The stalker who stole Audrey Hepburn’s Oscar: “Love is not a crime!”
Audrey Hepburn has long captured the popular imagination, both during her lifetime and in the several decades following her death. The popular imagination, however, sometimes has strange ideas, and few have been as strange as those held by a 22-year-old science student who burgled Hepburn’s home in a truly bizarre heist in 1962.
Hepburn has been one of the most recognisable faces in Hollywood ever since her starring role in Roman Holiday in 1953. Described as “absolutely enchanting” by the film’s director Willian Wyler, her charm and style contributed to her ascent to icon status as an actor and fashion muse. Other major films of hers include Blake Edwards’ Breakfast at Tiffany’s in 1961 and George Cukor’s film adaptation of the musical theatre production of My Fair Lady in 1964.
Hepburn is also remembered for her humanitarian work. Appointed a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador in 1988, she leveraged her public profile to draw attention to humanitarian crises around the world. She became a prominent advocate for children’s rights, in particular, and travelled to various communities affected by drought, conflict, and famine across Asia, Africa, and South America. In doing so, she raised awareness and support for UNICEF’s initiatives in these areas—work she continued to do until her passing in 1993.
After Roman Holiday propelled her to global stardom, Hepburn remained at the zenith of fame throughout the ’50s and ’60s. It was in this climate of stratospheric celebrity that she was unfortunate enough to catch the attention of a science student turned stalker. When the filming of Paris When It Sizzles began in July 1962, Hepburn moved to France. Just as she did so, her chalet in Bürgenstock, Switzerland, was burgled. According to her biographer, Harry Paris, the primary items seized were her Roman Holiday Oscar and her underwear. The former was recovered in a forest nearby; the latter vanished forever.
Yet there were twists and turns to this unsettlingly creepy crime. In behaviour atypical for those within the burglary occupation, the thief turned himself over to the authorities, who turned out to be a 22-year-old science student named Jean-Claude Thouroude. Why did he confess to the crime? Because, as he told the judge, he was motivated by his passion for Hepburn and hoped he would have the chance to meet her at his trial.
As one might expect, Hepburn showed zero inclination to meet with Thouroude and help him fulfil his fantasies. She did not attend his trial, and Thoroude received a fine and a suspended sentence from a magistrate whose verdict, in retrospect, would likely not be well-received today, being more or less the equivalent of a slap on the wrist. The magistrate justified the light castigations with the judgement, “Love is not a crime!”
Though superficially comical in some respects (few burglaries have been odder) one can imagine that figures in the public eye, or even everyday people who have had encounters with stalkers, must be relieved that laws around such behaviours are stricter in the present day. Justice may never fully be served for Hepburn’s chalet heist, but the excuse of being overtaken by passion is unlikely in modern-day Europe to sway further magistrates presented with cases of breaking and entering and obsession taken quite a bit too far.
