The Great Lobster Vanishing: How $400,000 of Premium Shellfish Disappeared from New England’s Docks

High-Seas Heist

The fog still clung to the harbor at 4:12 a.m. when the night watchman noticed the refrigerated trailer was gone. Inside: 28,000 pounds of flash-frozen lobster tails—enough crustacean gold to buy a waterfront cottage in Kennebunkport. By the time the sun burned through the mist, the FBI’s art-and-cargo squad had taken over the pier, treating it like a crime scene worthy of a Rembrandt theft.

A Trail of Claw Marks

Local dealers whisper that the bandits knew exactly what they were doing. The container was GPS-tracked, yet the signal died at the first rotary—killed by a copper-lined Faraday bag, the kind cyber-thieves use to silence cell phones. Surveillance cams captured a white cab with stolen Maine plates, but the logo on the door had been masked off with painter’s tape. "Whoever pulled this off has moved lobster before," says dock boss Carla Moretti. "You don’t just back up to a reefer and drive away unless you know how to keep that load at thirty-two degrees."

"Twenty-eight tons of lobster doesn’t evaporate. Somebody’s sitting on a fortune in tail meat right now."—Special Agent Ramona Vega, FBI Boston Field Office

Black-Market Buffet

Inside the trade, the gossip is juicier than drawn butter. Premium lobster tails destined for casinos in Vegas and white-tablecloth steakhouses in Manhattan now sit—somewhere—waiting for a forged bill of lading. Industry veterans estimate the cargo could fetch half a million on the underground circuit, where restaurants in landlocked states pay cash under the table to dodge tariffs and traceability rules.

• Retail value of stolen lobster: $400,000
• Weight: 28,000 lbs
• FBI reward for tips: $50,000
• Port of origin: Portland, Maine

Coast Guard Joins the Hunt

By dusk, a Jayhawk helicopter was sweeping the rocky coastline, infrared cameras scanning for any reefer giving off a thermal signature. Investigators say the robbers had a four-hour head start before the theft was reported—time enough to reach Interstate 95 or stash the load aboard a waiting trawler. Agents are now poring over customs records, looking for outbound vessels that left Portland Harbor without a full manifest.

Community Left Shell-Shocked

At Portside Provisions, owner Jimmy Tran has already posted a hand-written sign: "Cash sale only—lobster prices subject to change." Tran lost 2,000 pounds in the heist and fears insurance won’t cover the full wholesale hit. Up the coast in Searsport, lobsterman Darla Beal worries the crime will invite tighter federal regulations. "We’re out here trying to make an honest living. One bad actor and suddenly every trap has to be bar-coded," she says, hauling a crate of live bugs onto the pier.

What Happens Next

The FBI is asking anyone offered unusually cheap lobster tails—especially in 5- or 10-pound vacuum packs stamped PLANT #M339-ME—to come forward. Meanwhile, wholesalers are quietly installing tamper-proof air-tag trackers inside every third pallet. And on the docks, the old salts swear the sea always tells. "Somebody’s gonna brag over a beer," Carla Moretti shrugs. "And when they do, we’ll be ready with the cuffs—and the melted butter."