A year after the Ramirez affair, Tony Bosch rented out the space that would become Biogenesis on the ground floor of a white-paneled building on Stanford Drive at South Dixie Highway, just across from UM. A quiet canal burbles behind the building.
The clinic, which started under the name Biokem, built a client list from dozens to hundreds. By 2012, Bosch changed the name again, to Biogenesis. He also began writing new, glowing biographies of himself in his personal notebooks, presumably for use in the clinic's promotional materials.
"Dr. Tony Bosch is recognized as an international educator and world-class leader in bio-identical hormone replacement therapy," reads one description, which also praises him as a "pioneer in orthomolecular medicine" and calls him a "molecular biochemist."
New clients continued flowing in by referral. Jan, a Miami saleswoman who had recently turned 40, went to Bosch in early 2012 as she struggled to keep up her workout regimen while traveling for work. She wasn't charmed by the faux doctor.
"He seemed really edgy and talked to me for only a few minutes," says Jan, whose name New Times also agreed to change but whose story is confirmed by patient records. Bosch hooked her anyway. On the first visit, a nurse gave Jan a vitamin B12 shot, and she "felt like a million bucks," she says. "I couldn't believe how much energy I had. But there [were] diminishing returns. The next time, I asked for another one and it didn't have nearly the same effect. So I wanted to see what else I could get."
Within a month, Bosch had sold her an East German Olympics-worthy regimen: daily shots of B12 mixed with Winstrol, an anabolic steroid; furosemide, an industrial-strength diuretic that forces the body to shed water weight; and regular doses of Anavar, a popular and potent anabolic steroid.
Jan says she was initially freaked out by the regimen — especially the B12/Winstrol mix, which she had to inject straight into her stomach. But she couldn't deny the results. "I felt so good. It was addictive," she says. "Within a month, my arms were hard as a rock, my shoulders were built up — and not in a masculine way. I just felt really good."
Juan Garcia had the same experience. Though he wasn't totally comfortable taking Anavar and Winstrol — having checked online and realized they were in fact anabolic steroids — he couldn't deny the results. "It is addictive as shit," he says. "As a man, you go from blah to 'Whoa, look at that.'"
What's more, Garcia quickly saw profit potential. So when he had some money, he approached Bosch about investing.
The boss's eyes lit up, and he signed Garcia on right away, giving him a key to the clinic and setting him loose to find new clients. The Miami native began working up advertising ideas but soon realized something was amiss. "Tony started being really squirrelly about my money," he says. "And I started hearing that employees weren't being paid. That's when I started asking Tony for a payback plan."
Though records show the operation was pulling in more than $25,000 per month, Bosch reacted as he had in the past. "I worked there for two months and never got a single paycheck," says a former secretary, who asked not to be named. "I was mostly there as a hobby, because my husband works and I wanted the workout drugs. But other people were depending on those paychecks."
The boxes were stuffed mostly with file folders full of patient questionnaires about fitness routines and sales records for HGH, testosterone, and steroids.
But Garcia also found four unremarkable-looking composition books filled with legible, all-caps handwriting. They were, he came to believe, the personal files of Tony Bosch. His name was written in block letters on the front of each one with the year it represented. Through hundreds of pages of business plans, self-aggrandizing bios, inspirational phrases, and line after line of patient names and prescriptions, Bosch also noted the information he didn't dare detail elsewhere.
In these notebooks, he spelled out all the athletes — from baseball to tennis to high school players — buying his products. The name that really made Garcia's jaw drop was hometown hero Alex Rodriguez.
Born and raised in Miami and starring on the diamond since he was 18 years old, A-Rod admitted in 2009 that he had used steroids, claiming in an ESPN interview that his doping was limited to a three-year window — 2001 through 2003 — while he played under a record contract for the Texas Rangers. Ever since then, A-Rod claimed, he'd been playing clean. He'd never failed an MLB drug test since penalties were put into place.