Spotlight on: Leo Schlink
“Strong, bold, journalism is so important. That we give people a voice, and make a difference, and stand for something.”
Winner of All Media: Sports Journalism category at the 2018 Walkley Awards
Leo Schlink, Herald Sun, “The Big Fix”
Leo Schlink’s exposé led to a raft of new integrity measures for Racing Victoria. In a string of exclusive reports, Schlink diligently developed the story of champion horses being doped in some of Australia’s biggest races, while trainers and stable staff allegedly evaded Racing Victoria’s security network.
One trainer and two of his former employees were banned for life; another five trainers and stable hands were disqualified. Judge John Bowman described it as one of the “darkest and longest chapters in the history of Australian turf”. In the wake of the scandal, the Victorian Government introduced a bill to bolster integrity measures, including independent oversight and a robust disciplinary framework to combat corruption.
How did you find this story?
I was at Flemington Races October 7, 2017, and I became aware there was a stewards enquiry on foot about what they call alleged race day treatment. A guy by the name of Greg Nelligan had been found in a horse urinal, he had allegedly used a mixture of performance enhancing, fatigue-smothering mixture. He was a float driver and a horse strapper, and he was observed with a makeshift, modified syringe. He was questioned that day, no media was allowed in there, on why he’d taken a horse called Lovani into a horse urinal at the very moment that Winx was on the track for the Turnbull Stakes. Everyone was watching Winx, so he timed his move to coincide with when he thought the attention would be elsewhere and then he proceeded to dope the horse, at which point he was caught by Racing Victoria’s compliance assurance team.
What did it take to get this story up?
There were eight people charged with 271 counts, around January 8. Then the trail really went quiet. I knew what I was looking for, because I knew the whole case revolved around text messages.
The guy who was caught with the horse in the urinal had kept, inexplicably, 70,000 texts on his phone. Of those 70,000 about 1000 were used to create a matrix of alleged doping. And it provided a roadmap linking him to the seven other co-accused. I knew those texts existed, but no one was prepared to hand them up. I repeatedly went to various authorities, I approached people in charge, stewards, Racing Victoria. And I was repeatedly knocked back. That was all from October onwards. By the time I was able to get my hands on the material I needed, in February, that was the best of four months.
And then you faced something of a legal minefield in working out how to report it?
First of all we had to verify. That was simple and easy — every horse trainer involved in this, their mobile phone details are lodged and published by the authorities. For example Robert Smerdon’s phone number, the one who appeared on the material I was able to get, was exactly the same as what’s in Racing Victoria’s official handbook. So we knew the number was legitimate, we just had to prove that the documents were.
Then it was a matter of linking up the various horses, the various dates, making sure everything correlated. The exact material was extremely specific to certain activities, including big races in Sydney, Melbourne, Tasmania, South Australia. Once we were able to establish that I went to my editors. They were satisfied as to the authenticity and around February 21–22 it made front page news around the nation.
What impact did the story have?
It moved quickly, it went from January when they were charged, February the text messages were published, and then it went to the RAD board in late April early May. They brought down their findings about May 10. They disqualified eight people, three of them for life. Five horse trainers, and three licenced stablehands. It’s up with the appeal at the moment. Four didn’t appeal, four are appealing — that’s where I am right now! So now the next stage is it’s before the Victorian civil administrative tribunal.
There’s a guy called Robert Smerdon who was probably the most famous of those charged — he was given life, he’s never allowed to get back on the track, but he’s appealing, and a $90,000 fine. I think he was convicted on 115 counts related to racing corruption.
What made you want to be a journalist?
I grew up in country South Australia on a farm. I was always intrigued — the first paper I read was The Advertiser. Growing up in the bush, sometimes we’d get it the day after it was published. We didn’t have TV where we lived, so it was either the radio or The Advertiser if you were lucky. It was pretty remote, on the Great Australian Bight out between Port Lincoln and Ceduna. I was always obsessed with sport and on a secondary note, with journalism. I just loved reading about it. I was lucky enough in the early 80s to get a cadetship at the Advertiser, my career started there.
Sport was my focus initially. After I went to the Herald Sun in Melbourne. Then I was in Boston in 1999, when John Kennedy Jr was killed with his wife. I filed on that. From that I was offered a post in London as an editor. I started there early 2002, late 2001. So I covered politics and news, which I really enjoyed, as well as sport. I covered the Manchester Commonwealth Games, I was doing a lot of sport, and going to Downing Street every week. It was really enjoyable to have that change of pace.
What led you to focus on racing/sport?
Through my time at Herald Sun I’ve covered AFL, rugby, cycling, tennis, horse racing now. I’ve done golf, cricket. At London Olympics I think I covered 8–9 different sports. I’ve always enjoyed having the opportunity to cover a lot of different sports but I’ve got the greatest passion for racing, tennis, cycling. They’re the ones I really follow, as a fan if you like, more so than any other sports.
How important is it to have specialist reporters like you who get to build networks of sources to unearth stories like this? Is it hard when you do build those networks to avoid becoming an insider?
A lot of people put it to me that I’m someone who’s been around racing as a participant — I’ve come from a racing family in the country. But I found it one of the most satisfying stories I’ve ever done. I’ve got so many friends in racing that were coming off second best because of these alleged activities. They were sending horses to the races drug-free and they were getting beaten.
Contacts are what makes or breaks you. Without great contacts you’re basically at the mercy of everything else and everybody else. The better the contacts, the better the story you’re going to get, ultimately.
You’ve still got to do lots of digging, and that’s been so satisfying in this situation. All the “no”s that I got regarding the text messages and all the details, eventually it was so worthwhile when I got my hands on what I needed.
So did you have to make a big spreadsheet to keep track of everything?
I was very fortunate. It was essentially a brief of evidence. Once I was able to go through it chronologically and I was able to interpret it, I was then able to explain to my editors that I had a really concise understanding of what was going on, what was going to form the basis of the stewards’ prosecution. It was easy from that point on. But essentially it was a spreadsheet, and from that you could navigate from horse to horse, from racetrack to racetrack, from trainer to trainer.
What are you most proud of about the stories you’ve told?
Another story I was really proud that I did was that in about 2001 or 2002 I went across to the Somme. At that time the French government was in the throes of building a third runway for Paris, but it was out on the farms which were part of the Somme battles. There were so many war dead there, the graves, there’s lots of cemeteries around there. Anyway, we were able to build enough interest in the story, and we were able to garner enough interest and support that they eventually abandoned the plans. It was essentially out of respect for the war dead. Including but not just Australians, there were obviously French there, and the British and Germans. That was really satisfying because it was giving voice to those that couldn’t speak for themselves.
The other story I’m proud of is, there’s a footballer called Alastair Lynch. He was being prosecuted by the AFL for using treatment to combat chronic fatigue syndrome. It was one that had changed, what was permissible and what was not. They had closed the hearing, it was a closed tribunal. I was fortunate that I was able to get all the evidence, almost in real time, through sources inside that room. And I was able to illustrate how the AFL at that time was effectively trying to bulldoze Alastair Lynch out of the game. He subsequently was cleared and went on to play three premierships for Brisbane.
Those would be the two most satisfying stories, in terms of making a difference.
What’s your message to Australians about why quality journalism needs their support?
We need to be able to make a difference. And it can be in lots of different ways — it could be in a funny way, could be in a serious way. I’m not saying everything has to be positive all the time, but it has to make a material difference. Helping shine a light into areas where people don’t necessarily want it. Or sometimes they do want it and it’s fantastic, those great human interest stories.
I think that’s what quality journalism is all about, breaking stories, breaking news. It doesn’t always have to be darkness. But it’s telling someone something they don’t know about, that they might enjoy finding out about, and how it might materially affect their lives. I think that’s the most important thing.
The best thing about receiving this award?
The validation! Coming at this stage of my career, I’m a bit of a dinosaur. I’ve worked for so many years with great journalists, seeing their names on the honour roll and looking up to so many people who’ve won a Walkley. To suddenly be in the conversation, and then to actually win it; it’s something I never really contemplated as a reality. It’s a cliche, but a dream come true.
Anything else you’d like to add?
Strong, bold, journalism is so important. That we give people a voice, and make a difference, and stand for something.
Leo Schlink started his career at The Advertiser in Adelaide in 1981, completing his cadetship before moving to Channel Nine to cover sport and general news. He moved to the Herald Sun in 1996, transferred to London as bureau chief in 2002, and has continued to cover various sports since returning to Australia.
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