A gag order bars both sides of that case from discussing the settlement amounts, but Goroway claims he paid "pennies on the dollar," mostly because only a small percentage of the clients he referred to Goldstein had their tests paid for by the auto insurance carriers on whose behalf State Farm was suing.
Goldstein also settled his part of the State Farm suit before trial, though he still maintains: "We did nothing wrong. We fought the good fight, but when you go against a company like that, you can only go so far."
A few years after he graduated, Goroway was already closing in on his first million.
Markell Boulis is a cautionary tale about the dangers of chiropractors' dabbling in drugs.
Related Content
More About
Between his 2005 deposition and the incident in Bal Harbour on April 1, 2008, there is a long, mysterious gap in Goroway's life story. He'd grown "bored" by clinical work. His seminar program had hit the skids. And he'd suffered a string of personal setbacks. But that still doesn't explain how Goroway found himself driving away from Haulover Park with a half-kilo of freshly purchased cocaine.
On this matter, the police report in his case is maddeningly vague. It contains no background information about how Bal Harbour narcotics officers set up the deal — whether Goroway was its target or whether he was a middleman who got caught with the stash. In a brief interview with a Bal Harbour Police Department spokesman, Capt. Greg Roy refused to offer clues: "We can't comment on that because it's part of a pending investigation."
The report is especially vague when it comes to the physical details of the encounter between Goroway and police. It states only that Goroway was pulled over on Collins Avenue and that as the cops approached his SUV from either side, he "refused several verbal commands to exit his vehicle." For this reason, the report says, "Det. [Paul] Eppler then opened the passenger door of the vehicle, at which time Sgt. Paul Deitado observed what appeared to be a brief struggle between the defendant and Det. Eppler. During this time Sgt. Deitado heard three gun shots fired."
In a brief interview, Roy said Eppler was carrying an MP5 submachine gun. The first bullet went crashing through the ulna bone in Goroway's wrist, destroying his ulnar nerve, for flexing one's hand. The location of the entry wound, on the inside of the right arm, suggests the possibility that Goroway grabbed the officer's gun just before it fired. Roy refused to discuss exactly what Goroway did to precipitate the "brief struggle" in the SUV.
The second bullet landed just above Goroway's knee. A third shot hit the SUV.
Goroway was covered in blood. A helicopter landed nearby, swooping him away to the University of Miami's Ryder Trauma Center just before the news helicopters arrived. Goroway nearly bled to death.
In the days to come, Goroway's mug shot would run on TV news programs and in the Miami Herald. Sentencing guidelines dictate a minimum mandatory sentence of 15 years for buying half a kilo of cocaine, a quantity that suggests an intention to deal. Goroway entered a plea of not guilty. His trial is set for next month.
In the meantime, Goroway has kept a low profile. The phone numbers that come up on a directory search of his name are all disconnected. So is the phone number Goroway gave to police after his April 1 arrest. He no longer lives in the same palatial Southwest Ranches home; it sold last year for $3.2 million to Miami Heat forward Udonis Haslem. Nor can Goroway be found at the Ocean Boulevard condo in Pompano Beach where he moved shortly after his divorce.
A property records search places him in a small but lushly landscaped bungalow in a neighborhood near downtown Hollywood. "Are you a reporter he wants to talk to?" asked a woman's voice through the closed door. The woman is Diana Suissa, Goroway's fiancée. She said he was not home. She was willing to give an email address where he could be contacted.
Goroway responded to a New Times email, agreeing to meet for an interview so long as it was understood that he would not speak about anything relating to his criminal case.
A few days later, Goroway, black hair freshly shorn and spiked after a trip to his hairdresser, arrives early to an interview at a Starbucks in downtown Fort Lauderdale. On this rain-soaked Thursday in mid-June, he's dressed in designer jeans and a long-sleeved shirt — just like the day he was arrested — and he's still driving the same white Toyota Tundra in which he was shot. His right hand is stiff. A handshake makes him wince.
As Goroway sits at a table, it's apparent why — there's a cast over his right wrist, from beneath which a grotesque scar can be seen. Staples, he notes, are all that hold the muscles and ligaments together. The scar is horizontal, and the mangled flesh makes it appear more like a bad burn than a bullet wound. He gestures to a place above the knee where there's a distinct lump: the second bullet. "They're cutting it out tomorrow," Goroway says.
In the three years since he gave his deposition, Goroway says he has worked mostly as a consultant to those hoping to launch a business akin to Practice Mechanix. Last year, Goroway says, he planned a return to clinical work. But in November, he was rear-ended, leaving him with herniated discs in his neck and lower back. He'd have to heal before getting back into practice. Then came the drug bust.