Many questions remain. If MLB has copies of Bosch's personal notebooks and business records, it's unclear how the league obtained them. Experts also question whether Bosch's testimony, combined with those records, would be enough evidence to suspend players. In the past, only positive drug tests have led to suspensions.

Yet that precedent may be changing. Cesar Carrillo, a minor-leaguer in the Tigers system, was suspended 100 games in March, reportedly over his ties to Biogenesis.

In the weeks to come, baseball will reportedly interview Bosch, review its evidence, and present its case to an arbitration panel. Most of the players named in ESPN's latest story have declined to comment: Ryan Braun told reporters that "the truth has not changed" but refused to speak further. Alex Rodriguez released a statement that he would "monitor the situation and comment when appropriate."

Alex Rodriguez
Alex Rodriguez
Porter Fischer took records from Biogenesis after the clinic’s owner, Tony Bosch, failed to repay him $4,000.
Marta Xochilt Perez
Porter Fischer took records from Biogenesis after the clinic’s owner, Tony Bosch, failed to repay him $4,000.

Where all of that leaves Porter Fischer is much less clear. He still has hundreds of pages of Biogenesis records. He's willing to help any authority that wants to pursue Tony Bosch. And if MLB would offer him the same assurances it had evidently given Bosch, he'd even be willing to cooperate.

For now, he wonders how Tony Bosch ended up in the catbird seat.

On a recent afternoon, Fischer paces his neat, dimly lit room. He passes by the Xbox, the free weights, and the 2-foot-tall red statue of the Incredible Hulk with exploding pecs and bulging veins. As he rails against Major League Baseball and the Department of Health, he swigs vodka and cranberry juice from a plastic mug.

"Everything is backwards in this story now. The good guy has been molded into the bad guy and vice versa," he says, his voice rising with indignation. "What did I do wrong? I stood up for myself. I exposed a bad guy breaking the law and ruining a sport."

Shaking his head, he pauses to refill his mug. He has regrets: He never should have given his friend the notebooks or left the documents in his car in Boca. He never should have trusted MLB or the DOH.

But he doesn't regret any of it—exposing Tony Bosch or throwing a monumental wrench into America's pastime. He just wonders when he'll see justice. "Why am I still paying for everyone else's sins?" he asks.

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