Marty Lagina Annouched a $140 MILLION Gold Treasure Hidden Underground

Tim and Ross Fiser, okay? And these guys, father son, they found a giant massive gold dredge on their property and they are uncovering it and basically trying to make it almost like a living museum, but also they’re finding gold on that property. So, they are finding gold in the dredge itself.

An Claudia River Park in Florida seems like a peaceful place, but it holds a violent secret. Two centuries ago, this was the stage for a massive treasure burial by the pirate Louis Ori and his indigenous allies. Marty Lagginina is now convinced that a simple Spanish well is the landmark that leads to one of 11 chests holding millions in gold. The promise of a pirates’s fortune.

A new day dawn over Holiday Florida, but it is no vacation for Marty Legina and Maddie Blake. The air is already thick with humidity as they arrive back at Ancloat River Park, a place haunted by whispers of immense wealth. The driving force behind their return is a single word, perseverance. It is this relentless spirit that fuels their quest, a search for what could be one of the largest undiscovered treasures in North America.

The prize is the lost fortune of Louis Ori, a notorious French privateeer who terrorized the seas 200 years ago. When you think about the numbers, the potential of this gold, 400 million in today’s currency, that is literally breathtaking. The legend is as grand as it is specific. History tells of AI, with the help of his trusted indigenous allies, dividing an incredible treasure into 11 separate caches. The total value is estimated at a mind-boggling $140 million in gold.

For centuries, this fortune has remained a local myth, a ghost story told by the water. But for Marty and his team, including the on-site crew led by Joe Zigga, it is a very real possibility. They believe they are at the epicenter of the legend, standing near an old Spanish well that serves as a landmark on a forgotten treasure map. They have already dug hard and come up empty. But with 10 potential targets remaining, excitement hangs heavy in the air, even heavier than the Florida heat.

Shovels are ready, and the team is banking on the idea that today their persistence will finally pay off in gold. But this isn’t just a hunt for gold. It’s a race against time and history. And the secrets buried beneath their feet are far more complex than just a chest full of coins.

Before a single shovel could break the earth that morning, technology had already been hard at work. Researcher Michael Gatuso had spent the early hours conducting another meticulous ground penetrating radar or GPR survey of the area. This was not a wild guess. It was a surgical approach to treasure hunting. The GPR sends waves into the ground bouncing back to create a digital image of what lies beneath.

“We rescan these and if you can see when we went around the 18 ft circle we actually had strong possibilities. One there, one here, one there. So within 10 ft, but the only problem is they’re 10 ft deep.”

It is the modern explorer’s closest thing to X-ray vision. Gatuso’s goal was simple, to find the shallowest targets, the ones the team could actually reach without bringing in massive, destructive machinery. He gathered Marty and the team to show them the results.

The screen displayed a series of compelling anomalies, strong possibilities for a buried cash. Truth be told, there was a pattern. Several strong hits appeared along an 18-oot circle the team had previously mapped out, a measurement derived from Marty’s own calculations based on the historical records. It seemed too perfect to be a coincidence.

However, a problem quickly emerged. Most of these promising targets were deep, resting at a depth of 10 ft or more. Digging that far down through tough, compact soil would be a monumental task. Then, Gatuso pointed to a single beautiful anomaly.

One target was different. It was shallower, located only 5 to 6 ft below the surface. Crucially, it was situated right on the perimeter line that Marty had calculated. It was the perfect spot, accessible, mathematically sound, and pulsing with digital promise.

There was no more need for discussion. A new energy surged through the weary team. This was their spot. This was the target. The day’s real work was about to begin, and everyone could feel they were on the verge of something monumental.

As they grabbed their tools, no one could have predicted that the first clue they would find wouldn’t be gold, but a simple piece of rusted iron that would change their entire perspective.

With the target location marked, the backbreaking work began. The team hammered away at the ground, the rhythmic thud of metal on earth echoing through the park. Every shovel full of dirt carried the weight of expectation. Joe Zigga’s confidence was infectious. He felt certain they had found the most viable place to dig. The excitement level was, as he put it, over the top.

It was not long before the grind was interrupted by a sharp clink. The digging stopped. All eyes turned to the pile of freshly moved earth. There, caked in dirt, was a piece of badly rusted metal. At first glance, it was nothing special. But as they cleaned it, a distinct shape emerged.

It was a nail. Not just any nail, but a clenched nail, the kind that would have been pounded through a wooden plank and then bent over to create a permanent seal. It was a handro nail, a piece of hardware crafted by a blacksmith’s hand, not a modern factory machine. The team’s historical expert estimated its age to be from the late 1700s, perhaps around 1790.

This was a stunning development. Louis Ori was believed to have been active in this area around 1817. This simple rusted nail was from the correct time period. It was proof that people were here building and sealing things right when the pirate was said to have buried his treasure.

“If there were pirates skulking around here doing things, this would put in the time period. So, and where did this back fill come from? Where did the back fill come from? Yeah.”

However, a serious problem tempered the excitement. The nail was found in the back fill. The loose soil and sand that had been moved and dumped here over the years, possibly from dredging operations. This meant they had lost the original context. The nail could have come from anywhere nearby.

And yet the question lingered. Where did this backfill come from? If Ari and his men were here, this nail fits the timeline perfectly. It put some muchneeded pep back in their dig.

The discovery, while not a gold coin, was a tangible link to the past, a whisper from the very era they were investigating. Fueled by this discovery, they pushed deeper, unaware that the very ground beneath them was about to reveal a clue of a completely different nature.

Well, I’ve come to learn recently that that’s not even close to the whole story in America and that the gold rush actually started in North Carolina.

The orange horizon. The hunt intensified as the team dug. Their metal detectors kept screaming, signaling the presence of non-ferris metal, a signature that could indicate gold. No one wanted to stop. Hands were blistered, backs achd, but the persistent beeping of the detectors was a siren song they could not ignore.

As long as those hits kept coming, they were not stopping. They hammered away at the tough ground, determined to get past the top layers and into the zone where the real secrets were hidden. Suddenly, the color of the soil began to change.

The whitish beach sand that made up the surface gave way to a distinct vibrant layer of orange colored earth. This was the moment they had been waiting for. According to their consulting archaeologist, Dr. Aaron Taylor, this orange strata was critical. This was the layer where they had to stop digging with brute force and start sifting. Any artifacts from the historical period they were targeting would likely be found in this soil.

The change in color marked a change in strategy. The heavy work was done. Now the delicate search for tiny overlooked clues began. The team set up sifters and every shovel full of the orange sand was carefully passed through a mesh screen. It was tedious, painstaking work under the relentless sun.

They were looking for anything out of place. A button, a bead, a fragment of pottery, or if they dared to dream, a Spanish coin. The orange soil represented a horizon of possibility, a layer of earth that had been undisturbed for centuries. They were now peeling back the pages of time, sift by sift.

The energy was electric. They were in the right place, at the right depth, and in the right soil. Then a shout broke the quiet concentration.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

Someone had found something. It wasn’t metal, and it wasn’t a coin, but it felt ancient and utterly unnatural. Pulled from the sifter was a strange dark rock. It was smooth on one side and jagged on the other with an edge that felt unnaturally sharp. It looked like the bottom of a broken pot, but it was made of stone.

Dr. Taylor examined it closely and made an immediate identification. It was CH, a type of rock that was the go-to material for First Nations people in this region. Because ch can be flaked to create a razor sharp edge, it was invaluable for making arrowheads, knives, and scraping tools.

Discovering a piece of worked CH more than 2 ft deep in the orange strata was a monumental find. In one sense, this was incredible news. The legend of Louisi explicitly states that he was helped by his indigenous allies when he buried the 11 treasure chests. Finding a Native American artifact in the exact spot they were digging offered powerful evidence that the stories were true.

It suggested that they were indeed digging in a place where Ory’s allies had been active. The church was a direct link to the people who were supposedly present when $140 million in gold was hidden away. It was a thrilling confirmation of their theory.

“Now we’ve just found um shirt which the First Nations like to use to make tools. I’m just looking for some direction on how you’d like me to proceed.”

However, as the initial excitement faded, a chilling realization set in. The discovery of a First Nations artifact could also be a disaster for the entire operation. This find could potentially qualify the area as a historically protected archaeological site. If that were to happen, all digging would be legally forced to stop immediately.

The search for the treasure would be over. Not because they were in the wrong place, but because they were in the exact right place. Their quest for private gold had just unearthed a matter of public history. And the two were now on a collision course.

The CH artifact was both their greatest clue and their biggest threat. The team was now trapped in a terrible bind, facing a problem so complicated it could end their entire hunt. This one small piece of church put their entire multi-million dollar search in legal jeopardy.

The mood at the dig site, which had been buzzing with excitement just moments before, fell completely silent. The thrill of discovery vanished, replaced by a thick, heavy feeling of dread. The very artifact that served as a key, proving they were in the right place, had now become a ticking clock, counting down the seconds until their dream was shut down for good.

There was no way around it. Following the strict rules of archaeology, they had to report the find. Dr. Aaron Taylor, their expert, was tasked with making the most important phone call of the entire expedition. He had to contact the Tampa History Center and tell them everything.

In that instant, the dig changed. It was no longer a private treasure hunt fueled by grit and hope. It had become an official matter, a case file on a desk somewhere, and the power to continue was no longer in their hands.

As Dr. Taylor walked away from the group to find a quiet spot for the call. The rest of the team could only stand and watch. Their shovels and tools lay on the ground, suddenly useless. Marty Legina, a man defined by action and perseverance, stood still, his face a mask of concern. Mattie Blake paced back and forth, unable to hide his frustration.

Joe Zigga and his crew, who had poured so much sweat into the hole, now looked at it as if it were a grave for their hopes. The same thought echoed in everyone’s mind. This could be the end. They might be sent packing today, forced to walk away from a spot they were certain held a vast fortune.

All their hard work, the high-tech GPR surveys, the blisters on their hands, the aching backs, the unshakable belief that drove them could all amount to nothing because of a single stone and a single phone call.

The fate of their $140 million dream now rested on the words of a stranger in an office miles away. The normal sounds of the Florida park seemed to disappear. The silence was deafening as the team strained to read Dr. Taylor’s body language.

He spoke quietly into his phone. His back turned to them. He described the church, the specific orange soil layer it came from, and the historical context of their search. Was his tone hopeful? Was he arguing their case? They had no idea.

Every knot of his head, every pause in his speech, sent waves of anxiety through the crew. This single conversation, calm and professional on the surface, felt like a highstakes battle. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours.

The pendulum of their fate was swinging wildly, and from where they stood, they had no idea which way it would finally land. They were learning a hard lesson. Some treasures are protected by more than just dirt and time. They are guarded by the unmovable force of the law.

Is it right to halt a search for lost wealth for a single stone?

Like and subscribe for more treasure hunting mysteries.