How the DEA Finally Caught Kermit Gosnell

Amid criticism of America's continued war on drugs, Dr. Kermit Gosnell -- who could have been arrested for murder years earlier if medical oversight agencies had been more vigilant -- was only taken down when he crossed the Drug Enforcement Administration.
Matt Rourke/AP

It was early 2009 when C.T., as he was known to the government, went to a Philadelphia health clinic to cop pills off of an allegedly dirty doctor. He met the front office staffer, a woman named Earlene Baldwin who casually wrote down his order. It was like a corner take-out joint, but for various narcotics. According to the federal indictment filed in December 2011, after Baldwin filled his order, C.T. slid her a $30 tip for the doctor's kind services. She placed the tip in an envelope to be passed to the doctor when he showed up at the office later that night.

According to the government, the doctor wasn't trying to hide what he's doing. In fact, they say he had a staffer tape a memo to the front desk notifying his repeat customers -- it seems a stretch to call them patients, as they allegedly received at most a cursory medical evaluation -- that since business is booming, prices were going up. And since they say he was writing an average of 1,900 prescriptions a month, the dollars were definitely piling up, reportedly hundreds of thousands of them. The pill business was apparently so good the doctor installed a dedicated phone line line for filling take-out orders.

Gosnell was allegedly scribbling out as many as 200 narcotic prescriptions per night.

But this wasn't your typical pill mill, where a doctor churns out high volumes of narcotic prescriptions. The doctor in question was Kermit Gosnell. His business was the Women's Medical Society on Lancaster Avenue in Philadelphia, where he is alleged to have killed newborn babies under the guise of legitimate abortion services. If convicted, Gosnell seems poised to become the most infamous medical professional since Josef Mengele.

Even though Gosnell is said to have operated more or less in the open -- making little attempt to dispose or conceal the remains of dead children that he kept stored on site, in a medical facility that was reportedly known to reek of body fluids and cat urine, on a highly visible and heavily trafficked corner on Drexel University's campus -- it wasn't until he started pushing pills that he was arrested.

For years, as laid out in the Gosnell murder trial's grand jury report, red flags were raised with various regulatory and oversight agencies like the Pennsylvania Department of State, Department of Health, and the Board of Medicine about Gosnell. Little action was taken. On one occasion, a state investigator had an off-site interview with Gosnell, who denied allegations of malpractice, that didn't lead to an inspection of his facility. His business went uninspected as newborn bodies allegedly stacked up for 17 years.

It was in the final years of Gosnell's practice that, if the allegations against him stand, he got heavily into the pill business. The move into drug selling would make strategic sense for a profit-driven person. During the earlier years of his practice, Philadelphia was a two drug town. Coke and heroin dominated the street drug scene throughout the '80s and '90s. There wasn't the kind of mass demand for unscrupulous doctors we see today.

But in Philly in the late 1990s and early 2000s, like much of the nation, new prescriptions drugs like OxyContin were gaining traction in the black market among young, inexperienced, typically white, working class drug users who a generation earlier probably would have gone straight to heroin. Additionally, in the hustler scene populated by young black and Latin drug sellers, codeine cough syrup taken in combination with Xanax -- called "pancakes and syrup" on the streets -- skyrocketed in popularity. Its praises were widely sung around Philly by the likes of rapper Beanie Sigel. Suddenly on the streets of Philadelphia there was a new drug landscape where an array of pharmaceutical narcotics competed with old standbys for the top-selling spot. Dirty doctors around the nation were stepped in to fill the black-market demand for meds, knowingly diverting pills out of the legitimate stream of prescription distribution and into the hands of dealers and addicts. 

T.J. later picked up his stack of prescriptions for what would be considered on the streets a very fat sack of dope: 180 80 milligram OxyContin pills, 200 Percocet, 180 1mg Xanax, and 20oz of codeine syrup.

Prosecutors say Gosnell dove into this new market, taking cash tips in addition to appointment fees to write prescriptions for all of Philadelphia's new favorite pharmaceutical narcotics: OxyContin, Percocet, Xanax, and codeine cough syrup.

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Jeff Deeney is a social worker and writer based in Philadelphia. His work has also appeared in Newsweek, and he is columnist at The Fix

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