Today we are publishing the second in a four-part series written by students at the UNC Hussman School of Journalism. They spent the past semester digging into one of Chapel Hill’s great mysteries: What happened to Que Chula’s chairs? Part One: The journey of Que Chula’s chairs: symbols of Mexican culture and resilience
By Lulu Sasz, Kika Larrick, Leslie Holt, and Lydia Chen
The first time someone swiped chairs from Que Chula, a well-known restaurant on the heart of Chapel Hill’s main Franklin Street, Jose Ramirez, the co-owner and founder of the restaurant, felt defeated. His wife Laurena Ibarra “cried, and … freaked out.”
But now, after four similar robberies, the family doesn’t even report thefts to the Chapel Hill police.
Que Chula opened in 2020, and the family-owned restaurant worked hard to create a welcoming, vibrant dining experience for customers by painting symbolic murals and furnishing the restaurant with unique items including 94 hand woven chairs imported from Mexico.
The initial chair-napping took place Oct. 3, 2021 when two outdoor chairs went missing.
Back then, the restaurant spoke out about what happened on social media, sparking an outpouring of community support.
“The first time we did see a reaction it was like big news,” Ramirez recalled. “A lot of people got involved and we got a lot of business from locals who wanted to support us.”
They posted a $400 reward for anyone who returned the chairs to the restaurant’s Instagram page on Oct. 3, 2021. Within just two days, William Dickinson, a University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill undergraduate student, showed up at Que Chula with both.
Dickinson did not respond to requests for comment. Whether he was acting as a good Samaritan or played a role in the initial burglary is unclear.
Nonetheless, the restaurant was glad to have their chairs back.
But a little more than three months later, it happened again. On Friday, Jan. 14, 2022, two more chairs disappeared during the restaurant’s busiest hours. As diners enjoyed their authentic Mexican meals and waiters hustled to refill drinks and flip tables, two more oval chairs vanished without a trace.
According to the Chapel Hill Police Department’s report corresponding to the incident, the chairs were last known to be secure at 6:30 p.m. Marco Ayalas, the manager of Que Chula, contacted the police at 10:14 p.m. when he realized that the chairs were missing.
That meant there was a nearly four-hour window around when the burglary took place.
Owner Jose Ramirez had never experienced furniture theft in his years of restaurant experience. To him, cutlery and cup theft as well as general property damage tended to be more common.
He was surprised when the chair burglaries began, and even more surprised when they continued.
The restaurant announced the latest chair-nappings on social media the following day on Jan. 15th. A day later, on Jan. 16, they announced their return.
An unnamed woman found both oval chairs outside of Granville Towers, a UNC-CH dorm building located 384 feet away from the restaurant, according to Google Maps.
Ramirez suspected that drunk college students having a night out partying likely stole the chairs. He thought they perhaps wanted a place to sit.
The police investigation was closed.
Que Chula did not wish to file charges, said Alex Carrasquillo, the Media Relations Manager for the Town of Chapel Hill.
Nearly two years after the first pair of chairs vanished, a third robbery occurred.
At 4:53 a.m. on October 19, 2024, Que Chula and the Franklin Street Plaza were vacant. It was a clear, temperate night with virtually no wind.
The only movement in the area came from two unwelcome visitors.
Captured on a security camera from the apartment complex at 140 W Franklin St., a middle-aged Caucasian woman walked leisurely down a dimly lit outdoor hallway, moving north on Church Street. She wore a Carolina-blue UNC Health Rex shirt, a long white tube skirt, mint green and white sneakers and carried a white backpack. Her curly, golden-brown hair was in a high ponytail, which sat to one side.
Behind her, she dragged one of Que Chula’s unmistakable neon pink barstool-sized woven chairs. When the woman exited the frame of the video footage, her shadow revealed she set the chair down. She then reentered the frame, heading back towards Que Chula before disappearing around the corner.
A minute later, she reappeared on the tape, this time with a short teal chair in tow.
This time, a male companion followed closely behind. He wore a brown jacket over a white button-down and tie. He had loose-fitting white pants, a white fedora and white shoes, and carried an unknown floppy object in his gloved hand. Walking ahead, the woman placed the teal chair against a column. The man slid into the seat and appeared to tip his hat at her.
The woman turned and strode back towards Que Chula yet again, in the direction of an empty shopping cart left by her companion.
That concluded the seemingly haphazard burglary.
At 6:24 p.m. that evening, Que Chula’s manager Marco Ayala once again called the police after noticing the missing chairs.
That investigation remains ongoing, and the chairs are yet to be found.
Although the burglary was caught on camera, the Chapel Hill Police could not use facial recognition technology because it requires “a head-on, direct view of a face in good lighting,” said Carrasquillo.
Ayala said that he heard rumors that the woman worked at another restaurant on Franklin Street; he did not say which one.
Most recently, a fourth incident occurred on November 15, 2024. A single chair went missing. This time, however, the restaurant did not contact the police.
They felt that there was no point.
Chris Blue, a former police chief with the Chapel Hill Police Department, initially began working with the department as a patrol officer in 1997.
“We see a lot of [petty theft],” Blue said. “[It] is hard to stop people from that sort of crime on Franklin Street…These cases present unique challenges.”
The “seemingly random nature” of the thefts and the lack of a clear motive make them particularly puzzling, he explained.
The police have reviewed surveillance footage provided by the restaurant, canvassed the neighborhood for potential witnesses, and cross-referenced the incident with other reported thefts in the area, said Que Chula co-owner Ramirez.
The police have still learned nothing on the whereabouts of the chairs.
Despite their futile efforts, the police have supported Que Chula’s through each theft.
“The police come every time they steal a chair,” Ramirez said. “They’ll come even if we didn’t report it, they’ll say they heard about a stolen chair and go look for it. They’re very nice and supportive, but sometimes… they can’t find them.”
Even with the added benefit of extra sets of eyes from additional security cameras and vantage points from private apartments across the street, there are zero leads in the investigations.
Que Chula has faced its share of challenges on top of the repeated chair-nappings, including the occasional broken planter and stolen coffee mugs. However, the community’s watchful eyes and support remind the owners they’re not alone.
With what began as a collection of 94 distinctly colored, hand-woven chairs imported Mexico is now 91.
If this pattern of chair theft continues at the same rate, by 2095, no chairs will be left at Que Chula.
“It would suck. Where would I sit?” said Yasmine Moudarrrir when pondering the future possibility of a chairless Que Chula.
Her friend, Catherine Scott, another UNC-Chapel Hill student, added, “I would be sad that I didn’t get any of the chairs.”
Tomorrow: The price of doing business on Franklin Street