After the raid, pieces of the now-familiar tale fell like dominoes.
On Feb. 22, state authorities temporarily suspended Gosnell's medical license, labeling his clinic "deplorable" and a danger to the public. Investigators said that unlicensed employees were medicating and examining patients.
Horror stories emerged, in the form of state documents and old lawsuits. The clinic was linked to the death of one patient, then another.
An array of women came forward claiming that Gosnell had seriously injured them during abortions, leveling accusations that included puncturing their organs and leaving pieces of fetuses inside them.
The bad news continued to pile up. On March 2, health officials in Delaware suspended Gosnell's license to practice in their state.
Yesterday, the head of the National Abortion Federation said that the agency had refused Gosnell's request to become a member after its investigators found more than a dozen violations of the federation's guidelines during a visit to the clinic in December.
But other, more positive stories came to light, too, from patients who described Gosnell in glowing terms, likening him to an old-fashioned physician who makes house calls and cares more about people and neighborhood roots than getting paid on time.
Indeed, in an interview with the Daily News on Monday, Gosnell - a tall, freckled, soft-spoken man - repeatedly talked about his devotion to the impoverished community that he's served for decades.
So, the question is: Which of the two caricatures is the real Kermit Gosnell: the doctor who was running a clinic with bloodstained floors where women suffered unthinkable complications from abortions, or the caring physician who was a godsend to a poor, underserved population?
'A positive force'
It wasn't always like this, with the eye-catching headlines and cringe-worthy stories about abortions gone wrong.
