Before he joined the Scandals and Controversies section of the 1998 media yearbook, Mike Gallagher was known within the Gannett news organization as a star investigative reporter -- ambitious, solid, unafraid of intimidating targets. That's why Gannett's Cincinnati Enquirer recruited him to join its staff in 1995; why his bosses indulged him with hundreds of thousands of dollars for an investigation of the business practices of Chiquita Brands International, Inc., a company controlled since the 1970s by Cincinnati's most powerful corporate figure, Carl Lindner; why they printed his findings -- including charges of bribery, environmental recklessness, schemes to evade land and labor laws -- on May 3 in a flashy, eighteen-page special section (at left) with the headline chiquita secrets revealed across the front; and why Enquirer editor Lawrence Beaupre endorsed the package with a glowing editor's note that praised its "thorough reporting." The Enquirer expected the Chiquita stories to catapult it out of journalistic obscurity -- to complete the paper's metamorphosis from middling corporate protector to purveyor of a journalism worthy of the ultimate accolade, the Pulitzer Prize.

Less than two months later, the star had become a pariah. On Sunday, June 28, Enquirer readers found the words an apology to chiquita sprawled across all six columns of the front page. As anyone within shouting distance of a media outlet now knows, the apology was part of a settlement between Gannett and Chiquita that included a payment of "more than" $10 million (some Gannett insiders put the figure as high as $50 million). It included language charging Gallagher with the "theft" of information "in violation of law." The settlement removed the threat of litigation against the newspaper and its corporate parent.

Recordings of some 2,000 internal Chiquita voice-mail messages had been a proudly acknowledged source for the Chiquita series when the newspaper believed that they had been provided by a high-level Chiquita employee (the special section was even illustrated with little images of tapes); they became the package's Achilles' heel when Chiquita convinced the newspaper that Gallagher himself had taped at least some of them, apparently illegally. As the apology puts it: "Despite [Gallagher's] assurances to his editors prior to publication that he obtained his information in an ethical and lawful manner, we can no longer trust his word." He was fired.

On July 2, Chiquita filed suit against Gallagher in federal district court for "defamation, trespass, conversion, violations of state and federal wiretapping laws and other intentional misconduct." In addition, Gallagher and several other Enquirer employees have been subpoenaed to appear before a grand jury, as part of a joint criminal investigation by the FBI and the Hamilton County, Ohio, Sheriff's Office.

Although they eventually must answer the civil suit, by mid-August neither Gallagher nor his attorney, Patrick Hanley, had offered their version of events. Nor had Cameron McWhirter and David Wells, Gallagher's co-author and immediate editor. Editor Beaupre and publisher Harry Whipple won't answer any substantive questions about the series or how it was reported; nor will Gannett. Only Chiquita, the target of the series, is happy to talk.

For a man who has spent his life asking questions, Gallagher has provoked a horde of his own: Did he hack into Chiquita's voice-mail system? If so, how? Or did someone do it for him, as he has maintained. Was it a mix of the two? Did he lie about the source of the voice-mail tapes, as his editors at the Enquirer now suspect? Is he protecting his sources at great personal cost? Or did he simply find a tempting but unethical method to verify the findings of a lengthy and difficult investigation?

In Cincinnati, Enquirer readers can be forgiven for feeling confused.

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