OUT OF THE SPOTLIGHT BUT ON THE MARK

Fred Schulte & Jenni Bergal

'We both have a sense of outrage when the system isn't working.
All of our work reflects that.'

South Florida Sun-Sentinel (Ft. Lauderdale)

Schulte since 1978, Bergal since 1981

BEST-KNOWN INVESTIGATION (SCHULTE): VA Hospital series, 1984 and '86 -- Uncovered sloppy medical practices leading to the needless suffering and deaths of scores of veterans. Pulitzer finalist.

BEST-KNOWN INVESTIGATION (BERGAL): "Cosmetic Surgery -- The Hidden Dangers," with Schulte, 1998: Exposed a lack of regulation in the field that has led to disfigurement and death for many across Florida. Pulitzer finalist. 

FAVORITE INVESTIGATION (SCHULTE): "Destination in Doubt," 1992 -- An exposé of boiler-room telemarketing operations that sold fraudulent vacation packages.

FAVORITE INVESTIGATION (BERGAL): Coverage of Maria DeSillers, a flamboyant Florida resident who raised nearly three-quarters of a million dollars for her son's liver transplants, kept a chunk of it for herself -- and then stiffed the hospital for part of the bill, 1987-88.

This husband-and-wife team is among the longest-running investigative duos in the business. Their subject matter is varied, but often returns to the theme of health care. Schulte, forty-eight, got his start as a reporter for a medical trade publication in Rockville, Maryland. When he moved to the Sun-Sentinel in 1978, he quickly began seeing that the health-care system wasn't working the way it had been presented inside the Beltway. He was among the first to expose the billion-dollar HMO industry, finding fraudulent signups and fictitious patients on a massive scale. He's been a finalist for a Pulitzer three times -- most recently on the cosmetic surgery story with Bergal, forty-three, who first teamed up with Schulte on an investigation of child deaths in 1986. Together, the two have won more than 100 awards.

While much of their reporting has been solo or with other reporters, they have found a happy partnership in their work together. "Fred's the idea man," Bergal says, and while Schulte is also heavily involved in the legwork, he is grateful for her attention to detail and her ability to ferret out the facts.

"She brings home the bacon," he says. "We both have a sense of outrage when the system isn't working. All of our work reflects that. We try to present the view from the little guy."

The classic Bergal-Schulte investigation involves combing through the archives of state and local agencies, looking for inconsistencies and oversights. "A lot of the time, there are six or seven agencies that deal with a case but they never talk to each other," Schulte says. "We go around and try to sweep up every bit of data. Pretty soon you can dig out things that people who are running the system don't know."

Their methodology hasn't endeared them to the bureaucrats they cover; Veterans Administration officials refused to speak with Schulte, and would only answer questions submitted in writing. The head of the Florida Department of Health and Rehabilitation Services complained to Bergal's top editor about her critical coverage. Their searches take them into the most obscure -- and sometimes uncomfortable -- repositories of information. For the cosmetic surgery story, for example, Bergal spent weeks poring over documents in five county morgues. That series, and one that followed on the vanity medicine business, led to a moratorium on office surgeries and later a mandatory prison sentence for those who practiced without a license.

Most recently, their series "Crashing for Cash" revealed a network of swindlers throughout the state that stages phony crashes and works with corrupt chiropractors and lawyers to bilk the insurance industry of millions.

Schulte takes the lead in the computer-assisted aspect of their work. Before computer-assisted reporting became an industry standard, he was working with the computer gurus in state bureaucracies to build databases and to document trends in public health and the health-care industry.

"They're terrific reporters -- fact-heavy, shoe-leather reporters who are absolutely rigorous," says longtime fan Peggy Engel, director of the Alicia Patterson Foundation. "They have a great sense of humor about dealing with roadblocks; they're constantly being stonewalled, yet they manage to get the goods every time."

One thing that characterizes their work is an emphasis on solutions; a part of each series suggests how the system might be changed. "We try to provide a road map for reform," Bergal says.