The Man Who Stole the Ruby Slippers

The story of a strange and dumb heist.

There exist today five pairs of the iconic Ruby Slippers from The Wizard of Oz. In the novel the slippers are silver, but it was decided that for the Technicolor film it would be better to make them ruby, so they could be bright red on screen. MGM had a big garage sale in 1970 and these shoes ended up out in the world.

Today one pair is at the Smithsonian. A bunch of actors and filmmakers got together to raise money for the so-called "Witch's Shoes" (so-called because they're the pair that are seen on the Wicked Witch of the East's feet before she dissolves) and donated that pair to the Academy Museum, where you can see them today. I wept the first time I laid eyes on these shoes - seeing them in person was like being in the presence of a piece of the True Cross.

Other pairs are in the hands of private collectors (lucky fuckers) and a pair was on display at the Judy Garland Museum in Grand Rapids, Minnesota, Judy Garland's home town. Or they were for a while until they were stolen in 2005 and remained missing until 2018.

Who took the slippers and why were a mystery; they were heavily insured so some suspected an insurance angle. Maybe they had disappeared into a collector's black market, and were quietly sitting in some rich guy's private collection. The truth, though, was a much stranger than that.

The FBI recovered the slippers in 2018, but it wasn't until last year that they nabbed someone for the original crime. They got Terry Jon Martin, a 76 year old career criminal. This week he was finally sentenced for his crime. They let him go.

Before you get up in arms, know that Terry Jon Martin is currently dying. He's in hospice right now. He couldn't get out of his wheelchair during the trial. Putting this man in prison accomplishes nothing, and he'd likely be out the door in a week on a compassionate release anyway. But I have to tell you, even beyond that, I kind of think Terry Jon Martin earned his no jail time because the story of him stealing the slippers is so odd.

He had given up a life of crime. As is the case with many criminals, Martin's life was filled with depravation, abuse and tragedy, but after some time in the slammer he decided it was time to change his ways. For ten years Martin lived as a boring old law-abiding citizen. Just a regular guy.

Then one of his old buddies told him about the shoes in the museum. The shoes were insured for a million dollars, so they had to be worth at least that. And when Martin heard they were Ruby Slippers he really got interested. He couldn't sleep, thinking about pulling one last heist. Once more for the road, that last big score that would take care of him for the rest of his life.

See, Martin thought he could steal the shoes, take the rubies and then sell them individually. So one night he took a hammer to the front door of the Judy Garland Museum, and then he took a hammer to the glass display case holding the slippers, and then he found himself holding one of the greatest movie props of all time.

When he had the shoes he brought them to a fence who told Martin that there wasn't a single ruby on those shoes at all. They were costume shoes, so they were covered in glass beads.

And get this: Martin didn't know The Wizard of Oz. He had never seen the movie. He had no idea why the hell these glass-covered shoes might be insured for a million dollars. Frustrated, Martin handed the shoes over to the guy who had talked him into the job and told him he didn't want to see the slippers ever again.

What an incredible, almost Coen-like tale - a crook who had left his old ways behind going for one last hurrah and somehow not being able to understand what a movie prop is, not knowing probably the most famous pairs of shoes in all of the world. I'm trying to imagine the moment when the fence told Martin that he didn't have a single precious stone at all. What did he learn? In the words of the great JK Simmons, I guess he learned not to do that again.

Martin, by the way, has refused to rat out his buddy, and I respect that. This crime was the only one he committed after ten years straight, and the only one he has committed since, but some things are fundamental even when you leave the underworld behind, and not being a snitch is one of those things. That's the code.

In the end the owner of the shoes, who had them on loan to the museum, got them back. The story of the theft, which had been a mystery for so many years, was finally solved. And Terry Jon Martin gets to go to his grave having taken accountability for what he did. The incredibly dumb thing he did.

I do hope he has a chance to see Wizard of Oz before he dies, though.