TAMPA — The Laser Spine Institute may have closed its doors suddenly in March, but repercussions from the surgery center’s business practices continue to reverberate in the courts.
Two local lawsuits provide the clearest picture yet of the forces that led the Tampa company to shut down, resulting in the loss of some 500 jobs. Documents detail a years-long legal battle among three business partners, a penchant for paying large executive salaries and bonuses, and a struggle against mounting debt.
Another factor: ego. At one point, two of the founders dared their partner to sue them, telling him the company was making so much money it wouldn’t matter. When the partner called their bluff, his lawsuit ended up being a decisive blow that helped put Laser Spine in the grave.
That case came to a head June 30, when a judge in Hillsborough County Circuit Court awarded Joe Samuel Bailey $260 million in damages, capping what had been a 13-year battle between Bailey and Laser Spine founders, Dr. James St. Louis and Dr. Michael Perry.
Bailey accused them of breach of fiduciary duty, defamation, slander, violation of the Florida Deceptive and Unfair Trade Practices Act, conspiracy and tortious interference.
Following two long bench trials and appeals, he now assumes a majority share in the remains of Laser Spine, which is undergoing an insolvency process. Similar to a federal bankruptcy filing, the process assesses all equipment and other materials Laser Spine owned or controlled and decides what is valuable enough to sell.
DUNEDIN — England Miano greeted every woman who walked into the Escape Root Juicery with open arms, wrapping each in a warm hug.
Some of the faces she had seen only on Facebook. Others, fellow parents, she’d known for some time.
Miano, 40, was hosting a meetup for people like her who challenge traditional health norms, like vaccinating their kids.
A mother of three who lives and works in north Pinellas County, Miano chose not to vaccinate her youngest after dealing with developmental issues with her second child. She believes vaccinations are the reason her son, Davis, has autism.
At the juicery, she and other Tampa Bay area moms gathered around plush chairs and colorful couches, sharing stories and self-care tips over lattes, veggie smoothies and organic champagne. Among the topics: CBD oil, yoga, whole foods and activated charcoal.
Miano and her guests are part of a small but increasingly vocal slice of the U.S. population who distrust doctors and federal health agencies, and who often base their positions on misinformation from fringe sources.
The medical community has sounded alarms. But so too have tech companies like Amazon and Instagram, which are trying to keep false information from spreading on their platforms.
Miano sees this resistance and works to push past it.
“Before Facebook started censoring so much, it’s where we shared a lot of facts and information,” she says. “Now our posts get deleted all the time. It’s so time-consuming to do the research. It’s not easy. But they don’t want it to be shared.”
At the same time, vaccine-preventable diseases are mounting a comeback.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is reporting the largest number of measles cases nationally in 25 years. New York, Washington and Texas are seeing outbreaks.
Florida investigated 15 measles cases in 2018, up from the previous five years, when fewer than 10 cases was the norm.
Pinellas County reported three cases in unvaccinated adults last year — the first the county has seen in 20 years. And last month, researchers identified Hillsborough as the 17th most at-risk county in the nation for a measles outbreak.
Some doctors fear they’ll never be able to convince people like Miano and her friends that vaccines are safe and effective.
The mindset is similar to that of Joshua McAdams and Taylor Bland-Ball, the Tampa couple who recently ended chemotherapy for their 3-year-old son, Noah, in favor of alternative remedies, only to have a Hillsborough County judge order last month that the treatment resume.
“It’s hard to compete with these personal stories that people share on social media, and what parents see in front of their own eyes with their own children,” said Dr. Rebecca Plant, a pediatrician at Tampa General Hospital and an assistant professor with USF Health. “The latter is going to carry a lot heavier of a weight in their own hearts and minds than if I can sit there and spout all the numbers and recent publications.”
The conversation at Miano’s meetup turns to all the backlash they get, not only from doctors, but from neighbors and Facebook friends as well.
“I make suggestions that I think can help their children, who just look so sickly all the time, and they are so defensive,” one woman says. “I wish them no harm. I just want to help them.”
Another compares the reaction to how Nazis treated Jews: “We’re the most hated people in America right now.”
When Gov. Ron DeSantis and the Legislature made it legal last month to smoke medical marijuana, they did it in the name of better health — the idea that thousands of Floridians would gain relief from a variety of illnesses.
Yet it seemed to run counter to everything modern medicine says about smoking. Isn’t it really bad for you?
Physicians say yes: Smoking anything, be it tobacco or cannabis, comes with some risk. But the answer is more complicated.
The Florida Department of Health — the agency in charge of implementing and enforcing the rules for Florida’s burgeoning medical marijuana industry — still has to come up with guidelines for licensed cannabis companies to follow for selling smokable “flower,” or the actual granules of the plant. As part of those guidelines, patients will have to sign consent forms outlining the risk associated with smoking.
“With tobacco cigarettes, the concern is nicotine, which is not found in marijuana products,” said Dr. Cary Pigman, an emergency room physician with AdventHealth in Sebring and a Republican state representative from Avon Park.
“What I am concerned about with marijuana, as a physician, is the combustion of plant products, which is basically the inhalation of ash,” Pigman said.
ST. PETERSBURG — Bree Alkire walked into the LGBTQ Welcome Center on Central Avenue unsure about what to expect, but hoping for guidance.
Behind her was her partner, Stephen Holland, and her mother, Cathy Naabe. They settled into a small living room space to wait for the start of class, a session for transgender women and others on how to apply makeup.
Alkire pulled out her cellphone and used the camera as a mirror. As others began to fill the room, she squinted at herself behind glasses and a cropped haircut. She fussed with her eyebrows.
“I feel like I need a complete makeover every day to feel good about myself,” said Alkire, 35, leaning into Holland.
“That’s why I make you shave every day, so you look good,” said Holland, 37.
The room felt quiet, a little uneasy.
People filled the chairs and couches quickly, but few chatted with their neighbors. Some wore makeup, others came in worn clothes and chipped nail polish. Some were early into their transition, or still just thinking about it, but had no idea where to start when it came to eyeliner and lipstick.
Johnny Crowder used to have a negative outlook on the world.
He grew up in what he described as an abusive household. He was diagnosed with a slew of mental illnesses during his formative years, from bipolar disorder to obsessive compulsive disorder. It was easy for him to feel down about himself.
“I realized how I was thinking was contributing to my struggles,” said Crowder, a 26-year-old Tampa native. “But I couldn’t climb out of it.”
So he started filling sticky notes with positive, affirmative messages, and leaving them around his house. On one note, he remembers penciling, “You deserve to spend time with people who care about you.”
It made a difference. For just a few seconds a day, he’d feel better. But eventually the notes became commonplace, and their effect seemed to wear off.
So he decided to try it another way. This time, by sending uplifting text messages to his friends to see how they reacted.
“The first text, I sent to about 32 friends in my contacts, with the same message. Nearly everyone responded,” he said. “They interpreted it differently based on their own lives, but I was surprised to see so many of them replied with ‘How did you know?’ Like I knew they were going through something.”
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![While smoking medical marijuana is touted for its health benefits, smoking still comes with risks. Doctors say they look forward to seeing more research on the subject as more states allow marijuana in smokeable form. [Shutterstock]](https://www.tampabay.com/storyimage/HI/20190405/ARTICLE/190409731/AR/0/AR-190409731.jpg&MaxW=1200&Q=66)
![Heather Fontaine, left, applies makeup to Bree Alkire during a class at the LGBTQ Welcome Center in St. Petersburg, hosted by Metro Inclusive Health. Fontaine, a long-time drag performer, offers makeup tips in a class setting every other month for people in the transgender community and others whose gender expression is feminine. [Courtesy of Metro Inclusive Health]](https://www.tampabay.com/storyimage/HI/20190405/ARTICLE/190409795/AR/0/AR-190409795.jpg&MaxW=1200&Q=66)
![Johnny Crowder at home in Tampa, where he founded Cope Notes, a service that sends uplifting daily text messages to people manage their mental and emotional health. âPeople would rather text their friends than talk to them about something difficult,â he said. âSome of the texts are prompts, and while itâs not necessarily a two-way conversation, we want the platform to foster independence. The goal is not to be something people rely on forever.â [MONICA HERNDON | Times]](https://www.tampabay.com/storyimage/HI/20190222/ARTICLE/190229904/AR/0/AR-190229904.jpg&MaxW=1200&Q=66)