Breitwieser’s restraint collapses as he resumes stealing in Switzerland, lying to Anne‑Catherine and abandoning their scrapbook. He snatches a flurry of objects, then sets a one-day record at a museum by stuffing ten items into his clothing and bag.

In February 2001 he returns alone to Gruyères Castle, targeting a vast seventeenth‑century tapestry that long obsessed him. Unable to fold it into a hidden duffel, he reuses an old tactic, tossing the bag out a window and retrieving it from outside, elated by the success.

He next exploits Anne‑Catherine’s car under the pretext of sparing her a rainy walk, then drives to Saint Sebastian Chapel. Using a wrench from his mother’s toolbox, he unbolts a four‑foot limewood Virgin (1520) and, gambling on an empty church, wrestles the 150‑pound statue to the car and later picks her up from work as promised.

Anne‑Catherine is furious at the incense smell and the unauthorized use of her conspicuous car. The attic is crammed: the tapestry is stuffed under their bed, and the massive statue is jammed among other works. Rough handling takes a toll; a valuable apothecary‑shop panel painting warps, and Breitwieser, rejecting professional help, crudely forces the panels into place and glues them with Super Glue.

Damage mounts: a cherub‑decorated ceramic platter shatters beyond repair, and a small still life is crushed and discarded. Anne‑Catherine, disillusioned by his “dirty,” maniacal hoarding and the ugliness of recent acquisitions, withdraws attention yet remains with him. Turning thirty that year, they live amid what feels less like a private museum and more like a chaotic, priceless junkyard.