During the past several months, a rather extraordinary legal drama has been playing itself out in the exclusive world of high-end antiques and rare books. The players in this drama range from a well known dealer once featured on Antiques Roadshow to a private investor to the state of North Carolina. The story has its origins in the very birth process of our nation.

When the Bill of Rights was adopted, each of the then-states of the new republic was sent a copy to ratify and then deposit in their governmental archives. The state of North Carolina was among those blessed with this document of paramount historical importance and now worth as much as $30 million. It remained safe in the statehouse until the end of the Civil War when a Union soldier, part of the occupying force in North Carolina, removed the document, put it in his knapsack and took it home to Ohio. A few years later he sold it. The document has not been lost all those years. It has surfaced every so often, but was never returned to the state where it once belonged.

Then, several years ago in 1995 a “shady” individual (according to a report in the New York Times) approached North Carolina officials with an offer to return the document if the state would pay him $3 million. The state refused. Most recently, Wayne Pratt, an antiques dealer, who has gained notoriety by appearing as an appraiser on Antiques Roadshow, purchased the document in partnership with Robert Matthews, a Connecticut businessman. The two of them had the document authenticated and then put it up for sale.

At this point, North Carolina decided to get the document back and contacted the U.S. attorney in North Carolina to aid them in doing so. Their position was that the document had been stolen by the soldier in 1865 and that stolen property always remains the property of the original owner. The U.S. attorney threatened to bring criminal charges against Pratt. And this is where the story becomes interesting.

Although Pratt and his partner maintained that the document had been “liberated” as spoils of war rather than stolen and thus they had good title, Pratt nevertheless decided to return the document to North Carolina as a “gift.” As a result of this act of generosity Pratt was exonerated of any wrong-doing and praised both by North Carolina officials and by the U.S. attorney.

Apparently, Pratt’s partner, Robert Matthews, was not feeling so generous. He has now charged that Pratt never had his permission to give the document back to North Carolina and that he wants it back. Further, according to the Maine Antiques Digest, Matthews is willing to go to court to get it back. He has also made it clear that he will sue Pratt for acting without his permission.

This case is going to be of immense importance for the antiques trade and for all institutions that either hold documents whose provenance may be questionable and for institutions who have lost documents over the years. The fact of the matter is that many documents, books, and works of art and antiquities have been “liberated” in wartime over the centuries.

Critics of the British Museum, for instance, are quick to point out that most of its great treasures, including the Elgin Marbles, were taken from other countries, often with little semblance of legality. How many families in the United States have family heirlooms brought back by ancestors from the Civil War, the first World War, or other American military actions. Are all these now to be under the threat of litigation and loss?

Certainly, there is a body of case law in some states, notably New York, that deals with the return of looted items. But this case, since it involves one of the most important documents in U.S. history, promises to be of far greater importance. Although the Pratt/Matthews

/North Carolina case has not attracted widespread attention yet, if the case goes to court and a judge is required to decide ownership and, thereby, establish a new legal precedent for situations of this type, that precedent may well have very far-reaching effects indeed.

If Pratt and Matthews lose, museums, collectors and dealers around the globe will have to take a close look at their art and documents and decide whether they really do own them.

Mike Hoeflich is a professor in the Kansas University law school.