Lies, private jets and a missing $86 million: the spectacular rise and fall of Inigo Philbrick sketched anew

22 August 2025

Inigo Philbrick was interviewed for more than 14 hours for the BBC Two documentary. Photograph: BBC/Bamus (WAA) Productions Ltd/Blue Ant Media

In an unveiling as sensational as it is sobering, the story of art dealer Inigo Philbrick once celebrated for his charm and eye for masterpieces unfolds in the new BBC documentary The Great Art Fraud, revealing not only his opulent highs, but also the labyrinthine fraud that sent shockwaves through the art world. The tale reads like a cautionary parable of deception, excess, and the fragility of trust.

In 2019, Philbrick’s ascent came crashing down when investigators revealed he had orchestrated one of the largest art frauds in history, swindling collectors out of a staggering $86 million. His scheme operated in the shadows of glittering galleries in London and Miami, where he would brazenly sell shares in a single artwork to multiple investors, forge documents, and inflate prices all while living a lifestyle defined by private jets, $5,000 bottles of wine, and $7,000 suits.

Born in 1987 and raised in Connecticut by parents immersed in the arts, Philbrick displayed early ambition. After interning at White Cube in London, he swiftly rose to run his own gallery, winning over collectors with disarming confidence. But behind the scenes, his deals were built on falsehoods. He routinely sold more than 100 percent of artwork shares and inflated contracts with fake documents once listing the bank details of a prestigious New York law firm to lend legitimacy.

One infamous case involved a collector who believed he was paying $18.4 million for a Basquiat painting. In reality, Philbrick had acquired it much cheaper, and to justify the inflated sale, he forged contracts even fabricating bank information to support the lie. Similarly, he misled buyers about auction guarantees for a Picasso portrait, only to be exposed when Christie's confirmed no such guarantee existed.

Philbrick’s downfall accelerated after fleeing with his partner, socialite Victoria Baker‑Harber, to Vanuatu. The idyll ended with his arrest by the FBI in 2020. In 2022, at age 34, he was sentenced to seven years in a U.S. prison, two years of supervised release, and ordered to forfeit over $86 million though he served only part of the sentence and was released early.

The Great Art Fraud provides a window into his life and mindset through more than 14 hours of interviews with Philbrick and Baker-Harber. The couple recounts a life of lavish parties, drugs, and private jets. Yet there is ambivalence: while Philbrick expresses regret, he remains eerily detached from moral responsibility. Asked in the documentary if he has any of the stolen money, he simply grins and says, “No.”

Victoria Baker‑Harber, who has not faced legal consequences, downplays the severity, suggesting wrongdoing is relative: “You could say he's a criminal, but who hasn't done something illegal?” she says, a chilling reflection of the permissiveness that cloaks privilege.

Legal observers point out that his defense blamed poor legal representation for the outcome a dismissal that his own lawyer refuted, calling the sentence lenient given the scale of evidence.

As The Great Art Fraud premieres on BBC Two on August 27, viewers are invited to contemplate a narrative that transcends individual greed. It is also a reflection on the art market’s opacity, arrogance, and the layers of trust that allowed Philbrick’s scam to flourish, unchecked.