T
he warrant represented more than a year’s work for Novitzky, who’d painstakingly assembled a trove of evidence suggesting that BALCO, in addition to whatever legitimate business it engaged in, was actively marketing illegal steroids and human growth hormone to an astonishing array of top athletes. After an anonymous caller lodged allegations that “an individual” was distributing steroids “to players of a local professional sports team,” the IRS and the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) both launched investigations. Novitzky began working on the case in August 2002. As an athlete, the clean-cut, sportsmanlike Novitzky wouldn’t have dreamed of using drugs to cheat, and he seemed relatively naive about the use of performance-enhancing drugs in professional sports. He wasn’t familiar with the extensive vocabulary that had developed among steroid users and distributors. That quickly changed.
Novitzky and other agents began searching BALCO’s trash the very week they received the tip, and returned every Monday night thereafter. (The Supreme Court has ruled that searching trash without a warrant isn’t unconstitutional or an invasion of privacy, since the material has been discarded.) A team kept BALCO’s offices under surveillance. Conte was followed and observed. Novitzky monitored Conte’s Internet postings in chat groups devoted to fitness and bodybuilding, in which he freely discussed the risks, benefits, and use of steroids. Novitzky used the information to obtain subpoenas and gain access to Conte’s bank records and e-mail accounts, as well as medical trash removed from BALCO. Novitzky took a crash course in the science of steroids, consulting with Dr. Don Catlin at UCLA and Dr. Larry Bowers, senior managing director of USADA, in charge of testing for U.S. Olympic athletes. Novitzky had brought Bowers along on the BALCO raid for help in identifying substances they might discover there.
For someone warning, as Conte wrote in one e-mail, “be careful about how you say what you say,” he was remarkably indiscreet. The trash yielded empty boxes and used vials of testosterone, various steroid compounds, human growth hormone, and empty boxes and used syringes and syringe wrappers–all in such quantities as to suggest the steroids were being injected on BALCO’s premises. Novitzky described the haul of evidence as a “treasure trove of information.”
Greg Anderson and a stream of elite athletes were observed coming and going from the offices; Anderson sometimes went directly from BALCO to Pac Bell Park (later renamed AT&T Park) and entered the Giants’ clubhouse. E-mails contained sophisticated discussions of various steroid regimens and how to avoid detection with references to the “cream,” the “gel,” and the “clear.” Financial records indicated Conte had withdrawn $480,000 in cash (over several years), and had directed various athletes to make payments into his personal accounts rather than BALCO’s.
Various documents uncovered in BALCO’s trash strongly suggested that Conte and Valente were sending blood and urine samples to be tested for steroids to make sure that the drugs their clients were using wouldn’t show up in routine tests. The source of the samples was often identified only by a code, but one bore the name Barry Bonds. The blood sample had been sent to LabOne in Kansas. But an affidavit from Valente dated the next day swore that the sample had been mislabeled, and was actually from Greg Anderson.
Novitzky also found a letter dated June 5, addressed to International Association of Athletics Federations (IAAF) and USADA testing personnel. The letter implicated some of the world’s top track-and-field athletes, as well as their celebrated coach, Trevor Graham, in illegal steroid use.
Novitzky summarized the evidence he’d gathered with his application for a search warrant, concluding that “this affidavit has presented evidence of illegal anabolic steroid and other athletic performance-enhancing drug distribution to professional athletes, including the distribution of new, untested substances; the use of the mail to purchase epitestosterone, a substance used in the fraudulent defeat of performance-enhancing drug tests” and various financial irregularities suggesting “illegal money laundering transactions.” The application had been granted the day before the raid.
A
ccording to Novitzky, he showed Conte a copy of the search warrant and said he’d like to interview him. (Conte maintains he only saw the warrant much later, after his interrogation.) He encouraged Conte by indicating that “when someone cooperates from the beginning, they often receive a benefit,” though he said the U.S. Attorney would make the decisions and he couldn’t make any promises. He told Conte he wasn’t under arrest, and there were no plans to arrest him that day. He said he wasn’t required to say anything, and he was free to stop the interview at any time. He could leave whenever he wanted. (Since there was no arrest, there was no need to extend a Miranda warning.) Conte indicated he understood, and agreed to be interviewed. He, Novitzky, and another agent moved to a private conference room at the rear of the offices while Valente and his wife waited in the reception area, even though the agents told them they were free to leave. Word of the search quickly spread, and BALCO’s phones started ringing with calls from anxious customers and the press.
Conte, fifty-three, followed his own fitness regimen, but with his slender mustache and small wire-rimmed glasses, he looked more like a professor than an athlete. Conte was born in 1950 into a working-class family in California’s Central Valley. After attending a community college, he played in rock bands and wound up in San Francisco, where he studied Eastern philosophy, experimented with vitamin supplements, and like many others, dabbled in recreational drugs. He’d gotten into the laboratory business in 1984, when he worked for a lab in Santa Barbara, later buying the rights to the blood-testing equipment, which he used to found BALCO. He’d also launched a nutritional supplement business from the same office. A nutritional supplement, ZMA, was his biggest product.
According to Novitzky, Conte was remarkably forthcoming about his illegal steroids business and his customers, whom he described as “elite” athletes. He sold them two products–the “clear” and the “cream,” both performance-enhancing drugs–“so they can increase athletic performance without getting caught by the testers.” The “clear” is a clear liquid anabolic steroid that athletes take orally in small doses. Conte said he didn’t know what was in it; he’d bought a supply from Patrick Arnold, an Illinois chemist, for $450 a couple of years earlier, and he was still selling it. The “clear,” he said, “helps athletes with recovery.” He told all his customers that “the clear” was a steroid, but if they were ever asked about it by anyone in authority, they should say it was “flaxseed oil.”
The “cream” is a mixture of testosterone and epitestosterone that athletes rub directly on their skin. Tests for steroids look for a rise in the ratio of testosterone to epitestosterone; by raising both levels, the “cream” keeps the ratio in balance. Conte said he got the testosterone cream from a doctor in Texas and the epitestosterone from a large life-science company. Conte in turn sent the ingredients to a friend of Arnold’s in Texas, who mixed them into the cream sold by Conte. Conte typically charged $350, and kept athletes on a “short leash,” selling only small quantities at a time, and only delivering the drugs in person when the athletes came to BALCO’s office. He said all such payments were deposited in his personal accounts.
According to Novitzky’s notes of the interview, Conte didn’t hesitate to name his customers: San Francisco 49ers and Oakland Raiders linebacker Bill Romanowski was the “first guy” to whom he sold illegal performance-enhancing drugs. Other NFL customers were Dana Stubblefield, Josh Taves, Barrett Robbins, Chris Cooper, Johnny Morton, and Daryl Gardner. He had many track-and-field customers, including Olympic medalist Marion Jones; her boyfriend, world hundred-meter record holder Tim Montgomery; English sprinter Dwain Chambers; and world champion sprinter Kelli White–all current or former members of Trevor Graham’s Sprint Capitol USA club in North Carolina. And then there were the Major League Baseball players: Gary Sheffield, Jason Giambi, Jeremy Giambi, Armando Rios–and Barry Bonds. Conte didn’t charge Bonds for supplies; instead, he’d agreed to endorse ZMA.
As Novitzky wrote in his report of the interview:
At the beginning of this Major League Baseball season, Greg Anderson, a personal trainer at Bay Area Fitness who works closely with several Major League Baseball players, brought in several of the players to BALCO in order to obtain the undetectable “cream” and “clear.” This was done because of Major League Baseball’s new drug-testing policy. Barry Bonds was one of the players that Anderson brought to Conte to obtain the “clear” and the “cream.” Bonds takes the “clear” and the “cream” on a regular basis. The protocol for using the substances is two times per week for the “clear” and two times per week for the “cream.” The athletes do this for three weeks, then take one week off.
Conte led the agents, joined by Bowers, to a nearby public storage locker where he kept his supply of the “cream,” the “clear,” other steroids, and files on customers–including an extensive file on Trevor Graham. They seized the contents.
At about 4:00 p.m., Novitzky beckoned Valente to the conference room, and repeated that he wasn’t required to answer questions and could leave anytime. Valente had worked for Conte for fifteen years, investing in BALCO, staying in the background. He had more direct contact with Anderson and Major League Baseball players than Conte. Valente confirmed much of what Conte had said, and added some details on Anderson and Bonds. (Conte later disputed the accuracy of Novitzky’s notes and maintains he never gave Bonds illegal steroids.) As Novitzky wrote in his report:
Greg Anderson also provides human growth hormone and testosterone cypionate to his professional baseball clients. Anderson brought his baseball clients to BALCO this spring when Major League Baseball announced their new steroid testing policy. This was so Anderson could start giving them steroids that would not show up in drug tests. Among those baseball players brought to BALCO by Anderson was Barry Bonds. Bonds has received the “clear” and the “cream” from BALCO on a “couple of occasions.” According to Valente, Bonds does not like how the “clear” makes him feel.
Other players that Anderson has obtained the “clear” and the “cream” for from BALCO are Benito Santiago, Gary Sheffield, Marvin Benard, Jason Giambi and Randy Velarde. Sometimes the substances are given to Anderson to give to the athletes and sometimes the athletes are given the substances directly.
Other agents searching the premises found numerous documents detailing BALCO’s distribution and monitoring of performance-enhancing drugs for professional athletes. They included a ledger used for recording urine samples and test results, as well as a numerical coding system used to identify the samples. The entries showed that Bonds’s urine samples tested positive for an injectable steroid, methenolone, three times in 2000 and 2001. His samples had tested positive for another injectable steroid, nandrolone, twice. Other test results showed elevated ratios of testosterone to epitestosterone.
By 5:45 p.m., armed with the disclosures about Anderson and Valente, agents obtained a search warrant for Anderson’s house and car. After they finished with Valente, Novitzky and two other agents drove to Bay Area Fitness, where they found Anderson training several of his clients. His young son, Cole, was also with him. Novitzky didn’t want to embarrass Anderson in front of his clients and his son, so he asked him to follow him to a private room.
Anderson seemed unaware of the day’s drama at BALCO. Like the others, Novitzky told Anderson he wanted to interview him, but he wasn’t being arrested and he was free to leave, even return to his workout clients. But his house was about to be searched, and he was welcome to go with Novitzky to observe and answer some questions. Anderson said his girlfriend, Nicole Gestas, who was also a personal trainer, was at the house, and she would probably “freak out,” so he’d better go along. Anderson got a call on his cell phone while they were walking to the parking lot. “They’re coming to do it,” Anderson said, then hung up.
When they arrived at Anderson’s home, at 1111 Bayswater Avenue, a rented two-story stucco house on a narrow lot, Gestas’s 2003 Porsche was in the driveway. Anderson opened the front door, followed by Novitzky and several agents, and told Gestas, “The BALCO thing has followed me here.”
Copies of the warrants arrived about 6:45 p.m., which Novitzky reviewed with both Anderson and Gestas. As they did, other agents opened the refrigerator and found steroids and syringes. More were in a kitchen cabinet. In another cabinet they found a safe with about $60,000 in cash.
Both Anderson and Gestas agreed to answer questions, and Novitzky and another agent went with Gestas to an upstairs bedroom as the other agents continued the search. Gestas told Novitzky she worked as a personal trainer at the Powerhouse Gym. She said she never knew Anderson used or sold steroids. Novitzky said flatly he didn’t believe her; what about all the steroids and syringes in the refrigerator and cabinet? Gestas said they were “Greg’s area and she never looked.” She said she didn’t know where he got the supplies, nor did she know anything about the cash in the safe. About the only thing she admitted knowing was that Anderson trained both Barry Bonds and Gary Sheffield. In other words, Gestas wasn’t going to cooperate and was, in all likelihood, making false statements.
After finishing with Gestas, Novitzky returned to Anderson, who said he was willing to answer questions because “he felt he had done nothing wrong.” He told Novitzky he’d become a certified trainer about sixteen years earlier, and worked full-time as a personal trainer. He said he’d worked with BALCO, which did blood testing, for a few years, and met Victor Conte through friends. Anderson said he gave “a small amount of steroids to people,” and knew how to use them from his “bodybuilding days,” according to Novitzky’s memo. Anderson said he didn’t make a profit from steroids, thought of himself as just a “middleman,” and added, “I felt that if I didn’t earn a profit, then I’m not a drug dealer.”