In a dramatic turn of events that has captivated the international art world and reopened old wounds from World War II, Argentine prosecutors have charged Patricia Kadgien—the daughter of a notorious Nazi officer—and her husband, Juan Carlos Cortegoso, with concealing a trove of looted European art, including the long-missing 18th-century painting "Portrait of a Lady" by Italian artist Giuseppe Ghislandi. The case, unfolding in the seaside city of Mar del Plata, Argentina, has thrown a spotlight on the enduring legacy of Nazi art theft and the complex web of restitution claims that still linger more than 80 years after the war's end.
According to the Associated Press, the charges were formally brought on September 4, 2025, after a months-long investigation triggered by a remarkable discovery. The painting, which had vanished for eight decades after being stolen from Dutch-Jewish art dealer Jacques Goudstikker during the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands, resurfaced in the most unlikely of places: an online real estate listing for Kadgien's home in Mar del Plata. Dutch journalists, following leads about the Kadgien family's Nazi connections in Argentina, spotted the work hanging above a green velvet couch during a virtual tour. Their exposé, published by Algemeen Dagblad in late August, sent shockwaves through the international art community and prompted swift action from law enforcement.
Interpol quickly alerted Argentine authorities, who launched raids on multiple properties owned by Patricia Kadgien and her sister Alicia. While the initial searches failed to locate "Portrait of a Lady"—officers instead found only scuff marks and a pastoral tapestry where the artwork once hung—they did uncover a cache of other potentially stolen items. Among the discoveries were a rifle, a .32-caliber revolver, and a remarkable 22 paintings attributed to French master Henri Matisse, all dating from the 1940s. The origins of several other seized works remain under investigation, officials told AFP.
Patricia Kadgien, 59, and her husband, 62-year-old Juan Carlos Cortegoso, were placed under house arrest on September 1, 2025, as suspicion mounted over their role in concealing the artwork. Prosecutor Carlos Martínez argued in court that the couple's "efforts to hide the painting over several days following its sudden appearance in a real estate listing amounted to obstruction of justice." Martínez further stated, "They were aware that the artwork was being sought by the criminal justice system and international authorities, but nevertheless went to lengths to hide it. It was only after several police raids that they turned it in."
The couple's courtroom appearance on September 4 was tense, with Kadgien—described by witnesses as wearing sunglasses atop her disheveled hair and showing a mix of concern and puzzlement—listening intently as the charges were read. Cortegoso sat beside her, arms crossed and face stern. Following the hearing, the pair were released from house arrest but are barred from leaving Argentina and must notify the court of any changes in their residence.
The saga of "Portrait of a Lady" is emblematic of the broader tragedy of Nazi art looting. Jacques Goudstikker, the painting's original owner, was a prominent Dutch-Jewish dealer whose world-renowned collection included masterpieces by Rembrandt and Vermeer. When Nazi Germany invaded the Netherlands in 1940, Goudstikker fled with his family, only to perish in a shipwreck as they attempted to escape. His vast inventory was seized by the Nazis—sold under duress and at a fraction of its value—and distributed among top German officials, including Gestapo founder Hermann Goering. Friedrich Kadgien, Patricia's father and a financial adviser to Adolf Hitler, played a key role in moving looted art to South America, according to AFP.
After World War II, the Dutch state managed to recover about 300 works from Goudstikker's collection, most of which were eventually returned to his heirs. However, at least 1,100 pieces remain missing, scattered across the globe. The rediscovery of "Portrait of a Lady"—now estimated by Argentine media to be worth about $50,000—has reignited efforts to trace and recover other lost treasures.
As the investigation deepened, it became clear that the Kadgien family's ties to Nazi-era plunder ran deep. Friedrich Kadgien himself fled to Argentina after the collapse of the Third Reich, dying there in 1978. The country, along with neighboring Chile, became a haven for thousands of former Nazis and collaborators seeking to evade justice in postwar Europe. The fact that so many stolen artworks have surfaced in Argentina underscores the enduring impact of these clandestine networks.
In an unexpected twist, the fate of the Ghislandi painting remains uncertain. The Argentine court has requested that "Portrait of a Lady" be displayed at the Holocaust Museum in Buenos Aires before any further transfer abroad—a symbolic gesture acknowledging the painting's tragic provenance. The museum, however, has yet to comment on its potential role in the restitution process.
Meanwhile, the legal battle over the painting's ownership has intensified. Prosecutor Martínez revealed that the Federal Bureau of Investigation had informed his office that Marei von Saher, the heir to Jacques Goudstikker, had lodged a formal claim for "Portrait of a Lady" at the FBI's New York office. The FBI declined to comment on the ongoing case, but the development signals a likely transnational legal contest over the painting's ultimate destination.
Adding to the intrigue, security footage obtained by prosecutors showed individuals removing the "for sale" sign from Kadgien's front yard as media attention mounted—a move that authorities interpret as further evidence of an attempted cover-up. The real estate advertisement that inadvertently revealed the painting's existence was swiftly taken down after the exposé broke.
The case has also raised questions about the broader issue of Nazi-looted art and the responsibilities of current possessors, whether they are direct heirs or subsequent buyers. While some argue that the descendants of those who trafficked in stolen art should be held accountable, others caution against collective guilt, emphasizing due process and the need for thorough provenance research. For many, however, the return of "Portrait of a Lady" to the Goudstikker family would represent a small measure of justice in a story marked by loss and displacement.
As the legal proceedings continue, the world watches closely, reminded yet again of the enduring scars left by the Nazi regime's cultural crimes and the painstaking quest for restitution that still haunts the art world today.
