I began my journalistic career in 1970, as a reporter in the sports section of Ha’aretz newspaper; I was just short of my twenty-first birthday. Two years later, I was assigned by the paper to be its crime reporter and to cover police matters. From the start, I was determined not only to report on everyday events related to police work, but to personally investigate criminal activities such as drug violations, gambling, prostitution and protection, whether complaints were filed or not.

In order to succeed in my investigations, I began to weave a vast network of varied sources of information and informants. I fostered connections with junior policemen as well as officers, but I also maintained close ties with recognized underworld criminals. I spent time with the former and the latter, often holding clandestine meetings in their places of residency, and very often in disguise; police officers, as well as underworld bosses, were not anxious to let our connections be known to the public.

One of the techniques I used for gathering information was based on listening to police communications: with the aid of an expert technician in electronics, I was able to tap into squad car transmissions and to record them on cassettes. Thus, I could gather information without carrying a walkie-talkie - while outdoors, or even when asleep.

I caught the transmissions of all three sub-districts included in the Tel Aviv district of the Israel Police Force. The best source, however, was listening to the communications network of the undercover surveillance squad which was part of the intelligence department known as “the Central Unit”.

Due to the information that was transmitted through the undercover agents’ communications network, I was exposed to secret information that was intended for intelligence officers only. I was often compelled to go out in the field in order to decipher the details of reports that I heard over the network, such as the name of the suspect who was under surveillance at the time. There were times that I surprised the police and the perpetrators alike with the information I already had when I reached the scene of the crime together with the detectives, occasionally before them, but certainly at a time when I was not supposed to be there at all.

During my work, I learned about the theoretical aspects of organized crime. I was assisted by Professor Menachem Amir, lawyers, public defenders, and income tax officials in the Ministry of Finance; and I cooperated with members of parliament, such as Yossi Sarid and Ehud Olmert (the current prime-minister of Israel), who had taken up the war against crime.

A high-ranking police intelligence officer joined one of the successful intelligence operations that I initiated, together with Ehud Olmert. The officer allowed Olmert to meet with a major criminal who was serving time in prison, with or without being aware that I was in the picture. Prior to the meeting, I briefed Olmert on the questions to pose to the criminal that were of interest to me and hid a listening device on him which I later retrieved. I copied the text of the conversation and noted the details that could be used in further intelligence gathering and as part of the evidence presented in a series of articles I was to about to write on organized crime.

In 1977, after two years of gathering information, Ha’aretz published my series of articles entitled “Organized Crime in Israel – The Present Situation,” and the document dubbed by the press as the “Document of the 11” (the eleven names alleged to be the “bosses” of Israel’s crime world). The document and other top-secret intelligence information had been leaked by intelligence officers in Tel Aviv’s crime-fighting unit who were dissatisfied with the way their superiors were handling the war against organized crime.

The information was leaked to me in a scene prompted from the world of espionage: an officer from the crime-fighting unit came toward me on the sidewalk adjacent to the old zoo in the center of Tel Aviv, near the site where Gan Ha’ire stands today; he handed me the documents – including the original one with the eleven names – rolled together and wrapped in a newspaper, similar to the baton passed by runners in a relay race. He did not hesitate for a moment, but kept on walking, and so did I.

One of the “characters” in the series, who was represented by the lawyer Ram Caspi, sued Ha’aretz newspaper for libel. Ha’aretz and I were represented by Advocats Shlomo Lieblich and Alexander Tal. The legal proceedings and evidence presented in several court sessions were covered by the mass media. The procedures went through two courts of law, and ended after ten years with a verdict in favor of the plaintiff. Today, the two judgments of the District Court and the Supreme Court, as well as my series of articles published in Ha’aretz are studied in colleges and university courses in law, communications and criminology.

The publication of the articles in a daily newspaper moved the Israel government to appoint a “committee for the investigation of crime in Israel,” headed by the lawyer Erwin S. Shimron. I was summoned to appear in front of the committee and was questioned by its members. Following months of work, and hearing tens of witnesses, the committee published its findings: for the first time, there was an admission that “an Israeli version” of organized crime did, in fact, exist in the country. Subsequent to the committee’s findings, the Israel Police Force established a National Serious Crimes Unit to deal with organized crime. In 1997, the unit’s name was changed and its role extended; it is now known as the National Serious and International Crimes Unit - the spearhead of police investigations.

My acquaintance with police work and the figures involved in organized crime led to my writing the novels Lost Case (1984) and Black Angels (1991). After the conclusion of my position as a reporter of police affairs, I wrote articles for the weekly supplement of Ha’aretz and was deputy editor of the section, as well as the print editor for the editorial pages.

In 1988, I wrote Shahid; it was the height of the first intifada, and the book reflected my observations of the suffering and hopes of the refugees in the Shati and Jabalia Camps in the Gaza Strip, and the inevitable failure of the security forces to defeat the uprising. My research was based, in part, on my personal acquaintance with security personnel who were operating in Gaza, on successive visits to the camps, and on long conversations with the refugees, in spite of the fact that I was endangering myself by being there.

The plot of Shahid takes place at an unknown time in the future, when the all of the uprisings have been quelled by Zahal, taking drastic measures to bring a semblance of peace. Shahid was written from the perspective that the Israeli government would thrust upon Zahal the use of force to bring about the complete submission of the Palestinians; it portrays the senselessness in this approach, as well as the strength and never-ending force of the desire for freedom, even in the hearts of those whom the victor has succeeded in totally oppressing.  Shahid is still timely, even now.

In 1990, after twenty years at Ha’aretz newspaper, I resigned in favor of writing novels and investigating topics of interest to me. Part of my research was used as background material for the novels I intended to write. In the late 1990s, while writing Lies I Told Myself, I took an in-depth look into the subject of eating disorders, such as anorexia and bulimia, and in the rehabilitation programs available for compulsive eaters – psychological treatment on the one hand and the twelve steps of Overeaters Anonymous (OA) on the other. Lies I Told Myself has been included in the courses offered by university departments on the subject of eating disorders.

My next focus for investigation was on the damage caused by the synthetic hormone diethylstilbestrol, known as DES. This hormone, which was given to thousands of pregnant women, threatened their health and the health of their offspring. I uncovered evidence showing that the drug manufacturers Teva and Assia, the Ministry of Health, and the Clalit Health Fund (Kupat Holim Clalit) were negligent in marketing a “drug” ostensibly to “sustain” pregnancies, contrary to the warnings in professional literature, and in spite of the risk that it might do more harm than good. The results of the malpractice investigation led to the submission of a large number of law suits against the parties involved and ended with financial compensation for the injured parties. A book on the subject will soon be published.