federation raided Haiti's two biggest prisons, including Dimitri Hérard, ex-head of security at Haiti's National Palace. Three other suspects, all Colombians, were killed hours after Moïse was slain, while a key suspect in the case, Haitian Superior Court Judge Windelle Coq Thélot, died in January while still a fugitive. The investigation was repeatedly halted by the resignation of judges who feared for their lives. Defense attorneys then appealed after the court ruled there was sufficient evidence for trial. Jean and five other judges are now tasked with restarting the inquiry. But determining complicity among 51 suspects is only one of numerous challenges. Last year, powerful gangs seized control of the downtown Port-au-Prince courthouse where the judges were interrogating suspects. The hearings were suspended until the government rented a home in Pacot, a neighborhood once considered safe enough for the French embassy. But gangs controlling 85% of Haiti's capital recently attacked and forced the government to move again. The hearings restarted in May, this time in a private home in Pétion-Ville, a community trying to defend itself from gangs seeking full control of Port-au-Prince. As a fan swirled lazily in the background, Judge Phemond Damicy grilled Ronald Guerrier in late May. One of several police officers tasked with protecting the president, Guerrier insisted he never entered Moïse's home and couldn't fight the intruders because he was dazed by a stun grenade. 'The attackers were dressed all in black. They wore balaclavas and blinded us with their flashlights. I couldn't identify anyone,' Guerrier testified, adding they used a megaphone to claim they were U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration agents. 'The attackers operated as if they were entering their own home. It seemed they knew the place perfectly.' Damicy asked if they shot at drones that Guerrier said were buzzing above the president's home. 'The attackers covered the entire area with their fire,' Guerrier replied. 'There was nothing we could do.' Damicy grew exasperated. 'Under no circumstances should an enemy cross you with impunity to commit his crime,' he said. 'In your place, I would fire on the enemy. I would even die, if necessary.' Inside the investigation's heavily guarded, stone-and-concrete headquarters in a leafy residential community, raised voices have dominated tense interrogations. One judge stood and thundered a question about a gun: 'On the day of the death of President Jovenel Moïse, were you in possession of a Galil?' In another outburst in March, a judge repeatedly pressed Joseph Badio, the former Ministry of Justice official who spent two years on the run, about his call to former Prime Minister Ariel Henry after the assassination. At the time, Henry had only been nominated as prime minister by Moïse. 'You can say whatever you want with your mouth,' Badio told the judge, who ordered him to sit as he rose while speaking. 'There is no prohibition for me to communicate with anyone I want.' The tension has carried over into interrogations of the Colombian suspects, who maintain they were hired by a Miami-based security firm to provide security for power and water treatment plants and diplomatic officials, as well as train Haitian police and soldiers. The Colombians have denied involvement, while their attorney, Nathalie Delisca, said there has been no presumption of innocence during the interrogations. 'The treatment inflicted on the detainees was inhumane,' she said, alleging mistreatment by authorities after their arrest. The former soldiers said they were beaten, threatened with death, forced to sign documents in a language they don't understand and barred from communicating with their lawyers and families for long stretches. 'I have been subjected to degrading treatment. I have been subjected to physical and psychological torture,' Jheyner Alberto Carmona Flores said during a recent hearing. He spoke Spanish in a clear and loud voice, sometimes correcting an interpreter translating his testimony into French. 'I have no involvement because I don't know when or where the president was assassinated,' Carmona Flores said, claiming he was summoned to provide security at the perimeter of Moïse's house and did not know the president had been fatally shot. While the case in Haiti has stalled, the U.S. has charged 11 extradited suspects, with five already pleading guilty to conspiring to kill Moïse. Five other suspects are awaiting trial, which is now scheduled for March 2026. They include Anthony 'Tony' Intriago, owner of Miami-based CTU Security, and Haitian-Americans James Solages, a key suspect, and Christian Emmanuel Sanon, a pastor, doctor and failed businessman who envisioned himself as Haiti's new leader. Moïse's widow, Martine Moïse, is expected to testify in the U.S. case. She was injured in the attack and accused by a Haitian judge of complicity and criminal association, which her attorneys deny. Court documents say the plan was to detain Jovenel Moïse and whisk him away, but changed after the suspects failed to find a plane or sufficient weapons. A day before Moïse died, Solages falsely told other suspects it was a CIA operation and the mission was to kill the president, the documents allege. Bruner Ulysse, a lawyer and history professor in Haiti, lamented how the local investigation has highlighted what he called 'profound challenges' in Haiti's judicial system. 'While international efforts have yielded some results, the quest for justice in Haiti remains elusive,' Ulysse said. 'Judges, prosecutors and lawyers operate under constant threat."

4 years after Haiti's president was killed, the investigation drags on
4 years after Haiti's president was killed, the investigation drags on

Hamilton Spectator

time4 hours ago

  • Hamilton Spectator

4 years after Haiti's president was killed, the investigation drags on

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti (AP) — Not one suspect imprisoned in Haiti has faced trial after being charged in the killing of President Jovenel Moïse, who was gunned down at his home in the nation's capital nearly four years ago. Gang violence, death threats and a crumbling judicial system have stalled an ongoing investigation defined by outbursts and tense exchanges between suspects and judges. 'You failed in your mission. And you are not ashamed to declare yourself innocent,' Judge Claude Jean said in a booming voice as he stood and faced a Haitian policeman responsible for protecting the president, who was shot 12 times in Port-au-Prince on July 7, 2021. Jean is one of six Haitian judges investigating whether there is enough evidence to warrant a trial for the 20 suspects held in the troubled Caribbean country. Authorities said some of the suspects envisioned a coup, not an assassination, leading to lucrative contracts under a new administration. The suspects include 17 former soldiers from Colombia and three Haitian officials: an ex-mayor, a former policeman and a former Haiti Ministry of Justice employee who worked on an anti-corruption unit. Missing are several key Haitian suspects who escaped last year after a powerful gang federation raided Haiti's two biggest prisons , including Dimitri Hérard, ex-head of security at Haiti's National Palace. Three other suspects, all Colombians, were killed hours after Moïse was slain, while a key suspect in the case, Haitian Superior Court Judge Windelle Coq Thélot, died in January while still a fugitive. Courthouse under siege The investigation was repeatedly halted by the resignation of judges who feared for their lives. Defense attorneys then appealed after the court ruled there was sufficient evidence for trial. Jean and five other judges are now tasked with restarting the inquiry. But determining complicity among 51 suspects is only one of numerous challenges. Last year, powerful gangs seized control of the downtown Port-au-Prince courthouse where the judges were interrogating suspects. The hearings were suspended until the government rented a home in Pacot, a neighborhood once considered safe enough for the French embassy. But gangs controlling 85% of Haiti's capital recently attacked and forced the government to move again. The hearings restarted in May, this time in a private home in Pétion-Ville, a community trying to defend itself from gangs seeking full control of Port-au-Prince . 'Nothing we could do' As a fan swirled lazily in the background, Judge Phemond Damicy grilled Ronald Guerrier in late May. One of several police officers tasked with protecting the president, Guerrier insisted he never entered Moïse's home and couldn't fight the intruders because he was dazed by a stun grenade. 'The attackers were dressed all in black. They wore balaclavas and blinded us with their flashlights. I couldn't identify anyone,' Guerrier testified, adding they used a megaphone to claim they were U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration agents. 'The attackers operated as if they were entering their own home. It seemed they knew the place perfectly.' Damicy asked if they shot at drones that Guerrier said were buzzing above the president's home. 'The attackers covered the entire area with their fire,' Guerrier replied. 'There was nothing we could do.' Damicy grew exasperated. 'Under no circumstances should an enemy cross you with impunity to commit his crime,' he said. 'In your place, I would fire on the enemy. I would even die, if necessary.' 'I don't know' Inside the investigation's heavily guarded, stone-and-concrete headquarters in a leafy residential community, raised voices have dominated tense interrogations. One judge stood and thundered a question about a gun: 'On the day of the death of President Jovenel Moïse, were you in possession of a Galil?' In another outburst in March, a judge repeatedly pressed Joseph Badio, the former Ministry of Justice official who spent two years on the run, about his call to former Prime Minister Ariel Henry after the assassination. At the time, Henry had only been nominated as prime minister by Moïse. 'You can say whatever you want with your mouth,' Badio told the judge, who ordered him to sit as he rose while speaking. 'There is no prohibition for me to communicate with anyone I want.' The tension has carried over into interrogations of the Colombian suspects, who maintain they were hired by a Miami-based security firm to provide security for power and water treatment plants and diplomatic officials, as well as train Haitian police and soldiers. The Colombians have denied involvement, while their attorney, Nathalie Delisca, said there has been no presumption of innocence during the interrogations. 'The treatment inflicted on the detainees was inhumane,' she said, alleging mistreatment by authorities after their arrest. The former soldiers said they were beaten, threatened with death, forced to sign documents in a language they don't understand and barred from communicating with their lawyers and families for long stretches. 'I have been subjected to degrading treatment. I have been subjected to physical and psychological torture,' Jheyner Alberto Carmona Flores said during a recent hearing. He spoke Spanish in a clear and loud voice, sometimes correcting an interpreter translating his testimony into French. 'I have no involvement because I don't know when or where the president was assassinated,' Carmona Flores said, claiming he was summoned to provide security at the perimeter of Moïse's house and did not know the president had been fatally shot. Working under threat While the case in Haiti has stalled, the U.S. has charged 11 extradited suspects , with five already pleading guilty to conspiring to kill Moïse. Five other suspects are awaiting trial, which is now scheduled for March 2026. They include Anthony 'Tony' Intriago, owner of Miami-based CTU Security, and Haitian-Americans James Solages , a key suspect, and Christian Emmanuel Sanon , a pastor, doctor and failed businessman who envisioned himself as Haiti's new leader. Moïse's widow, Martine Moïse , is expected to testify in the U.S. case. She was injured in the attack and accused by a Haitian judge of complicity and criminal association, which her attorneys deny. Court documents say the plan was to detain Jovenel Moïse and whisk him away, but changed after the suspects failed to find a plane or sufficient weapons. A day before Moïse died, Solages falsely told other suspects it was a CIA operation and the mission was to kill the president, the documents allege. Bruner Ulysse, a lawyer and history professor in Haiti, lamented how the local investigation has highlighted what he called 'profound challenges' in Haiti's judicial system. 'While international efforts have yielded some results, the quest for justice in Haiti remains elusive,' Ulysse said. 'Judges, prosecutors and lawyers operate under constant threat.' ___ Coto reported from San Juan, Puerto Rico. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .

Padilla arrest was a grave mistake by Kristi Noem
Padilla arrest was a grave mistake by Kristi Noem

Yahoo

time16 hours ago

  • Yahoo

Padilla arrest was a grave mistake by Kristi Noem

In Los Angeles, the Trump administration has been doing the right thing. Trump was right to call out the National Guard after protesters assaulted police, set their vehicles on fire, attacked unmanned Waymos and threatened to overwhelm local law enforcement. Trump is right in keeping his promise to make the removal of undocumented immigrants an overwhelming national priority. But there is no way that arresting United States Senator Alex Padilla is in the same vein. Yeah, he was rude in interrupting Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem's disquisition on 'alien removal operations' in Los Angeles. But if rudeness were a crime, Donald Trump would have faced the electric chair long ago. Every U.S. citizen has the right to question public officials about government actions, but United States Senators even more so. Their job, like all members of Congress, is literally to oversee and question the executive branch on behalf of the particular interests of their state or district. If a senator can't get a little frisky in raising questions, then nobody can. That's dangerous. The danger is not that one older guy gets roughly handled; Padilla's bruised arms and ego will recover. No, the danger is that peaceful protesters see that even staying within the bounds of the First Amendment gets you treated in exactly the same way as violent insurgents. Once they see that, some, maybe many, will join the protesters who are already bent on vandalism and violence. Once that happens, there are not enough National Guardsmen to bring order back to our cities. The fact that the Department of Homeland Security released an official statement falsely stating that Padilla didn't identify himself during his rude outburst only adds fuel to the fires of suspicion. Some normally level-headed conservative leaders such as Erick Erickson are dismissing the mishandling of Padilla as a 'stunt intended to go this way,' as if the predictability of Trump administration overreactions makes them ok. Republican Speaker of the House Mike Johnson condemned Padilla's actions as 'wildly inappropriate,' as if the Trump administration and Republicans were sitting around eating crudites before a fancy French meal at which everyone will mind their manners. The mildest thing one could say about some of the Trump administration's actions is 'wildly inappropriate.' Accepting $400 million gifts from a foreign monarchy, appointing a quack as head of the Department of Health and Human Services and getting into Twitter brawls with former supporters are just some of the things Trump has done that might be called 'inappropriate.' Democrats were quick to rush to condemn the actions of federal officers. ''This is the stuff of dictatorship,' said Senator Brian Schatz, Democrat of Hawaii, according to The New York Times. That's a bit much. Emperor Palpatine hasn't crushed the Senate. And Padilla was healthy and free enough afterward to address the assembled cameras. What is true is that if a United States Senator can be treated this way while his staff films the abuse of power, the Trump administration is on the threshold of authoritarianism. As Padilla said in a video released after his arrest, regular Americans who have done nothing more than speak can expect to receive much worse treatment from law enforcement when cameras are not around or the scrum makes figuring out what happened harder to do. That, too, will fuel escalation by protesters. The Trump administration, led by the president and Kristi Noem, need to step back. The treatment of Sen. Padilla will be a rallying cry and a recruiting tool for the rioters who threaten to get out of control. It was a mistake for Noem to allow this to happen. David Mastio is a national columnist for the Kansas City Star and McClatchy.

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