A Bill of Rights, looted long ago, is stolen back

Three years ago, two men and a woman, with two guards, brought a framed Bill to Charlene Bangs Bickford, director of the First Federal Congress Project at George Washington University. They were a shadowy bunch, she says - "no names, no phone numbers, no nothing."

After confirming its authenticity, the conservators wrung their hands about letting the manuscript out of the building. "It's absolutely priceless," says Bickford. But the First Federal Congress Project was reluctant to contact authorities - and risk driving the document further underground.

Finally, in March, the curator at the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia called authorities: The Bill had resurfaced. The sting went down a few days later.

While the state has laid claim to the Bill, critics question why archivists here waited so long. In fact, they say, if Pratt can prove that the state failed to go after the Bill in the past, a court may find that the Tarheels abdicated ownership. Pratt has already sued, claiming there's no conclusive evidence that it belongs to North Carolina.

"I would not think this would be a slam-dunk case for North Carolina," says New York manuscript dealer Ken Rendell, who helped debunk the Hitler Diaries and wrote "Forging History."

North Carolina has become a pariah in the manuscript world, reclaiming letters from Thomas Jefferson and a sheaf of stolen archives. Some say the state's hot pursuit of "alienated" documents has made those documents worthless on the open market.

Instead of encouraging collectors to return such documents, some curators fear, the tack could have the opposite effect. "You don't want to intimidate them from coming forward when something's found," says Bickford.

The defining case involved an North Carolina doctor named B.C. West who had a copy of a letter written by William Hooper - a signer of the Declaration of Independence - before North Carolina was a state. The state successfully appealed to its Supreme Court - and has chased missing documents ever since. "We're very unapologetic about it," says Mr. Crow at the State Archives. "These are the people's records and they should be preserved."

Pratt's role remains unclear. He's lost his "Antiques Roadshow" gig, at least for now; colleagues are baffled. Not being a manuscript specialist may have worked against him, fueling awe for a Bill declaring: "[No] private property [shall] be taken for public use, without just compensation."

"I don't see Wayne Pratt doing it for the value," says Mr. Tucker, "as much as just the ability to handle a piece like that."

Page: 1 | 2